Brothers and Sisters... give a hand to your hands, for they hold such a power. To build up, smooth out, love and empower. They make instant peace with the simplest of moves, use them with strangers to enhance your soul grooves. Flowers and paisleys, patchouli and thyme, I live for the days I can make peace love mine.
A hippie thing not, to advocate peace, it's universal emotion that governments wish fleece. Peace don't make money, in era's of war. Don't hear the fascist, that paints you a bore. For using a symbol of freedom on earth, it's power is timeless and value is worth. More than two fingers thrown up in the air, it scares the dictator, to soul, with it's prayer. We are born human, the free planet is ours, not the hate mongers, war pigs, and cell bars.
Your hands can create a face-stinging slap, but the wise man knows deep, you can never turn back. Peace signs are love, like Christ on the cross, Bob Dylan once said, they gather no moss. Spreading the love through the hippest of symbols, is easy and cool, and takes not be nimble. Like jack and his jump over hot candlesticks, to deny the peace hand, is to be such a dick.
Haha... our poems may be lame, and weak as a dove...
but our intentions are true, and the message; pure love.