Poetry by The Frontier Man
In a world where health should reign supreme,
The Sickcare machine feeds a wicked dream.
For profits and gains, they've taken the stage,
Turning healthcare into a lucrative cage.
A pill for the day, and one for the night,
Not to cure, but to prolong the fight.
A system rigged, a wicked game,
Bankrupting souls, it is a shame.
With prices so high, twice the global norms,
The industry thrives, but the patient deforms.
In the name of health, they claim their right,
Yet their interest lies in eternal plight.
Many face bills, so hard to beat,
Life's savings and dreams, all suffer defeat
While giants stack gold in their vast treasure stash,
Too many are lost, their flames turned to ash.
More ways to profit, fewer to heal,
They've forgotten the oath, lost the human feel.
This system so vile, on profits it's fed,
Leaving only the choice of bankrupt or dead.
The nation must rise, reform what's so wrong,
Bring back the care, where all should belong.
For health is a right, not just for the few,
It's time for a change, a system renewed.
by The Frontier Man
In a land where liberty once took its stand,
Constitution’s word was the law of the land.
By the people, for them, or so was the plan,
Now, in shadows dark, these ideals are damned.
Truth was once our bright shining star,
Now the lies stretch both near and far.
Forgotten and lost, truth and trust,
Become outlaws, as facts turn to dust.
Deceptions unfurl, from whispers to gust,
As government cloaks us in web of mistrust.
A narrative shaped, deceptions so sly,
Blinding the nation’s public eye.
Wars without an end, under darkening sky,
True culprits in hiding, facing no outcry.
Privacy stolen, surveillance our bane,
Three letter agencies, freedom's dark stain.
Our trust, our faith, in democracy's name,
Eroded, corroded, in this covert game.
In the corners dark, they watch and they wait,
Rulers unknown, deciding our fate.
Yet in this dark realm, heroes arise,
Whistleblowers and journalists, cutting through lies.
Snowden, Assange, their lives’ sacrifice,
Truth ...
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In battle's fog and cannon's roar,
Where death is near, life's unsure.
Do we ignore the victims cries,
Or lift our gaze to spare their lives?
A wise man said with keen insight,
Some eyes are opened to the plight.
They see the pain that others bear,
A world of anguish, stark and bare.
Yet others choose to look away,
Ignoring those who plead and pray.
Their anger fueled, close their eyes
To demonize, and break all ties.
Amidst the death, our choice is stark,
To close our eyes, ignore the dark.
Or open hearts, and stop the plight,
That steals from life its precious light.
💔
by The Frontier Man
A modern reinterpretation of Van Gogh’s Olive Tree collection of paintings
The Olive Tree, scientifically known as Olea europaea, is a symbol in culture, history, and religion. Native to the Mediterranean Basin, the tree has been cultivated for thousands of years for its fruit and oil. Beyond its nutritional and economic value, olive tree holds significant symbolic weight. It is a symbol representing a range of positive qualities including peace, prosperity, and resilience. Its enduring presence in art, mythology, and modern parlance testifies to its universal appeal and significance.
