let us all unite

i’m sorry, but i don’t want to be an emperor.
that’s not my business.
i don’t want to rule
or conquer
anyone.

i should like to help everyone–
if possible

jew,
gentile,
black man,
white.

we all want to help one another.

human beings are like that.

we want to live by each other’s happiness
not by each other’s misery.
we don’t want to hate and despise one another.

in this world there is room for everyone.
and the good earth is rich
and can provide for everyone.

the way of life can be free and beautiful,
but we have lost the way.

greed has poisoned men’s souls,
has barricaded the world with hate,
has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

we have developed speed,
but we have shut ourselves in.
machinery that gives abundance has left us in want.

our knowledge
has made us cynical.
our cleverness,
hard and unkind.

we think too much
and
feel too little.

more than machinery

we need humanity.

more than cleverness

we need kindness
and
gentleness.
let us all unite

and they pass by themselves

people travel to wonder

at the height of mountains,

at the huge waves of the sea,

at the long courses of rivers,

at the vast compass of the ocean,

at the circular motion of the stars;

and they pass by themselves without wondering.

:: st. augustine of hippo

slow pressing

[[song lyrics to no song]]

slow, slow pressing on the mouth
kiss me on the legs
pour into me
hold me, don’t let go
light me up
i’m yours
shake your troubles out
tear your worries out
pour into me

slow, slow pressing on the mouth
kiss me on my palms
hold you in my palms
pour into me

i’m poured into you
shaken and stirred
for you

where do i begin
how did this begin
ain’t there nothing more
where did we go wrong
how did we go wrong
poured for far too long
empty vases of ourselves
ghosts of someone else
memories left on shelves

now you

shake yourself out
moonlight by your side
so you pour yourself to sleep
are you gone
are you done
with me

sun glistens on the bed
whiskey on your breath slow pressing

roses

everyone now and again wonders about
those questions that have no ready
answers: first cause, god’s existence,
what happens when the curtain goes
down and nothing stops it, not kissing,
not going to the mall, not the super
bowl.

“wild roses,” i said to them one morning.
“do you have the answers? and if you do,
would you tell me?

the roses laughed softly. “forgive us,”
they said. “but as you can see, we are
just now entirely busy being roses.

 

roses

moments

there are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
like, telling someone you love them.
or giving your money away, all of it.

your heart is beating isn’t it?
you’re not in chains, are you?

there is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life
even, possibly, your own.

 

moments

he who fears he shall suffer,

already suffers what he fears

× michel de montaigne ×