Exigency replacing humanity,
merchants, only for more
through to mercs for unending
unneccessary war.
C'est tres facile pour la machine,
addictive personality disorder
replacing human being,
c'est la unvie, no?

Oligarchic vacuum-up being almost
always on only leaves a trickle down,
only, when it's accidentally turned off.  
So the interlocking, laced economic
systems base, scarcity, that they think
they've replaced nature's abundance with,
details violence in all hues of all colors
of the rainbow, not just choosing to not know.

An addiction, like any other,
that can be treated just so.
When one weeds the garden within,
turns the inside out, a ray of Thee's Light
without, And within, it doubling,
doubles again outside, Bliss begins,
peace on wing sings, Soulshine
shared on and on, evolves life, echoing.

While feeling sacred on this All Hallow's Day,
I also feel pangs of the hungry, so wrought by
The profane, for the food wasted by us could feed
All the world's.... Yet, betwixt,
In the mundane it's only hurled.

Allowing our thoughts on our forebearers,
And a drink returned to the earth for them, as they,
The dearly departed, are us as well, we discern,
The depth of one's sorrow is the well's fathom
Of meanings and moments shared with them.

Thus, manners in which doings, not doings are done
Or aren't, brings life, light to them, or it doesn't.  
For grace, just a word, can't be sought, it seeks you.  
As words, while paths of study, can't lead to oneself,
For, intellect can not lead, as life does not follow.

As trying to sleep turns impossible,

and struggling to take the next breath overpowers

the terrorism of knowing it may be my last,

I fall asleep for moments 'til fear of asyphyxia

forces my waking anew to the terror of knowing

I could have been dead

and if I fall asleep again I may be,

as well as the twist that

there's nothing I can do about any of it.

As machinations of

travailing winds,

miraging, veil and mirror

narcissistic nihlistic

false-ego, as self,

"...we(e),..." evince to be.



Finding that find,

giving it away,

aliveness being this day,

and further searching,

to be this day

what it is to be this day.

I am thankful for,

The wonder of our

Morning star's rise,

And it's setting

Within our eyes,

On this Beauty Way

We build each day

With great surprise.



Native's compassion taught

Pilgrims at Plymouth

How to live within, give to,

Nature's abundance.

That providence sowed

Reaped graces' harvest,

Fraternity, bearing

Fruits to this day.



We gave Native America genocide, Earthocide.  

Chief Seattle said, "no one can own the land".

Bowing to Above and Below, for gifts bestowed,

Giving, may we, again, walk that way.

While giving thanx

This full Moon's day,

There, but for the grace

Of God, Great Spirit, go I.