PEACE from TREES

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Busting down the towering underground. There killing whales again,
They never really are gonna stop dropping bombs of discontent
until we grow the content of ourselves and all others.

You know the usual blah, blah, blah undone to become, to be real, to be free...
Or something
It's not just the kind of quality of life or lies as it may be
It's inside your political persuasion, under it, underwater in dark depth silence...
We got to grow up and get old real quick or our summersaults,
our oppositions to our own world conquests, our defiance of what is wrong
it all stands to make rolling summersaults
fast into a big pile of big rocks
--
Photos and Poem by DeaneTR (c) 2003


Amongst the rocks we await them... Or perhaps preempt them...

PEACE from TREES