when you go out and crank

a soldier’s grave…while the would be politicianskeep pimping for the vote,and Wall Street keeps ondoing business as usual.with her foot she brushesthe leaves from the marker…and the oldest child whispers,daddy, come home!

and i met him in a roadside diner…i asked him:‘where you been? ‘‘everywhere! ‘‘where you going? ‘‘nowhere! .‘well. what you hauling? ‘‘well…’, he smiled.‘i was hauling myself,but i unloaded thatback down the line…now i’m hauling nothing! ‘i bought him a cup of coffee,and walked away,silently shaking my head!

– dont think it matters!the words are composed ofthe things i’ve done… bothgood and bad.the commas are for my mistakes,-Lord, we’re gonna have a lot of commas!mistakes both of omission,and commission…the periods are for the timesi gave up, quit trying,lost my way…but the body of the letteris filled with hope….hope that sees things asthey are,…

and left me standing in the drive…i learned to see again,staring at old photographsin a book hid away.i learned to think again,thinking, and rethinkingevery move and every action.i learned to feel again,struck dumb with waves of sorrow,with blood on my lips.i learned to cry again,in the dark and sleepless night,when no one else could see.i…

stamped, and put out…you silence the human criesof freedom, ban books,ideas… ban all thinking.take anything originalback to the assembly line;to be remade, reformed….in the image of mindlessobedience… trained to kill,trained to follow… trained to hate.while the lovers of trees, rivers,and mountains… becomethe new faceless minority….in the land of coal dust excess,the land of black and…

Nor planes, nor bombs…But free thought, and conscience!