Federation Con Poem by Monos Unalos

To fools who fly Confederate Flags
And hollar rebel yells,
Standing only in rotten hallways
Slaves unto themselves.

Holding on to yesterdays
How many midnights?
Flying flags of gone-by ways
And their Christian right.

Never seeing the glaring, fatal flaw
Locked into their plan;
Of denoting a piece as property
Where there was a man.

For though history’s rebellions
Are generally in right
The southern flag when brought to mind
Connotes not such a sight.

So I would ask and plead with them,
Who mean it to mean free,
To trade in this double-bladed sword
And in its place put Lee.

For a picture of the General would,
In spectrumnal way,
Reflect the right of southern’s stand
In a color not so gray.