and a simple handshake
stops the war!
what are we fighting for?
who are we fighting against?
and why?
most of what we hate
in other people is the
reflection of ourselves….
most of what we fight
about or over…
wont be here tomorrow!
most of the violence
in this world is based
on lies…. the cancer of lies…
when the simple truth
would set us free.
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the taste of your fingers
the touch of your hairfalling down your shirtthe smell of your skinblowing across the bedthe gasping of your breaththe silence never saidthe silence never saidyou are my chocolateyou are my Magdeleneyou are my Everestjumping on your trampolineyou are my daybreakfalling down like summer rainyou are my flash of lifeyou are my novacaineyou are my novacainethe…
we have become old…
of turning… turning wind,turning leaves…. day turningto night with a suddeness.every stroke of color,every shade of black and white…and this sudden chill bringsa warmth that our lives define!our passion is fallinglike leaves to carpet the earth….our bare limbs reach heavenward…to God, or the next page…we wait on the snow,and the small fires the livingbuild to…
an acorn contains the universe,
the flicker and flameof small twigs burningreturns light to the stars.the rumble of distant thunderin every leaf that falls.a prayer held in everydropp of rain… a babyborn in the face ofevery mountain’s movement…the depth of love ragingbeneath the snows of winter….death, or spring….. time decides….each has it’s own cup!each has it’s own flame!
perhaps…
you are dawn, and i am sunset.you are the candle, i the match.you are the sun, the moon, and the stars…i am rain, trees whispering, and mountains praying.you are the heart that grieves,i am the still grief.you are the hope of peace,i am the end of wars.you are the sinner, i the sin.you are redemption,…
i am only as old
dollar signs in dimestore windows,milkshakes for a quarter.non-filter cigarettes and broken Trojans,long hair ironed with loving hands.when revolution smelled like sex,and god reeked of napalm.when young girls with hard nipplespassed doobies to wide eyed poets.and the streets convulsed with anger,that sat at the back of the bus.while religious M-16’s jammed,and radical students were beatenwith patriotic…
last prayer tendered,
i take you, without asking,without caring, wherewe’ve been, or whose dusti brush from your lips.my own hands are bruised,and bloodied… my own demonslocked in their cage…i am only a man,you, a woman…and this love, the only warworth fighting in a worldof darkness, in thistime of need!