Archive for the ‘peace’ Category

November 26, 2014






Bringing fine wines in straw lined baskets
wine aged in casks for few or many years
Bottles containing the labor of earth
As the new, refreshed and the aged
the sparkling, fermented and clear

They run as the fluids in our veins
the whites of our sweat, the reds of our blood
the champagnes of our ideals
Our bodies as the tinted, the clear and the opaque bottles
containing the zest, the sparkle and clarity of life.

We open our minds and souls
to release the bouquet
the bouquet of our thoughts
and the taste of our wisdom
Released to the palate of our worlds

Gathering on these days of Thanksgiving
we join to mix our flavors
to sweeten our dryness
and to heighten our senses
Taking comfort in the robust feelings of each other’s love

Such is the life of John

Enjoy our day of Thanksgiving.


Old men feeling the foreplay of the sensuous tug of war
Old men that have forgotten or have never known the smell of the smoke of death
But with blustering words from their arm chairs and their long tables
they easily speak of sending the young Armies
who believe the words shouted from the podiums of these old casual heroes.
Casual heroes that now voyeur from hovering satellite views
and the green starlit 20,000 foot cameras of robot planes.
Old casual heroes with hard-ons and loose belts, craving their pornography of war.


(Let’s keep our eyes on the ball, soon there could be a lot of unusual things happening outside of the U.S. to distract us from a lot of unusual things that will soon be revealed right here at home.)

Another Place

Posted: March 7, 2016 in free verse, peace, poem, poet, poetry
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I have found myself in another place
another time another space
Miles from home and human race
That is all I know.

Awoke one morning unfamiliar sun
unknown hills, friends – not one
Alone again and mind undone
Among the quiet.

Dogs that smiled, cats that prayed
Clouds all burst of bright sun-rays
homes of sticks and builder’s clay
Wooden doors sealed shut.

Pipes that smoke, barrels that blast
Trees cut down, branches cast
plowed red dirt, burnt wasteland vast
Cloudy waters burn.

On my knees, I face the sky
Hear mothers and widows tear-less cry.
Their children lost, no reason why
Gone behind the moon.

I kick and pound the desert dirt
I rip the labels from my shirt
Are we truly the ones unhurt?
That, We may never learn.



Well, another year begins. 2016, if this century could drive, it could get its driver’s license this year. It is at that awkward teenage time of life. Its male side is walking around with a perpetual boner and not really knowing what to do with it. And worst of all, centuries don’t have thumbs and can’t effectively do anything about it anyway. So we don’t know what kind of trouble it will be getting into compensating for either short coming. The female side of this teenage century feels like she is 21 and doesn’t understand that there are no older male centuries out there that she can relate to. She wants to move ahead and start acting like an adult, although she is not quite experienced enough to survive in it. Very frustrating century age for her to be. Tempers on both sides can flare!

As you can see, we living in this 21st century teenaged age are living in a very critical time. If either side of this 2016 age doesn’t get laid soon, we are going to be in a hell of a mess. Just look back through past century’s teenage years and it will scare the hell out of ya! Many cruel historical events happened in each century while in its teens.

So what’s it going to be, this 2016? Will our male side of the century continue blustering around overcompensating for its short dick by getting bigger guns, building for war and self-protection and pushing the downtrodden,  the poor and displaced. Or will it just calm down a bit, read some good books, learn how to drink, smoke a joint or maybe just get a magazine and grow some thumbs. Get rid of some of that testosterone. Chill for Christ’s sake! You are only 2016!

And the same for the 2016 teenage century girl side. Trust what your 20th century mother has told you. Your mind will grow into your lovely new 21st century body. The man side will soon see more in you than just sex. There is time for you to make a huge mark in the world. This will be your century. Just enjoy your youth and don’t try to grow up so fast. But learn to compete with the male and female assholes! You are only 2016!

I’m sorry I have to talk to you this way so early in the year, 2016. But it is a very critical age you are living and lots of people are depending on you. So take your old Uncle ShipSmoke’s advice, and try to play nice this year, calm down, take a breath. I’m getting old, my bones hurt and I need the rest. But try to shut the fuck up and enjoy your time here!


(Thanks DSS! , E or OC couldn’t have said this any better themselves.  John)

It is the 31st, the last day of the year 2015. It will only happen again in our dreams, stories, poems and imagination. I will remember the fog this morning and the temperature. I will probably start any stories or poems about this day with, “It was a dark and foggy morning and I felt the chill”. I will probably end my stories and poems about this day with “I will make that resolution again, this year”.

Of course , we in the Northern Hemisphere will be celebrating while freezing our butts off watching a Ball drop or Peach drop or a Cranberry drop or Apple drop, what ever your state’s veggie, fruit or iconic image is. Everyone counting down from 10 – 9- 8 – 7 ……-1 , watch a fireworks display then run  back indoors where it is warm and have another drink, kiss or dance with a pretty girl (wife) next to you or eat another one of those little pizza rolls. But down deep, we would really rather be building a large bonfire in the backyard, gather around it naked and dance and roll around together to music made by drums of  animal skin, played by bare bones and roasting an entire cow. Those Pagans really knew how to party!

If we are in the Southern Hemisphere, aka Australia, they do it right, also. They will be having a drink on the beach, surfing, watching girls in bikinis and throwing another shrimp, fish or veggie, what ever is their Providence’s favorite, on the barbie. I think New Years Eve and New Years Day in January was meant for the Southern Hemisphere, don’t you?

There really isn’t anything special about this day or holiday eve. If we were remembering a past New Year of a few hundred years ago, it probably would be remembered as in March, around the March Equinox . Of course, I am not sure that they would have been using the same names for the months. It seems that every nation had a favorite string of 12 or 13 month names that they used for a calendar. Whatever the month, it probably was a month named after a pagan god. To me, the time of an Equinox, either in Fall or Spring makes more sense to celebrate a new year. But if the Romans or the Christians want it to start in January, the month of the pagan god Janus, so be it. It may be because the god Janus was also known as having two faces. That somehow seems appropriate, almost poetic, now that I think of it. Ok! January it is! I will openly accept January first as New Years Day but secretly, when I’m alone, I will diligently be working to change it to March 21st, when it should be. Isn’t that what Janus would do?

A real pagan New Year celebration, during March Equinox,  that is what I’ll work for. I will make that resolution again, this year.



Fogs of Spring

Posted: March 10, 2015 in free verse, love, peace, poetry
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As the fogs of Spring silently move in and nestle so close to the barren fields,
we stare deeply into them.
Not knowing what is within the first few feet of us is not unsettling,
it is comforting.
Comforting in that nothing else, just feet distant, can see us either.
Within these small bounds we are alone, hidden and unnoticed.
Even our sounds are kept from escaping.
No horns are blown and no bells are rung here.
We have no fear of collision, only fear that the fog will pass too soon
and we’ll once again be visible, watched, expected to perform.
But while the thick fogs remain,
we cuddle,
we are forgotten
and we take our much needed rest.
Then like a purring cat, tail swaying, the brume moves on to the bottom glades and turns to mist,
the sun appears and once again the expectations of the day are upon us.


Spread Some Love

Posted: February 14, 2015 in creative writing, love, peace, poetry
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You have to be a romantic, perhaps a dreamer to appreciate a day like this. It’s a celebration for those that feel, love and breathe. I feel sorry for those MB900078839that don’t feel for this day. Without the romance they can have no dreams. Their world must be full of facts and figures and fears of ulterior motives. It is a day for brave people who steadfastly keep the romance, love and heartfelt feelings from one year to the next and through thick and thin.

But not believe in Valentine’s Day? No way! Let this be the “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” letter for those who doubt. Not believe in Valentine’s Day? We can no more not believe in Valentine’s Day than we could not believe in Virginias, Marcias, Evys, Emilys, Paiges and Melissas.

Spread some love today.


The Searcher

Posted: January 17, 2015 in peace, poetry
Tags: ,

In my time of the search for peace
no bitten lip have I
I care not how I’m looked upon
against a fading sky

As the stronger breezes blow
I sway a clinging leaf
No jetted jaw tightens my grasp
no words to give relief

For those that say they care for me
please hold your caring tongue
Do not despair your loving souls
my search has just begun

As I climb please remember this
I toil not just for me
For on the day my quest is found
you too our peace will be