In June of 1989, 14 poets, all alumni of Columbia University, took a trip to Moscow. I was one of them. We flew from New York City to Moscow via Helsinki, Finland. We met with the editors of NOVY MIR (NEW WORLD), the most famous literary magazine in the Soviet Union, which broke up in 1991.We all gathered around a large oak table mixing Americans with Russians. We began reading only one poem each. When each Russian recited his poem. he stood up. I was impressed. Each Russian poet spoke perfect English. Eventually, it became my turn. I recited I WRITE WHEN THE RIVER'S DOWN. When I had finished reading, I went around the long oak table and handed each Russian poet a copy of my poem. I had made many copies of my poem in Topeka, KS, my hometown. Copy machines were illegal in the Soviet Union for fear that dissident, underground revolutionaries might wish to spread their fervent hopes of democratizing their nation to millions of their fellow citizens.

The next day, we 14 Americans were going to attend a meeting of the Soviet Writers Union. As I was getting out of our bus and stepping on the sidewalk, I heard a voice crying, "Mr Hawks, Mr Hawks! Please stop. I have something for you." As I looked to my left, I recognized a Russian gentleman from the day before. When he reached me, he said "I am Evgeny Chramov. You gave all of us a copy of your beautiful poem. I was so taken by it, I stayed up all night translating it into Russian. I had to type it again, so if I saw you today, I would be able to give you my translated copy." He put his briefcase on the sidewalk, opened it, and pulled out his Russian translation, and handed it to me. I was stunned. I said "Mr. Chramov, how thoughtful and generous of you to stay up all night translating my poem into Russian! Bless you, Mr Chramov." As we were walking together into the building, I stopped and spoke to my new friend. "Mr. Chramov, I have a favor to ask of you. Would you be willing to read your translation of my poem in this meeting?

"Of course! I'd be honored to do that," said Mr. Chramov. When it came time for him to read, Mr. Chramov, standing up,  read his translation of my poem. I was elated. The meeting soon came to a close. A woman who had chaired the meeting walked by me without stopping and said to me, again in perfect English, "You really are a poet, aren't you?"

Her comment, and Mr. Chramov's responses,, I have never forgotten.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

All 8,100,000,000 Citizens of Earth will govern Earth, not 200 politicians and dictators. There will no longer be nations with artificial borders, only Earth. There will be no more wars. There will no longer be any weapons of any kind from handguns to hydrogen bombs. There will be no money. All Citizens of Earth will equally share the resources of Earth. Aggrandizement will be supplanted by love. All needs of every human being will be met equally. Air and water will be cleansed. No longer will any Citizen of Earth become a source of profit, as there will no longer be profiteering. No longer will there be discriminations of any kind. There will no longer be jails and prisons, only Love Centers where those hurting from lack of love will be loved until unconscious hate will be transformed into love of self, then love of all. And Earth, now on the precipice of self-destruction, will flower into Planet Peace.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

HUNGRY, HOMELESS, HOPELESS

Mankind has suffered through a pandemic
from when it first set foot on Earth:  not only
killing and torture and slavery, but also hunger
and homelessness and hopelessness  Why
has it taken thousands of years for human
beings to realize, and then to create, a just
world that is still as impoverished as its poorest,
as healthy as its sickest, as ignorant as its most
uneducated? All lives on Earth are meant to be a
collaborative effort, which is called love. To love,
one must first be loved. If loved, one then has
love to give, This concatenation, this progression,
once begun, will grow exponentially, endlessly:  
it will be a pandemic in reverse:  love, not hate;  
compassion, not revenge;  sharing, not hoarding.
This is what Earth was meant to be, a lonely planet,
yes, but a home for all living creations where love
increases the more it is shared.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

"The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun.”

Like a gold coin you sit inside me as I transcend
closer than the heart closer than the soul  
chakra of old
faint steady light
helios orb of fire
        daystar ...
                           I journey on and you light my inner path  
you shine like a beacon, in the thick of night...

Like the golden sun when it blazes like a yellow diamond
in the middle of a lovely summer afternoon
you are a cut above the rest !  
Inside me you radiate and fill me with inner strength
"Manipura"  
lustrous gem that you are,  
                                       you are the jewel of my solar plexus !  
You are the sun that lives in me,
                         the light that never fades
You give me a strong sense of self and you never abandon me.

That week was so hot,
every shotgun house gasped,
windows flung,
porch doors unlatched like unbuttoned shirts.

Touching skin felt like punishment
at first,
then penance,
then prayer.

We were thin, androgynous,
switching cut-off jeans,
sharing tank tops,
slick with sweat and shaved ice.

Strays ourselves,
barefoot thieves,
pirates of the quarter.

Hibiscus syrup stained our mouths
outside the Prytania,
where The Abyss flickered
and you cried like a boy
pretending he didn’t.

Inside your walk-up,
we dipped into quiet love
like bread in stew.

A dusty radio murmured The Ink Spots,
which I recognized but couldn’t name.
You mouthed every note like a secret
you wanted me to guess.

Faint smiling lines near your eyes
from knowing,
like you'd seen me
long before we met,
and were waiting
for the world to catch up.

Not woman,
not man,
just two bodies
leaning toward the same heat.

I wouldn't see your fall or your winter.
When the seasons change,
I’ll be gone,
back home,
watching rain from a train window,
each drop undoing what we were.

That last night,
you placed your key by the door.
I saw it,
watched it glint,
and said nothing.

The snails were climbing.
The air was too sweet.
You slept through goodbye.
I left the key where it lay.

Government. Of. Discipline.

Old and New testament

Jesus , jes means we or yes, yes us…

Jesus= yes us, we the children of G. O. D.


Je: noun. : something (such as an appealing quality) that cannot be adequately described or expressed.


Wish: verb. :feel or express a strong desire or hope for something that is not easily attainable; want something that cannot or probably will not happen.

The G.O.D didn’t stop after publishing books, they realized brick and mortar guaranteed profits, why stop at 25% from taxes when they can get another 10% in the baskets!

Money is the root of all evil but yet every bill states  “in G.O.D we trust” along with slave owner faces…

But yet the Washington Redskins was racist… they took their land and now their team, I’m not sure Commanders is any better… Commanders killed Indians… OFFENSIVE

Teachers taught Christopher Columbus was a hero not a murderer and ******.

****** is still doing damage, World War II is still going on look at all the SUPER HUMANS aka ****-heads… a special thanks to Japan, this recipe has been delightful.

“United We Stand, Divided We Fall” As 2 parties go to war breaking us apart in an effort to pick 1 leader…

Sin a result from forbidden bitten fruit, ironic how 90% of us have sin in our pockets…IPHONE

G.O.D has us paying monthly payments in order for us to be heard, recorded, tracked and followed.

When it gets really bad dilute the pain with a dozen cold cans of overpriced poison.

There’s a tax for everything you need, want and purchase… even our property and shelter…

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

don’t worry if you’re short this month just raise your debt ceiling… but yet the G.O.D has the real HollyWood spreading lies with the fake news  designed to divide us all into labelized categories.

Banks get robbed because banks are robbers, double digit interest rates hurt just as bad as bullets, 7 year terms feel like a life sentence…

At best you live 10 decades, why do we give a **** about the stuff that doesn’t really matter, time is the most valuable resource but we allowed them to confine us…

8 hours to sleep, 8 hours to work, 8 hours left of the day and all it really is “ Home, car, gas station, work, lunch, work, home and every single thing listed came with TAX!!! MoNoPoLy .
Pass go pay G.O.D $200

Done for now, to be continued…

A spiraling staircase leads below to worlds unknown

One sign resides at the top before the first step drops
———————
l   CAUTION    l
l  enter at own  l
|       RISK        |
———————
            |
            |
            |  ­                           ¥
            |                              |}\\|
            |­————————-|}\\|
           ^————————-|}\\\|
What thoughts race through a curious mind as you look down
As far as your eyes can see long and it keeps going
Other bystanders keep passing by never even taking a look
Until finally you decide to get close and commit to one step
WAIT! someone screams in fear for you causing you to back up
What, wait, huh , what do you mean you mutter confused
The gentleman says “ you must not be from around here “
If you were then you would know that this stairway is a trap
You reply back “ what do you mean, I don’t understand “
Just trust me kid it’s not worth your time , you must move on
Go! Get and never ever be tempted again to consider
For what lies below none of us know for one mere fact
Not one soul has ever lived to tell of what is down below
As you turn to look back down at the endless stairs that spiral
You look back at the strange man and he’s no where in sight
Your body gets chills as your mind’s thoughts cross paths
You are drawn back to that sign but this time it is totally bare
———————
l                       |
l                       l
|                       |
———————
            |
            |
            |              ­               ¥
            |                              |}\\|
            |­————————-|}\\|
           ^————————-|}\\\
You start to get creeped out wondering, how this could be ?
But yet that dark black spiral staircase leading down remains
You put your hand on the top of the rail ¥ as you grasp it firmly
You lift your right foot to plant down on the first drop...
Don’t ! Someone screams as you retract your foot back
What do you think you’re doing ? Cant you read the sign !
The woman in a dress-suit finishes yelling  at you
You reply back what do you mean ma'am I’m confused
She firmly reaches out her arm and points her finger at the sign
———————
l         NO.       l
l  Trespassing |  
|                      |
———————
            |
            |
   ­         |                             ¥
            |                              |}\\|
            |­————————-|}\\|
           ^————————-|}\\\|
You plead with her you never read that or those words
But rather it stated something different before
She laughed hysterically and scary loud with her head back
And when she came back to eye level with yours .......

You couldn’t believe what you saw ..... it’s your ex-girlfriend
What in the hell? you ask as her hands turn to claws
The gentleman’s voice from before yells “ I told you so “
Run, Run, Run! He pleads but where? as you’re  cornered
The staircase the only place left to go as her eyes turn red
Thorns appear from her hair as her heels explode off
You feel stuck in place, truly lost not knowing what to do
She takes her claw and points one last time at that sign
You look in fear and cannot believe what you read
———————
l GET OUT OF l
l   MY HEAD     l
| NOW!!!!!!!!!   |
———————
            |
            |
            |              ­               ¥
            |                              |}\\|
            |­————————-|}\\|
           ^————————-|}\\\|

There is a silence that swallows even the stars,
a hush that gnaws at the marrow,
where prayers turn to dust in the mouth
before they ever touch God’s ear.

I have lived there.
In the dim, stale air
where the clock ticks not to mark time,
but to carve it away from you,
piece by bleeding piece.

The faces I loved became shadows
and the shadows became heavier than the bodies
that once held them.
I have carried them all
until my hands ached with ghosts.

And still,
the world dares to bloom in spring,
mocking my frostbitten chest,
while my heart beats like a caged bird
too tired to sing,
too stubborn to die.

I am not afraid of the end.
Only of the moments before it,
when my soul will have to look at itself
and wonder why it still chose to stay
after everything it lost.