Against Authority and Almighty

. . .in effect, the world will be populated by artists, each striving after perfection in the way that seems best to him
George Orwell

I'm a soldier
The pens are my guns
The words, my bullets;
And ever I will revere them in a way,
You have the gods and governments.
You have created the armies of almighty
Destroying others' clergy and humanity,
And the artificial authorities have bought us
And sold us off to the agents
Of unruly rulers.
Tho’ I will not ruin
And I’ll do no business,
For I’m a soldier,
For the ideals, I fight.


If the nibs get broken
If my words, if their meaning's lost
I would not mind,
If you throw my instrument box away
To the commode;
Perform its last rite, avow its dead;
Hide it inside your filthy safe;
Throw the pen and words away
And in lieu, keep your plunder
Or grenades and demand letter,
Or stolen wealth.
Tho’ I will march forward
For I’m a soldier
For liberty, I can stop writing.


But be amiss not
My love for pen and words
Passes the acclivity
When the authority and almighty
Writhe at the foot of the hill,
Now would you please allow me—
On the authority to defecate unsmellingly,
With some scented cleaner to flush the almighty?
Just once, I beg, when I feel the pressure to . . ?
Eh! A hungry tiger's face I can see on your face
But psycho I’m not, to shit on your god
Tho’ I believe in my inner voice
For I’m a soldier
For peace and justice, I beseech the humanity.