Grateful Dead

The Emperor,his bullies and henchmen, terrorize the world every day which is why every day we need a little poem of kindness, a small song of peace, a brief moment of joy. -David Budbill

I have existed as I expected yet been disaffected by decisions to which I succumb. In the future, I reckon, as poor choices beckon, I'll be less nimble than numb. A rising inhuman feeling, I'm apart of being, but a part of the decidedly dumb. In my condition, unable to speak without contrition, unspeakably sedated and out of commission, I find myself among the unsung. With debilitating humility from declining mental agility, a lesser primate, I have become.The devolution's hastened by faux revolution raisin' in the name of the orangutan Trump. A regular Ape Lincoln, with a gorilla tactic inklin', the only change his devoted will get is a chump. Yet, the worst of it, as he threw his shit, too many fell for this relative chimp's speeches on stump. In time and despair, perhaps we'll care, and American humanity recognizes insanity, then gives him The Donald Dump.

Don't know about The Donald's true desiresDetail's in the devils fanning, "You're fired." Is he building a covered bridge too far Taking us back to the USSR? If rushin' love's not for covert lootin' Perhaps hushed rendezvous pleasin' Putin' Repay debts with risky, Rusky rootin' And addressin' Russia as well suitin'. Trump soundly renounced all intelligence Announcing, "Mexico pays for the fence!" Then he chose one unworthy of two... Pence Cheer leader for synchronized sycophants. Trump's tenure will defile his rank's living With labored days, no raise, no Thanksgiving. His eviction requires complete sieving Of toxic tax tactics, he's not giving.

Is Trump building a covert bridge too farTaking us back to the USSR?

Dear Sirs: I have been enjoying the law and order of our community throughout the past three months since my wife and I, our two cats, and miscellaneous photographs of the six grandchildren belonging to our previous neighbors (with whom we were very close) arrived in Saratoga Springs which is clearly prospering under your custody Indeed, until yesterday afternoon and despite my vigilant casting about, I have been unable to discover a single instance of reasons for public-spirited concern, much less complaint You may easily appreciate, then, how it is that I write to your office, at this date, with utmost regret for the lamentable circumstances that force my hand Speaking directly to the issue of the moment: I have encountered a regular profusion of certain unidentified roses, growing to no discernible purpose, and according to no perceptible control, approximately one quarter mile west of the Northway, on the southern side To be specific, there are practically thousands of the aforementioned abiding in perpetual near riot of wild behavior, indiscriminate coloring, and only the Good Lord Himself can say what diverse soliciting of promiscuous cross-fertilization As I say, these roses, no matter what the apparent background, training, tropistic tendencies, age, or color, do not demonstrate the least inclination toward categorization, specified allegiance, resolute preference, consideration of the needs of others, or any other minimal traits of decency May I point out that I did not assiduously seek out this colony, as it were, and that these certain unidentified roses remain open to viewing even by children, with or without suitable supervision (My wife asks me to append a note as regards the seasonal but nevertheless seriously licentious phenomenon of honeysuckle under the moon that one may apprehend at the corner of Nelson and Main However, I have recommended that she undertake direct correspondence with you, as regards this: yet another civic disturbance in our midst) I am confident that you will devise and pursue appropriate legal response to the roses in question If I may aid your efforts in this respect, please do not hesitate to call me into consultation Respectfully yours, - June Jordan

If the drum is a womanwhy are you pounding your drum into an insane babble why are you pistol whipping your drum at dawn why are you shooting through the head of your drum and making a drum tragedy of drums If the drum is a woman don't abuse your drum don't abuse your drum don't abuse your drum I know the night is full of displaced persons I see skins striped with flames I know the ugly dispositions of underpaid clerks they constantly menstruate through the eyes I know bitterness embedded in flesh the itching alone can drive you crazy I know that this is America and the chickens are coming home to roost on the MX missile But if the drum is a woman why are you choking your drum why are you raping your drum why are you saying disrespectful things to your mother drum your sister drum your wife drum and your infant daughter drum If the drum is a woman then understand your drum, understand your drum your drum is not docile your drum is not invisible your drum is not inferior to you your drum is a woman so don't reject your drum don't try to dominate your drum don't become weak and cold and desert your drum don't be forced into the position as an oppressor of drums and make a drum tragedy of drums If the drum is a woman don't abuse your drum don't abuse your drum don't abuse your drum don't abuse your drum - Jayne Cortez

you guys are too smart for me.

We're so closeAnd yet so far I guess that's just The way things are And we'll all know When Heaven's here That's the place where no one lives in fear so Shine There is nothing better for you to do with your Time Than be a rainbow of love We're living on A miracle We pick and choose Of our free will And each new day We choose our path And only love can make God laugh so Shine There is nothing better for you to do with your Time Than be a rainbow of love We're so close And yet so far I guess that's just The way things are A smile here A heart-ache there So many things that we all share so Shine There is nothing better for you to do with your Time Than be a rainbow of love

Just breathe... Breathe...Gasping, into light you're thrown! Like glass, your turning leaf is blown clear of sweet slumber's song but there's no need of hers - you'll sing your own. You, newly born of mother's prayers, will breathe your first of earthen airs and thirsty, let your voice be heard 'til she's dispersed the drink she shares. As leaves are, by the wind, bestirred, with each new breath, you'll find you're spurred on by survival's undertow as well as by debts love-incurred. Oh, precious child, I love you so! What wonders of this world you'll know but one day too, this life you'll leave... Take one last breath and let it go. Yes, breathe... - Lycia Harding

That's quite enough from you, slo.Go on, back in the hutch.