The Calamity Train (Pulling Seven Cattle Cars):Remixed for the Occupy Yourself Movement

We believe in our love story
in spite of the ferocious efforts of
serial bankers
everywhere to discourage us from

looking our damned near
prettiest if we really feel like it. I mean
granted they do do 
 

their ugly troll dog
impressions of a meandering lost

soul to the frozen
ground extremely well and we all want to

speak something truthful out loud to
their bewildered childish faces-- we still
believe in love despite

all the dangers
of living joyously among oceans
full of mindless predators
with rows and rows full of armies

of sharply curving, carving up and down the coast
teeth. How else would we even be willing
to smile like we mean

it? I mean it, don't
you? We believe kindness as a fairly
grand way of being

friends with all creatures.I certainly don't

expect you to join
up to anything.This isn't a club.
It's a feeling. So

please don't talk nonsense
on my account. We still believe in acts
because it's still our own 
personal best meaning we have.And to not believe in something as beautiful as this 

would be to live
in a lie as a lie.I'll say it again.
In spite of the

hell of war the disregard
of cancer the false leadership
of politicians
the bone-headed guilt of religion the

bullies running the
world for their own perverse pleasures using the
rest of us as slaves
 
we still believe in
the music of being alone together. It calms us down like
nothing else from the
calamity train ever would or could.

This is my letter
for you; if you find it, you're the gold stamp on its still beating pulse
for the time being. Please send it along to all others. And well

Thank You.

For a lasting beauty

We could claim as our own country of

Still growing minds, free from

The dusty snails of the past's

 

Careless hammerer's to happiness. Surely

We'd all give and get a

True love exempt from the

Stale State of mindless corruption

On most freeze-dried sickening adult faces

 

With the wet corners of

Their mouths foaming from a

Lifetime's worth of big and bigger lies, their constantly 

Scratched-off smelling pungent wounds and the

Intolerant stares of

 

Barely concealed ice cold

Contempt for the new or

Unknown.We wept for the almost

Daily cruelty to all

Living things they embarked upon. We walked the

 

Garden gates then bouncing our

Banging sticks off the cold iron

Grilled face of fleeting childhood's dancing skeleton, creating

A visionary shower of

Sparks as we clacked

 

Along whistling shrilly our

Clever little new found songs to and

For each other to hum along

With. We were as inventive as clouds.

We listened through the shells

 

Of dead leaves as easily

As we climbed up the long

Secret stairs in our still

Glistening bare feet. We

Were the poets. We glowed.We signaled to the heavens above for some kind of divine intervention.

You Have Always

 

The mirror of

The universe

With the vastness

Of everything

In its eyes staring right

 

Back at you—so

You will never

Be the last one

In line my friend. I too 

Know I've thought that utter taught nonsense of theirs

In the past. I

 

Was dead wrong. It's one

Life going off or

Turning on. Let's

Enjoy seeing

Each other reflecting

Back and forth while ever we can in this world of worlds.