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Hans Ebert Poetry

Someone’s gone and stolen all the music

Someone’s kidnapped Father Time

Someone’s taken away all spontaneity

Everyone is happily falling into line

The control freaks keep barking out orders

They’re compensating for what they’re not

Things around them are collapsing fast

There are those who can’t be bought

Animal Farm has completely broken down

1984 has been here and come and gone

Tired old men busily keep up pretences

They know they’ve always had it wrong

The elephant in the room is never addressed

The problems are never fixed

Nero fiddles while gnomes burn

And the magic man is outta tricks

Don’t believe everything you hear

There’s always a secret agenda attached

The usual suspects think no one sees

The various political plots being hatched

There can be nothing real without change

And that means changing the tune

It’s not chanting the same old mantra

And listening to tone deaf buffoons

So many out there trying to talk tough

Even when they’re saying nothing at all

We know all about those empty vessels

And the difference between short and small

Where have all the flowers gone?

She asked me time and time again

I knew what she was trying to say

She saw me hiding inside the pain

Maybe there is no happily ever after

But brave men still dare to dream

They have no time for views and followers

And know Happiness is no Ponzie scheme

The corporate wheels fell off years ago

And things were allowed to wobble along

Some gave themselves up to a higher power

And believed their work was done

What exactly is happiness, he asked

Can it ever really be found?

Or is it something blindly pursued?

While singing about sending in the clowns?

We’re high on overload and misinformation

We got lost along that information highway

Maybe I’ve now found where I’m going

Because this isn’t where I wanna stay

Stay in that one place for too long

And you lose that wanderlust

Travel not only broadens your horizons

It keeps time from turning to rust

“Daddy, where are we going?, she asked

I didn’t know, but I somehow got her there

And now I need to find myself again

I’ve gotta leave here on my own

And when I get to where I might be going

Here’s hoping the soul kitchen is open there

Copyright © Hans Ebert, November 2022

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