We the people
By the people
For the people

Suits stand suitably lining the streets as the freedom fighters
Fine and fined stand fighting for fingertips to touch fingertips
And lips to touch lips like other lips touch other lips
But that’s all different because
Two lips of the same kind
Cannot count the same as two lips from different kinds
Except when those two lips from different kinds
Are different colours.
And luscious lashes of a lover quickly turn to whiplashes from another
When the lovers are of different colours.
But we’ve passed that past
It was just a passerby
Of an era and now
We the people
By the people
For the people
So say some selected few forging the proper paths to be traveled by
Because a man and a woman can be pure and holy but
A man and a man or a woman and a woman, well
That’s a horse of a different colour.
But, no, this is different from colour.
Don’t taint times with times gone by
That was different
Different as two mates should be
Prim and Proper Pre-formed Paths of Primrose Yellow exist in a wood and damnit
Will be taken
Let’s look high and low at the facts here:
Love is love and is most lovely (mostly)
Love leads to lust and lust leads to, well
A stork of course
Which whips its wings against whirls of wind and ushers in new thoughts and times
Surely love cannot be love when lust leads only to more love as opposed to
Procreation?

We the people
By the people
For the people
Must make more people because that’s what the world needs
More people
And yet
Sickly souls slide sickles of judgement between couples
When no crime of commitment could be committed
And crass cries of potent “persons”
Penetrate the penned confessions of partners parted,
Peace is a patented design that belongs to some and not others, and
The privilege of holding a loved one’s hand
Can be considered a privilege?

We the people
By the people
For the people
Freedom fighters fine and fined stand fighting for fingertips to touch fingertips
And lips to touch lips like other lips touch other lips
But sick slick twists of power pour hasty propaganda in the streets
And
Soon
Someone
Slips--
And bare backs bear scars of cruelty
Cringing
As crimes of hate coat our cradles
And when the stork whips its wings against whirls of wind
It will bring forth a tail already told
Times are not tainted by times gone by but rather

They the people
By some people
For a people
Love’s labours lost on leering leeches
Siphoning sweet nectars from the creases of pages once lined with happiness and
Hearts hidden in sleeves spun from fearful fibers
A secret segregation of unspoken urges to serve an agenda of asphyxiation
And when did your suits and the suits of freedom fighters become so different anyway?
And when did the thoughts of one generation become the thoughts that were meant to stay?
And
Who says
They the people
Are a different people
Than we the people?