Their Sacred Songs Were Sung~by Tom Mcmurray

The builders brought the vision
With a brilliance in design.
Their courage of decision
Crossed the angry blow of brine.

In search of new salvation
Filled with passion for thou Art,
They captured sweet elation
When restraints were torn apart.

As engineer’s electrified
Thin etchings drawn in ink –
The architects conceptualized
Artistic minds to think.

Their ancient skills of vision.
Were a call to sanctify
The soul without derision
And without an alibi.

Belief in dreams alone
Defeat the threat of death,
And this they’ve always known
With each and every breath.

Their souls are seared inside blue steel
Now bridged as mortar to the stones.
These ragged rogues did bleed for real
With honor drilled inside their bones.

Their monuments now battered
Into shards of shattered glass
That lie as fragments scattered
In a steel and glass morass.

The plastic people pouring out
Wear right-wing Rockwell faces;
Crazy words they always shout
While leaving putrid traces.

These are the ones who falsified
The facts as they have lied.
Those liars will be mortified,
Their children crucified.

The mighty do meander,
As they mark their morbid way
And fill the fetid spaces
With the stink of their decay.

But I can find the teller
Of the tall and awkward tale,
They tend to be transparent to
We men who ride the rail.

It is this degradation
And the darkness of deceit
That’s seen in every ghetto
As no secret on the street;

Symbolic of the hypocrites custodial conceit.

All pretense of perfection
Can provide but brief protection
From the madness at the margins of the mind.
And to the soldier’s on the field
The liars soon will be revealed
As weapons turn to lock and load in kind.

The promise was perverted
By the pompous and the proud.
While men of honored greatness
With their genius speaking loud,
Are pushed aside by brokers
Who collect the lesser crowd.

They break and batter dreams
And turn the hopes of men to dust.
With all the wrecking balls beleaguered
They have raped the promised trust
And torn our sacred temples down
For minor profits in the ground.

The genius of these immigrants
In death how proud they stand,
Their contributions prominent
On this, their chosen land.

The people once paraded with a passion and a pride,
To serenade with songs they love the sacredness of soul;
The past should be protected by the present to provide
A living link to history that unifies the whole.

I hear their vital voices still
Reverberate as one
As out of sacred shelters spill
Their sacred songs once sung.