Narrative
Verse One
Many centuries/ before us/ there was a Milanese/
Who owned a bakery/ to support his family/
Hands leathery/ due to impatient burns/ still
Appreciated his brick oven fueled with hickory
He had love in his heart/ until a wintery night/
When a robbery unforeseen had injured his wife/
Not quite fatal but her recovery was strife/
To Fiore who spent all his gold for her life/
Multiple surgeries/ expensive drugs from the pharmacy/
He didn’t give a damn/ but diminished was his salary/
And the act of baking bread turned into drudgery/
As his money lenders crept up like leprosy/
Eventually/ the bankers claimed the biz ness/
His family sat silently/ while they bore wit ness/
To a loving husband and father gone heart less/
Fist less/ and empty like a home less’ wish list/
Verse Two
And years before that/ somewhere in Hungary/
A peasant woman sat/ sewin an embroidery/
A mystery she finds time from medieval slavery/
To fabricate a dress for her daughter’s anniversary/
For being alive at the age of five/
‘Cause the plague forced many to say early good-byes/
and that’s how the father and the son had died/
long nights were spent as they held each other and cried/
And even though their lives/ would never be the same/
They had to go on/ and keep searchin’ for better days/
But the shades were formidable to allow lee way/
For the sun in the sky/ to shine down their way/
With the two of them left/ farming became a stress/
Estahazy didn’t care that half the fam was dead/
Instead/ they abused their power to seize the farmstead/
The rest of the story better left unsaid/
Verse Three
Not too long ago/ iu Northwest Michigan/
A Finnish lumberjack took off his Sunday cardigan/
To get into some good ol’ fashioned shenanigans/
And entertain his sons and nephew from Oregon/
With good reason/ it was yuletide season/
A time to give a back a rest from all the trees and/
Show compassion to the nuggets with treats and/
Stare at his wife as they stroll down Elysian/
And he loved his work/ from the beginning
He could look at a tree and know how many boards were in it/
His crew eventually became mindful to mimic/
Man’s respect for the trees/ from the start to finish/
Astonished/ by the wonderous ways of the woods/
He tried to preserve them/ as best as he could/
As long as he understood/ the sustainable balance/
Make room for them to grow/ and get food from borealis/
Hands callused/ and sweaty as he worked one day/
Noticed a pair of smoke stacks/ rising up his way/
But Kononen didn’t let it overweigh his day/
Until a caddy pulled up/ with men in suits who said/
We’re a lumber company/ and we’d like your business/
See we bought all this land/ but your two hundred acres/
Why don’t you work for us/ and sell us your land/
And be our head lumberjack/ and get a cash reprimand?
The offer seemed too good for him to with stand/
So Kononen went ahead and said “yes” to their demands/
And they gave him somethin’ like seven or eight grands/
But from then on he bet on obeyin’ their commands/
But what he didn’t know about/ was his company’s ethics/
Which was non-existent/ even down to the basics/
Started clearcuttin’ acres/ mass produce papers/
All in one belching factory that took over labor/
So from that day on/ Kononen hit the front lines/
Waged a battle unwanted/ against the tall pines/
An ambitious program of no tree left behind/
What’s God’s design/ nature or machine that’s blind?
Bridge
Despite differences/ and oceans of distances/
Humanity seems to be an array of grievances/
Whether you poor as dirt/ or licenced for indulgences/
The keepers of your world will throw down on hindrances/
And infiltrate/ every aspect of your day/
From café/ skyway/ to your nearest target/
If I could choose/ I’d rather be alive than be paid/
cause once you let em’ one, they’ll take it all away/
Verse Four
A woman in her thirties/ a recently freed slave/
Crossed the Mason-Dixon to look for better pay/
And a new llife in Chicago where her cousin stayed/
And hoped to start a family and a home someday/
She walked/ under the sun and the moon/
Her feet maroon/ from treading the month of June/
Folks who passed her/ offered water and dried food/
And her hope for the morrow strengthened her immune/
Chicago!!! She was finally here/
Unfamiliar/ but indeed a lively atmosphere/
Symphony premiers/ and fancy chandeleres/
She dreamed of living without pain without fear/
Her cousin came near and embraced sweet Lily/
Reminisced and asked about each others family/
Went around the alley/ bought two cups of chilli/
And told her about a flat and a job that pays weekly/
Right to work/ as a chimney sweeper/
For a man who hooked her up with soot to sweep up/
And he owned a bunch of flats/ like the one Lily took up/
And the other ones were occupied with other cheap work/
She soon learned the money’s just enough/
To pay the rent/ and buy basic food stuff/
Even the corner store was owned by Mr. Buff
Who took off credit from her weekly pay stub/
Transition
So let me redifine/ I feel so inclined/
To reveal t he history omitted by masterminds/
The kind who misaligned our basic lifestyle/
To chain us to their game/ resistance is futile/
The stories enshrined/ of the souls intertwined/
I realize there’s a part of me in all humankind/
The most high and the most fit/ will continue to climb/
Since nothing really new happens under the sunshine/
And I find myself/ strapped down/ by dead clowns/
Who own grounds/ tax towns/ can’t hide ‘cause you’ll be found
By people who got it/ pharmaceutical monsters got it/
Wearing a mask as daily aid/ stimulants that will get you laid/
Anxiety from a life-go-round/ Xanax will help you fade/
Who’s got it? Evian and Brita water filter’s got it/
Pollute the natural water to the point where we gotta have it/
Who’s got it? Monsanto and Cargill’s got it/
Super DNA/ sayin’ it’s the only way/
Passin’ through the farms/ spray the seed to seize the day/
And while they’re at it they’ll also seize your land away/
Because According to them/ you used their seeds without pay/
And that allows em legal rights with power to confiscate/
Any super crop or the land it engrained/
Don’t feel betrayed it’s just the way playas play/
Using humanity’s struggle as a bridge to lay the barricade/