" "

"The poet is a painter.

The pen is his brush,

the words are his paint,

and the human conscience is his canvas."

A Stone

What is more docile than the stone not thrown?
Round, cool, and quiet it sits,
but the potential to be tossed is never lost,
for a rock is weighty and, at Hate’s
discretion, can be cast.
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At Hate’s discretion the stone will be made known
to his prey-- flesh breaks, blood pours, and the gore
is hailed as just, but the rock thrust
at the victim is judgment misjudged,
for what is more righteous than a stone not thrown?
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Content it lies and let it lie.
Indifferent it sits and let it sit.
Peacefully it slumbers and let it sleep.
For not every hurled stone should have been thrown.

" "

"I will defend anybody's right to do what is right without having someone in authority telling them to do it."

For Glory, We Explore

On a ship we sailed
Sailed we from a distant shore
In search of Glory, we explored
“But,” now some ask, “to what avail?”
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Chartered were we by our King
“Go forth! Make haste!”
“Win this glorious race!”
Upon our embark we did laugh and sing
-
But as we rode
The sea grew rough and cold
Where was this Glory of which we were told?
Our vigor waned, and began to corrode
-
With no end in sight
Who was to blame?
The other, each tried to frame
Until every man was blinded by fright
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Mutiny took its course
The death toll rose
It was the captains the crew did oppose
Their power was stripped from them by force
-
A new leader the crew did name
One of their own they crowned
In hopes that from him, Glory would abound
But like the captains of the past, he was the same
-
In this way, conflict was repeated
Time and time again, war was declared
But for what was ahead of us, we were not prepared
Had we known our demise was near, from our hateful path we/ would have retreated
-
Too set in our destructive ways, we did not see
That the very edge of the world we were fast approaching
In Death’s domain we were encroaching
But still fighting we were, till it was too late to flee
-
Over the edge we fell
Not realizing our error
We screamed and wailed in terror
For our lack of faith, we plummeted into the mouth of Hell!

" "

"The opiate of the people is not religion. It is government; and like any drug we know that this vice should be quit cold turkey, but we daily convince ourselves of this drug's necessity."

My Fear of Fear

We fear the different
Like we fear a wasp on the window
Frightening it may look
Imposing it may seem
Though stung it has not
We swat!
Cut it down
Before harm could be done
Eliminate the thing
Before we could see
That the wasp just wanted to be…

" "

"Is it not strange that the act of murdering is one of the few conditional sins, according to the average Christian?"

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But think about this:

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"If every single professed Christian on earth took the words of Jesus literally then society as we know it would be utterly destroyed."

Nod to the Beat

This is a tribute to Allen Ginsberg. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, therefore, the inspiration for this poem came from Ginsberg's "Kissass".

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Suck Up is a part of Society
employees will have to Suck Up to the Boss
inmates will have to Suck Up to the Cops
we have to Suck Up to the State, for safety and success

only way to live in Society-- Suck Up

" "

I believe in revolution: Social, economic, emotional, cognitive, and especially spiritual revolution.

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"In order for any revolutionary movement to be successful the revolutionists must rid themselves of this us against them perspective, and instead, adopt an us for them mentality."

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If the revolution is violent then I do not want to be associated with it.

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"A violent revolution is not that revolutionary."

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"Anything founded on the principles of force and violence can only be maintained through force and violence."

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"There are three kinds of violence. The obvious is physical violence, which destroys the body. The other two are verbal violence and property damage. These terrorize the emotions."

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"Nonviolence fights anger; violence provokes anger."

A Child's Verse

Welcome to the world little one
Doubts you may hold
But fear you have none
For since you birth you have been told
That the battle is all but won

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I wrote this to honor my cousin Rebeka's birth.

" "

"Only in the spirit world do good and evil exist.

In this earthly realm there are only the guided and the misguided."

Death of a Bird

A bird is born
Squints at first light
From its nest it is torn
Falls in premature flight
Hope of life is forlorn
Passersby scurry at sight
The bird’s death, no one will mourn
Another bird will be born tonight

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I wrote this in memoriam of a little baby bird that I saw wobbling around on the sidewalk one day. It had fallen out of the tree and I did not do anything to save it from its deadly situation. The next day I walked along that same sidewalk only to find the poor wretch dead on the concrete. I swore that from then on I would never be a passerby scurrying at sight.

" "

"Justice is not the same as revenge."

For Heaven's Sake

The snake crawls
From ignorant brawls
And the dove soars
Above earthly wars
But the pig will feed
Off those that bleed
And the hawk will search
For the fascist church

" "

"War is a declaration that faith in humanity has been collectively abandoned."

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"War is like two siblings fighting in the same car on a road trip. They exchange punches because one of them moved their arm onto the other's side. The parents are the moral authority who repeatedly tell the little brats to just get along, but the siblings refuse to take heed to good advice."

In this analogy the parents who are supposed to be the moral authority could be seen as God and Jesus. In my family, when my sister and I would fight in the car, my dad usually played the role of Jesus and Mom usually assumed the role of God (Though not always). When fists started flying and voices were raised Dad would usually be the one to say something to the effect of, "Do unto your sister what you would want done unto yourself." My mom, who would be God in this simile, would be the one to say, "I shall smite thee if you two do not stop fighting!" I love road trips.

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"Peace is the existence of global human cooperation for the good of mankind."

The Word on the Street

The following poem was written about four different people that I met while serving hot chocolate to the homeless under Burnside Bridge, in downtown Portland.
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Adam winces and wails as he pulls the shaft from his ass.
He thought at last he was going to wash the cold away,
“But the times, the man, the system…” he says keeps him at bay.
At least Adam has his candle.
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Rodriguez is Solomon of the streets,
but I can call him Rod.
A voice of reason, when life does beat him
he will still smile and rise, for he is like the birds.
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Smallboy is not so small at all.
A native son, he sits singing ancient songs
of love, life, and lament for the loss of his Lenore;
but still he sings.
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John is on the run from the government,
because he now knows why we change channels.
The challenge is to unchain the Navy’s barbed bug in his brain,
because he is not insane.
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With a cordial cup of cocoa,
an open ear,
and a handshake that is blind to the grime,
We do what others will not:
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We put names to these beautifully filthy faces.

" "

"Violence only exposes a lack of creativity and a great deal of impatience."

System of Censored Dissent

The wall around your mind is unbreakable,
but unmistakable is what you’ll find
behind the mask of those who confined
your wheel to the direction of backward:
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Broken instruments, beaten brushes, and battered words
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But have no fear, shed not a single tear,
for I know of something that can tear
down such a wall and expose your captors
for the corps of deceivers they are:
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Black-listed music, banned art, and burned books

" "

The following is my world-view defined in the simplest of terms:

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"The Christian believes that God is love.

The Pacifist believes that war is bad.

The Anarchist believes that government is bad.

Therefore, the Christian Anarcho-Pacifist believes that since God is love, war must be bad; and since governments make war, governments must be bad."

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Almost too simple, I know; but it will have to suffice.

My first attempt at poetry was Haiku. This was my first poem:
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Day turns to nighttime

Man knows not of miracles

Nighttime turns to day
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The following Haiku are correlated with one another. The first was written about a dream I had one night. I did not know what it meant, so I wrote it down. It was not until a few months later that I realized that the dream was prophetic. Only after my dad was diagnosed with cancer did I understand my dream and this first poem. The second is a follow-up to the first. It is my coming to terms with my dad's cancer.
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Bees come through the walls

Is this a plague from God?

It’s overwhelming
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Dreams of the future
Plague is on the mind of man

God is infinite

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The second was my last Haiku.