The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

Revisited the 60's in a dream this past eve.... I saw Bobby fall and lying in a puddle of his own blood Martin and John followed by processions of broken; tears and cries Bodies with motionless eyes, frozen amid trenches of mud Riots of revolution and defiance although, somehow tainted Within these delusions; peace, equality, love and drugs.... Norma Jean Baker, aka, Marilyn Monroe with, a bottle of pills by her side Dorothy Gale, finally making it over her distant rainbow ~ Jimmy, Janice and James, walking through their eternal youthful doors Malcolm exiting and the Zodiac entering but, humankind did land upon the moon.... A Supreme Court forever changing the face of this place with, breathing documents!? I awoke from this scene which held many other things Some good; but most, hidden behind the lies entwined within, democracy What we call such yet realizing as I reflected upon this dream and life It is so much more in line with, that of a monarchy.... The crumbs which are scattered by the hands that try to rule this world Yet even they do not know the shadows that, rule they themselves?! Gazing about and around at the endless in broken; lives lost to be scattered Upon the wakes of this relentless campaigns, poisoned and cruel carnage Hearts bleeding with spirits of wings torn to crash; taken and for the taking.... Looking at Bobby lying in a puddle of blood clutching desperately unto a rosary Within his last moments of life amid this dust afore his sight, as he stood now At Heavens Gate; these hands that led to his fate Whether it be called democracy, monarchy or anything else!? Beholding them all and knowing beyound this dream, the extremely twisted Unseen; bent upon and I ask myself now, who shall stand as I turn my eyes towards heaven to ponder this saddened truth in a world I find.... **************************************************************** ....“This, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle?!” ~