If all this world remains but a stage,

then, it beggars the question,

at what stage is the world?

Its players, movers, shakers, its trouble makers,

flagrantly plagiarise, compromise, sodomize

in a slow, deliberate circular motion.

This beautiful fragrant world,

created by a supreme being

was decorated to penthouse standard,

only to be pilloried by its unruly humans.

The shear arrogance of the species,

as, through 3D ‘rose’ tinted glasses

they cheer their team on and on.

‘Go man, go man, go man go’,

You started well, aagh screw the show.

Man got ten rules sent down from a mount,

had a team of lawyers go over them,

so now they’re no longer cast in stone.

The shear pomposity of mankind,

to open the rules up to self-interpretation.

Hell!! They’ve broken a few,

God!! I’d bet they’d even sue.

Millennia upon millennia, centaury upon centaury

Decade after decade, year in year out

Day after day, hour upon slow repetitious hour

Man continues to rape, sell others into slavery

hold prejudice on colour, religion, disability

sexual orientation, origin, freedoms, on rights,

need I go on with the chauvinism of man?

‘Human Rights’ hold on tight.

Could man act the bully through fear of the unknown?

scared to lift that barrier, remove the shadows.

Could man be running away from his past?

thereby making the same mistakes, missing new tracks.

Could man be afraid, be afraid of making changes,

leaving his comfort zone, smelling the coffee.

Could there be enough of us who know the bill of ‘48

to help others understand real, tangible human rights.

Join us, spread the word and become one, united nation.

© Phil Golding  08/09