Wandering the streets alone
braced against the colds
a dusty worn out overcoat
mismatched shoes with matching holes

Sunken eyes and sagging cheeks
skin all weathered, failing sight
He meanders through the cobbled streets
seeking warmth to last the night

His story all too common
one more forgotten son
who fell right through the cracks
once his duty had been done

The nightmares that he couldn’t shake
that wouldn’t let him sleep
mix with memories of the friends he lost
call forth tears he cannot weep

The proud young man once strong and brave
is now a shadow in his past
just while awake his demons hide
but his peace will never last

Forty something years ago
in a bed in Montreal
John asked that we give peace a chance
and thousands heard his call

But here in the next century
there’s no one to make the plea
But I’m sure if he was here now
with what I say he would agree

Nobody ever wins a war
and far too many always die
It’s better to give peace a chance
than fight a war over a lie

So what is it we’re waiting for
brothers. sisters make a stand
join hands and sing his song with me
make it heard across the land.

All we are saying, is give peace a chance

One of the men who had built this country died today.
I had lamented his passing to give my sadness a way.
In black suits we all looked like those statues that had been standing there for centuries.
Poignantly i felt a lot of things all at the same time, so eerie.

Today, a son had his father properly buried.
A man who had told me that the right ties would attract  girls.
A man who had let me drive his Porsche 912 and made me feel like i wanted to preserve those moments i got my hands on the wheel as in victory i roared.
A man with his manhood pride had told me that 'a man always wants more'

I saw no dead body today.
I saw a man in his beautiful black satin tuxedo as if it had been only yesterday
And suddenly i felt like i was going back onto those happy summer days when i was a little boy.
And all of a sudden my heart was filled with unexplained joy

An elephant dies and leaves its tusks
A deer dies and leaves its antlers
A crocodile dies and leaves its skin
A man dies and leaves his name.

see what’s in mind
bundled in the thoughts
and far and deep within;
see, one says one is of a particular group
or particular region;
hear one say “I am this;”
or “I am that;”
and some cling to a religion or philosophy
and so make a Self;
they identify themselves:
“I am of this religion;”
Or
“I am of this persuasion;”
Or
“I am of this faith;”
see and hear the cacophony of human discord:
“I am of this country;”
“I am of this ancient lineage;”
“This is my religion;”
“This is my faith;”
“I am this…I am that…”

O we love our badges, our titles
and decorations the Great Leader
pins on us, don’t we?
And we love all the fancy ribbons and rewards
the Politburo promises, don’t we?
We just live by our Red Book;
each group with its own Divine Red Book

“Come on, little children
gather round Daddy and Mommy;
we have sweets
and candy for all of thee”

But can one plunge deep and see
and drop one’s conditioning?
And what happens when one does that?
And can one drop one’s history
one's addictions
and beliefs and mental formations and faith
and dependence and identity?
What happens?

Perhaps only then one sees with clarity