and you read his last letter, again and again.
when he talked about fear, and doubt…
not knowing why anymore,
not knowing if he was doing the right thing,
not knowing if anything was right…
and the faces of women and children
that left him sleepless…
will it be only then,
that you question the war?
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dont tell me:
you just bombed his countryback into the stone age.dont tell me:‘it’s not what Jesus would want.’you just killedthe people that he fed.dont tell me:‘it’s not what Jesus would teach.’you keep burying women and childrenright next to the oil fields.dont tell me:‘it’s not what Jesus would die for…’you’ve been nailing himto that cross for 2000 years!
when the hand of God
in the life of a human being,we make them into a martyr.or we assassinate their character…the ghosts of JFK, Robert Kennedy,Martin Luther King, and John Lennonblow strong inside the winds of freedom!do we hear their voices?do we feel their message?and who’s next?and who will pull the trigger?another puppet, another pawn,or the body of apathy…who looks…
the ghost of JFK
and i could see and feelthe heartbeat of Americabefore the disease took us….the voice of freedom and moralconviction…. taking issues,examining our own souls…repenting of past prejudices,searching for a wayfor peace and freedom…..but the shots rang out,the hope of a generation murdered…the Pentagon rolled, defense contracts,smoke filled rooms….J Edgar Hoover’s lists…the battle for civil rights;and the…
you have made your gods
and so you follow warto the brink of your ownextinction!yet the mouths of the soulsthat you starve and slaughter,speak the names of the godthat you’ve forgotten!she answers with faces,faces you choose not to see!you dig the graves of your children,to feed the beast within!you arm yourselves with moral justice,dress the lie in prideful prejudice.but the…
some hearts are born hungry,
mountains tremble, and trees fall.some souls are born thirsty,with a thirst that makesrivers run dry, and clouds weepwithout aching tears.some spirits are born reaching,from beneath the earthto the realm of the sky,touching, always daring to touch.some beings are born to love,and love so much so hard,that the void left by the floodcannot be filled…and so…
rolling over handprints,cobwebs, and smoke stains….over splashes of color,over peels of time.painting over the soundsof voices whispering, laughing….painting over tears hiddenfrom the world, from each other.painting over running, and working,working all day and half the night.painting over children, and dreams,folded like old clothes, and put away.painting over notes from God,that were often barely noticed…painting over…