Despite distractions, imposed by city life,
My soul seems tranquil, freed of its strife,
But I would pity Henry David Thoreau,
If he were to see his brothers, living so.
Railroads are bad, he once insisted.
He was not aware of all he predicted.
He would be shocked, by a sniff of the breeze.
At the sight of modern man, he’d fall to his knees.
When seeing leveled hills, where trees did grow,
Trains might finally fill a need, for Henry David Thoreau.
Any old street,
In New York City,
Lots of people I meet.
Sitting in a cafe,
Watching them go by,
Before I even say hello,
They already said goodbye.
Sometimes I feel
I would like to go,
Back where it’s warm,
Down in old Mexico.
Instead I am stuck here,
Frozen to the ground,
In the winds of cold people,
Blowing all around.
Look hard and try to see me.
Look closely and you will find,
It is not me you really see,
But the surface of my mind.
Among us there can be no peace,
Unless the crusts of minds
Are blown away, and made to cease,
From plaguing all mankind.
Drinking the beer,
Trying to get stoned.
It is like that here.
Work all day,
Come home at night.
Paid every Friday,
A cyclic plight.
Strolled along a wooden dock,
Until I spied a golden rock.
Came upon the midnight fortune,
Came another, wanted his portion.
Fight and scratch, stab and shoot,
Simply to acquire, all of the loot.
Wondered why, but could not say,
Why it should have to be that way.
Silent blades of grass surround me,
In the sun, so warm and bright.
While the trees grow high around me,
Nourished by the sun’s good light.
How does man conceive that he,
In the cold war of his mind,
Knows more than the grass or tree,
Which need no peace to find?
When the burden brings frustration,
And you then break down to cry,
It is all an interpretation,
Existing behind your eyes.
If release to freedom, you seek to find,
Then know it can only be found,
In finding the binds are in your mind.
By your thinking, you are bound.
Flying through the universe
At a million miles per hour,
I made a stop on planet earth
To smell a few wild flowers.
I was born and walked around,
When a blast, like dynamite,
Blew my mind, knocked me down,
And scared my soul from sight.
I don’t need any politics
Of kings or high class lunatics,
Misdirecting my mind.
Just need a little food
And warmth when I’m nude,
Kick back, and see it feels fine.
Don’t need any schools
With administered rules,
Teaching me why to bleed.
Just need a loved one,
To make love and have fun,
Each giving what we need.
Don’t need any industries,
Assembly lines or factories,
Burning up my wick of time.
Just need to grow,
And watch it burn slow,
Sipping some good grape wine.
Don’t need responsibilities
Of commitments for activities,
Scheduling my life away.
Just need a soft bed,
And rest for my head,
Wake up to start the next day.
Don’t need any inductions,
With ordered instructions
To be next in line for the mold.
Just need to be free,
To live and let be,
And find a hot fire in the cold.
Walking along the road one day,
Watching the cars rolling away,
It made me feel badly, deep inside.
No one wanted to give me a ride.
So I stopped on the side of the road
And sat down on my baggage load.
Without words, I began to pray.
All of my sadness went away.
Soon I forgot all about the cars.
Instead, I pondered all the stars.
Just as I was about to give up,
A car did stop, to pick me up.