I love music but I am far from what you Call musically inclined. I couldn’t read a note of music even if it were played on Rosetta Stone. I always pounded my own drum to my own off beat and even in the shower my singing voice is atrocious. I couldn’t carry a tune in a wheel barrel. But be that as it may from time to time an interlude of sounds takes up space in my brain and pleads me to give it words. I’m far from a songwriter, but not being something has never stopped me from deluding myself so I wrote the words.





Four course dinner

A movie a dance

While little children waste away

Hoping for a chance

To earn a piece of bread

Wash the pains away

Praying for some silence

When the bombs begin to play

Smart car- cell phone -flatscreen scene

Blindfolded luxuries

To watch a movie and not see

The homeless refugees



We’ll never change the world if all we do is justify

We’ll never change ourselves if we believe we’re satisfied

Don’t hide behind complacency of nothing can be done

Don’t shake your head but shake your fist until the peace has won



Bomber jets fly overhead

Then circle to come back

And drop destruction on the land

A civilian home attack

Family lives being shattered

Don’t even know if the children live

Chemicals fill in the cracks of life

Somethings got to give

Get those rockets in the air

Limbless children blood and gore

Close our eyes so we cant see

Families dispossessed by war


We’ll never change the world if all we do is justify

We’ll never change ourselves if we believe we’re satisfied

Don’t hide behind complacency of nothing more can be done

Don’t shake your head but shake your fist cause war is never won



Eighty year old in Ukraine

Lost her house today

Lived in it her whole damn life

Until a war blew it away

With a fifty year old crippled son

Alone in the forest hear them cry

Hold each other tight and pray

That sometime soon they’ll die

But I gotta go to yoga class

And I gotta buy some wine

Then turn on my favorite TV show

O I can try to justify


Don’t glorify or justify

Just open your heart and unify

Tome to give real peace a try

Yet still the war machines roll on

Fuck political camp-pains

Use the donations for starvation

Because if we continue on medication

Our world will spin in indignation

And we will continue to build destruction

And we will continue to create deconstrution

Because murder can be a tax deduction

Fuck it, I’m done with my rap Y’all

Peace out, right on

Live and love in peace


Trading In Blood

blood oil



I am a frightened misguided martyr

Crouching behind the wind of the desert

My trembling hand grasps tight my death stick

Time to man up

I thought I was ready but now I feel sick

Prepared to lay down in honor of death

I try hard to focus on the mission at hand

But I don’t understand

Why I came to die in some foreigners land

With sweat on my fingers now crusted with sand

Ready to finish what someone else started

No place to be when you’re of the good hearted

I have to kill to liberate this land

And I have no idea where the fuck I am

Or why


Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

I want him to die


How did I get here so angry and unsure

I’ve strayed much to far from my manger

In the name of country in the name of Christ

I’m willing to end the life of some stranger

Who am I that I can choose who should die

Who is he to decide my fate

None of that matters

Everything’s rotten

I’m trained to kill

When I get home I just may continue the thrill

Or maybe I’ll just be forgotten



Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

It’s his turn to die


But as I peer through the scope I see just a boy

I think he’s as misguided and younger than me

Who sends a child to march straight into death

Then I remembered the politician said “We”

Well where the fuck is he?

Having family dinner while I stand to die

Again all I can think is WHY?

Trying hard to remember who told me to come here

And the reason they sold me to the grim reaper

While they are campaigning I fell into shit

They make the news while I keep sinking deeper

So a politician can stand by his words–


Make me president of the United States

I’ll increase the enemy death rates

I will put an end to war

I will destroy the terror

With the help of your children

Your sons and daughters

We may lose a few

Just a small error

Collateral damage is something to be

Collateral damage that’s me

The proud and few the dearly departed

Young men and women discarded

Up at the podium they offer a promise

All who oppose us shall rise and then fall

Bloods a small price to pay for our oil




So I shook a sandy blood clot

From my combat boot

Steady as she goes it’s my turn to shoot

Any enemy soldier I have in my sight

In my dead mans scope just off to the right

I will not allow him one day to grow older

My death stick poised on my shoulder

As I pull the trigger to cancel his life

Which now belongs to me

Aligned down my cold metal barrel

Get ready to die bitch

But wait!

A second before I take him out

Something makes me stop

Jesus Christ he’s just a kid

Just a frightened young boy

He doesn’t want this shit either

I made a mistake

I hesitated

I waited

Now its too late



I close my eyes but I see a bright light

There’s no more to feel its the end of my flight

This is the day of my very last battle

The sound from my lungs is the fearsome death rattle

I’m slipping away as all the crazy noise fades

No more killing no more raids

No more trembling in fear

Then it struck me why I was so fucking jaded

Because it’s for oil in which young kids blood has been traded




Peace is a hard concept to understand. We have to believe it, to live it, to sacrifice for it. We’ve come to believe that killing and being ready to die is the path to peace, but there is strength and bravery in using words and reason instead of bombs and murder. Be the best humanity can be and strive for peace, not war. Love Y’all, keep believing and keep dreaming. Slow and steady wins the PEACE




The War On Christmas Is Supposed To Start On A Friday



J.T. Hilltop

Despite commercial attempts at decking the halls the day after Halloween the holiday of Christmas is under siege again. Perhaps I shouldn’t call it the holiday of Christmas or I may be accused of being indoctrinated into the war and I am after all a pacifist. But it’s war that has already begun, a bit too early as everything seems to these days. The 2015 War On Christmas. This year the first battle lines were drawn very early and quite decisively with the shot of espresso heard round the world when a plain red cup surreptitiously entered the holiday fray with a social media bang! Excluding snowmen, snowflakes or other such holiday emblems was a clear violation of Geneva Holiday laws not to mention a huge slap in the face to Parson Brown in the meadow who‘s face it was rumored to be the snowman on last years cups. Be that as it may the red cups of coffee have declared war on Christmas on a Tuesday! History dictates the annual war on Christmas is always declared on a Friday. The Friday after Thanksgiving to be more accurate, a day of non denominational salebrations. Rumors of its beginnings in Central America are without merit as is evidenced in the spelling of the rumored cry in and around the Isthmus of Panama, “It’s time to keep the Isthmus in Christmas” So how did the Christmas Wars begin? Did some puppet regime take Christ out of Christmas? Maybe some green monster ripped off all of the Whoville presents under the Christmas/Holiday tree. Or was it far more devious a plot to inject commercialism into Christmas. Let’s let History be the judge..



It was a cold and breezy day with wind gusts that snickered sarcastically at all the revelers waiting on the eternally long lines. The aggressors had left the comfort of their turkey dinner to cash in on the huge sales. Like the proverbial (not from the book of proverbs) carrot before the horse a promise dangles motivating the troops into leaving behind the safety and love of family to trot happily towards the big screen TV’s advertised all week. Time was ticking down inside the stores as the front lines, the frightened first line of defense prepared for the invasion by making final checks on the store shelves and cashier stations. The manager bellowed out a warning, “Five minutes to opening!” Those four simple words sent shivers across the entire group of employees working this evening. Most if not all had left a traditional gathering of their tribal units to save their low paying jobs which would surly be in jeopardy had they not accepted the challenge of the upper management, to be working on Thanksgiving eve. But a far sinister force had already altered their destinies as they laid out their plan.

General and CEO Grinch surveyed his troops via a closed circuit television inside his very upscale warm and safe abode. His voice reverberated over the expensive audio system, “There is a day of celebration that the little people call “Thanksgiving”. The mass of sales hungry insignificant sheep claim it’s a day of unity in which they offer thanks to all they believe to have given them. Nothing is given to anyone, you have to work for it. Ladies and Gentleman the mindless followers about to invade our store maintain that this holiday is without any religious requirements but you and I both know that is a lie. All they want is to have the best and most presents under their religious tree’s and its up to us not to disappoint. We will prey on their faith in the brotherhood of savings. It is a day in which they wine and dine themselves into a state of numbness after consuming alcohol and tryptophan while watching a brutal display of small armies fighting over the real estate of what they refer to as a “football field”. This only enhances enough testosterone from both male and female viewers to whip them into a feeding frenzy for us, the corporate armies of America. We will tantalize them with the promise of huge sales and insane savings which is the force that drives our enemies, the believers in Christmas presents. We shall put everything in red and green and decorate all the halls from here to Montezuma with festive holiday greetings, bells, holly, and wreaths while calling them holiday decorations which will divide the army. Divide and conquer people! While they bicker and feud between the proper greeting to use we can convert that ridiculous energy into a desire to save. A perfect deception causing them to spend far more than anticipated in a misguided attempt to make this the best Christmas or eh, holiday ever. So be ready, today the war on Christmas will commence on this day of November 27th, Black Friday, a day that will live on in infamy.”

Black Friday. That’s how history will retell this tragic day. Technically the corporate armies have pushed back the beginning to Thursday nights, the actual day called Thanksgiving but history will remember it as Black Friday. It will be a brutal battle in which patrons will stampeded, push, punch, and bite each other over sales regardless of their religion. In the name of Christmas sales the Christian soldiers would be licking and nursing their multiple wounds suffered during the mêlée of Christmas sales surreptitiously projected as “Holiday Sales” designed to include non Christians into the time of sharing and giving which will surely infuriate the soldiers of Christianity while lining the pockets of the corporate soldiers of fortune. Many a front line sale hunting warrior has met defeat while screaming “I don’t care what you Say, its Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays before being trampled by sale hungry enthusiasts who care nothing about anything that does not relate to at least 50% off.

Oh sure, others have already waged the war of words on television blaming mainstream media for only reporting on the acts of kindness that need no religious declarations and ignoring the fact that the holiday is the sole possession of just one religion in particular. Tragically it matters not when you take into account it’s not a crime federal or even a misdemeanor to use either Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays as a friendly greeting of choice. To the soldiers poised for hours in front of a store to capitalize, yes that’s right, capitalize as in Capitalism, to beat their once loved neighbor into submission in the name of the final flat screen TV‘s all the niceties can commence at a more convenient time. Any cheek turning during sale battles will get a kicking tonight. Move the fuck over you pagan scum, there is a Christmas sale on! Fuck you you elitist piece of shit, it’s a goddamm holiday sale you moronic nincompoop. Who’s to say? A Chanukah sale? Kwanza spectacular? Christmas present special? Do the sales pertain to Agnostics or Atheists? Or is it exclusively a Christmas sale? Nay say the corporate gods, it’s a holiday sale. And why not? We accept monetary denominations from all denominations.

From a strictly nostalgic point of view a dark day was upon us. A one time spectacular day when the family together watched Macy‘s Parade, March Of The Wooden Soldiers, and the traditional football game while the home filled up on the wafting aroma of roasting turkey flesh had been changed forever. A day in which Dad, the head of the household stood poised with a large carving knife prepared to slice up the treasure, the huge turkey carcass on the only day of the entire year that was a day in which we all called peace on all worlds to merely express gratitude and celebrate family. It has forever been misconstrued to a day when children leave the serenity of a happy nested family dinner immediately after pie for a full contact no holds barred live global conflict of penny pinching uncaring attitudes to find the best sale at the cost of harming if necessary even an elderly grandmother. And why not if she attempted to outwit one in an either holiday or Christmas sale. Sanity broke down and the war on Christmas would escalate the very next Monday, cyber Monday!

Those reading this in the future may find this laughable, an actual war on Christmas which was a single day when it first began, but they would be ill informed not to understand how derisive a simple greeting had become. “I’m unarmed, I come in peace” may seem so common sense it couldn’t possibly have not existed forever, (No you sales nuts, not Forever 21) but there was a time when some asshole Americans actually fought a war over using the greeting Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas. It was a deep philosophical rift, with one side insisting that to say Merry Christmas offended their very existence while others insisted that unless everyone said Merry Christmas it was somehow an insult to an entire religion. If only their Gods, their Jesuses, their prophets (not profits), and Santa Clauses had had the chance to admonish them all for their foolishness we may have been able to get through a holiday (yes that’s right, Christmas is a day, Holidays are group of days in which goodwill used to be the main component) season without hating. But then again, maybe that’s what religion means to some of us, not love one another but to show our hatred to anyone not like us. There are many accounts of people so small they needed to put others down to escalate themselves to match the splendor of their twisted ego‘s. It seem that just like being a Vegan, everyone who insists that it can only be Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays seem to have a driving need to let everyone else in the world know that “I don’t care, I say Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays” or vice versus. Go ahead say whatever, give me a greeting filled with love not words or terms. I’m happy to get any kind of a kind greeting, even a simple Whats up Dude, just don’t laud your choice over me like it somehow makes you superior. It doesn’t. Spread love not anger, and have a great friggen holiday no matter who or what you are…… Love, Peace, and more Love………


American History Y


History is a thing of the past
Sacrifices made to appease esoteric gods and generals
Scribed in blood across fields of battle
Forged from discrepancies over the faithful dominion
Bearing monuments of granite to mourn our freedom
History is war in it’s inglorious redundancy
Death machines roll over boulders in search of flesh
Mindlessly crushing bones into a gravel pits of grief
Mechanical arrows dipped in chemical degradation
Silken fiery rocks lacking mercy roll the horizon
Leaving tales of soot and ash in it’s mournful wake
Burnt images of abalone gods praised on alters of fear
Built on false pedestals from the spines of men
Shovels pierce the earth to bury our agonies
Hidden deep under earth and out of sight
Grapes too wrathful for our vines so tender
As it was in the beginning so is it now
Our own creations
Who created who
At what cost

The American dream

We the people who own the United States
In order to form a more perfect Dominion
Establish tax shelters
Insure domestic dependency on our products
Provide loopholes for corporations
Promote unfair trade practices in their favor
Do ordain and establish the Constitution of The United Corporations of America

Bill Of Wrongs
I Congress shall willfully and wrongfully tax the citizens except in the case of religion or corporation
II Congress shall wrongfully and willingly do whatever the NRA directs them to
III Congress shall willfully and wrongfully take advantage of the citizens it works for
IV Congress shall willfully and wrongfully disregard due process of law to whomever they see fit
V Corporations shall collude with banks to create credit to insure we will always have people in debt
VI Congress shall wrongfully and willingly assure their own raises, perks, and healthcare prior to considering any budget cuts

Pledge your allegiance, buy our products

I pledge allegiance to the Logo
Of the United Corporations of America
And to the Wall Street for which it stands
One nation strictly for the wealthy
And to all the denominations of the dollar for which it stands
Easily divisible
With liberty and justice for the rich

Letters from Saigon


A tearful museum of love, a handful of broken rain. Too delicate to swim, they both float in their pain
Sometimes it just seems too hard to go on
Stuck in a prison
Conquered by a vision
Reading the letters they got from Saigon

She recalled the sound of a doorbell cough ominous
Two silhouettes lurking from the shadow of moon
The Radio strained to obscure the sound of bad news
Words came in choking through sorrow filled gloom
Surrealistic two men stood looming in military dress
Bearing the words the family prayed never come to the door
Disregarding compassion reality entered into their home
To hug their baby boy in their arms nevermore

I hurt so much so please hold my hand
We both need something to help carry on
In the top of her closet a box full of tears
She showed him the letters she got from Saigon

Dreams are scorched when silence is at hand
Once the shootings over ain’t nothing left to be said
We sing some numbered songs whisper baby what’s next
Time to raise up love and then bury our dead
Struggling to understand why the end came so mean
While watching repeats of the squealing baby they tossed
One day brings the sleepless night playing on loops
Another day brings dark visions of a little boy lost

You can’t hold hands with a memory
You need to find some way to go on
In the top of her closet a box full of tears
As she re-reads the letters she got from Saigon

Always the rock dad must remain solid and strong
Can’t allow weakness just because life isn’t fair
Carrying the load for the son another’s war killed
Tortured alone every day with his own cross to bear
With a shake of his head his father cried silent
Promised for his family he would always fight on
Hidden in his workbench one envelope of tears
His son’s final letter that was sent from Saigon

Dear Dad,
Please don’t tell this to Mom. Three days ago one of our troops went out to another village and were blown up by a booby trap. They all died. Two days ago a sniper from the village shot and killed ten of my brothers, one of them right in front of me. Yesterday my best buddy Frank stepped on a landmine and lost his leg. A Hell of a way to get home right? All I could think was it could have been me Dad. My Sergeant got so angry he ordered one group to kill all the civilians in the village, women and kids too. They did it Dad, they killed them all, it was plain out and out murder. I’m so ashamed. I didn’t even try to do anything to stop it. I hate myself for that Dad. I wish I could come home to talk with you. We’re all afraid to talk about it because they might send us up to the DMZ. I wish I could talk to you to tell me the right thing to do Dad, I feel so lost and lonely. There is nothing but blood and death here in the jungle I just want to come home Dad. I hate it here. I’m trying to keep strong but I’m scared. Everyone around me is dying. Can’t sleep because of the fear and explosions. Please ask Father Duncan to pray for my soul and please don’t tell Mom. I don’t want her to worry. Be home soon Dad, I love you.
You’re Son,


my lai

Dragon of death breathes over the village
Confusion cringing in fear of it’s God
Army of ghosts assemble in path of doom
Frightened by a flag of anger as they squirm
Panicked families under the heels of misfortune
Clouds rain fire across the jungle acid pathways
The red moon sniffles as it bleeds tears of sorrow
Domination spreads like a cancerous growth
Babes no longer sent to march into Toyland
Machine guns spitting shame across the oceans
Shocking the world with one cruel heartless deed
The weight of massacre befallen all of humanity
Anger and shame have defeated their innocence
Women and children slaughtered in claws of war
Not healthy for children and other living things
Cancel war and subscribe to peace
Before its too late

The Soldier And The Poet


The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
Finding something worth dying for

Blind ambition
Its my duty
Flames of Hell
That’ll suit me
I’m a soldier
Gun in hand
Prepared to kill
Defend your land
Kill my enemy
Allies thrilled
May get maimed
May get killed
Never run
No thought of treason
Don’t want to die
For no reason

The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
Finding something worth living for

Blind ambition
Finding love
Rainbow sunrise
The sky above
I’m a poet
Pen in hand
Prepared to share
My special land
Share my stories
Abstract views
Write of beauty
Or write of blues
Beauty abounds
Every season
Don’t want to live
What’s the reason

The soldier stands on the brink
Smoke of destruction rising near
Facing death at every corner
Eyes closed while facing fear

The poet stands on the brink
Smoke of dreams rising high above
Facing life at every corner
Eyes closed while dreaming love

I’m a soldier
Fighting a war
I found something
Worth dying for
I carry a gun
My mind is numb
I’ll blow my enemy
To kingdom come
I fight for freedom
I fight for peace
Some have to die
Some have to cease
Its just the way
The new world works
Bombing for peace
Where evil lurks

I’m a poet
I protest war
I found something
Worth living for

I write for peace
I write my notions
I’m searching for
Beautiful emotions
Want you to feel
What life can bring
Every living beauty
Every living thing
I see the good side
To make you shout
Try and tell the world love
Love is what life’s about
I write of freedom
And the stars above
I want to live
In a world of love

The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
He found something worth dying for
The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
So we have something worth living for




Soaked in the blood of an entire globe
The history of humans part one
It wasn’t written with pen and paper
Our history was written by gun

Let us not forget
The acrid stench of charred flesh from smoldering humans
Grilled across burning coals of hatred and terror
A million pieces of jigsaw humans abandoned
Discarded like rubbish
Stored in piles of impurity in huge ditches of shame
Bones of the walking dead dripping with sagged flesh
Numbers and bad memories burnt profound on their body
Experiments stretching the boundaries of decency
Hooked cross stigmata a symbol of human hatred to the Third
Is it even possible to harbor that much loathing of life?
Genocide of a Jewish nation
“If you want to shine like the sun first you must burn like it” A. Hitler
At what cost a holocaust
Remember life?

Lest us not forget
Winchester Manifest taming the natives with murder
A small pox upon thee in thy blanket of death
Soaring arrow overcome by flying bullets
Wiping out a culture to lay claim to their land
Removing their bison their village and traditions
Erasing their will through the barrel of a death stick
Does not the earth belong to all?
Another con quest in the name of the holy
Created equal but not treated equal
Lives bought and sold at a bargain of flesh
Humanity for barter in the village square
Chained and inspected then ripped from the family
Without a turn of the other cheek
Remember when
Fibers of ignorance hung with misunderstanding from weeping trees
Hoods of cotton bearing whips that cried out in sadistic tenure
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” G.Santayana
First the braves then the slaves
The Greening of America
Remember life?

Who could forget
Bombing for peace the landscapes of a world divided
Japan clouded in mushroom from spores of disgraceful power
To shock and awe
We had I we had II here comes III
Fossilized remains of the behemoth avenged
Through a thousand years of killing and drilling for blood
Victories measured in the tally of the dead
Soldiers tossed aside in a graveyard of artificial limbs
The Mother Of All Destruction at the push of a button
In the name of glory
Third world government LLC, DBA Democracy Incorporated

Remember pride?
Remember honor?
Trust, Integrity, Equality?
Remember life?
Remember love?
Remember poetry?

Remember when poets cared
No one was scared
Bells of Freedom rang
Songs of love we sang
Sisters and brothers
Respect for our mothers
Children with flowers
Took on superpowers
Those days of peace
When hatred had ceased
Were over too soon
Like a helium balloon
Disappeared out of sight
Destroyed by the might
Of those who didn’t trust us
The hammer of justice
Came down on our rights
Created more fights
Swept our dead underground
Laughed at the sound
The sound of our mourning

No reconstruction
Only obstruction
Mass production
And impending destruction
To each and every member
……If we don’t Remember

Days Too Often Forgotten


Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it -George Santayana-

Does any one remember when a hopeful generation
Of compassionate human beings made a peaceful presentation

Hell no
We won’t go
Break down barriers
Free Jim Crow
Stop the fighting
Stop the draft
Join the army
Get the shaft
No more murder
No more bombing
No Agent Orange
Stop Napalming

Give us your poor and tired huddle masses
Seeing the world through our rose colored glasses
Bending down to raise the downtrodden
These are the days too often forgotten

Now our friends bicker bitch and moan
Sit at the computer their internet throne
Haters behind the mask of the keypads
Yelling at liberals to put on their kneepads

Heads up their asses those conservative clowns
Those god damn liberals will destroy all the towns
Old white Republicans want us to live in the past
Communist Democrats want rebellion to last

Too many days we have forgotten
Too many riches were ill begotten
Better we let those days remind us
Not let political parties define us

The once united
Has become
A money vulture
Failed policies
Failed schism
Failure to every
Fucking ism
Breeds not sanity
Are any choices
Left to me?

A decree to jog the memory

Let us not forget
The barefoot, pregnant, and silent
Bought them needle and thread
Chained them naked in bed
Don’t let them vote
Let them clean the house instead
It wasn’t easy but we learned we could find the way
You’ve come a long way baby to get where you are today

Let us not forget
The sight of fibers hanging from branches
People crucified for taking chances
The sound of chains
The promise of pain
That was then this is now
That’s no reason to disavow

How easily we forget the war over cotton, these are the days too often forgotten

Now streets are alight burning with hate
Disingenuous rule makers holding out bait
Its always them against us or us against them
When the hell will this hatred end

How is it we traveled across many so generations yet still can’t stop warring against other nations

Foundations like United Nations taking donations to ease frustrations and improve relations
But continued accusations and insincere declarations bring condemnations from all congregations
They hope deportations and allegations will prevent confrontations by becoming celebrations
Will anything lead to sensible conversations?

The taste of anguish so bitter it makes me cry
We’ve forgotten how and forgotten why
Once we stood a rebellious culture united
But money is the root of all the shortsighted
We need to remember the peace we desired
And go back to being a nation inspired

Condemned to a world dank and rotten if we allow these day to be forgotten

Where are those brilliant minds that forged a union
Who stood firm against wrongs in peaceful communion
Youth’s banded together demanding a voice in their world
While defying all inequalities under a banner unfurled
A nation of families spreading blankets of peace and love
Sharing respect and integrity in the utopia they dreamed of
Days once filled with promise of the best of humanity
When those days are forgotten we’re left with insanity

Capitalism is tradition
Revolution is a mission
Hatred must cease
Increase the peace


Words Of War


Words dissolve into rage
Bathed in ironic anger
When irony fills with blood

Beliefs emerge from faith
Faith flows into egos
When egos are expressed in words

Power is in the money
Money translates to power
When greed overtakes the power

Earth is for territory for all to live on
Territory gets claimed as possessions
When possessions are build into borders

Survival lasts for only the fittest
Fittest translates to physical dominance
When oppression goes to the highest bidder

When Money Religion Oppression Power Ego Greed Possessiveness Strength Anger all over-flex their muscles in words

When the earth belongs to no one and everyone
When humane doctrines can be followed without prejudice
When Words can be filled with reason and not blindness
When misguided ignorance can be taught to understand
When we can use words to help one another