Peace is a weapon
against the smallness of self
that excuses war.

Peace is the sharp blade
pruning the olive branches,
never drawing blood

Peace is soothing balm
for quarrel and division
instilled by zealots;

Peace is the watch-word
that makes soldiers deserters
of lower causes.

Peace desires itself,
making no root in travail
for other peoples;

Peace says, "Don't enlist
to be a pawn in the games
of elite slavers."

Peace has no Colonels,
Lieutenants, or Generals:
merely the faithful.

Peace is the Only.
No other weapon shall do
against each other.

We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.

Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.

When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.

Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.

That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.

I'm sick with
every disease I
know.

I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.

I want this to mean something.
I want you to spend nights
Making your hands feel like the
Ghosts of mine.

I want you to cry in bed until
You rip the soaked cases off of your
Pillows; turning to weep onto
Barely encased feathers.

I want this love unchosen to
Lay its scent upon every regret
You create from now until death.
I want this to mean something.

But your page has turned. Ah,
Young ones' do so swiftly.
The drama is mine alone not
To share. In your aim, I'm still

Rummaging around on the floor
For a loaded gun amongst the ones
Between the bodies, until someone
Yells *"cut!"