Concrete Valley...

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  I stop on the corner staring at the sky, searching for pennies with my palms held out high.  I fear no evil.  Not even when the valley is all around me sky scraping heaven's foundation reaching for a higher level.  In*dust*rialization is the valley we live in but IN DUST REALIZATION is blown away like grains of sand like sands of time and the hour glass which holds me is not a glass ceiling but a padded room with no light and one window.  Looking out into the valley.  And my thoughts bounce off the padded walls of your head so that you do not hear what I say.  But I'm searching for pennies.  They add up to the price of your freedom.  And as I save pennies like those before me did to pay for the freedom of my families you buy into chains and bracelets.  Programmed radio and pre-recorded Television.  What does programmed mean?  Exactly that, what does pre-recorded mean?  Tested and determined to have the highest effect on your mind, is what it means to me.  What have you bought into?  Nautica, Tommy, Polo, Timberland...  How many pennies will it cost to buy your family?  Now you are labeled as a dime a dozen.  But even then I can't afford the price of zero point eigth three, three recurring three to infinity is more than I will ever have (10divided by12) .  For the pennies I find fall out of the holes in my pockets, holes of taxation, deficit, and legislation, and roll into the sewers under the streets of the valley.  For thou willingly art with me. Thy rod and thy staff comfort me.  Even though I see police brutality.  Even though the wood that supports my grandmother's curved and worn back is cut from the same tree as night sticks that beat my family.  And the sounds of their screams are muffled by the padded walls that keep your brain contained in and the words that I speak OUT...  Thou preparest a table in the presence of mine enemies my cup runneth over like so many vials of ink that are spilled to express what I think but you can't see what's on my mind, or maybe you can so you blow a hole in my head to see what else you can find.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.  And all the days of your life, for what is life but the foreword to chapters of existance that can only be fathomed when you leave this limiting physical body behind and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever... Copyright ©2001 AllisterUnconditional trust ===> Faith... Written April 26th, 2001 © on Sep 24 2001 03:45 AM PST   20 • 0 • 9