Ride Noble Captain

 

Under the gun of a moonless sky

Johnny B. Good takes a ride

Down the broken streets of time

Through this strange and twisting rhyme

 

“Where goes the poet tonight?”

He’s asked by the cop with the flashing lights.

“I’m going where no one goes, he replies.

I’m going to…the birthplace of lies.”

 

Ride noble captain to the blood of the sun

Touch the flaming embers with the tip of your tongue

Taste the fire of relentless regret

Paint your face and hands red

 

This time around, is anyone one left

To give voice to the pain the world is fed

Deny if you will the writing on the wall

No one cares anymore.

The wicked own it all.

 

Black gold drips down parched blue throats

Children cry, bodies bloat

Stomped to the ground by jack boot heels

Trampled under wheels of steel

 

On their knees they pray,

While lead rains down on their parade

In the sand the hide

From the iron eyes in the sky

 

Ride noble Captain down the boulevard

Where the white dome glistens under the sun

Where scribes ruin lives for profit and fun

And flesh-eating scorpions play in the dung

 

Cash in their chips wherever they fall

Scrape off the blood from the walls of their halls

Collecting the bodies from bottomless wells

Filled to the brim with the death they sell

Is anyone left to tell?

 

Ride noble captain into the night

Slay the darkness with words of light

Smash through this bars of broken dreams

Give hope to those who yearn to be

 

Free from the sorrow that suckles the breast

Of the maggot ridden mother who feeds from her nest

Free them from the yoke of the monster’s breath

There’s no turning back

The poet, dear Captain, is back

 

Call them to the carpet of justice my friend

Unleash the voice of the stricken, from silence

Torn flags wave over those who die

Open the eyes of the blind

Ride Captain ride.

By Evergreen Wildwood

Copyright 2008