Borders

The earth is populated across her weary face
For men have always wandered with hope from place to place,
Their wives and even children are all they often brought--
They look for open spaces where new life can be wrought.

From Africa mankind has spread, equator to the poles,
No matter where they've settled down they've met their mighty goals--
From fishermen to farmers and architects to saints
We never have ceased moving--our future's what each paints.

We paint the landscape future with ever-winding roads
On which we're always traveling with all our dreams and loads--
But often there's resistance when leaving or when there,
But that has never kept us from going anywhere.

The soul of man must wander--that is the natural law,
And those who would oppose it live with a tragic flaw--
They hate the best that's in mankind, and people who would hate
Want to destroy all beauty and dissolve our human fate. 

The Slow Death of the Death of Kings

There was a time when kings were killed--a year
Was all some had before the ritual
Brought down their reign in death--so who could fear
Such as would find their end in royal cull?

From those who heard the voice of spirits sing
And learned the language of the sky and stars
Emerged a slight reprieve--to kings they'd bring
Unnumbered years, then ritual death (or Mars).

An annual rite when fools would reign, the high
Would be brought low, the royals paupers made
And homeless made into the king who'd die
A scapegoat's death, the kin denied the blade.

The poets, hearing Dionysus, told
The tales of kings who fell--their audience
Would see the actors act, the parts unfold
To show the death on stage, a fiction fence.

The shamans and the poets lost their voice,
And all that now remains are kings who reign--
No death, no ritual reminder--choice
The only threat to break the iron chain.

Finding Happiness

I see deep beauty everywhere, in everything
And thus I've found true happiness--of it I sing.

Become as Little Children

"Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of God."

"The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you."

From out of apes you humans immatured--
Yes, you, for I have immatured as well,
My neurotribe and I--we have endured
Much mockery--as children we still dwell.

The genes that made the man from swinging ape,
That slowed development to make more room,
They are responsible for human shape
And mind, and the long journey to the tomb.

And yet these genes are many more in me,
It seems, and immatured me to autistic,
To image-, pattern-thinking--those who flee
Those most like me deny the realistic.

The realistic truth is we've evolved
And are evolving still--nothing's resolved.

Against All Hate

Behold, the vicious misanthrope,
The hater of the differences in skin,
The hater of the differences in kin,
The hater of what others would believe,
The hater who would hate without reprieve.

Behold, the vicious misanthrope,
The hater of the greatness man achieves--
When faced with man-made beauty only grieves--
The hater of the makers and the wealthy,
Who's only happy when you are unhealthy.

Behold, the vicious misanthrope,
Who sees man as a plague upon the earth,
Denying humans have inherent worth,
Repulsed at all mankind has built--
Who wants us to dissolve in shame and guilt.

The ones who want us full of guilt and shame,
Inventing reasons humans are to blame--
From poverty to wealth and exploitation
To laziness, defenders of the nation--
This is the vicious misanthrope.

The nihilist denying life has meaning,
That value, values are a lie--those leaning
On nothing for support would dare deny
All beauty, justice, truth--say they're a lie--
This is the vicious misanthrope.

You lovers of mankind, the rich and poor,
The individual--open the door
Of greatness, creativity and life--
Deny life's haters, creators of all strife--
Oppose the vicious misanthrope!