Ghost train of revolutionary mind––

Injustice to none, no life, no matter how small.

We the people, beaten from light to flesh,

Ungiven to punishment,

Cruel and unusual,

Though by love saved.


Awareness, continues without publicity,

Relentless and haunted though thou art not fled

Nor mere dreaming amid corridors

And ambassadors.

The seed splits the cliff edge.

Sweetness enters the heart.


All symbols only symbols of revolution

Already in progress, perfecting from within,

Faster than a thousand years

Of savages against maniacs.

My calendar of peace is at one, unceasing,

Improvised as rays of the sun.


I have no need to be known,

only to shape my scars to the grief above

The crumbling casinos where angry panhandlers I

I the gypsy hours go on unspeakable freeways

that mention no country serene

as the paradise of your own true nature.


Spoken word version from Antenna.

Copyright © 2000 by Jim Cohn.