Willingly taking a bullet for your lover
To your lover holding the gun
Always streaking across each others mind
Now my eyes blind to those colors
When we were promised each other forever
Except now we can't even grow old together

The outline of your body my favorite shape
Yearning to feel lips touch my necks nape
I had danced before
Never standing still
Around you atoms tango with an unsurpassable thrill
Your words are melodies spoken with ease
Cells waltzing with eachother doing what they please
And let me take a moment
Explain how I feel
Sound of your laughter tingles like an electric eel
The rain and clouds do not feel still like bad weather
Sun shining in hearts as long as we're together
To life you have brought enlightenment and love
Souls seem to fit together better than a glove
All woes from the past depart when you're near
When you leave they take some time to reappear
I rise in the morning without seeing your face
There is nothing I hate more than the space
This must be fate
Destiny
Our lost souls meant to be

War is Obsolete
by Michael R. Burch

War is obsolete;
even the strange machinery of dread
weeps for the child in the street
who cannot lift her head
to reprimand the Man
who failed to countermand
her soft defeat.

But war is obsolete;
even the cold robotic drone
that flies far overhead
has sense enough to moan
and shudder at her plight
(only men bereft of light
with hearts indurate stone
embrace war's arctic night).

For war is obsolete;
man's tribal gods, long dead,
have fled his awakening sight
while the true Sun, overhead,
has pity on her plight.
O sweet, precipitate Light! —
embrace her, reject the night
that leaves gentle changelings dead.

For each brute ancestor lies
with his totems and his "gods"
in the slavehold of premature night
that awaited him in his tomb;
while Love, the ancestral womb,
still longs to give birth to the Light.
Which child shall we ****** tonight,
or which Ares condemn to the gloom?

Keywords/Tags: war, children, violence, guns, war and peace, destiny,  god, gods, brute, brutality, ******

I have only time and dreams. I do not know how much more time I have, but I do know that the time I shall have is, pardoxically, timeless, as are dreams. I shall use the time I have left to continue to dream--to dream not about the impossible, but about the inevitable. I shall dream about caring instead of uncaring, of helping instead of hurting, of loving instead of hating. I shall dream of a world of peace, a world on which all the billions of human beings come inexorably to realize their innate worth, their inviolate sacred spirit, a moment in the not too distant future when all will not only join hands, but also join hearts, a spiritual ecology that will complement a climate ecology. Instead of self-aggrandizing, we all will be accruing love--of self, and therefore ineluctably, of all other creations on Earth. At this moment, our world is turned inside out. Our "values" are convoluted, contorted, twisted. The world is presently controlled by inimical forces that bring torture and terror to Earth, that think weapons and wars are their their sole prerogative. But Earth's destiny negates this notion. This is not just my time and dreams, but the time and dreams of all. And sooner than later, the time will be now and the dreams will be manifest.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Painting the pictures I wanted to be in ~

Our life's lines are implied as parallels,
For they trace in the same direction
To our collective personnel's
profound destination:

As our life's lines are redrawn,
again and once again,
Our destiny's knotted into one,
A Triquatra till the end.

Know our lines stay parallel-
Though Infinite,  they'll never meet
In their never joining spell
Their truths within decept.

From the future it calls like an unmet lover
I feel it in my gut that we will be with one another
Anxiety prowls on a dimly lit path
Yet illuminating the truth like no other