Kingdom of Peace

Kingdom of Peace

Up in the morning

Washing yesterday’s dirt

Preparing a sacred temple

For new, unadulterated mud.

Crinkley, but never wrinkley

White shirt

Wrapping a snake around the neck

As if their weren’t enough constrictions.

50, 60, 70 miles an hour

passing for a sane man

fooling only the announcer on the radio

silencing him

with the push of a button.

Sitting in the pit

Of a rolling armed chair

Swiveling quickly

Neck muscles insulted

Necessary brute force will

To stay in this reality.

Cry the beloved countryside:

Men are leaving your arms

Where there is no grass

Green

They slip from the curb

Twisting ankles

Twisted minds

Battle for a non-existent

Edge.

Blessed is the man

Who holds his head high

And walks away.

His is the Kingdom of Peace.