My friend...

Although I love you so

Don't fill my head

With dooms-day scenarios

Don't send me back to a

Childhood crouch

Fetal postition

On a therapist's couch

With hands over my head

Supposedly protecting me

In a grade-school hallway

From a nuke-attack--

Yeah, right.

So, don't tell me about

The USA retreating from

China's latest bomb warning

Or quake in fear

From Iran's lastest threat

Get me to dig a ditch

To hide from the dollar's

hyper-inflation

And supposed subsequent

hungry hordes

Roving the streets

Like zombies

From

Night of the Living Dead

Instead

I prefer to live in the Here

And Now

Count my pennies

Be prepared

Somehow

For all the changes

Still to come

In this country

and beyond

But not locked into

The ravages

The savages

Of runaway capitalism

The death of hope

Lost in greed

And dearth of spirit

Lost in need

Expected

And condoned

By those who own

The keys to wealth

But only turn them

For their own health...

If capitalism

Has shown me

Anything, my friend,

It is that you have to be

Prepared to save you

And your own

In the end

But not stock-piled to the hilt

Armed to the max

In an unmarked hole in the ground

Waiting for Armageddon

Alone...

In a grave

You have chosen.

Your friends are still here

To lend a hand...

Dig your way out

And take a stand.