Silver Prayers And Ancient Stones…

A_72“Of all the enemies to public liberty, war is, perhaps, the most to be dreaded, because it comprises and develops the germ of every other. War is the parent of armies; from these proceed debts and taxes; and armies, and debts, and taxes are the known instruments for bringing the many under the domination of the few. In war, too, the discretionary power of the Executive is extended; its influence in dealing out offices, honors, and emoluments is multiplied; and all the means of seducing the minds are added to those of subduing the force of the people. The same malignant aspect in republicanism may be traced in the inequality of fortunes and the opportunities of fraud growing out of a state of war, and in the degeneracy of manners and of morals engendered by both…No nation could reserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare. Those truths are well established. They are read in every page which records the progression from a less arbitrary to a more arbitrary government, or the transition from a popular government to an aristocracy or a monarchy.”—James Madison, “Political Observations,” April 20, 1795

James Madison was an aristocrat and slave owner. Wondering if—America’s founding-fathers did spin tales from double tongues and savage intentions…Mile wide emptiness and growing. Those few will soon not see us or hear our cries. Will they still expect our deaths for causes and foundations and reasons and rhythms we ultimately will not understand? The hungry and the sick and the tired sometimes raise to revolution and another chance for real freedom—not songs and bells and another war for no reasons but ‘maybe…’ America is the only nation on this sweet world to ‘nuke’ two living cities into rubble. Must have made a statement or two and when time becomes hard-times nothing better than another war to keep us regular folk; fearful-busy-sad-productive and confused.

Write now about the left-right write side of life and sometimes-some—days that go and leave and stay and come into worlds of our own self of self-sided dreams and other things all—better than good and also bad but not too bad to do again or leave behind in dusted bins of trash-can ways and dusted evening skies. And! Under moons of double lights as the fours of daylight fade into rising sun flash…dusted bins of trash searched through to save twin scraps—surviving again for use by others—then again discarded or lost to dust to rust and ruin.

The loves of men and the loves of women and freedoms’ sweetest notions must not be divided by the capital of greed and the power of stalled legislation—an impotent executive branch—and a purchased judicial robe. Sweet truths are beliefs…that all life is equal life— that all women and men—rich or poor are above borders of  wherever boarders for non-reasons and are never judged by color—big guns—atomic death—and that eternal diatribe of isolation—individuality and Fear…

We are not notions to kill or die. We wear different packages of cloth and color and need and we all bleed red same—as liquid and air mix and body same moves across these places or other spaces in motions to exist together without pride or prejudice or of religions to-take-to-hate or to replace irreplaceable life. Poverty is a never Crime—Greed is a Crime against all Humanity.

Know of beautiful colors through both the eyes and with our fingers. Hear a lover’s voice touch heart before substance becomes words of meaning or reason or other notions. Know silence—as silence fills all senses with thunder and noise and music and notes chaotic or symphonic simplicity as duality ceases and singularity melts into universal unity and truth.

Give us a world—where women walk in day/night safety and no one understands a word called ‘war’…Where love is love and where force does not occur…Where there are no dark places called ‘heaven’ or ‘hell.’ A place where life does belong and life is good everyday…Heaven or Luck… No! We create worlds—we maintain worlds and we all Love our Children—For the magic and mischief-of-life—Gods are not required…

Philip K. Dick ‘Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep’ may have discovered that without our machined ghosts we could not dream. With our Spirit-flight we do care that our sheep are electric and our dreams are android hopes and that our loves—do kiss away our sparkling tears and fears…And! Androids do dance into Electric nights and love does lead shifting-shapes through the darkest frights and into those sweetest lights. Shadow-touch across ceilings of moon dust and spaces of time-without-races and inside these moments—Life is an Almost-Maybe.

And! Beautiful you are…