It’s a poem about an old man in a tree telling a younger man what to do for freedom. My inspiration was something Denis Diderot wrote, "Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest." I’m not as good writer as he, let’s face it my work could be written better, but if a good writer had my imagination they’d be the best. I try to get my stuff out there so at least it is seen.

I seen an old man in a tree

He said he knows how to truly be free

This coming from an old man in a tree

 “Tell me old man what you can foresee”

I said to old man in the tree

“First you kill every last priest”

Did he just say kill a priest

“That’s right all priests “

As he repeated it back he said “priests”

Crazy old man in the tree

Well alright I did it and it happen to be

The very best job just for me

And though I finished every damn priest

And I still don’t believe that I’m free

I run on the land and sail in the sea

To find that crazy old man in the tree

 

“Second you kill every leader and king”

Said that aging old man at the stump now sitting

He’s too old to climb up this spring

Before I left I made him a swing

Then I went off to kill every leader and king

Lost a finger fighting guards in Beijing

I keep in a bag made from a bat’s right wing

And it hangs in my bedroom on the wooden ceiling

I ran through a castle from the right to the left wing

And killed everybody between

And I did this very cruel thing

Until there were no more leaders nor kings

Still freedom’s bell does not yet ring

So I went back to the old man on the tree swing

 

“Now you must rid the world of its money

And become a resource based economy.”

He said after “Listen sonny”

Now his fabric was very gunny

And it itched it was very funny

It looked like this man had never seen money

I did as he said and felt like a dummy

Even opened every single mummy

Showed everyone to make and share food for the tummy

Grow as much as you can with no worry of money

We’ll feed the whole world with this new economy

With the advances of green technology

That will not be held back from religion or money

I must go tell the man that swings in a tree

What’s this there’s no swing nor spruce just me

 

I stood there as old as once was he

When we first met under the leaves

I know this old man can no longer be

I just wanted him to know that I’m free

I will plant a tree

Just in memory

Of the crazy old man in the tree

That showed me just how to be free

He was a crazy old man just like me

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