By the by, we cry to sky:
Wond'ring why we often die.
Lord on high, we grieve and sigh:
That early grave we often lie.

Resistance

Evil, we do not abide,

And chase wherever it resides.

To seize and pull it by the root,

But that does not produce the truth. 

While we can weed a garden bare,

But if we plant no plants in there. 

Conquered this, a square of dirt

While famine grips entire Earth.

A weeded garden, that is good.

But only half of what it should.

'Cause weeding in and of itself

Produces nothing for the health.

Perhaps abundant garden own.

But neighbor?  His is overgrown!

And in such folly does persist.

And folly, we just must resist!

Opposing high. Opposing low.
But one thing don't neglect to know.
A far too common, sad mistake:
Resistance does not goodness make.

Sun-tzu spoke of treasures three,

Destroyed when we have enemy.

'Cause when we take up arms to fight,

We first must block our inner light. 

Our neighbor's garden, overgrown.

We're weeding theirs, but not our own.
And thus destroy our treasures three:
Become just like our enemy.

Opposing evil where we find,
Believing that is near divine.
And in there lies the fallacy: 
'Cause goodness, that will never be.

What evil person have you known
To pack his bags and just go home
When told, "Well, you are out of line.
I know, because I'm near divine."

Or did he push back even stronger?
Curse you there for even longer?
Throwing gas onto a flame
And goodness--these are not the same.

And in this folly, some persist,
Shouting, "Fight!  We must resist!"
Though sympathetic to their aim.
But goodness, that is not the same.

So while opposing high and low

There's one thing for us all to know.
A far too common, sad mistake:
Resistance does its inverse make.

---------------------------------------

There is no greater misfortune than understimating your enemy.  Underestimating yoru enemy means thinking that he is evil.  Thus you destroy your three treasures and become an enemy yourself.  When two great forces oppose each other, the victory will go to the one who knows how to yield.

-Sun-tzu (The Art of War)

When I'm wiser, grayer, older.
Decades hefted over shoulder.
Youthful. Distant. Former. Bolder.
Won't you wake me when it's over?

Deadbeat

It's been oh so long, and I should not have left you
Alone and forlorn without dope beat to step to.
A deadbeat mad poet: delinquent, remiss.
I beg your kind mercy, forgive me for this!