Boychild dreams of the Promised Land , A Poem, By: Andrew Taylor

were you brought up poor?
were you down on the floor?
did your parents never tell you you were needy?

when the Assisted-Housing Super come
did he mess with your mum?
did he make your proud momma cry
by his questions when he'd pry?
treat your working dad like a bum
and make the children all run?

so my teeth aren't straight
cuz braces cost a lot,
I didn't join team hockey
cuz the equipment was the same story.

and I took no holidays abroad, so what?
I found new lands with my mates
under cover
of King Capital's radar

And I learned a passion strong
so strong, O so strong -
I am still surprised there's another way
to get true religion

than to join with your class
and have a gas,
act up, watch hard, talk big, stand up,
and never fall for a fool -
whether a boss or politician
be he soft as honey, smooth as butter...

Still I sense a rising tide,
poor kids learn to taste inside,
christ rising in the brothers and sisters

and watch how we'll gather like a mighty flood,
how our smarts will restore this world's disorder
by new creation.