Pen and Paper
I am the slave,
the pen is my master.
It commands me to write,
more and more, faster and faster.
The paper is calling,
it’s screaming my name.
Why do they force me,
have they no shame?
Forced are my thoughts,
through the pen they do flow.
Who are they to coerce,
are they friends, are they foe?
I wish to stop now,
asylum I do seek.
For my hand does grow tired,
as well my mind grows weak.
But they won’t allow me to stop,
there’s no ending in sight.
They demand I continue,
so I shall… write, write, write.
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Tainted River
Imagine all of our problems in this country existing as a river. You follow the river up to the source, and this is where you find government (public) education as the spring for the river. From there, the river is continuously guided by banks on each side to control the flow. Hollywood being one bank, and Mainstream Media the other. All hope becomes lost when Christians believe they can fish out of a tainted river and not be affected.
