From O'Guillory in the comments section of an old post:

This is from a discussion in the comments section of an old post:  Really - What is "National Service?"


Anonymous said...

...Ray Kroc...dude,...we need the ghost or reincarnation of Ray Kroc for Leader....well, for President if he executed his office and economics are all about emotion...philosophy is only emotion in words, lyrics and is why a song can drive you to purchase....
so try some of my philosophy..
The Burning Bush

Blistered souls float scattered about,
adrift on a sea of pain.
Crimson waves of death crest near,
as The Decider lies in vain.

Fear the horde, no, the other horde,
he plies throughout the land.
As our children’s children disintegrate,
perhaps an eye, or yet a hand.

He says he guards our very lives,
the existence of civilized man.
But in the alleys of ancient Baghdad,
America’s Best wish he’d share his plan.

Vacant cries of “who could have known?”,
amidst the pyres of World Trade.
Lay bare the myth of his compassion,
“My Pet Goat”, his cowardly shade.

Proxy war and proxy dead,
to The Shrub it matters not.
Provided Dick can exercise Options,
as long as Haliburton stays red-hot.

Treasure bled in flesh and gold,
across dunes of soulless oil.
Simmering cauldrons of historic hate,
churned to a gently rolling boil.

The Burning Bush admits no errors,
nor the ditch into which we’ve steered.
Back into the breach he madly proclaims,
after all, “you volunteered”


A Time in Life

You're at a time in your life,
where you walk a thin, high wire.
Like being caught in a blaze,
without being touched by the fire.

It’s a time to live, laugh and love,
a time to be free and run.
Without worrying what the future brings,
or what your past has done.

Yes you've come of age and spread you wings,
and now you want to soar.
But high above your everyday fun,
lay realities deafening roar.

For a free-flying soul, it’s an intangible sound
which can cut you in mid-flight.
And send your body crashing down,
alone in the cold, dark night.

Be true to your spirit, to hell with tomorrow,
because you're worried about today.
You can laugh and smile, and spit in his eye,
when the Reaper comes your way.

But in the end the Reaper always wins,
and you won’t know who to call.
That's the time to remember me,
because I'll be there to break your fall.


Search the Darkness

Standing silent, on the edge of life,
alone amongst the crowd.
As laughter lays against my soul,
and the terror screams out loud.

Ride the banshee of loss and despair,
briskly into the cold, dark rain.
Let loose the reins of the beast of Hell,
ride firmly into the pain.

Search the heavens quick and fast,
uncover the depths of Hell.
Prepare to ride, accept the costs,
for it’s yourself you will have to tell.

Stories lost, old tales left behind,
from a record you’re afraid to start.
In a library mixed with pain and fear,
in a volume called your heart.

Your soul screams out, an endless cry,
from the quiet darkness it calls.
“Come to me, end this journey,
for in life you have seen it all.”

But in our journey of life on earth,
false prophets trade in soiled goods.
The pain and horrors of the journey we take,
need merely to be understood.


I'll work on my philosphic outlook....but thanks for owning the Stalin thing..



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