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Poetry

Peace is not
Sterile gauze, a snowflake, an insipid dove
It’s feisty and rich
Don’t let the war boys hog it all
The spit, the spice and the glamour.
Peace is potency
Reaching and sprouting
Budding and branching
It’s lifting things
A good scrap
A hot wrestle and a cool scrub
Cleansing and hope.
Peace is the empowerment of dust
Whispers of the song before origin
As out of seed
The cathedral of the body builds itself
It’s spasms and metamorphoses
The vertigo
of mind and dancing
With the fecundator
 To the music of need.
Peace
It is little orange bees
Spotted ladybugs on white campions.
Late June with a stink of linden
Prickles and burrs
It’s wild grapes in a bramble
A tough nut
Lovers churning
Through the night, at noon, in the morning
A juicy comeuppance
For the grim suppressors.
Peace
Is for the star-biters and the rooted.
Don’t be dainty
Go at it
Hammer and tong.
Peace is not purity
Limp, neat and dry.
It’s sexy.


---- Clifford Browder



Each One of Us Matters

Each one of us matters
The rich guy in his suit
The homeless kid in tatters
The home run kings
The hitless batters
The one who rarely speaks
The one who always chatters
The supersane
The maddest hatters
Each one of us matters.


         Gary Baran 

Gary Baran is a certified trainer in Non-Violent Communication and plays banjo and guitar.
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