A Melody Called Peace. Scott Johnson

A Melody Called Peace - Scott  Johnson


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Fay Slimm, from U.K

      Peace will not come easy

      If we skirt the need for care.

      This essential space

      Where we embrace

      The other, if they're there.

      If we don't look in the corners

      Where dust has covered in

      Every vestige of humility.

      Where shall we begin?

      This search for peace is ancient

      So the sages seemed to say.

      They too left home

      And hearth, to roam

      And find, without delay

      This feeling all too absent

      From the life of yesterday..

      Peace itself though is not far

      It's but a choice away.

      A choice to feel or not to feel

      This blissful trait, …Today.

      This place where, deep and hidden

      Lies contentment. That's the key.

      We must find this to find our peace

      Whatever else may be

      Before, or now. The thing is how

      To set our spirit free..

      So will this sheer elation

      Which comes with joi-de-vivre,

      Reject the devastation

      Which besets us, to deceive

      With causing nothing helpful

      In our quest to make belief

      In Peace a goal. Oh yes

      Our pursuit, this fine pursuit

      Is for true happiness.

      So, to find this 'sadness-antidote'

      Let's begin, , for what it's worth.

      Let's put Peace within our heart.

      For as long as we're on earth.

       In A world of Peace

      By Charles M Moore, from Glasgow Scotland

      In another constellation

      live another you and I

      happy to be with one another

      so in love and so alive

      perhaps they both have children

      could it be their wars have ceased

      or maybe they're not hungry

      living in a world of peace

      Look above and you will see them

      they're not difficult to find

      view your soul, and be them

      test your heart and test your mind

      we have so much life in common

      a date with destiny to keep

      it only takes a word well-spoken

      and life on earth would live in peace.

      1

       A Spaniard Named Charlie

      By Professor Paul John Amrod, from U.S

      He played the euphonium in a highschool band

      The instrument, the trombone he did reprimand

      He found the tone quite annoying and nasal

      Performing at football games was absolutely anal

      He continually could not learn a formation

      Leaving him speechless in total desolation

      Was a beautiful Tenor, sang like James Nabors

      But from the maidens he received no favors.

      Hated the voice of Mr. John Lee Hooker

      Maybe for a nun he was a fine good looker

      Wasn’t too flabbergasted from Modern Jazz

      Hated to be called by the nickname Chas

      If you were a fan of Mr. Eric Burdon

      You were suspicious of drinking hard bourbon

      He was a prince from the house of Osborne

      A fine trimmed vest was what to be worn.

      This Spaniard was given the name Charlie

      He avoided any drink made from barley

      Never embraced the island of Reggae

      The rhythms left his head in total disarray

      The action of delinquents made him forlorn

      Was a sensitive sissy since the day he was born

      Screamed in frustration because of Bob Marley

      And emptied the tires of Hell’s Angels’ Harleys

      God bless him he was a rambunctious vigilante

      Always stealing cookies from his mother’s pantry

      He blew his lid over every cocky wise guy

      Known to deliver a punch resulting in a black eye

      Bottled up an anger and cooking with vengeance

      Trying to correct all wrong with a grievous penance

      Never could be caught with irresponsibility

      Wasn’t very gifted with his style of inflexibility

      High pressure was his key to testosterone

      Exercising while slurping a melting icecream cone

      Long lost his sense of cooperation and a collective

      Never was there idleness or time to be reflective

      Played Basketball because of his towering height

      Slam dunking creating commotion and needless fright

      Oh this Spaniard was a gentleman with suspenders

      Pulling them up not resembling a doubtful pretender

      Wanted to create fear with his boisterous nature

      He proudly invented his own style of nomenclature

      His entire manner would appear to be somewhat ludicrous

      Especially if he felt all was senseless and absurdly superfluous

      Subjective with no ability to see the way of others

      Only his perceptive wouldn’t be stilled and smothered.

      Pointing his fingers vehemently as what should disappear

      Was terribly jealous of the vocal talents from a Gondolier

      He was never truly cherished and given the love he needed

      Hence he was became discontent and depression proceeded.

      Soon he will be a directionless soul sadly lost and impaired.

      Searching for acceptance; twisted and irreparably despaired.

      2

       Acting like a Chumsy Chimpanzee

      Viewing unrested through the crowd insecurely

      Hoping dearly he is loved and accepted surely

      Cynically


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