Stand UP or Fuck Off

"The Ballot's Burden"

They line up proud with paper slips,

Believing power’s in their grip.

A mark, a check, a silent plea,

To guide their land to liberty.

But little do they stop to ask—

Whose stage is this? Whose script, whose mask?

For Canada, the name they trust,

Is Hudson’s shell, cloaked in dust.

A crown-controlled commercial scheme,

A branch cut off from freedom’s dream.

Not land, not soil, not native birth,

But stock exchange and debt-based worth.

You vote for suits who wear the chains,

Of Roman law and Crown remains.

You think they’ll fight for hearth and kin,

But they serve gods in courts of sin.

Each vote you cast is not your voice,

It’s ceding rule, it’s binding choice.

You ask a fiction, dead and cold,

To write new chains for young and old.

The man thinks he can steer the helm—

Yet he's not king within this realm.

He gives consent, though not aware,

That ballots draft his children’s snare.

No parchment signed with wax or seal,

Yet taxes, laws, and courts are real.

From mom’s own womb, the cord was torn,

Then “child of state” became the norm.

A number filed, a name engraved,

A vessel for the Crown enslaved.

The voter votes with hope and pride,

But never sees the silent tide.

Each promise cast in party’s light,

Becomes a contract cloaked in night.

And though he means no harm or hate,

His mark just helps perpetuate—

The fraud, the theft, the masked deceit,

That drains the land beneath his feet.

He casts a vote, but signs a bond,

That future kin must answer on.

O voter, pause—reflect, reclaim,

The truth lies not in party name.

For no mere man should seek to rule,

By using Caesar’s hidden tool.

Instead, be steward, bold and wise,

Let fiction fall and truth arise.

The sovereign branch comes from the tree,

Of life, not ink or polity.

So teach your sons not how to vote,

But how to stand, and how to note—

The name, the trust, the fraud begun,

The lie passed down from father’s son.

And when they ask what freedom is,

Tell them it’s not electing “his.”

It’s knowing no one reigns above,

The breath of man, the God of love.