Frail and Almost Maybe…

This time of days of times ago and present time; the old man vision touched, those other ones and whispered, “Not this time—Not this time—our children will not go to war.” Others knew that this time of times would not be the time for dead children and metal touch-to-flesh-madness. And! For these moments warriors are unnecessary and ‘Honor’ is a simple way of Life.

     We do not summon gentle love. It whispers to our spirits and touches us beyond the flesh of resistance. Gentle love moves ‘cross routes of layers to find many lives inside walls;  too high to climb, or too low or too wide or just about the shouts of daily doubts and flight. Love; heart touches and reaches, into body frail and into those impossible attempts to hide among thrones of thorns and weary costs already paid and already spent. Listen! Please listen. And! Love will reminds us of the equality of equals of women and of men and the spirits of all; trapped and living, sentient sentences of life inside the body and forever minding body.

     “In the current phase of intellectual corruption, it must be stressed that, like democracy and human rights, the economic doctrines preached by the rulers are instruments of power, intended for others, so that they can be more efficiently robbed and exploited. No wealthy society accepts these conditions for itself, unless they happen to confer temporary advantage; and their history reveals that sharp departure from these doctrines was a large factor in development.”—Noam Chomsky

     We are not a means to an end that others may wish to accomplish. We are not tools to be used. We are not servants of need-greed-to-be-freed or bandages for other wounds. We are not  sacrifices to gods come whimsy or rushing wings or gift bearing things; beads, baubles, glitter or flash. We androids do dance into Electric nights. Love does lead shifting-shapes through darkest  frights and into sweetest lights. Shadow-touches ‘cross secret ceilings of moon dust and hidden space. Time sans race are inside moments like these and Life is an Almost maybe.

     This dot-dash in time is not America’s ‘darkest hour.’ This is not darkness; just a candle no- spark, no-match-to-wick. Just quick—foolish words—entertainment—more criminal than ‘ever clean.’ A fox in a ‘house-of-hens’— is honorable…This dot-dash in time is just loss unity—without integrity. “A cloud of cicada on acid. A thrumming high-pitched squeal of acoustic irritation.”.

‘Deportation Forever Continues This Illegal and Wicked—Course of Global Separation and Global Apartheid’…We are all Children of this Universe and We all have the Right-to-be—Everywhere…

     Pay attention to Life—call it a modern Life—and all this modernity—simply wears a body. Wondering if this justice is rendered with and without sunlight? Still a visible universe is visible without sight-to-see? Why not? Love reminds us of the equality of equals—women and men and the spirits of all trapped and—living sentient sentences of life inside the body—minding body.

Touch me in Sing-Song poems. Forget the world and touch me with voice. We two; too need, those requiring words of hope and verse of love’s together forever.We are two; in dark dancing, with rhythm in our minds and drum beats in our hearts…And! Magically—birds transform the air they breathe—into surprisingly sweet songs…

And! Beautiful you are…

6 comments on “Frail and Almost Maybe…

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s