William Buckley “The whole system is rotten in Worst Australia. I was imprisoned for a parking offence and I didn’t own the vehicle. I never received a parking ticket, never received notification from Council about a fine, never received notification of a Court Action. The Police came to my home and carted me off to the lock up. No telephone call, no lawyer and when I complained they incited the prisoners to threaten me. I did complain to the Ombudsman but the Police investigated the complaint and covered it up. When I perused the matter further they send a Counter Terrorist Unit after me and they threatened to lock me in a mental institution. Lucky for me my wife and many of my friends were physiologists and the Head of the Mental Health Division was at my wedding. After 12 months of getting nowhere I chained myself to the Town Hall to protest the Injustice of the Court, the Police and the Government.”
William Buckley “The whole system is rotten in Worst Australia. I was imprisoned for a parking offence and I didn’t own the vehicle. I never received a parking ticket, never received notification from Council about a fine, never received notification of a Court Action. The Police came to my home and carted me off to the lock up. No telephone call, no lawyer and when I complained they incited the prisoners to threaten me. I did complain to the Ombudsman but the Police investigated the complaint and covered it up. When I perused the matter further they send a Counter Terrorist Unit after me and they threatened to lock me in a mental institution. Lucky for me my wife and many of my friends were physiologists and the Head of the Mental Health Division was at my wedding. After 12 months of getting nowhere I chained myself to the Town Hall to protest the Injustice of the Court, the Police and the Government.”
“ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK” Mr. Orange and his family are locked in The White House,They are in the bunker, playing with a mouse, Do “Orange Lives Matter?” as we push down the gate,That surrounds their house, as we use all our hate,To deface and pillage and run amuk ’round here,Peaceful protests are creating lots of fear. From President and family: “Orange Lives Matter,”Police get defunded, so more blood will spatter,On The White House lawn, and lives are burned away,By irate citizens, “We’ll loot and we’ll play,Until we all have had our fill of wrecking everything,We just need to just unload the hatred that we bring.” When everyone is yelling: “B. L. eM,”Orange lives don’t matter, and we can not stem,The tide of hatred towards every other race,And color and kind, occupation and face.”Police Lives Matter,” but we won’t pay them now,”Store Owners Matter,” but, you know, somehow,Their lives don’t matter, for we can loot each store, Young, strong thieves, poor and black want more. “Asian Lives Matter” and Brown Lives too,And “Indian Lives Matter,” like Apache and Sioux,”Russian Lives Matter,” and those who don’t move fast,Yes, “Elder Lives Matter,” but we have cast,Our fates to the wind, thinking we are kind,For Tweeting al the hatred that’s on our mind,”Women’s Lives Matter,” and children need protection,”Orange Lives Matter,” I guess before election,The Presidential Family have heads upon some stakes,Which are standing on The White House Lawn; well, this just makes,Me realize that words are not that strong:KIND ACTION is authentic; this rhetoric’s all wrong.
“Until one nation ceases its attempts to dominate another, there will never be true freedom. Until one religion relinquishes its quest to prove its god superior to that of another, there shall never be world peace. We will never truly prosper or experience lasting harmony, until we refrain from preaching the gospel of our own moral values and our personal preferences by forcing it upon others.”― Anthon St. Maarten
To make beautiful music, you have to play all the chords. In relation to everyday life, to make the world a better place, you have to respect everyone, no matter what they look like. The color of our skin does not determine our fate on this earth. The color of our skin does not mean we are inferior or superior to another being.
Southern trees bear strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees Pastoral scene of the gallant south The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh Then the sudden smell of burning flesh Here is fruit for the crows to pluck For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop Here is a strange and bitter crop Songwriters: Lewis Allan / Maurice Pearl / Dwayne P Wiggins
