My View OF Economy

What is this thing called economy?
I believe for a healthy one is refusing some echoes
Of the sounds of their lost identities in the city
They are the whispers of the evil one on Jesus' humanity

Of promising the whole city to him if he worships
Suggested to you through movements, sounds, and expressions
Blocking your way to your motherland
Your own home in the Father's Kingdom

They are around in your presence
Seek protection from the Holy One
They are the virgin souls uncorrupted
Baptized through the Holy Spirit

They promise to turn the stone into bread
They are those who plan for your death as their pension
The killers of your inheritance back to His Kingdom
Fear not, my Soul, I am still your contracted virgin bride

The evil one builds false dreams of promises of a tower
And asks you to jump down promising to be held by angels
They are the ones bidding for your soul
Which they steal with threats forced into your consciousness

Fear not my Soul, for your Mother is around
Protecting you with the Holy Father's presence
Welcoming you into our Kingdom

The Executive Class

They execute the plans of their Bussiness
For an unending rule of their land
Of obedience to the law of the just
Whom Jesus welcomes to His kingdom

They are trained in legitimate schools
With the embossed parchment diploma as seal
Of receiving honors and all responsibilities
Taking care of the tree planted within the school

They have to have an eye for the undesirables
Who thrust their way to the top
Stealing and cheating their way in
Through threats of violence to your kin

They have to be dealt in the executive way
Tagging and packaging them the legal way
For you don't just sell products
You have to sell your service too

Some hired or casual workers are pests and liabilities
Tag them as your company's waste
Some loyal ones can be sold as recycled containers
But some destructive acids has to be dealt with

They are either sent to prison you trust
Be careful though of the killer general
And of those who misinterpreted their powers
Of destroying food of the people, and enslaving the tillers

Of herding vendors honestly earning for a living
Disregarding the basic value of the land
Posing as the lover of all mothers
Pitiful condition of one who was never shown love

They are the pa-cute over-aged gurang
Seeking a home begging by deception or force
Go seek your own ghetto mother somewhere
Not in my privacy you paroled prisoner

Judges And MacThe Knife's

They lurk within your own soul, the vigilantes
Not necessarily within the benefit of formality
Of helpless souls committing suicides and aggressions
Of martyrs and fencers even in your own home

The judges are those who sentence a scam
Claiming to be the god of all
Taking everything into his own hands
The downtrodden comes back as an old soldier

You see them in the eyes of little children
Travelling the dessert again
Provide for their keeping, feeding and learning
They will welcome you back in heaven's soul

Beto-Beto, Beso-Beso

From gambling boys in the streets
Throwing a pair of dice to earn some dime
To carnivals of games pula-puti
Down to the high ends of Casinos

Learning some mathematical formulas
Complicated chains of probabilities
Hired men are working, keeping tract
For an endless humanities

All in books kept for the new generation
Of running around the economy
Everything forgotten, but those I choose
Posing the question back again
Of solving the problem who caused the light bulb's end

Of the source of strength for my Art
My kiss in His church was my seal