You Say You Want a Revolution?

By Bud Koenemund

For the tired, the poor, the huddled masses.

Despite the wishes of those in power,
This revolution will be televised.
The poor; sick; starving masses who cowered,
Will no longer accept a genocide
Of economic strangulation, while
Beings who possess so much continue
Demanding more – even as they revile
Souls suffering in need. Flesh and sinew
Will awaken; spirits rise ‘bove contempt;
The angry will be heard; the hungry fed,
And homeless housed when we find redemption
In helping others ‘long a path all tread.
   This world will emerge, better than it was,
   When every man’s fate becomes our cause.

Had I the Power to Stop Loving Thee

For "Her."

Had I the power to stop loving thee,
Do you believe I would remain enslaved;
Condemned to pay a Sisyphean fee
For a creature who has ever depraved
Affection? Could I simply exile my
Sanity to a world of pain; breeding
Madness within emotion gone awry?
Or, yield my heart's final beat; conceding,
At long last, a battle lost years ago?
Though I fear torment, my passion endures,
And, despite discontent, I'll never bow;
Only, endeavour to prove this love pure.
   As a soul lives beyond the mortal breath,
   So too will my devotion outlast death.