Ode to the Federal Reserve

T’was 1913, on cold and cumbersome Christmas eve
that the bankers and politicians in shadow held keep.
Monetary laws they passed on that holiday season,
were passed at a time when people were busy holiday pleasing,

and assured notes created by a private source
were to be used as the country’s monetary resource.
These bankers, though, used nothing of value to support their notes,
and debt was created with every printed note.

And debt was owed with every promised note.
There was one other piece, though, this plan would float.
The US owed the bankers, as they charged interest, too,
creating the Income Tax, a practice of usury through and through.

Debt slaves, we pay off the interest to the Fed our country owes
like credit cards paying off credit cards on a debt that eternally flows.

 

“Ode to the Federal Reserve” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. 

 

 

 

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Paris Is Burning

Fourteen weeks long this tale has become,
fourteen weeks and at five weeks undone.
The violence shared upon them all,
a demand their governors heed their call.

A fire ignited in a break for gas,
a dystopic peace on the weekend clash
the yellow coats multitude against armored law.
To true peace and justice, an anchored pall.

In reverence marches chaos in history’s wake,
an example kept steadfast for independence sake;
to ensure the name and values of a nation’s import
are no longer a commodity for globalist export.

The French have kept Paris a burning light,
dozens of cities inspire the entire world to fight.

“Paris is Burning” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. 

 

Justice Delayed

Green flash at the break of dawn,
the hope of the world released in song,
that radiance upon the darkness shine,
and truth amid deception find.

To strike a balance among the conscious minds,
the severance of rigor-mortise once strongly entwined
in coil of mortal perception, a vice of fear,
a sullen casque enforced both far and near.

Await the swift hand of justice as pass the rebellious pyre.
The hollow heroes’ dressed funerals, honor’s procession expired.
Only malice and cancer may merit the fire,
for it was faith and love that kept the consciousness higher.

A day shall arrive where memory provides the model,
and the children of treason shall no longer be coddled.

 

“Justice Delayed” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. 

 

 

 

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Light Presence

A prophetic voice inside the crowd
has promised victory with pride aloud,
has brandished hatred in black and blue
and left vessels corrupted with this sickly hue.

The victims of warfare against the mind,
become soldiers of hatred marching haughtily blind.
They succumb to the songs of the deceiving dead,
an echoing repetition in circles said.

Steadfast, the virtue of light adorn the head,
and cast all lost in a sea of red,
and shatter the grip of the singing dead,
and shatter the hold of the lies they spread.

A heightened right, a sovereign call,
disperse the wave against the wall.

 

“Light Presence” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.

 

Respite Americana

Reaching climes not ever thought,
the cleansing process, time has bought.
Mobility serves in striding miles
the marching feet those right beguiled.

No service comes from those left unjust
who’ve taken speech in a deafening hush.
The light that shines on all the dark,
shines bright at root and blackened heart.

It awakens the sleeping civil leaders.
It awakens the once lost oath keepers.
The vowed, silenced, arise masses and majorities;
the shunned, broken their omnipotent security.

The trumpets of a heartbeat begin to ring.
Music in victory the silenced chorus sings.

 

“Respite Americana” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.