Happy Anti-Tyrant Day
© Surazeus
2018 07 04
Tangled in the stripes of the bleeding flag,
which I wear like the cape of Superman,
I fly across the waste land of despair
to fight the tyrant in the tower of gold.
I vanish in illusion of my hope
while swooping on bold wings of liberty,
and wake up wingless on the river shore
beside the highway crowded with fast cars.
Dizzy from patriotism in my head,
I stagger along the highway of greed,
and try to catch a ride to the White House
where I am scheduled to prophesy doom.
I find the last rocket that Werner built
alone on top bleak Arizona butte,
so I climb inside and fire up the engines,
and fly to the glass palace on the moon.
Every superhero from comic books,
assembled in the Hall of Justice, talk
about the dire situation on Earth
where the cruel mafia don is President.
I declare that I want to save the world
so they ask me to draw maps for the soul,
but I wander nowhere on empty road
and write truth spells in the indifferent sand.
Holding my toy rifle I got for Christmas,
I ride my donkey I named Don Quixote
to join progressive army of lost souls
who fight the Second Civil War for freedom.
Somewhere between Atlanta and Detroit
I find a house with the United States flag
on display, so I rap on the locked door,
lost in the clothes the President once wore.
The man wearing a red baseball cap shouts,
"We must make America great again,"
so I free everyone from prison cells
and welcome immigrants to fertile shores.
I kneel at the wall in hot desert sand
and cry out the name of my little child
that border agents tore out of my arms
and put to work in the car factory.
How could he tell, with calculator brain,
the value of the sunlight in our eyes,
so he bottles water from mountain streams
and sells it to us for enormous profit.
Going back over the waste land of lies,
I return home where my mother was born
to play chess with Death on the Swedish shore
as we plot how to overthrow the tyrant.
Tangled in the stripes of the noble flag,
which I wrap around myself as I preach,
I wave the ancient holy book of tales
and chant, "This land was made for us, not them."
Onward American soldiers, we march
to war over the skulls of children killed
by swift war planes disguised as butterflies
that return to the mouth of the god-clown.
I rebel against blind authority,
therefore I am most noble patriot
exiled to the ruins of the old church
where grape vines grow tangled from my dead heart.
At last I make it to the White House lawn
where I prophesy the fall of the tyrant,
then barbecue burgers for everyone
who sing, "Sweet land of liberty I love."
Tangled in the stripes of the honest flag,
I stand on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
and sing the National Anthem of Lost Souls
who flee tyranny for our democracy.
We overthrow all tyrants of the world,
uniting to fight for justice and truth,
so I cry, "Happy Anti-Tyrant Day!"
as we celebrate Independence Day.
© Surazeus
2018 07 04
Tangled in the stripes of the bleeding flag,
which I wear like the cape of Superman,
I fly across the waste land of despair
to fight the tyrant in the tower of gold.
I vanish in illusion of my hope
while swooping on bold wings of liberty,
and wake up wingless on the river shore
beside the highway crowded with fast cars.
Dizzy from patriotism in my head,
I stagger along the highway of greed,
and try to catch a ride to the White House
where I am scheduled to prophesy doom.
I find the last rocket that Werner built
alone on top bleak Arizona butte,
so I climb inside and fire up the engines,
and fly to the glass palace on the moon.
Every superhero from comic books,
assembled in the Hall of Justice, talk
about the dire situation on Earth
where the cruel mafia don is President.
I declare that I want to save the world
so they ask me to draw maps for the soul,
but I wander nowhere on empty road
and write truth spells in the indifferent sand.
Holding my toy rifle I got for Christmas,
I ride my donkey I named Don Quixote
to join progressive army of lost souls
who fight the Second Civil War for freedom.
Somewhere between Atlanta and Detroit
I find a house with the United States flag
on display, so I rap on the locked door,
lost in the clothes the President once wore.
The man wearing a red baseball cap shouts,
"We must make America great again,"
so I free everyone from prison cells
and welcome immigrants to fertile shores.
I kneel at the wall in hot desert sand
and cry out the name of my little child
that border agents tore out of my arms
and put to work in the car factory.
How could he tell, with calculator brain,
the value of the sunlight in our eyes,
so he bottles water from mountain streams
and sells it to us for enormous profit.
Going back over the waste land of lies,
I return home where my mother was born
to play chess with Death on the Swedish shore
as we plot how to overthrow the tyrant.
Tangled in the stripes of the noble flag,
which I wrap around myself as I preach,
I wave the ancient holy book of tales
and chant, "This land was made for us, not them."
Onward American soldiers, we march
to war over the skulls of children killed
by swift war planes disguised as butterflies
that return to the mouth of the god-clown.
I rebel against blind authority,
therefore I am most noble patriot
exiled to the ruins of the old church
where grape vines grow tangled from my dead heart.
At last I make it to the White House lawn
where I prophesy the fall of the tyrant,
then barbecue burgers for everyone
who sing, "Sweet land of liberty I love."
Tangled in the stripes of the honest flag,
I stand on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
and sing the National Anthem of Lost Souls
who flee tyranny for our democracy.
We overthrow all tyrants of the world,
uniting to fight for justice and truth,
so I cry, "Happy Anti-Tyrant Day!"
as we celebrate Independence Day.
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