Meg & Miles Team Peace thus far:

F:John Wise Said:
“Our bodies are composed of matter,
Frail, brittle, and liable to be destroyed by a thousand accidents.”

B: But what about our souls?

Incest has clawed away the innocence from night
And when a man rapes a woman before slitting her throat
He’s attempting to pull her soul out through her insides

Genocide is not about the body count
But the crumbling of a person’s spirit.

When a wife loses her husband
she’s a widow
When a child loses a parent
he’s an orphan
When a parent loses a child there’s no words
Just spirit broken

We’ve forgotten to press our ear to the ground
World’s been waiting
And she’s tired
I’ve seen in her eyes
Like moon can’t make her blue
And the sun can’t make her cry

Earth keeps digesting these bombs
Explosive Diarrhea
And I keep feeding it Tums
But nothing seems to settle her stomach.

She is burning with fever
Men with oil-laden pockets force feed their toxins
Til her core quakes

Like an old woman whose grandchildren never visit
She watches the dawn crack to gray
Everyday
Joints ache from the solitude

Like her lips were partly parched
And we wait for dust to save our soul
Made us once
Can it birth us again?

Flesh death doesn’t concern me
Because we were born to die
Mortal skin is just a shell for what’s inside waiting to fly

In a second we could be particles
People dust
But what about our souls?

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a homeless person?
Of course not.

Because no ones making Gandhis anymore
No one’s bones stick out of the surface to prove we are humans, first
Unless an eye for an eye
Makes the rich get cribs, rims, and turn their bodies into diamonds when they die.

Remember when people could fly?
Of course not.

No one is making Marleys anymore
Got shot and walked from the grave to sing your heart a song
No one’s going to be a Jesus to bleed to death to save a soul

Because we’re turned him into crystals on a crucifix around our necks
We’ve made him stained glass
And we even lied about his skin color to sell it to the masses

We’ve globalized it
Capitalized it
And anything alternative is fading unless
It’s marketable
Boxable
Ready for retail
Eastern philosophy
Check
Meditation
Check
African dance
Check
Tribal Medicine
CHECK

You can’t put culture on your resume
1992: I sold all my worldly possessions to help the poor
1994:


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(WE NEED AN ENDING!!!!!!)