Written In Blood (Centuries Too Late) Poem by Edward Veilleux

I can take liberties in my use of words,
I write freely in our modern age.
Imagine when verse was greatly obscured,
Blood and tears stained every page.

Shot down or arrested for writing your view,
exiled from your town or even country.
All because they could not enslave you,
and your unwavering radical philosophy.

These days, words have less sway,
politicians let us talk as much as we see fit.
They talk as well, but their ideas merit pay,
They don't care, they still get paid for it.

Meanwhile us writers, the people who care,
are lost among the faces of a conforming crowd.
It's popular to be 'radical, ' because this world is unfair.
jump on the bandwagon, scream the slogans loud.
If they throw a rally, show your support and be there,
Do it for Guevara, make the revolutionaries proud.

The difference my friends, is all to easy to see.
They were doing what they felt had to be done,
Meanwhile you are just trying to invent a new 'me.'
There is no war here left to be won.

A new image to match the new fad,
buy your beret, with a blazing red star.
repeat every slogan, about how life is bad,
Push out all thoughts of how fake you are.

There is no risk these days of being exiled,
Writers back then were under contant control.
Now we can write whatever, it's been this way for awhile.
There's nothing to stray from, you can't break the mould.
Bestselling lists are filled with radical books by the pile.
Controversy is now the best way to get your books sold.

I'm sick of the over dramatic expression,
we don't write under the gun, where'd you get that impression?
You're not a radical, or a revoluion starter.
how sad it is to see, a centuries-late martyr.