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Walking in Peace, the drug and alcohol,
gang affiliation in the rear-view, you
stop destroying so bring on the peace.

It’s kinda’ fun, the hope of a day, it
can go this or that way, on we
walk or run, it doesn’t really matter

as long as we walk from the fire
that was your old life of disillusionment
and fear, that wide path to funeral pyre,

caught in the mosh, smoking and drinking
flammable liquids and plants in confused
trances non-transcendental tangential mire.

It’s kinda’ fun!

This life without the harm. You harmed
because you didn’t know the option not to
do so, you had your defenses that it takes

sometimes long hours, days, weeks, months
and years to discard—it can be hard!

You let go the bull, accept the cow, or heck,
you can even go vegetarian, it doesn’t much
matter, as long as saved we walk the narrow

for heaven.

****

Which may just be a peace of mind, knowing
we did our best to be the best people
we were capable of becoming, John Wooden’s

success through the front door blowing,
the wind of change through the front door
coming—you cannot slip out the back

anymore, unless the move could and would
help mankind, women too—you mom or
wife waiting at the door to see what you can do.

Waiting and waiting, but it was God, not them
that shined in the cracks, shined to give you
facts, that I’m not an animal a la White House
prejudice, throwback racist forays into bathroom
locker room talk, excuses to behave like jerks
not the way or the Tao but a sure path wide and
secure for the hell of your own making.

We walk away!!

Isn’t this fun?

You bet yer tail, this is a blast!!

Long songs absent the whine nor wine
this could be your time, one day at
a rhyme, the pen it moves and dances of
its own, you wake up to dreams of lines
to time thou growing, because you prayed
not to yourself or loved ones but to God
all-knowing!

It’s kinda fun!!

I could turn and/or twist this way or that,
walk up, walk down, make decisions,
which is to declare victory for one side
of an argument—

No one in war winning, we look over the
fallen with tears in our eyes, be they from
ours or their side of the fight—

God has the might!  We should not
wield a sword or force just because we think
we have it, turn around!!!!!

It is not tough to stand in the way of love,
the soft and weak blessed by God through
Jesus Christ, a rebellious rabbi not
enough listened to in Jerusalem or
Gaza strip, who will walk there and
preach the message of peace, willing to
die for it like the Indian Chief, stepping
into the caldron of war to prove a point
that nobody wins when the heart stops
its beat?

Killing is killing, and never defense, the army
and Navy getting it wrong when we train,
shoot for the torso on the range!

Turn around, follow me, put your weapons
down, learn true defense, martial arts,
only for defense and restoring peace when
peace is thwarted, then return,
all of us—grow flowers with our tears,
it’s never wise nor tough to roll on
the ground with other men, “friends” in
quotes egging us on, walk away,

Walk away, Walk away—

walk with me and the rebellious rabbi
toward a new day, follow me!!

Isn’t sobriety fun?

Giving flammable drink the “hasta la vista”
dance of “no more, no more,” no thank
you sirs and ma’ams, yes to say “No”
can be a complete sentence as we head back
to the old community full of new ideas,
hope and changed attitudes—

Our latitude often the same, you cannot
geographically escape from yourself,

us facing the greatest enemy alone, we must
choose blessed or cursed, we can
find our land someday, get off Native land
I never bought to find my own land someday.

To stop the curse.

To stop cursing.

To see the native family never using
curse words, pushed to the side and what
we thought was the worst land, until forever
the archetype is repeated, that the wise and
soft win heaven in the end.

Peace of mind.

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