A Modern American Poem *Fresh and New* by Stephan Pacheco

The Beats of Heads

A poem by Stephan Pacheco 8/14

The great beat,

of an endless drum,

made in ourselves,

or it isn't there.

Kipling cuts and gambles with me.

my Whitman waits, a long forgotten financial

burden

on too many;

He's forever waiting to die.

It's not sad,

but you'll have to rage against

the dying of the light,

many many times before the last time.

The tale is human.

We always smile when we see humans,

because they are like us.

We are many urgent things,

too much at our shackled leisure.

We are only as great as we set Free.

The Middle East; World Affairs; War;

says after an enourmous breath, "#Revolutions, where the minority underdog have simply been given the power, because they were natives or any reason..can result in #Genocide. The minority group must not be given power, nor must the majority group keep power. People have been jerked around to sides so much in the #MiddleEast that a feeling of #Pride has been used as a word for #God that makes individuals feel they are empowered to murder, which is ALWAYS simple not strong. When a people cross a line and begin to war, blindly, and with full resolution...sometimes there is no more time to reason and a reaction must occur. Be sure though, that all #victory in #war is a massive tragedy; because, in the #Universe there is only the presence of #life, or nothing.  Heat or no heat. #Death is nothingness. Life is everything present. That is the difference between life and death. (#Enlightenment is not fearing this nothingness, so much so, you know #bliss from it.) It is #true and Universal for all living beings, no matter what they, also me and you, make up to justify their feelings that made them (us too and you too) feel inferior, that made them (any human) become everything they never wanted to be. Don't become a devil to fight devils. It usually just means, you're the #Devil."