A COLLECTION IN TIME, JASON RONIN [best contemporary novels .txt] 📗

place
you move with such grace

A freeman of the land no idea of sin
part of a people that don't fit in
not bound by the cages of lifes light within
about the streets like a modern day Huckelberry Finn

In Swansea town
you wear the crown
unofficial King of the Hobos would make you frown
part of the landscape wearing a Hobos gown

At night in the drinking quarter
you stand and watch the beer fueled slaughter
and listen to the music like an etherial hawker
no slave to that night or whore of the daily dustbin porter

Tbag Pete they call you but is that your name
You did not ask for this kind of fame
You did not want to join in the game
So wander you do wearing no shame

With your life so free
and empty of worrying chi
I just wanna say don't you see
we should envy you Mr Hobo lifes absentee


© 2011 Ronin


The soudtrack to your mental machinations
As the bodies hit the floor
Do you think your a soldier of the class war
Victims arn't we all of your death dealing gyrations


© 2011 Ronin


THATCHERS SPAWN

A Poem by Ronin
"
Just a rant at the return of the Thatch
"


In stygian dreams the reaper will play

He will look at you your entire glamor in sway

You think you know best without reason or rhyme

But you don’t realise you’re wasting your time


At the height of your power by old Blenny’s shadow

You ensnare us all in a political tango

You open your mouth and give us the spin

If you are wise you will take it on the chin


For lies they spew no doctrines that are true

And we are enslaved by their Machiavellian sway

So on we go life day after day our pockets grow smaller while they take our pay

Our streets grow deep with the detritus of living

While life goes on but the bag rats unforgiving


In your high castle you sit playing at god

Then smacking us all with your priministerial rod

The Iron Lady came before

With her policies brought our world down to the floor


Brother against brother and father against son

When she lost her crown we thought we had won

Now Thatcher’s children are in the house of evil

Weaving her magic like a Boolean weevil


And on it goes because we put them there

Believing their lies we let the spectre rise

Now they are here without compromise

And the reaper arrives once more in a suit his disguise.


© 2011 Ronin


Freedom aka Benthams dream.
A Poem by Ronin
"
Is freeedom an illusion.
"

Cities of gold now gone so cold

Full of creatures with slime in their souls

For gods are now the contents of your wallet

The eternal Jester sings a leprous sonnet


Watched by Orwell’s eyes at every corner

And freedom is a word that is whispered by mourners

In a Panopticon world of Bentham’s dream

Our lives are sutured like a surgical seam


In the dark we cry for life’s loves lost

Freedom we cry whatever the cost

And TPOB say but you are free

And laugh and say but only if we agree.


© Copyright 2010 Jason Ronin


cycle of life
A Poem by Ronin

You got your house your car your two point four
but your just a capitalist whore
a slave to the system of a greenbacked class war

The ties that bind are the ties that grind
from birth to death it is written you will find
your life is owned with no peace of mind

part of orwells machine designed to make more bread
your only reward is when you wake up dead
cause you will lose your house with the money lenders crash
and who gets it the same men dealing in petty cash

So dream your dreams and light your lights
and prepare your wallet to receive the last rites
cause freedoms just another word when you got nothing to lose
I will wait for you to join me at the bottom of this bottle of booze.


© 2011 Ronin


© 2011 Ronin Imprint

Publication Date: 12-04-2010

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