All Humanity

Aren’t you glad 

how, though just a tad 

we’ve started to see 

all humanity?

But isn’t it sad 

that it’s just a fad?

Though it doesn’t have to be 

because all of us hold the key.

Let’s grab tea, sit down and talk 

of a fate not scripted in chalk

let’s wipe the board clean 

unplug the machine,

and hand in hand

from our cages 

we’ll walk






at a safe social distance

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Medicine Not Bombs

They say we are at war

but if this were a war

we have left our soldiers

without bullets and combat boots

if this were a war

we have left our airmen

without bombs and jet fuel

if this were a war

we have left our sailors adrift

without so much as a compass.


That say we are at war

but if this were a war

and those fighting it

were this ill equipped

there wouldn’t be so many

innocent people dying.


They say we are at war

against an invisible enemy

but scientists can see it

and doctors can see it

and what they see is a virus

not an enemy.


They say we are at war

but war is a terrible analogy

though if you look

you can clearly see

a direct correlation

between the mountains money

we spend killing people

and the bread crumbs left over

to heal them



Posted in Afghanistan, america, american dream, covid19, human rights, humanity, Iraq, life, MLK, poem, Poetry, poetry for peace, taxes, Trump, Uncategorized, veterans for peace, war, war tax resistance, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

At the end of the day

You may think everything

is slipping away 

but we’ll be alright

at the end of the day.

The stocks that collapse 

are just games that men play 

so we’ll be alright 

at the end of the day.

We still have the moon 

and the stars and sun’s rays 

yes, we’ll be alright 

at the end of the day.

Oh say can’t you see 

that community pays?

With compassion and love 

my friends, we’ll be okay.

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First day of spring 

uncertain times 

songbirds still sing

the wind still chimes

the rains still falling down 

the gardens grow 

humanity has many 

springs to go

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The Quiet Of These Hours

It’s not too late 

to start a garden 

it’s not too late 

to plant some trees

it’s not too late 

for solar power 

or water catchment

or keeping bees.

It’s not too late 

to think of others 

it’s not too late 

to learn to cook 

it’s not too late 

to learn a language 

or read 

or even write a book.

It’s not too late 

unless we give up 

it’s not too late 

to turn around 

in the quiet 

of these hours 

can be where 

tomorrow’s found.

Are you happy 

and contented 

with this world 

that you can see 

if you’re not 

then switch the power 

walk outside 

and plant a tree.

It’s exactly

what we’re missing 

a real connection 

with the earth 

let the quiet 

of these hours 

be humanity’s 


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This Humanity

If the barge stops coming 

and you have more than you need 

will you share with your neighbors 

or will you give in to greed?

If the barge stops coming 

and the shelves are stripped bare

will you hoard a year’s surplus 

or will you be kind and share?

If the barge stops coming 

and the markets all close

will you let people starve 

or will you help ease their woes?

If the barge stops coming 

will you wake up and see 

that we are all part of 

this humanity?

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We Grow Posy Flowers Now

Our gods have all abandoned us 

mortals left to dance with death 

blindly in them we did trust 

stop your prayers and save your breath.

Lungs ripped out and veins run dry 

ash and bone are all that’s left 

we dance beneath a falling sky 

ignoring yesterday’s bereft.

We grow posy flowers now 

still poppies die in far off lands 

will we ever wonder how 

to wash this blood off of our hands?

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This Virus

No doctors or vaccines 

can save humanity 

and the planet 

from this virus 

known as capitalism

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Why are you afraid of welfare 

when it comes as bread crumbs 

tossed to those who have been 

robbed of their land

and robbed of their tongue

robbed of their culture 

and robbed of their dignity 

robbed of their dreams 

and robbed of their humanity 

those who have been violently terrorized,

left to struggle through their trauma,

find ways to numb their pain,

rot inside of prison

and die…

BUT when welfare comes 

as trillions of taxpayer dollars 

being shoved into the pockets 

of those who have long terrorized 

both people and the planet,

being shoved into the pockets 

of those who get high

gambling away our bread

on instruments of death 

you don’t even bat an eye…

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Old Clock

There is that old clock

ticking on the wall nearby

and just now, a fly

landing on this very page

as I ponder, where’s the rage?

The flies are happy

death abounds but where are all

those beautiful sounds

that symphony of nature

the birds joyful song, water

flowing as it should

eroding nothing but death

but death surrounds us

and we send death everywhere

from the mountains to the sea

the desert to the valley

now a flea jumps off

the dog and finds another

and we smother it

we smother the fleas and ticks

with death, and an ant, just now

crawled onto this page

and I didn’t hesitate

to decide it’s fate

and we have become so good

at deciding others fates

ants, ticks, people, trees,

birds, bees, fleas, oceans, rivers,

mountains, deserts, and valleys

we keep sending death

so now the flies feast

as the earth and us decay



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