Pieces Buy Peace - - Poem by Louie Levy
There's no business like money business like all of security, who know, everything about it is concealing, everything the government will allow, nowhere can you get that lousy feeling, that someone's putting you, to the plow, weather it be, the farm, or the factory or just a painting of a cow before her teats are out of milk and taken to slaughter, of that matter, what's life all about when man eats dog and dog eats another out of starvation, when kids are made, and bastards are without b'witches, fathers run the stop signs and not pause out of responsibility and good conscience, for the ache of all who sake and never wonder why and,
what's it..., not about...
if the table's turned and the cobwebs catch flies that the spiders haven't eaten nor pleased with the variety, and can all of society live as one, should the will to survive and economy takes a dive, if the oceans are polluted and fish drown in oil spills, that would have meant to be joy rides and for vocation bent neurotics who fly with fleshless wings to destinations of despair and luxury hotel sweets, so live it up when we're down and never pay mind with money nor save it for the security that political social pests demand of earnings and rats should have and will have their cheese, when the home stalker is busy getting petted and groomed for a smile not befitting the tigers that are almost extinct, and left without skins for their flesh to rot and stink, which ain't bad for the vultures who pray overhead, and wiggle their wings for the feast of wild strife so make hay while the sun shines, due cause and wonder
for, how long...
do nothing but bitch or take hitch with insobriety and toast to the bar who tenders the dragons that laugh and make merry, should the brand of choice be one of ill voice and applaud the audience whose hands are without giving nor heart sick with glutton, and nerves shot out of canons killing all but the denial of their own reasoning not to survive, lacking sobriety and notoriety, when the press prints, clothing ads and moody blues jeans become the means to hole pant knees, once again, emulate the talented, political orphans that play at begging with peace starved diets so that they can appear on public TVs and plead for celebrity status, eyes will tear, and tare will not a heart be impoverished, as real estates applaud as it rises to the occasion for the professionals that feel secure of their earnings and lose their clients, to the invent of greedy robotized utilities who have given up on human operators, electronic voiced idiots with a menu of choices that are uncalled for and simply bad for the fingers that look for the live 'O' key to brain a reply, when it's not even worth,
the talk to try...
going for the hell bent, cell billed phony company, who rapes by the second and megaphones the world, with overhead rhetoric and shticks that distract the ticks of near buy brains, and sprains to be heard when all bare asset ears are careless to listen, when kids in assUv's ride with space minded mothers with a prosthetic attached to numbed ears, with a hair stroking hand that the blind wheel has been reckless of, and the lamed brain is left attended to what her neighbor will be wearing to the DARE and MADD mourning meetings, on the anniversary eve of another family wiped out by the boozed, drugged father that relaxes and kills on demand, of the insane brew taxes that encourage the collectors to take overjoyed and give praise to the raised phallics of senators salaries and corporate monopolies who brew the devil snort juice that's good for the heart and not to whine with other than the red kind and, heart fail drink to war and inhuman extinction, prop 'n ganda while...all...
...sense runs out of,
capital cases so live with, the lower case, when periods are the means to an end, and commas, of the brain give rise to an near ancient woodstock operetta, oratorio that will be heard as the 'beat' and loving genera, of youth filled voices that lyric of melodic profundity, where weeds are pulled and made to smoke the shadows of the political calling for the patriotic duty to 'Kill or be Killed', so, when wearing those cute, dressed up, colored ribbons and decals on your sported rear end autos, remember to support our brave young troops, save gas and pay your plea publi'canny taxes, with a smile...
for Peace, and not...with their pieces...
'The Lives we've saved, have just got blown up, by a Promise and an Alien Prayer'
Marla Ruzicka died Saturday April 16,2005 in a car bombing in Iraq, where she had been on and off since the March 2003 invasion began, conducting door-to-door surveys to determine the number of civilian casualties. Ruzicka dedicated her life to helping others. Iraq Car Bomb Killed this American Activist. She was only 28. Pieces Buy Peace was occasioned by her death.
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Copyright © 2006 Louie Levy
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