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Millions cheer the warriorspilling blood across the ringwhile the one who stands for peaceis ridiculed and shamed.Must hearts forever sufferfrom ignorance and greed?Can bombs heal our soulsor set our spirits free?

Aberjhani

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Aberjhani
Age: 67
Born: 1957
Born: July 8
Blogger
Columnist
Historian
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Photographer
Savannah
Georgia
Jeffery Jerome Lloyd
Must
Across
Ridiculed
Heart
Ignorance
Spirits
Millions
Cheer
Blood
Bombs
Forever
Greed
Free
Stands
Spirit
Heal
Soul
Hearts
Shamed

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Valentines Day itself, like most holidays in the modern era, has been heavily influenced by commercialism that focuses on the appeal of romantic fantasies.
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True lovers earn their genius in schools of blood, prophecy and dust.
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On faith’s battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nation’s hot rage.
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Time (again, Time) like the soul, wears many faces, many bodies and climates and attitudes. The past is one face, the present a second and the future yet another.
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This world’s anguish is no different from the love we insist on holding back.
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Oh what a wonderful soul so bright inside you. Got power to heal the sun’s broken heart, power to restore the moon’s vision too.
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The death of a dream can in fact serve as the vehicle that endows it with new form, with reinvigorated substance, a fresh flow of ideas, and splendidly revitalized color. In short, the power of a certain kind of dream is such that death need not indicate finality at all but rather signify a metaphysical and metaphorical leap forward.
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Passion presented with a greater challenge achieves a greater goal.
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Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.
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President Obama appears to me to have elevated and implemented the artist-activist concept to the role of empowered servant-leader.
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Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.
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Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.
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How many fears came between us? Earthquakes, diseases, wars where hell rained smoldering pus from skies made of winged death. Horror tore this world asunder. While inside the bleeding smoke and beyond the shredded weeping flesh we memorized tales of infinite good. -from The History Lesson
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In your hands winter is a book with cloud pages that snow pearls of love.
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Although himself frequently a target of guerrilla decontextualization, a major part of the meaning of Michael Jackson's life was to help balance the accumulation of horrors with something closer to love in its most empowering and healing sense.
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Upon the lips of babes asleep I saw light embracing light and so allowed my syllables to rest there as a prayer they might sing in their dreams.
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While it is unlikely that poetry or art shall eliminate the reality of war in the twenty-first century, it is thrilling to know there remain individuals, and even entire communities, still willing to invest in art and poetry's own uniquely explosive contributions to the great, and small, dramas of human history.
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Writing for me is a form of spiritual discipline and creative vision, a means of being in the world and giving one's love to it without compromise or dilution.
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That good gardener, who wept thorns plowing his fields - harvests grace with joy.
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Souls reconstructed with faith transform agony into peace.
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