Radio Clearance
I won't try the anger
Yours will do good
These air waves must go
and end the transmitting confusion
Understand the anger
Hear it on the radio
About the bitterness
Give the hate clearance
The radio needs clearance to hate
and for this static, , ,
It will take radio clearance
Take it
Leave it
Use it
Sell it
Hate it, hate it, hate it
This will take radio clearance
poem by Mason Maestro
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Horns of Hattin
Identified with beatitudes
The plains will reveal ancient feuds
Corresponds with the text narrative
There lacks no other comparative
Karnei Hittin, Victory Dome
A holy battle for their procession for home
A sermon was mounting onto the site
And Christian Crusades were claiming their right
Send the shell down the cast-iron barrel
Saladin and tinder staging imperil
The Horns of Hattin, Victory Dome
A holy battle for their procession for home
poem by Mason Maestro
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Flying Pies
Flying Pies and exploring eyes
I look out the window as the darkness dies
So we return to days
to continue our ways
only to reap whatever that pays
Satisfying the least your pocket craves
On the wings of a vulture
by raping our culture
with a heartful of greed that obeys
Guilty of the wretched cries
Ignoring all those we offend
and not to consider a mend
They bring blinding ties
the mind sighs as daylight dies
bringing closing eyes and flying pies
poem by Mason Maestro
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Terrestrial Trance
We're coming to the end
Vibrationally spent
The cycle, in effect
The Earth's field should not neglect
Wake me up from this trance
This sleeping slumber slants
The Sun and switch, within range
A denser frequent change
Manipulation narrative
It seems quite primitive
Control is relative
The source alternative
External forces don't endorse us
Imprisoned in three-dimensional
Our denial is now on trial
And detachment's now on file
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poem by Mason Maestro
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Conditioning
Communication is strange with me
Discrimination forgets to leave
I hardly remember why I locked the door
..and I'll never seize the day while I'm doing o.k.
Education is a mask on conditioning
We're not winding up the slack on Hollywood gas
and the fight never occured to the victor
The victims hard on blue plays the afflictor
Forgetful host. My eyes are closed
Reminiscent of the imperial hand
I hardly remember why I locked the door
..and I'll never seize the day while I'm doing o.k.
Communication is strange with me...
Communication is hard to see...
Communication- to HEAR is the key
Communication is strange with me...
poem by Mason Maestro
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Six Arms on Queens Road
Southgate to Oak shire- there's garden gnomes and heralds
The Six Arms flexing true through the miles
Lagers and Stouts quenching blokes on the road
Riding by rental room-to-lets
manic texting mobile phone sets
Taste of the nic on the roll-your-own gets
A fresh new perspective inside the door
But don't start habit forming, I implore
The mind loses sight of foreign instabilities
Through beer suds, cigar smoke, and football technicalities
Allied soldiers imprisoned in war
Thrown in a hole among three dead men
That's no way to treat a man
That Sudanese family- hunger and malaria
Thriving ticks harms throughout the towns
Driving to Six Arms and buying all rounds
poem by Mason Maestro
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Holy War
Perplexing hearts and dreadful minds
Cares enough for you to be
Thoughts of touch in crystal smiles
Glares enough for you to see
Days of old in that desperate hour
A crusade began at the break of dawn
Unleashed the wrath of the churches power
Only proving no one would become their pawn
Through suppression of faith
repression of need
prediction of reason
to establish a lead
Predjudicial enlightenment of culture and tillage
A charismatic reformation of rational pilgrims
There'll be mourning with victory, a constant becoming
One choice, one struggle, a migrant within your soul
From clay to God- his wrath remains in the bowl
Pope Urban was denied
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poem by Mason Maestro
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(Stilted) Laurels From a Poe Toaster
Stilts on ice in Boston city
Isn’t it a pity
The story it goes
Tells of a distorted ghost
And this we know
His laurel’s on the snow
Yearly keeping we see him
Walks in the same way
To the same shady place
He says
Hey Poe, hey Poe, hey Poe, let’s have a toast
Tamerlane, the Raven, Eulalie
A prospectus
Tamerlane, the Raven, Eulalie
The Styluses
Propora, you aren’t alone
At the headstone time retain
A black-clad figure
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poem by Mason Maestro
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The Jesus Lizard
Button your lip and don’t let the veil slip
Take a restoring sip on the cool virgin draft
If they try to reveal your hush-hush disguise
And unnamed black op spies
You can hide hide hide
Behind cloaked lizard eyes
You put on your false face and mislead the world under shroud
Fixing your grin as you venomously speak to the crowd
Hissing a laugh side by side with the lies
With the men who are endowed
You hide hide hide
Behind delicate eyes
We believed in their pledges of civil rights, welfare and a fair retirement age
Now we’re lost in a haze of half-truths and a meager wage
Our best wine has gone dry and absolute rule is nigh
The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high
And you hide hide hide
Behind mild, holy eyes
poem by Mason Maestro
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Bank on the Blunder
A new century’s ushered in
Resources knocking on our door
We’re advancing without measure
All within reach like never before
We have Pepsi in the Andes
We have Wal-Mart in Tibet
We got a Starbucks in the arctic
But there’s no Amway in Laos yet
Between the Tigris and Euphrates
There’s a roller coaster now
And a doctor on a golf course
Nearly saved a life with one telephone call
Isn’t it a marvel
Isn’t it a wonder
It’s our one and only chance
To avoid a catastrophic blunder
[...] Read more
poem by Mason Maestro
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