Verses in Praise of LRC

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The human race
(at least our Western branch)
Seems suicidal with each avalanche
Of bureaucratic boulders. Law by law,
By tens of thousands, maybe millions more,
Our open prison offers walls and bars
To modern serfs who cruise around in cars.

Serf’s up!
The ancient instinct to be free
Falters, then sinks unblinking in the sea
Of television’s ghostly, ghastly glare,
Pure propaganda pushed by Bush and Blair
Where nightly news is not so much reported
As cut from cloth that Marx and Co. exported.

While public
schools intensify the stress,
Each generation values freedom less,
Trained to surrender to the nanny-state
Which saves each victim from a far worse fate.
Tall tales of terror justify each purge
As, wave by wave, the seas of serfdom surge.

Standing or
lying down, it’s all the same,
Riding the rolling breakers of the game,
Getting and spending artificial money,
Borrowed or earned – who cares? – it’s poisoned honey!
And when the great day comes to pull the plug,
Oceans will dry and banks withdraw their drug.

Only the Internet
can save us now.
Mad monarchs leer, each lie a sacred cow
Fed by the green, green grass of tax on tax.
Only online may liberty relax,
Sipping her coffee, fooling with her friends,
Baring her heart with every blog she sends.

Surfing the
internet (please note the ‘u’)
Offers the far-flung, freedom-loving few
A college shorn of every last professor,
With never need to grin and grunt out ‘Yessir’.
And, on the topmost branches of the tree,
Perching with perfect poise, here’s LRC!

Telling the
truth: that’s what Lew’s site is for,
To cut life’s crude conventions to the core,
To celebrate, in words of high delight,
Wisdom so dear that demons must take fright.
Spreading the word: yes, thanks to Lew, we do,
As, week by week, we welcome thousands new.

It’s darkest
(so they say) before the dawn.
Well then, the fairest freedom may be born
Hot on the heels of tyranny so vile
That even heroes click their heels and ‘Heil!’
Yet brute, ferocious shadows fade at last
As dawn’s delicious light comes flooding fast.

While glib
and gloating governments outrage,
With vile defilers strutting every stage,
Yet those with eyes to see and hearts to feel
Smile with an inner gladness all-too-real,
Glowing with inner-knowing, worldly-wise,
Dry beneath brollies under streaming skies.

Such are the
devotees of LRC,
Who sip the sap of wisdom from the tree
Of simple human truth where Everyman
Meets at the junction where it all began.
And, on that note, your bard must take his bow,
Wrap up his rant, and email it right now!

November
10, 2006

John
Langley [send him mail],
father of eight little libertarians, lives in England’s beautiful
Peak District, where he writes poetry and makes pottery ocarinas.

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