A poem started writing itself in my head around the middle of last year. I posted it back in February, and have toggled its visibility on and off every now and then, because, frankly, I’m really self-conscious about the things I write. I’m even more self-conscious about the things I sing, but by the time I had the words finished, it had begun to grow a tune as well.

This is my war song. This is what I sing under my breath while I carry out my duties-of-state, and while I allow my mind to touch on all the various grievances I have with our society and our government. This is a tiny sliver of my own personal indictment of the modernist establishment. I had NO IDEA how much more relevant it would begin to feel, all these months later. But OH BOY, has it ever. Wow.

I’m not a “music person.” I don’t play an instrument, so it’s just raw vocals. I used to sing in choirs, but I’m very rusty, and I get emotional while I’m singing, and my voice gets wobbly and threatens to break. I also recorded it on an old iPhone, and some of the P’s and B’s are a little puffy. It’s not great quality – but I don’t have the time or equipment to do all of that, and I don’t particularly want to. I’m kinda shy.

I’m putting this up while I’m feeling brave enough to share it, because I think some people need to hear it. I have to believe that I was inspired to write it, and to sing it, for a reason. Fear would keep me silent, but I am putting my faith and my trust in God.

If you ARE a music person and you happen to like this song, I encourage you to steal it and run with it. I don’t care if you make money off of it. My ideas are 100% free. I call it the “I DON’T WANT YOUR DIRTY MONEY” license.

For the first time in my life, I see us – WE, THE PEOPLE – poised as a nation to make a real difference for our future. I see us poised, on the very eve of our destruction, to reach out, and to instead choose REDEMPTION.

I cannot adequately describe the coldness of the righteous anger that has grown in me all these years, as I have toiled and struggled and fought to carve out a life of my own making, in a corrupt system which was never designed to afford me opportunity – but to put me in my place as chattel; as an atomized, expendable unit of labor.

Neither can I adequately describe the warmth of the fire that has been kindled in me by the efforts of the good and the Godly men and women of my country – and by the power of the Holy Spirit, testifying to me that if WE, THE PEOPLE are willing to live in good and in Godly ways, if we are willing to live by principles of TRUTH, if we are willing to follow GOD’S PLAN and have FAITH, then we will hold the Mandate of Heaven, and no enemy seeking to destroy us (neither from without, nor from within), shall prevail against us.

Pray. Stand. Fight. The enemy WILL be destroyed in the end.

Nothing can stop what is coming.

God bless, patriots.


Have you heard the lamentations of the women
driven from their homes before the dawn?
Can you hear the crying of the children
in the morning, when they wake to find them gone?

Don’t lie to me, America;
don’t stand there and try to tell me we’re all better off this way.
Those freedoms that you gave us,
when you said you came to save us,
(all these bonds which now enslave us)
cost more than all we had to give away.

Do you see the desolation of the valleys
where so many generations’ fields were sown?
Or feel the silent sadness of the fathers
aching for a child they’ve never known?
You pawned them for the highest price
their innocence, their souls, their lives
their involuntary sacrificial offering to sin and vice –
so small – in light of all you stood to GAIN.

But all your tears could not recuse me
so my darling, please excuse me;
I’ll not echo your Malthusian refrain.
For the grand manipulations and the false emancipations of
your wretched supplication to your god of liberation –
how many of my sisters have you SLAIN?

So come here, sit down, shut up – and listen to me, little girl.
You want to enchain the whole world, and it’s NOT OKAY.
But in the end the truth will find you
that the only chains that bind you
are the decisions that define you;
no matter what those other voices say.

We’re all prisoners in the dungeons of our making;
we all must choose the penance that we pay.
Down in the darkness waiting,
just before the dawn was breaking –
when the devil knocked, you smiled and bade him stay.
And you’ve been selling all your charms,
now you’re crying for the arms
of a man who says he wants you anyway.

But did your white knight on his high horse tell you –
why his armor’s shining?
Could it be perhaps he’s spent more hours polishing than fighting?
Have his hands grown soft?
His face gone pale?
Have his limbs grown weak?
Does his spirit quail?
Will his feet falter when the battle falls like lightning?

Will you watch the tables turn?
Will he be bleeding while you burn?
Or did you think that all the world would be your stage?
Now your curtain call draws nigh –
but you can’t run and you can’t hide from
the dragons you have summoned to your cage.

But don’t cry for me, America;
you’re just another girl with a beautiful face.
You’re gonna see, it won’t be long
We’ve had two hundred years
to contemplate your fall from grace