Peace Sleeps In The Dust Of Long Lost Dreams.

An extract remarks a north.

Peace Sleeps in the the Dust of Lost Dreams.

© -MFB III


They came to the old hippie,
a poet of great merit,
asking him for hope.

just some peaceful
solutions freshly penned,
and read in lilting form
to soothe their tired heart.

But sad, bloodshot eyes
reflected the chamber of his soul
as he replied in a
whiskey laced voice:
"I Gave peace a chance,
so many times we danced,
some days to the
beat of nightsticks,
and sometimes to the soft
whisper of a dove's wings
sharing temporary shelter
in the shadows of hope."

"I shouted it from rooftops
in soapboxes and cafe's
when all the world
was in turmoil,
while boys were being killed,
and sealed into government
boxes and body bags."

"Most people saw long hair
with oddball clothes
and shook their heads,
calling me insane."

"Others thought it was nice,
but not a career, and moved on
into the financial worlds awaiting them."

"I wrote till my fingers bled lead
and the visions grew dull,
but dictators still reigned."

"Now we live in a time of
such great strife and angst,
a world chewed up and spit
out by madmen intent
on destruction."

"Peace sleeps in
the dust of lost dreams long denied,
and I can only offer
words blended with pain,
pierced by the screeching
of many nails
on the blackboards of denial."

"War looms as a starving beast seeking to
devour all who would flee its path."

"Thus, I am shaving my head
and training to be a sniper
from great distances."

"I will find peace one shot at a time...
in the dark corners of our world
where demons plot the demise
of all God's children."

Then he left them
stunned into silence,
down a trail of tie-dyed tears
as that ol' familiar
smokey scent of yesteryear
drifted behind him.

Thus the last hippie vanished
in a noble effort to find peace
by going against the grain.





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