"Every gun that is made, every warship launched,
every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense,
a theft from those who hunger and are not fed,
those who are cold and are not clothed."
-- Dwight Eisenhower

No one wears a suit.

Angels without wings
trade honey and maple syrup.
Peacocks roam the grounds;
someone always plays the flute.

Everyone is liberated.
Thick succulent stems of portulacas
grow vibrant cup-shaped flowers.

Nobody is impatient or rude;
kindness is everywhere.
There’s no need for the thunderous swagger
of marching bands, military bugles, fife and drums.

Before breakfast, yoga, meditation,
and the sound of one hand.

Walls of the self expand.

Inhaling the scent of baking bread,
everyone’s transcendent.

No one is ever hungry, angry, lonely or sad.
No poison ivy, venomous snakes, or predatory politicos.
No tyrants, or reign of terror under illuminated leaves
basking in this new world’s immaculate light.

All small and big bombs are defused and buried in the sand,
since nothing can be done with bombs except drop them.