The Project

Millions pray, millions cry, many even die
All for wars to cease and for peace to reign,
And the truth is most people do get along
Just as fine as well-aged wine and would
Gladly dine with one another in harmony;
So who is it that incites violence and war?
Who first tore the delicate fabric of peace?
We need a new lease on life in this world,
And this is the daunting project haunting
And taunting those of us who love to love
And live in serenity with all of humanity;
Ah! But this is quite a feat even as we hear
The drumbeat of the battles to be fought
By those who have been sold and bought
And brought into the service of those who
Will never see the field soaked with blood;
Most of those who have seen the horror
Of war want war no more for they know
How high the price to pay
And will not roll the dice!
Oh, but somebody does . . . who are they?
And how do they hold at bay peace
In our day; how do they block the way?
Ah! How do we go about this, our Project?

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Your Cozy Little Eggshell

Not that I’m angry but you never seem to see
What is as obvious to me as a great big tree!
Temperatures are rising causing tidal waves
As oceans misbehave while you calmly claim
That it’s all the same without a bit of shame;
And you don’t seem to hear the cries of fear
From around the earth in all your jolly mirth,
And I ask you why ‘n try to talk but you balk;
Meanwhile masses starve and ruffians carve
Their weapons of terror ‘n it’s a bloody error
To be so blind and to bind your whole mind
Against all the world around you,
But you’re bound and determined
To be whatever it is you will to be
And see only what you want to see!
No, I’m not angry, only bound to be astounded
How you can live in such a cozy, little eggshell!
And I know hell will crack that shell one day . . .
Hell will crack your shell

No Romero, Not Here! Not Here!

Dearest Romero, you cannot come here out of fear;
You see, we don’t know you and only a few want to;
You have made your pilgrimage at such a young age,
But all for not for we have bought this wall
As a clarion call that we’re surely not for all,
Even the weak and small like you, O Romero!
Say, can you see the torch held high up into the sky?
Fire once burned there to light the night sky
As a bright beacon of hope for those who cry;
But now we must say ‘good bye’ and just let you die,
For we have no place for your face ‘n no more grace;
O Romero, what are you thinking as you’re blinking?
Skies here are not blue for you,
And your skin is the wrong hue!
From sea to sea shall we be ever so discriminatory?
Dearest Romero, you cannot come here out of fear!
Not here, lad, not here . . . for we are filled with fear!


Note: Romero is both a Spanish and an Italian surname meaning: A person on a religious journey or pilgrimage . . . (also) an herb of rosemary symbolizing remembrance and fidelity.

Idiocracy

Some say that democracy is the best form of government,
And perhaps this form of governance should be the norm;
However, it can breed a storm from dorms to living rooms,
From kitchens to legislative halls that fall to self-interest;
And what happens, then, when government is truly an icon
Of the people governed, and becomes of cupboard of idiots?
When entertainers are pundits and tweets become so sweet
That they make daily news and kindle views from officials?
When pictures that should be trashed are brashly shown
In public buildings as art by the self-designated oh-so smart?
When unimportant issues call for tissue to wipe crying eyes?
When the rest of the world calls for the best, but the best
Are given a vest in lieu of the grave and are called to invest
In the circus as government becomes more like giant Argus?
What happens, I ask, when democracy becomes an idiocracy?
I say the Revolution is long over, and God Save the Queen!

Or . . .

kakistocracy

Rant and Rave On, O Jackass

Okay, go ahead and grandly sit when you should stand,
Stand when you should kneel, and make yourself a heel;
Make your deal with anger, and appeal to the detestable;
Raise your fist in defiance with reliance on bitterness,
And spew your hate-filled words as you skew the truth
To fit your twisted view of reality, assisted by cohorts
In a cause devoid of plausibility, lacking any credibility;
Tis your right to turn your sight from the light of good
And chew on the rotten food of lies that fly from hell. . .
But please don’t expect applause for your hostile cause,
For hate breeds only more hate, as a great man once said,
And only bright light drives out the dark of cruel night;
And only those who march with love and clove of peace
Win hearts and souls and bowls of reasonable justice
With virtuous character and untainted integrity bathed
In ethical equity and purity to be preserved as a legacy
For all future generations as an incredible inspiration. . .
And you? Yours is but one of desperation for attention,
An aberration of righteousness, deprivation of goodness,
An obfuscation of honesty, and cessation of sensibility;
So go your way of enmity and cecity today in your life
Of brevity, which will soon be swept
Into the blistery dustbin of history!

Smile Fool Smiles: Live Peace

Who taught us violence in which we persist?
Or do most of us senseless battles resist?
In wars fought, of what do our lives consist?
Who are those few who’ve taught us to insist
On yet another bloody campaign to persist?

Why should people say this is the only way?
Why stay the course of the few in dismay?
Why bend knee, bow head, enter the fray?
Why keep spilling blood for high price to pay
For the few power-Who, who darken the day?

Chance the chance to live and dance;
Laugh the laugh to skip and prance;
Play the plays in senseless trance;
Love all love in endless romance;
Smile fool smiles with the sand lance!

Hopping and happy-hoping,
Popping corporate bubbles,
Stopping all of the troubles,
Flopping in sandcoin rubble
Dropping in burning stubble,
Making peace in the struggle.

How can we stop all of this insanity?
How can we trash corporate vanity?
How can we mute violent profanity?
How can we love away inhumanity?

Who taught us violence in which we persist?
Or do most of us senseless battles resist?
Why should people say this is the only way?
To keep spilling blood; such high price to pay?

No! Dance away all the dæmonic dismay!
No! Sing away the cacophony of decay!
No! Laugh away the array of going astray!
No! Smile away the anger, animosity today!
No! Play away the sick, diabolic bouquet!
No! Feast away the replay of power display!
No! Wear away the backroom underplay!

Never cease being drooling fools for peace…
Peace on earth and from birth goodwill to all

After all, who taught us violence in which we persist?
So smile cool, fool smiles ten thousand miles long…
Live peace, be peace, and our world will be at peace.


Note: Originally posted in November 2015. Perhaps this is the poem I should have submitted to Poets for Peace. LOL  Oh well, too late for that, but not too late to share with readers/followers who may have missed it the first time around… I’m actually rather proud of this piece, if I may humbly say so. Blessings to one and all!

Politics in America

Bring out the paint to make some saints, and don’t forget the masks
For brash-crass politicians to bypass truth and bask in the circus
Of gleeful glory while piling manure over the real story in an effort
To seal the fate of an entire nation of lemmings, condemning them
To an unsuspected fate by bait of impossible promises pulled from
Effervescent clouds floating in liquescent sky under crescent moon
So soon to fade away on the day empty oaths are sworn with plenty
Of pomp and circumstance while citizens watch in mindless trance
And the puppet-servants prance while pence-bought clowns dance
In the romance of self-made fantasy of having gained something
In the election by their defection from flimsy conviction without
Realizing they’ll soon be served an eviction because they no longer
Serve any real purpose, but the party will go on beyond reason
For a season till the people understand too late that they’ve taken
Poisoned bait … again, that they’ve been pricked by self-serving
Dicks and tricked … again, and then they’ll cry to begin anew
But so few will make the effort to actually take action because
Of fear of harsh reaction and making such a fussy muss in pain
To regain life and liberty, sense and sensibility; and so the band
Plays on without any real reprimand — same tune, same song —
And so this is where we belong … in the grand ole U. S. of A**