A responce, to a TV Preacher, justifying war:
{I had misthought my initial mission, I keep my peace.}
But I thought,
What about you being no man's enemy,
and no man's debtor,
but any man's friend,
when the friend is asking to share my just enough.
I believe, I think,
Just enough, is always plenty to share, some times,
that stranger already missed a meal, and you've missed
not even a snack, in weeks, years, perhaps,
what worth to you your last piece of money,
at that moment, here's the test, tell yourself,
do the right thing, when you have the chance.
Become the base line good, for you, steady,
building piles of settled little ****** beasties
what done give all the life each had, to add a bit
of bubbly possibility, as to what it is to know,
made up your good mastermind, and put it on,
be like, you, when you
were worth dying for, let the bubble
bear the word of peace for the blink of an eye,
we can make Jesus wink at all you never knew.
--- now, ask why you feel so lost, listen
good
we came to do today, say, look ye hear, I done
my gig, I did, and some shall someday swear, I did.
Instant poverty, nearly anywhere,
from the womb, boom,
the weight is maddening.
Instant riches, not so tough,
depending
on the defined worth in values
of the cost to fix the problem, messed up to start with,
Goddammed faulty knowledge acquisition application.
Snakes alive, we were to be so wise.
Run this by me again, said the judge. You
believe that life is given to be used… some duty,
to perform, which means living is free, but happy
costs money, in the form of time spent doing things,
and you personally leave being likely your duty
is to make peace by acting like a snake?
That's right, your honor, due to your perspication o'my
cautious wish to be harmless as the enemy doves,
as well as a little bit literate, for the future
writing or reading, yes, reading pays, testing retention,
what do you know about life and the universe,
if you know **** Feynman said life was worth 64, before
we were told the wrong question computed 42, with
everything included.
Something never computes, Will, Robin's son.
All day, some days, I think about little instants I find poetry, wordlessly
attesting to the worth of way where there is no way stories....
