Missiles are striking in my head,
In each cortex,
In each capillary of my brain,
In each nerve tissue.

You know it's allegory, but

Physically endangered
Mentally drained
Soulfully prayed

You know it for sure.

War is never the best way!
War is not getting us anywhere!
War is against our natural law!

Exhausted by this **** show,
Childish tentions.

I was contemplating the interlude of breathing
the tease of the jasmine perfume
a wind without insight was resting in the hammock
a solitude round like the moon
the song of birds was inviting a blue exuberance  when
I had this dream... I dreamt streets flooded by blood
they seemed so real, like the amnesia of mercy
the intensity of red an amplifier for pain
violence this enclave of the soul hidden in plain sight
we watch wars on tv in the stillness of sofas
newborn tears claim the redemption of dawn
but we turn our back to the questions of time
no body line of thought but raw nerves,
blind tongues: as if our body is a world full of nothing
sometimes I have nowhere to hide from this feeling:
my blood is his/her/their blood

We all stand beneath the same sun’s glow,
Its light unites us, high and low.
No matter where our worlds may be,
In every heart, equality.

Differences fade in morning’s light,
No need for shadows in our sight.
For under the sun, we’re all the same,
Equal in hope, in love, in name.

Why is peace a dream so far away,
When the sun’s rays could unite our day?
Perhaps our worlds are too far apart,
Burning in different fires of the heart.

But if we look beyond the night,
And see the sun’s eternal light,
We’d realize that all are one,
Beneath the same unending sun.

I'll show you how the world burns,

It comes in simply steps,

An effigy,
An idea to hold on to,
A sacred symbol,

A **** good convincer.

Something lurks in the forest of veils,
A place far from the war,
Which 'we' prevail.

A ripple of unrest,
Within the blankets of truth,
Hanging in the dripping branches.

What is a which hunt, without a lie,
One to convince us were doing good for 'us,'
A blatant killer,

Is among us.

A man drops on the field
Falls like a rock to the dirt
Raises a shout from the enemy and a shout from his friends
Deadweight to the company
They will haul him back to camp
Bury him like a goat by the main road
The funeral will be quiet
Men gathered around a mound
They will smoke cigarettes and forget which way up they put his head
The man in the passing truck will tell the news they are praying to an anthill
Dear readers will scoff and throw their hands up and proclaim
We knew it all along! Lunatics the whole lot a’them!
The boys around the man-mound-anthill will not cry in public
Violence has toughened them into men
Violence has killed their friend
They will cry later
After dinner when the sun sets over the field and they think they won’t be seen
Is it man’s nature to turn boys into mounds
To hide tears from friends
To smoke cigarettes by the dead
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
The boy under the anthill
Under the raging sun
Under the cruel eye of god
Man’s nature to wonder
Ashes to ashes
Dust to deadweight