Lend Me A Reason

Lend me a reason, so I may borrow a thought of concern,
too think twice before I speak, I think not- this apocalyptic
saga continues and I'm its voice of reason...in a season of
mind control, I'm the reason you cover your ears...

Give me a reason to shut-up and maybe I won't, there is no
more sunshine, only clouds cover the thoughts of the insane.
Manipulating our young, raping our women, killing our men
overseas; P.O.W's are forgotten memories...

Why should I stay quiet? some yearn to be heard. I only
want to be the warning before this shit hole blows over,
because in the end of times, when the Lord returns again,
and says, "Why didn't you listen?" and you say, "But Lord
I never heard your words," then I'll say, "You're a liar, I spoke
to you these words."

We come together to state our plea, to feel welcomed by a
society that let's us speak, but what will you do when they
say, "Shut-up or Die?" ridicule your words and ideas...maybe
this isn't you, but it'll happen to me. I say what others only
think of saying...

I'm the forgotten poet in the dark, awaiting for my time to ride
the Black Stallion. This bloody moon sheds no light upon your
souls- So what do you do about the end of the world?

As I speak, some of you still don't understand what is at hand,
this land is not your land or mine; we shall return to dust.
Lend me a reason and I might put my words together for you,
but if I do, you still won't understand...

I'm not artistic, or rhyme the blues; I'm a missionary of spoken
words, one of the few chosen to die by my words. It's only the
beginning of the end...ours! You will hear my voice until the day
the trumpet is blown, then you'll see me die, only to come back
again and ride with my Master...

For I get deep like basics, deep inside the mind, put fear in your
hearts, acknowledge the truth, deep like the waters that one day
will turn sour. Then the Beast will rise from the depths of Hell...
Are you ready for disaster?

I'm only a simple man, with a simple wish, to be understood before
I'm dead, but I don't need a reason to grab this microphone and
shout. My reason is living Hell here on earth, so judge me by my
character and words, remember the Lord will judge you by your
sins. Please lend me a reason, so I may throw it away!!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Keep your reasons!!

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allets's picture

Performance Piece

Performance poetry is about metered message that stands on its own and refuses to be analysed by conventional methods. We old foggies call it screaming at the man poetry, but it's popular and has earned it's place as a literary form...verses for the masses . . . always political and filled with "view". It is closer to Be Bop than Rap because of the attention to rythmns that are driving and complexed as Jazz compositions. This poem is classic in structure. The voice is paramount and I can hear you at the mike - loudly is always best - A