Enemy Makers Poem by Alfred Barna

The true foes that we face
Are the Enemy Makers
The true thieves which case
Our children; thought takers
Stealing innocence for their old plans
Defining every word, crafting knives
Making us aliens upon our own lands
Beware the darkness, which connives

They conjure, what we are to believe
Hoping to mesmerize us into their twisted heart
They take the real, and plastic we receive
Saying we should be grateful to take the part
Their minions, making the people feel so small
As to raise their lowly souls above us all
But they are from fathoms we cannot reach
For anyone with a lively heart, and lively mind
Which is why their lessons to me, they cannot teach
They are befuddled there are some, they cannot bind

Freedom we must realize is for ill or for good
So take it to memory that it comes at great cost
To stand and decide for oneself to be understood
It can be left to none but us, or it will be lost
You cannot entrust a gift of gold to be entrusted
By those who lust for nothing but all the power
For iron is strong, but eventually it can be rusted
And patience is long for those who seek to devour

They even tell you what it is that you dream
But desires are not always things to pursue
For they wait at the point you cross into the stream
To release the deluge; this shall overtake you
Then they chuckle amongst their brothers in jest
Showing the plans they laid before you began your quest
There are things a man needs, and some which are nice
But some, men can do without; we must discern which it is
But always things in which we must pay with a price
It is with our souls we must put the latter to a quiz