Friday, December 21, 2007

Fever Dream

I've been very sick a few times in my life and it was a very frightening experience. This poem is an attempt to explain the mental wreckage that you become when a realllly high fever eats at your thoughts. Well, at least what it was for me.

There I was in the middle in no place but here
everywhere, it seemed, was on vacation, but not fear
I was inside all of nothing peering out toward the lifeless mechanical orb
Somehow captured by the clinging cold fingers like dirty hands, dead and lifeless they absorbed
My fear hollered, “Let me free!”
I was a prisoner of the white fog - the fever dream

I raced across this un-reality, I moved without thought to another place
this feeling at least convinces me “I must be elsewhere?” No taste.
But this place is known you see so I move to another...race to another
I frantically dash to others strung out in rows
more, more, more. All the same! All familiar!
Such loathing of the familiar, this same-familiar surrounding me, drowning me

I grow sick inside and attempt annihilation
by summing up all my inner powers
and stuffing them into this beast that will not change
tying stifle it
this deranged place


with a bloom of blinding brightness what I wanted is won
all is destroyed
and there is emptiness in the place of change
and growing sadness in the place of rage
I am left with a realization that what I destroyed
was not a thing, but myself and there is no destroying that
It was a chess match and I played both sides
knew every move before it happened
so rather than destruction, there was defeat
every filament of me, defeated
and now nothing is left is seems
nothing at all
nothing in this empty wasteland, this mechanical orb
but the clink, clink, clink, hammered fists that do not dent
hardly make a sound, hardly salve the fear
as you fight to survive the merry-go-rounds spinning and spinning
and you think that maybe time is without measure
no change marks its passage, but you tire
and tire and tire and tire and you believe
there is no escaping, no fleeing the fever dream...



Beauty is the bounty
That breaks our hearts
It pulls us forward
And grips our souls
Filling our minds
With wonderful sights
And leaving our minds with great delights
That which beauty gives
Lives in our minds as a gift given
Never forgotten
You should always
Look to the beauty
That presents itself in life
It will leave you with plenty
And ask for nothing in return
You just have to see it
For what it is…


Whisper to it!
It will whisper back.
Laugh at it!
It will laugh back.
Be quiet!
And you will hear nothing…


What would it matter
if I flew to the sea
What would it matter
if I just grew wings

Wouldn’t it be better
Up in the ocean breeze
Wouldn’t it be better
Born to be free

If you could do it
Float like a feather
If you could do it
Would it even matter

Cause you have two legs now
Born to stay aground
Cause you have two legs now

But you can always dream
Cause you are free to believe
Free to do anything
Even fly above the sea…

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Our Heritage

I travel back to the beginning
To see how the beginning had begun
How I arrived I do not know
Yet I knew I was there

I was thrown into a black-filled limbo

I was troubled
The day was dark and the sun just a lifeless orb
Across the great between I could see other stars
Whose flames raged, flickered, or remained lifeless
Just as ours

From my vantage in the listless void
I could feel a change blanket the sky
A dim glow that grew into a flame that would burn through the eons

Around me I felt movement
My eyes searched
And I saw planets forming
I saw ours third from the sun
I watched it!
I watched all the Sun’s children being birthed afraid and defenseless

I watched them grow

Time passed and the children became planets
And the third planet from the sun became our
Whom birthed each of us
Children of the land and sea
Grandchildren of the Sun

I smiled...

Monday, December 10, 2007

Vision Sea

I rise out of body
and float up into a sea of nothingness
I am in bliss
free of body
free of limits
I rush forward in such awful bounty
Yes, this ME
I seek no destination, just some destination
this vision
this sun, at which, I am gazing
such blazing, powerful chaos
I seek it
consume it
I am for a moment, a sun
and my radiance
and from this place in flight
I rush to find life
right here
a somewhere between nowhere
A fascinating place that faces me
In spite of my ugliness
So coarse and dim-lit in the space between nothingness
In the face of so much beauty, so violently castrating my mind’s
meaningless thoughts
and everything
to the Universe to which I sing
I find in symmetry more meaning
beyond small or big
to where and why
we are alive
toward the consciousness of what is
and in search of other life
In the midst of this vision sea
I cross a freeway of minds
so much more than I am
I am swallowed by them
they enclose me
overflow that which is me
and I tear away, scared of these things
and I run to nowhere
free at last in somewhere
of one mind
of one self
of one heart
and I beat my way back to body
and lock myself away
from the bigness of it all

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Dream Journey

There wonder I through the halls of the past
I see there the journeys traveled by travelers past
In the future I travel through the eyes of the travelers
And I see now the adventures ventured
and woe what journeys journeyed by me
to places I dreamed so far, so high, so deep, so free
the boundless opportunity to see anything I could dream
The ocean erupt in life on Europa
A star not unlike our own remind me of home
and to summit a mountain in leaps and bounds
and descend like a bird to the bottom down
to defeat and defy the earthly rubric of do’s and don’ts
How satisfying mind flying

to be defying


to inseminate my fate with imaginative abandon
to travel across a ghostly lake as a phantom descending
and to allow the fascination with my life to peel back the eye
and to see the blue depths for a glimpse of our design
I am reminded in that moment
that life is a thing of beauty that meant
and when I die, I will die alive
with a smile that weeps
the wonders and memories I adore and keep

Thursday, November 29, 2007

“A snowflake’s quest”

Everything in life sets us out on a quest. Oft, we make of it more than it is and, at times, forget that what life is really about, is joy. To me we reach this place at birth and we leave at death, this time between is WHAT really matters. Not heaven or hell, but what is right here, right now. A snowflake comes with the winter and goes with the spring, as does everything in their own way.

Awakened from this cloudy womb, cast out into the cold and gloom
Born of wind and vapors, ghosts of brothers and sisters
Sent forth by millions to swoon in cold environs beneath sun and moon
These white-encumbered be-dashed wonders, in the throws of winter

Falling down into gravities grip, seeing the world spin and flip
Spreading these wings of icy fangs, gliding down past wind and rain
Following cold fingers that hop and skip, hoping not to be torn and ripped
Screaming alive, their song is sang, knowing that life’s bell has just been rang

Only then swept up by sights of land, so covered by white, too much to understand
These hearts that race dash their hammers, rushing with such excitement it doesn’t matter
All brethren to meet hand in hand, to celebrate this wonder as best they can
These white-encumbered be-dashed wonders, in the throws of winter

Friday, November 9, 2007

Grave Digger

This poem is about day and night. A sort of whimsical fable about a man who rises the sun and puts it to rest.

A man shovels the day one shovel a time away ‘till buried and gone
And night they do not part for they are here two and two of heart
The stars alight and cast like angle dust to ward this place a crowded face
Until the moon that roams like an old man two steps from the tomb
Looks down at this man and grumbles, “Don’t you see, wee small ‘ittle man
Life is big ya understand, a big magical place full of big unimaginable tastes,
eh ‘ittle man?
it’s best you fall asleep so to meet the sun rinsed in morning innocence.”

Yet that he cannot do, not so long as the day is buried and gone away, he knew

Dig, dig, dig the digger digs as fast as he can shovel this sand, he digs
Until he sees light fracture the night, blinding him in radiance
Shovel after shovel uncovers the light and as warm as she is in his arms, there too, is fright
For he cannot keep her, she will burn him to ash and cinder, and send asunder
Reaching back, tears smoldered to steam and salt blackened, he throws her radiance gleaming piercing him like a sword,
He throws her so far, so high, as far as he can Oh Lord!

And Day is kept this way awake and we Earthly creatures thrust our arms into sky
And happily stare lovingly, fingers seething in her hair.
A toast to life and light and a toast, also, to the sleeping night
Where death opens eyes and sees us through opened skies
shows us those come before and reminds us that death is an open door
and that we must remember what the living of life is for

And thrown as she was [the sun], so far, so high, fall too she must to thundering dust
down to where the timeless war is waged by a ‘ittle man
who has suffered to be the giver of all days forward,
And the godly sun, he buries her away each night
And darkness is kept once more until the moon looks down and kindly implores,
“Oh grave digger, dig the sun away and give me some rest, I’m tired and truly you are a friend and will give me my sleep.” So the grave digger puts ‘em to bed and sleeps he does all the more longingly its said
like father to son, and lover to lover,
he pulls up the sun and casts her forward
so far, so high, as far as he can Oh Lord!
so the day can swoon until the coming of the moon

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Sunshine Daydream

Sleep but do not be tired
awaken but do not open your eyes
reach out and see knowing the world can be experienced
laugh and know that you can hear
touch and know that you can feel
tread through this open landscape
and discover the undiscovered
dance on the water and sink into its cold embrace
breath and swim away like a great fish
soar like an eagle and dive like a sparrow
whisper to the wind and let it tell you stories of when
the world was young


There is something quite pleasing about the quiet nature of the outdoors. I inquire not about its soul, but witness it, speechless with mouth open, and I don't beleaguer it with nonsense, such as why, how, when. I but listen and watch and know that this is the way things are. That is peace enough for me. And it's the peace I seek whenever I can tear myself away from work and the city.

See the sun
Slowly slide down

Watch the horizon
Hone from the heavens

Collect your soul
Respect the moment
Ever fading!

Friday, November 2, 2007

Continuous improvement

The mind and body coexist. In order to keep the mind clear you must keep the body strong and healthy. As such, you reach for your full potential and, without doing so, you are merely less than you could have been. More emotional, more taciturn and dissatisfied. It is in this state that you can lose touch with your goals and needs, even with those you care for most or doing what you enjoy doing most. So then, take charge and rearrange your lifestyle. Keep your body in shape, work your mind by discovering new ideas, and accept challenge not as a threat but as a spice that can invigorate your daily grind. And remember, you are one in mind, you are strong inside, you are focused and you are anything you dare to seek. So go forth and be one who sought, not one who simply thought to do and did nothing at all...

Thursday, November 1, 2007

The Puppeteer

It is fall, and nearing its midpoint, I think it best to remiss on the wonder of this lovely time of year, to hold on to it for as long as possible. And yesterday, Saint Hallows Eve, so perfectly situated in the midst of natures own time of death warrants celebration, too, although I prefer the former.

Evil, evil in my mind
it pursues never to kind
Help me, help me what it finds
The deepest darkest memories alive
it digs them up
oh, are they mine?
everything I am torn inside
for pleasure of it, it makes me sick
I kill the weakest, torture the strongest
the screams, the screams hurt me the longest
but what can I do, I’m but a puppet
to it, to it
pulled by strings stronger than me
all I do is try to get free
but the harder I try the less I see
I run in the dark, I run in the day
I do my best but it finds me anyway
it takes its hold, it feels so cold

I cross the land looking for people
so very greedy, ready to kill
just for me, a little pay
and we are on our way
an army ready, we're oh so many
I lead them to a city
I point to the walls, I tell them to go there
and kill them all
loot the money and burn the buildings
until all that is left of this grand old city
is ashes and bones

again, again its all begun
all I can do is run, run, run
little do I know it's all for fun
I watch it cleave men in two
I hide in my mind and watch it too
think me mad, think me crazy
can’t you just help me or are you too lazy?
maybe I’ll kill you
just maybe, just maybe
I laugh a shrill laugh
just save me, just save me
That’s all I ask before its too late
and you are buried in a cask
headless, heartless tortured to death
for the pleasure of me give me some rest
I am done, I passed the test
let me dream alone, my nightmare is done
I get up from bed and help me
ashes on the floor, blood on the ground
a tent above me, an army outside
I try to scream but it takes control
it says to me that its just begun to have some fun
it tells me a tale of all the evil
it laughs at me the devil, the devil

Wednesday, October 31, 2007


What I know? That is all that confines me to any sensible reality! What I imagine, I paint blissfully: a satisfying world to my liking, people to my taste, quests to captivate, struggle to invigorate, and sociable engagements of highest degree. Love, hate, harmony and fate collide and swirl emotion. This fine head-clearing elixir provides my limbo: the sleep-filled hours, the cat nap, the momentary lapse of focus on now - a satisfying escape. It is the pleasing space between everything, a harbor in the ocean of my conscious mind where I am blinded by everything real and held captive by everything imaginative.


With climbing you always have to DECIDE. Decision is a fickle creature that is often difficult for anyone, very much so for the climber, who has to manage risk, not just avoid it. When you can, of course you do, but that isn't always a choice, you take on a certain amount of risk. When you do, is it feet-first or head-first.

Jump! But I don’t
I’m afraid of landing
in a swamp
Diving! Now that has more style
a commitment to your convictions
and a determination to dance
with the consequence of your intentions
but why not just
sit and think
whittle away the hours
and do nothing
go the safe route
I guess I just like to test
the foundation to see if it is as
solid and I think
It creates confidence
that leads to success
This, of course, is a fruitation of risk
and any risk means that I need to jump
Either feet first or headfirst
The only difference is
with one you are smiling
while in the other
a grimace
is your sole companion...

The summit

Here is my first poem ever, and wouldn't you have guessed it, it's about mountains.

We lay our plans
We pick our peak
We assemble the strong
For the summit we seek

The mountain waits
For all who try
Some will live
Some will die

It cares not who
It cares not when
That’s the way
It’s always been

The mountain takes
The mountain gives
We will live to climb
We will climb to live…

Monday, October 29, 2007


There is this knowledge; it tempers a feeling of impotence. I cannot hide from it nor capture its strong odor - a whiff merely, enough to see the beast there lurking. But even I, the hunter, can never fully tackle this quarry: life and death, meaningless existence. In some ways like the great elephant hunters of old, I feel the fear and humility of my actions. I see them in the eyes of the hunted, accumulated and extinguished, and under the great gray lids, death rides. A man slays the beast, the beast humbles the man. In the end, when all debts have been paid, the sum of life tells. How did you measure up? What was your bounty in life? Did the low road lead you to deceitful paths or did you take the high road, with no guarantee? The knowledge that I hold is that of my direction, a crossroads, to which end I am left to speculate, but entrust that my efforts towards the high road will continue not in vain. This boredom I take as penalty for my laziness at least for a time. Eventually it spurs me forward, to do.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Soul Journey

I sail
my soul
across the seas
beyond home
I travel
my destination
to other globes
And while there in the night
silently laying
there beneath
under the sky
and seeing the lights
I imagine how it would be
if they were within sight
and I could see
---There would be CRaZy worlds
full of beasts
full of peoples
---There would be confusinggggg worlds
strange worlds
and lovely worlds
full of flavor and taste
tantalizing and full of grace
And others yet
neither colorful nor delightful
just plain rocks
strewn out
and scattered about
And yet my conscious self
my inner being
doesn’t pause long
when it comes to these
it just moves along to better things
Such as, a laughable
magical world
I often delight
to encounter
while in flight
It is one of those
CRaZY worlds
Take the planet itself
it is virtually flat
and plain
nothing significant
or amazing
But below
just under the surface
exists a furnace
flourishing with beings
buzzing like bees
who at the dawn of each day
head out onto that surface
in a frenzy-like
mind boggling flight
to gather food for the day
And so in a matter of seconds
this dull
bland world
jumps ALIVE
And before the sun is too high
they are gone from sight
gone from our eyes
done before it began
done before you even know it
And at other times
I simply wonder
from place to place
traveling randomly
never in haste
And still in other times
I sit tranquil
and look from afar
not at the planets
or even at the stars
but at everything
all of it!
And during my travels
every time
and in every instance
this sight unravels
I am awestruck
all thrown amuck
by the beauty
by the bounty
this flurry
like snowflakes
swirling in the wind
fascinates me
draws me
and brings me back again
and in each passing second
I’m left enchanted
and enhanced in mind
I’m left restored in life
and happy inside
It’s so wonderful
so delightful
like a journey
through a waterfall
and as such
soon it is over
and I am back in realities clutch
I’m home!
and I smile to no one in particular
cause I am alone
I feel the chill
the cold of the night air
I shrug my coat closer
pulling it tight
until it feels just right
and then I gaze
like any man would
like any man should
when looking
peering at the stars
spread out
like shinny
pools of light
And I laugh aloud
because being so earthly bound
can be so amazingly blessing
and yet so savagely sheltering
Myself, I think it best
because it breeds imagination
and everyone needs a bit of that
even I...

If Anything, what would I be?

One thing many of us take a long time to accept is what we are and that isn't always an easy thing to do.

(this poem goes way back to when I was a snot-nosed kid)

I sit atop a table
With my book and my fiddle
I play a little music
Where only I can hear it
And then a bird croaks
Out amongst the oaks
Such a loud thunderous sound
As it rises towards the clouds
Maybe I will play a song for it
One that it will think fit
And then a thought comes to me
Of how it would be
Poised like a bird of flight
Looking towards the farthest sight
OH, and this thought comes to me
Just like a dream
Where with flapping wings
I flew with the breeze
Just me with the mountains high
And the bluest of bright skies

Yes, indeed
A bird I will be
Just that if anything
At all I think

And all the while I am fiddling
A tune for dreaming
One to float away with
There while I sit
And then out in the grass
A deer steps there pass
It was a young fawn
Lost to its mom
It had white Polka-dots
Like tiny pieces of chalk
And glowing curious eyes
That looked so alive
Why would I wish to be a bird
It seems absurd
It is nice to fly way up so high
And follow the breeze
Above the trees
But this innocent fawn
Who hears my song
Would be to me
A better thing

Yes, indeed
A fawn I will be
Just that if anything
At all I think

My music changed then
To a slow melody
And not even a moment later
A butterfly paid me greeting
By landing astride my shoulder
And BEHOLD thought I
Such a simple creature as this
So colorful
So wonderful
That indeed I must be amiss
And this creature would be to me a better thing

Yes, Indeed
A butterfly I will be
Just that if anything
At all I think

Quite a spell later
My music halted
And I set my fiddle down
And picked up my book
But before I had read even a sentence
I stopped----
Oh yes,
---- and with that
A thought comes to me
Just like a dream
And it told me
That being simply ME
Was the best thing I could be
Not a bird nor a fawn nor a butterfly could bring
A more meaningful freedom
A more fascinating living
Or a more breathtaking liberty

Yes, indeed
Just me I will be
Just that if anything
At all I think…


My eyes are open to the chances that arise
yet my mind is fearful to those I try
It’s funny the way one feels young and strong
no chance is deadly and never wrong
Most just walk on the edge thinking only of glory
one to be added to the best of stories
Yet each falls tumbling from the top
because they dared to dance with death one time too many
But does that matter is death our true enemy?
I don’t think so
If our enemy is anything
it is our single-minded determination to challenge
The seemingly impossible
and our will to conquer the unconquerable

The Lament of a Dreamer

Can I dream the darkness away that covers me whole?
Have I lost the dream that was my soul?
I am drowning from these dreams beneath a cold, deep pool
Blind me from this dream, and leave me dead, a fool…

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Insane Asylum

The screams are heard from wall to wall
Terror and pain fill them all
You know the pain, you know the kind
It boils deep within your mind

It poisons and taints---tortures and burns
Rips and tears---twists and turns

Knows no mercy, feels no tears
feeds upon our mortal fears

We have all been there to different degree
This thing they call insanity…

Thursday, September 27, 2007

We Come

When I was younger, I was fascinated by the unknown. Most books I read had something to do with adventure and science fiction. In a way, even then, I knew I'd probably never get any closer to traveling among the stars than a clear night and my own two eyes could take me. Even still, I feel the urge and on occasion I can still hear them...

The stars
They sit
Staring down
They speak
And again
Come to me my little friend
but what are we
but mere tiny beings
who look with awe
at the glitter and sparkle
only wishing upon stars
for a heart-filled miracle
yet some begin to hear
a call growing greater and greater
and as the question strengthens
to batter our minds
we wonder…
“What is it that we must find?”
and as we rush
rising even mightier
we dream of places even brighter
yet being bound to our sphere
we desperately build
hoping one day to travel
across the endless galaxy
there discovering
wondrous fantasies
---places unlike our own
leaving us fighting just to gain hold
of all the things that remind us of home
but we put them aside
only because we must
---the call still beckons us
to seek farther into
the glitter
sprinkling the skies
Right there!
ever before our eyes
and as they sit
staring down
they speak
and again
come to me my little friend
and as we look
each of us says in return
“We Come”
“we come…”


With the cold wind and chill rain, you can't escape the feeling of fall. Here's a nice stanza to dedicate to it.

Oh wind that whisk me from my home
leads me towards the forest to roam
where the cold wind chills my skin
to bury me in her colored leaves again

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


Take decision into your own hands
make decisions as best you can
Don’t be slow, put your thoughts together
Take control and remember that it matters

What you think

Never give up when the going gets tough
Don’t let down when road gets rough
Love isn’t easy and neither is hate
Holding them both in your heart drives a stake

Into your brain

Grab chance and give it heart
if you don’t do that, you haven’t began
begin tomorrow and promise yourself, “I will start.”
This will make you a better man

who doesn’t blink

Life holds only so much opportunity
it is up to you to seize it
otherwise your true self is thrown into obscurity
lost to the “you” that meant

more than any fame

Father's Son

I have written words that write beautifully on our great walls
I have said words that say powerfully what I want most of all
But I have never done anything that ever did anything for anyone
No one but me, myself and I until I was born a son

I would give the stars; I would give all that I love of power and wealth
To lead men no more, to put my armor and sword upon the shelf
For my guiding passion in life is to make a man more than I was a man
This blood of my blood to do what I couldn’t, to do what I know he can

This son of mine who has all there is to have, to hold, to want
hinged on my desire to gain what I want most, but am too afraid to hunt
Cast no doubts on my honor, it is tarnished and dented
As my father taught me, succored me, and raised me to be unrelenting

It was not to be, I was not the success he had hoped, but neither was he
Neither was his father nor the father before him as far back goes our family’s seed
Our breath has been tempered at the door of our enemies and souls lost there wail
We are not mere fools that waste our lives but heroic hunters of the Holy Grail

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Memories that meant

Life can pass you by when you allow the time you have to be wasted. By doing you become focused and by not taking the easy path, you also better yourself and make your days here more satisfying.

Pace back and forth and erase empty space
clear your head of density
and race ahead into a future daunted with challenge
and die on a sinking ship
with a smile
memories that meant...

Friday, September 21, 2007

Shadow Walker

~Life is like a shadow.

The sun passes low on the horizon and this shadow lengthens.
Life is forever, out toward the infinite distance!
Then the sun rises overhead. We have created life, raised children
mothered or fathered them.
Yet time turns, and as they grow old
the sun then begins to pass low on the horizon,
the days begin to grow shorter.
This shadow of life quickly lengthens again
as we face that infinite unknowing future.
With open arms, we greet it with a heavy heart and a yearning
youthful-adolescent curiosity.
And then the day is dark, night has come and the stars open the heavens
and your shadow is swallowed by the darkness
and you are forever.

The Poet

The artist paints his Mona Lisa;
His contemporaries tell him his work speaks volumes;
a million words as they say~
The writer writes volumes;
thinking his words could blush like a naked virgin too;
with thoughts and mystery untold behind those mocha eyes~

While the poet works both paint and ink;
Cause words are not just words merely guttural sounds
They are curses and screams, moans and laughter
They are the blood that paints emotion
These words the poet weeps

Sunday, September 9, 2007


The world around you to amaze and startle you
the places, the views to precious to lose
the life that can be lived when you look, when you see
all of it so amazing awe-inspiring to me
I stand simply lost dizzy with disbelief
I’m caught up by the adventure that sets me free
because the world around me is so much to see
and I want to experience it all, every last thing
I simply go in a direction and I find all that I need
because my life is on a mission to make it the best that it can be.

Thursday, September 6, 2007


I look at my place now
this world
this shell
and I wonder would it be wise
I wonder won’t you harbor my cries
To leave would be my freedom
to go both strong and bold
my freedom...!
Yet leave, I do, my sheltered life
I leave it behind
with a speedy goodbye
and I think,
“Why, why must I
walk forth in blind ignorance
there is a world out there
mad and chaotic
and I must—MUST find
purchase in such calamity.”
Inside, deep down, I feel an awakening urge
an urge to wait
to sit and think
and to let such foolishness die
Am I so weak, so single-minded then
that I will falsely preordain my future
and cast aside all my hopes and dreams
the very filament of my self
How foul and unfair that would be?
And so I rush forth
with my shoulders weighed down
heavy with all my worldly possessions
and as I reach the edge of my home ground
I wave a sad farewell
to my youth
And set out to become a man
and face my future…

Wednesday, September 5, 2007


I wrote this when I was in my early teens.

I stand atop a hill gazing out far afield
I could see my home from there through a patch of trees
in a thicket of bush and weeds
I recalled these pastures as seen during my childhood wanderings
Oh, how I remembered them!
Wide-eyed to the world where my dreams would unfurl
In them I could be an adventurer, discoverer and traveler
I could be a hero kissed by the princess who was the most beautiful girl
I could be anything and everything only if I dreamed of it
oh how it was to be a child for a moment, maybe for awhile

These years have been many and my life is setting
These bones are brittle wasted by times passage
these hands are gnarled withered by times passage
these eyes are blurry worn by times passage
and however I remiss my life has been lived to the fullest
and never was their a wasted moment that wasn’t spent wisely nor missed
does it matter that I curse these ails? I have done and failed.
I have held and lost. I have been given and used. I have loved and been loved.
I have lived dreams come true, lost others when I flipped a deuce instead of two.
Done bad. Done good. Done nothing. Done too much...just enough!
Now as my life quiets I can hear my past knocking
these thoughts humming a song clear my minds fog that clogs
and this nature rocks my world like a woman her newborn child
where in unison the grass, a thousand stalks, many more! dance with grace never clash
and the more these days, my last, I feel the warm breeze on my face blow past
setting me on a journey, an old man’s wish to revisit his yesteryear
for a journey to be a child for a moment, maybe for awhile...

A day and a month

Today is yesterday
tomorrow the same fame
an old memory that presents a smile
my laugh a rising joy
“Life is such a ploy!”

I dissect my petri dish of memories
split the ones that changed me
that molded me
that stoned me from above
and solidified that which made ME!!!
...from the chaff
the careless waste
and the mindless work of my past
From all memories gone by

I unearthed a truth
memories sharp tooth
out of the hundred years removed
a month and a day
I wouldn’t give away
that I would hold dear
and protect no matter what
like a volcano erupt
Every lunge of happiness
every spark of joy
every rush of fear
like a spear through your heart
every tear for all you miss
every one that tore you apart
these I reminisce
these I will forever miss
this time warp beyond nothingness
to all these moments kept
locked away in a chess
we meet again before the final rest
and protect it from tomorrow’s
that are the same days that pace
the minds kindly erase
all forgotten space...

Tuesday, September 4, 2007


I cast my emotion across the room
I catch a-swoon the girl of my doom
she is alight with a bright smile
me a laugh like a embarrassed child

Who is she but a dream
me only a creature she would see
then look out through a window
Rush away like the wind and go.

But my eye gleams and she breaths
for second I am in her dreams
She wonders towards me and we bump
“Excuse me!” I say, “How was your lunch?”

I never saw her again
but in a way I see her, one out of every ten
One day I’ll meet the right one
and she will be my morning sun...

Another Stanza

Mountains mask my madness
by feeding me chaos and serenity
This alone blinds me from false reality
and immerses me in natures fantasy

A Stanza

I gazed from rocky mountaintop
I saw all dreamy delusion stop
Shatter my fragile tapestry to elope
In peaceful celebration of hope…


I inseminate my fate with imaginative abandon
I travel across the ghostly lake as a phantom descending
and my fascination with my life peels back the eye
to look in the blue depths for a glimpse of our design
and I am reminded in that moment
that life is a thing of beauty that meant
and when I die, I will die alive
with a smile that weeps with
the wonders and memories I adore and keep

Spell Book

I watched what I wanted fade away with time
I watched what I had take it all away
Should I have been glad and said, “This life is good, I am content.”
But I can’t, this life is mine to pave
I reminisced on what could have been
behind my sin
and these recollections fed my sadness,
my disease, this madness
and I dreamt and it was not sadness
but dreams that haunt me now
like hounds they run me down
So much need!
Why stalk me
my substance cannot feed
I close my eyes, taking away everything but now
where what I have leaves me content
What I do satisfies
Who I meet listens
Who I love knows
When I am happy I laugh
When I am sad I cry
Where I am is beautiful
Where I am going will be good
Why I am here is to see everything
Why I am here is to live
And while living I do not fear my death
Death will come and I will die
and this emotion of life
my cauldron of magic…


Clear thoughts scrambled by anger
My mind seizes
As if a hot plate were turned off
The boiling water soon simmers
Cooling the winter of my disposition
But not the accumulation of my anger…

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Milky Way

I think of the Universe as a living, breathing thing, not without its own tapestry of mortal woes.

On the land to which I am tied I rest with eyes peering up;
Among the steal-alpine slopes now colorless in the darkness,
I submit myself to the earth, no longer one, but a part of many;
And these stars above look back at me;
No words spoken, but a common bond, a million-million times stronger than mine alone,
ties me to something bigger.

As brothers and sisters, these siblings are a part of me, a family;
A galaxy.

In our eternal-dance of spinning and colliding, we face the endless days;
And together we become old and wise, we live and die;
We watch other galaxies disappear and live again;
new and wild, young and strong.

I rise from the Earth as the man I was before;
I rise now center-weighted to a dawn like a virgin-blush;
an honest thing that shows coulours and true-like expressions;

Today I seek out my brothers and sisters;
(spinning and colliding, facing the endless days);
I show them the stars and tell them that whatever is possible is theirs to seek;
But warn them that even though the world is a small place,
we each make a difference in the great fabric of reality.

Because we are family.

Monday, July 16, 2007


Seeking perfection can be a catalyst for success as much or more as it can be for failure. You try enough, you are bound to succeed. Yet by failing you temp arming your fears with failure after failure, each threatening to bring your walls crashing down. The best of us continue to fight because we have nothing better to do. But is it not also for the joy of the fight we wage this war? In winning we would be lost and suddenly stranded without purpose, but those momentary successes keep us going like a mouse hopping from one cheesy morsel to the next. In a way that is what this poem is about, a moment of complete failure followed by the bliss of understanding and meaning.

A blank page
lines but no words
I scribble
just to
riddle the page
but still no meaning
no Madge to show me
the way
to clarity
I bleed frustration
by balling up the sheaf
of paper
an invitation to failure
A new page sits in front
of me
Only clean now
I press on
but I think
no genuine thoughts
no light shines through dense clouds
no sunshine
brightens my meaningless
with insight

So instead I draw a picture
I’m not
an artist
but in this picture
I see
beyond the farce

Again, after a moment
I concentrate on
blank sheet
somehow becoming entangled with words
naked and alive they primp and preen
sentence after sentence
I write down my dream
and it makes sense
these footprints into my past
that I leave for others
at least they make sense
to me
and no other, maybe?
But that doesn’t matter
not at all

Friday, July 13, 2007

The Natural Order

Nature is one of those forces that I most respect. It creates all that I treasure and asks for nothing in return. She teaches me. She fascinates me. She lights the fear of the devil under me and forces me to see myself for who I am. This poem is of Nature painting her masterpiece.

Awake from the calm you storm;
Come hither you clouds bring your rain and snow;
Rise up you winds, violent and passionate
And taste the rocky spires and the snowy slopes.

Weaken Rock, avalanche Snow;
Etch your beauty Storm;
Carve this art into the land for all to see;
The beauty of Earth and me.

(Clouds part, eons of time gone by);
Valleys deep and rivers strong;
Mountains high and forests wide;
And Life you are here, alive. Look. See. Know.

Grow and die, rise up from the ashes;
You must live LIFE, you beasts and plants;
Love and worship, be humbled and learn;
Face the lonely day, the year, the eons.

Future days they are yours;
Let not my image live forever;
It is evanescent. You are free Storm. Life. All.
Go out this early morn with the rising sun;
Partake in the beauty of Earth and me,
and make of it a reflection of you.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Diamond Ring

Okay, how 'bout a sappy poem :) to brighten your day.

Give me a book and I will read
give me hunger and I will feed your needs
give me a reason and I will do
give me clouds and I will give you blue

give me hope and I will dream
give me language and I will talk obscene
give me death and I will remember
give me tears and I will hand you a rose in December

give me desperation and I will learn
give me a match and we will watch a sunset burn
give me love and I will boil your passion
give me a hammer and I will build you a mansion

give me time and I will accomplish
give me talent and I will seek to amaze
give me winter and I will warm your eyes
give me a song and I will sing you a lullaby

give me a pen and I will write you a poem
give me your ears and I will never roam
Give me darkness and you will lighten dark hallways
just give me your moments and I will love you always

“Heart Knock”

This poem is about a bad person and a good person. The good man wants to destroy the bad man, but what does this gain him, satisfaction? There are often no winners. Maybe it is the bad that defines the good in us? This is from two perspectives and is somewhat confusing but worth posting I think.

Tick-talk, tick-talk, the heart knock
I follow you. I swallow you. You ripe me out. Eat me from the inside.
Rise up. Row out to sea. Trample your enemy.
Could you help, would you help me?
Let me free. I am dying. Death is crying for me.
Tears of joy - knowing - yes it cries for my coming.
Loving, disturbing curbing my lies with truth.
But it is not apparent this parent to my plan, sifting sand.
A crowd in the park, a lighter, a spark.
Cowards run, others stunned. Who holds the gun?
YOU hold the gun!
Now do you run or do you get your final revenge?
Piles of life burning. No pain. Blood spattered. No gain. No ladder to climb!
Sane? Sanity is to blame? My sanity is sane, your sanity grey. Stained!
A smirk, this jerk who stands before me deserves justice, sweet justice.


You miss....
The smirk changes to fear, so pissed, this fag. The cure?


No tears, no remedy. Dead and dirty rag. Clean hands?

This is justice?

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

Days checkered forward measure us, our lust with this life always borrowed

This man like you melts the brew and drinks it.
Never sick. Never wrong. Always right.
This banner is carried by many. A battle song. A battle cry.
But you are neither strong nor right as this man who killed others feels right
There is no line seen in the dark where your only light blinks “START”
Push it. Press it. FEEL IT! Kneel before it. Submit. Give up. Quit!
Do without thinking. Think without thought. Act without reason.
React. Attack!


Reason. Rationalize. Be reasonable. Put yourself in another’s shoes.
Allow not emotion to behest emotion, a whirlpool of commotion.
Temper your temper with time. Find the rhythm. A rhyme.
Remember any justification has a propensity to be out of proportion with reality.
Allow just and fair. Allow your whispering conscience that cares. Allow yourself to be kind.
Allow this inner cop to SCREAMmmmmmM


Don’t be blind.
Let the beauty that emboldens us to smile to shine.
Let the spacious quality of this day that follows tomorrow remind.
Let the color, the poetry of your life levitate love to no longer long but belong.
Peace you can be sure, is a balance that we each weigh in for good or bad.
Each hour. Each day. Every morning that we face.
A decision is passed. A monthly check is cashed.
Each morning a rising sun. Each morning you hold the gun.
Protect. Defend. Listen. Learn. Hope. Dream. Cope. Be free. Believe.
Hear the cries. See through the lies.
Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.
Breath in.
Breath out


And free yourself from the clout


But I don’t
I’m afraid of landing in a swamp
Now that has more style
a commitment to your convictions
and a determination to dance
with the consequence of your intentions
but why not just sit and think
while away the hours
and do nothing
go the safe route
I guess I just like to test the foundation
to see if it is as solid and I think
It creates confidence that leads to success
This, of course, is a fruitation of risk
and any risk means that I need to jump
Either feet first or headfirst
The only difference is:
with one you are smiling
while in the other
a grimace is your sole companion
and I much prefer to smile...


I blind myself from this dream
I capture it in a bottle and hide it
I often drink from its spirit
so these days ahead may be something of merit

Friday, July 6, 2007

Scared and broken

Three older poems I thought worth posting?

The silent voice
It speaks to me
It grasps my mind
And tears it apart
The days they pass
From light to dark
And in there time
I awoke to see
A life
Scared and broken
Cast away
Never to return
I walked
I wondered
I stood alone
The wind
The rain
I felt so cold
I came to stand
On a bridge
So high
I looked below
At the water flow by
Then cast my eyes
To the sky above
“Why,” I asked,
“am I so alone
in a world that
never gave me a chance.”
Again I looked down
And saw my end
I lifted my foot
And stood atop the rail
In hope
I spread my arms
And lunged
To fly
To death
I plunged…

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

A Lovely Life

...And another one, also somber.

My lovely life
Cried tears
When the death it feared
Came at last

My lovely death
Left those I loved
Crying tears
For what I was

But in that last moment
When memory blends
During that last moment
Before life dims
I realized this lovely life
I lived
Was magical

I realized this lovely life
I lived
Was lovely

So very lovely

And I did not cry no more
For what was
Or what could’ve been
I but prayed and prayed
To be born once more
To be born to live this life again

"Raising Daffodils"

Life is evanescent. Momentary. Like the wind it comes and goes. Today is a rather somber day for me. My gramps is in the hospital in sore shape. Whether or not he makes it will depend on how much fight he has left in him. So I post a sad poem I wrote years ago.

My memories hum a tune I can’t hear, only feel
the night plays on my mind as well as the sky
the stars flicker and dance like the rustle of leafs
My eyes linger on the chasm whose teeth chatter
to the cold breath of wind that wafts of fall

I sniff in the fragrance of rain just fallen
my eyes search raindrops for conscious thought
but reflections of clouds cover hope
leaving echoes of summer’s sweet memory to fill my nose
with the scent of daffodils

An old trees carcass lays where a young sapling
grows through broken branches
I cast its grey‑weathered bones between dangling feet
I hear them shatter on rock and splash into river
my startled breath fills me with the earthy tang of rotting leafs
I look up at the moon riding towards the horizon
and see the leafs raining, tumbling towards the Earth

I find one, reddish‑yellow tipped in green
In my hand, swallowed by stars, the light plays with my eyes
and my mind imagines the dead leafs veins pulsing
and my own heart beats in stride, beating until my face is blushed
and my own two hands full of foliage reach up to the sky
where my own body becomes more weighted and tied to the earth
where my own legs become more laden and rooted to the land
where my own emotion becomes more raw and hewn to the seasons
where I am induced to reach as high as I can

HIGHER still
so that the leaves would again turn green and wave to summer breeze
to once more be full of life’s blood and breathing!

But the wind blows and my arms weaken
the rain falls, and I weaken!
This terrible wind continues to bite fiercer and a torrential rain descends in sheets
burdening me
until at last I fall to the ground disgusted
clawing my fingers into the dark soil in search of meaning
in search of anything that would mean more than the past
digging so that I could leave what I couldn’t forget
leaving it so I could move on toward to morrows worth living
forgetting so I could remember
grieving so I could move on

Days turn to months, seasons turn to years
and a young man now old visits the cliff near the daffodils
and recalls memories of past friends and family, past loves and lost youth
each time watering and cultivating the past
so it will not be forgotten

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


Time plods on. It doesn't stop. We live and love and hope and be, but time just continues on plodding. Eventually we are nothing, forgotten, but each of us do live on in those that remain behind. We inspire. We give courage. We humble. We give hope. We leave everything that we are in all that we've done.

So much mystery out there
ain’t none of it I’m aware
my heart beats constant
my mind thinks silently
my feet tread lightly
my hands are steady
my vision on the next day
and in the end
I was merely a wisp of wind
A leaf shook from a tree
fertilizer for a seed
mayhap the grits for another to dream

Friday, June 22, 2007


Without struggle you are nothing
without fear you are nothing
without emotion to drive you
you are NOTHING
Without pain you have no pleasure
without hate you have no love
without life breathing inside you
there are no tears to blind you
no mistakes to forget
no wrongs to make right
Nothing, not a damn thing to hide from
no skeletons in the closet
little children to fear bedtime stories
no lies, no loves, no hope, no hate
no ideas or art; no hell or heaven
because nothing is given but life
and only at death do you discover the measure of it
that which really meant
that which arms you with the weapons to face your lonely path

The Changer

We have a propensity to be good. But life isn't always good. It takes each and every one of us doing our part to keep it that way.

I sit tranquil
resting on a rock
I gaze over hills
while deep in thought

I then say,
“What a good world
on this and every other day
such a good world”

Oh and the power I feel
during these moments of peace
Where my mind can heal
and I can remain at ease

“Yes,” I venture, “the peace
is the temptation of the mind
The tranquility of release
you feel inside

Oh, but callus is the nature
fated to be torn
To an end peace must venture
to that of war”

I then say,
What a sad world
on this and every other day
such a sad world”

Oh, and my heart beats strong
spurred by anger
because I long
for a changer

A man, woman, or child
you, I or anyone else
who can transform the world
and shield us from malice

And break the bonds
the chains we wear
And end the wrongs
those that we all share

I then close my eyes
and breathe in
Where upon I realize
we are changing

When peace turns to war
soon war will no longer be
Because when life is at its very worst
we remember that there is indeed a peace

And that we will go to any length
to restore it
Any length at all
to regain it

And yet constantly we bicker
and fight amongst each other
I fear it is but our nature
to battle one another

Or maybe it is our animalistic urge
or downright hate
Something we will never learn
because it is our fate

But is that too definite
too simple an answer
Can we not remedy our sickness
and cure this cancer?

....and somehow find our changer
Everyday I wait
And wonder
“Is it yet too late?”

Because peace is so fragile
so easy to break
And to turn to turmoil
chaos and hate

Slowly my eyes open
and I lift from my rock
I smile at my fortune
Because I have found what I have sought

And only in this very instant
did it come to me
Only in this last second
did I come to see

That the changer is not a creature
as in you or I
It is but nature
as in the land and the sky

And by following it’s rule
we will find that life is good
Precious and not cruel
and that it can be understood

“Yes,” I say aloft
to the trees, to the birds
“Yes,” I say aloft
To the bears, to the bees

“All of us together
make-up a living breathing nature
That which is the changer
who gives us life ... which is our great adventure ...."

A Sustainable Balance

Without struggle, we all remain the same. How then can one easily except struggle? It is in our best interests to remain comfortable and if such a thing is sustainable, content. But I am afraid neither is commendable of lasting for long. If so, long live the king and to him all the riches of the world. I have no such luck and no title to speak of. My way is that of the wolf - to hunt. Tomorrow is not guaranteed and all yesterdays, a lesson in survival of life’s ultimate changer. Now here comes the kicker: with change comes struggle, with struggle comes survival, and in survival there are the hunters and the hunted. Watch your back and keep your head high enough to see the road ahead. There is nothing, none of this, that remains the same. We all struggle to attain this level of survival, but find that without change we are not content. Those who are not content find it difficult indeed to be at all as happy and joyous as they would wish to live their life. Find then a balance, not centered, but counter weighted and set off equilibrium, always in motion, not long at rest. As such, a sustainable struggle-to-sameness. Seek this, a bumpy and ever roundabout road to discover the city of peace and the king of happiness.

A YOUNG Mountain climber

The mountains are full of emotion. Their monolithic stature leave men to praise their power. Snow and rock like armor protect the beast and this vision of grandeur pulls men to their footsteps to test their manhood. These mainstays are like women, they teach us that we are only men.

I scream,
I reach out,
But air is all I grasp at,
No hand reaches out to save me,
No burst of wind rights me,
And no god above to save me,
With only oblivion beneath,
I die,
As a MAN,
And not the GOD,
Youth fooled me into believing I was…

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Alpine Fir

I imagine this tree caught facing each day from its lofty vantage, living not against nature, but humbled and willed to it by storm and sun. It's family flung below by those same forces and the patriarch, there, fighting a losing battle, but fighting all the same. That's what I think of when I see the highest most tree gripping the ridge far above all others. A true fighter. I can't help but respect that.

Back and forth I sway
a sunset burns and blazes
the sun turns and gazes
and I face the days and the moons many faces
My branches creak under the weight of snow
My limbs are tough, but I am old
This winter maybe next I will feel the cold
This summer the heat could sap me dry
Until then, speak not of the end
The sunrise comes
and I am amongst family and friends
high on a mountain ridge...

Monday, June 11, 2007

A THEME: The moment

Below I celebrate the MOMENT. I've picked random poems and parts of poems that I thought fit the theme.


Fear frolics with high places, dances on the edge of cliffed heights and cries out in the throws of desperation and danger. For where fear lurks, its hunger swallows up thought and casts it to hounds hungry for blood. This danger in our lives, adjusts the here and now, ratchets it into focus where, for the moment, it is our beast to tame. This wild thing so violently shaking its cage, is what blinds our thoughts of past and future and puts us on the course bound directly into the moment.


See the sun
Slowly slide down
Watch the horizon
Hone from the heavens
Collect you soul
Respect the moment…


I’ve come to realize
most lives are rhymes
like the blushed faced skies
moments that sweep over and remind

That now must be seized
and up and downs are part of the journey
That the moment cannot be left unpleased
and life doesn’t stop, it is always in a hurry


“Dream Dance”
--- moments pass and visions lance inside my head they dance
dreams of highest fantasy, no bounds to dash my fancy…


I know to live is to be loved
and to die is to be soon forgotten
but in this moment that beats - that really is life
You find the medicine that heals your woes
and wakens your mind?


When you can, live in the moment
When you have to, live in the future
and when you must, live in the past


I loath the dust of bones that rust
of memory now forgot,
of moments now washed away in time,
withered by these ocean waves that weep
into the wind
and splash moist like a kiss onto the face of me
now but a ghost of a man long dead
long forgotten.


Off I go
Another adventure
Another day
To forget the future
To live in the moment


Before sleep he envisions success and failure, he envisions challenge and conquest
but he is no fool. He realizes his limits. No mountain is worth dying on.
But there is an appeal beyond all of this. There is the moment that breaths
and is succored by the mountain in a way that the city drowns. He needs its companionship and craves its simplicity.


Can you imagine the fog on a cold sunny morning with the dew dangling – falling off the leaves of the beautiful yellow flower petal? Sure wish I knew the name of that flower. I’ve seen them since, but they never looked the same as they did that particular day. It makes me think that I was witness to a moment. A moment to me is one of those memories, a picture really, that never dies and always appears randomly. Yes, a beautiful thing that can put a smile on a sad face and make the sun shine even when it is raining outside. And yes, anyone can imagine my moment but only I was there on that particular morning. In life you must find your moments and hold on to them because they will take you through your dark days…


I think, then, that it is the moment that meets the man.


Everyone is going to die! Sometimes the true test of life is not in how long you've lived it, but rather in the moments not lost - but succored and nourished, poured from the vase like molasses to be cherished and fulfilled.


Don't lose track of now,
life doesn't have cruise control.
No sonic boom will sound.
It is the moment you must console.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

A moment apart

Beginnings and endings trouble me
one begets the other
all love between a blooming red flower
all everything something
maybe a cloud on the horizon
a field of wheat swaying
a falling star falling
a full moon staring
a tear raining
a gust of wind righting
a last man fighting
a cold snow blowing
a tired lion surrendering
a lioness left defending
a wounded man dying
a coward confiding
a chill December smiling
a woman birthing
a child learning
a million birds laughing
a orchestra enchanting
a song bewitching
a long summer slumbering
a starry speckled darkness confiding
a roaring creek rushing
a mighty fire roaring
a sunset falling
a sunrise rising
these beginnings and endings
leave me mulling so much
Maybe there are only these moments apart
that I alone can ever hope to understand?
With my heart booming loudly
I listen to its rhythmic beat
my thoughts swim away
and I forget the cloudy day
and I merely look toward
the next moment to which I am meeting

Monday, June 4, 2007

God's Balcony

Nature is a magical heroine and she permits us to see such beauty, boundless and without limit. Often I am caught in the city and find that days or weeks go by without a glance at the moon or stars, even at the sunrise or sunset. In nature these are unavoidable. They don't conflict or muddy your mind, but elighten and embolden you to experience your surroundings. Tiddy and comfortable in your home it is easy to ignore nature. She is your home, too, and we mustn't forget that!

I breath in nature, out the sound
pressure, struggle, pain, love, loss, hope, hate, courage, cowardice
abound here in the cage of lies
I adventure through the fog and clouds clinging to the sky of my mind
into a peace I ride into the sameness no longer creased.
Love is LOUD, she is released
and I am proud high on this mountain pass
where alpine grass chatters.
Like children, they sing, their laughs ring,
thunder sets their emotional cheer to a frenzy,
and, in the middle I listen to the symphony
there above, on god's balcony

Thursday, May 31, 2007

River Shoal

Often it is during times of death that we become the most insightful, risking our comfortable reality by delving into the unknown. Maybe by doing so we'll discover the intangible, but none of us can grip this unfathomable place we often call heaven. We can only imagine what it'd be like. While I'm not a religious man, I think deep thoughts. That was the case when a good, good friend passed away. I escaped into a world of words and tried to picture what I thought the journey would be like if I could go there and back again.

I feel the cold river on the toes of my soul
I’m dreaming of my pot of gold in a future yet untold
I gaze up the river to where branches caress memories old
all the while my soul seeps into the water’s
of River Shoal

I leave my body heaped thus and swim away like a great fish
I follow the unassailable current down, away in bliss
what of all I left behind, is there anything at all to equal this?
There should be so many things
I would dearly miss

During these spare moments I continue like a ghost observed between
the earth and the moon and everything seen
but this future is like a great broom that dooms my dream
and the past merely the needle and thread
that holds me together you see

My journey ventures down river only for a time
I journey back up these water’s in search to find
Answers to my past that clash with my future and mind
There are so many questions I have but my recollections
are like rhymes

You see it is my hope to find a part of me
deep in the damp canyons echoing with forgotten memories
but it seems I can no longer ignore the looming darkness that bleeds
Today I come to heal the heart and soul of me from a past
that breaths

My ether soon shudders, feeling the cold slowly creep
I lay immersed at the bottom of these dark waters covered in stones and weep
My memories press persistently, soon must come my defeat
Cause everything that you hope you could hold dear
is something the river can keep

Knowingly there comes change, romancing the past has a cost
My memories remember me like a broiling sea, up from the bottom they churn and toss
I glare up through these clear cobalt waters, breath in a cleansing spirit of trust
With life there is a future we must all embrace for otherwise
we are all lost

One day I will pass into this river and flow
to the heart of the ocean where all are delivered in tow
into the life blood of Mother Earth we each must row
but today I seek a different road, my path leads to a future
a place I must go

So in the throws of life, my body is refilled with soul
and like a child born crying and screaming, I awaken a newborn foal
Life is magical and living isn't a toll
I have found myself it seems on the shores
of River Shoal


Many times life is lost in the chaos of the day to day deluge of work and responsibility. Often you find it overweighting and pressing so much so that you can't see the path ahead. It dims. I think that it is important to understand that these downs, unlike the ups are a means to an end. They allow for you to discover your resolve and self, eventually defining who and what you are. The trick is to not be smothered with doubt. You could say that good floats and all you have to do is swim to the top. So many people hold themselves down and never seize life.

The past you cannot erase
you know every line
You’ve gone through the paces
only to be reminded

Some days may be gray
Full of heart wrenching sorrow
while others a piercing sunny ray
focused down on the road you must travel tomorrow

Today I’m driving down the freeway
no hurry in the slow lane
no hurry to slave my life away
It is my fault, only I am to blame

My work is done well
not that it couldn’t be done better
The deviation of which none could tell
none but me, no other

These days may be the same
but the differences are clear reflections
of days I attained unreached fame
the everything between led me to imagine

Still I am happy, when I am not sad
I am glad, when I am not here thinking
about everything bad
I should be thoughtless never blinking

I try so hard to be good
but that doesn’t make me happy
You’d think being happy would be good
enough for me as for anybody

What I am doing is not
what I want to do
I feel I am rotting
in a cauldron of tasteless grey stew

My ideas already thought of and done
nothing I have to think is new I’m afraid
my life’s work an old blanket spun
no instrument, the fine note of which remains un-played

Did I do it right
by walking the line?
Should I have fought my blight
or merely been born mindless and blind?

Sometimes I find my life asleep
so conveniently lost
the walls of this life I occasionally beat
the mice whisper “tsk, tsk know the cost?”

And I listen and I allow the machine
to grind me down
day by day I’m left imagining a scene
the end of my life, not a tear, no sound

The masses mask themselves
they hide behind drapes
all have their own spells
hopes and dreams they must rake

For now I pile up my thoughts
for all to see
I have new flowers to pot
more life to breath

I’ve come to realize
most lives are rhymes
like the blushed faced skies
moments that sweep over and remind

That now must be seized
and up and downs are part of the journey
That the moment cannot be left unpleased
and life doesn’t stop, it is always in a hurry

Asleep awake
life is a spectacle that we small men make
thinking our life is a large plate
But I must remind you, it is something you must take

Friday, May 18, 2007

Silence, Solace and Self

Poetry is one of those things that you never know whether or not you like it or hate it. Sometimes its just a way to sit down and play with words. Whether or not this is done well is left for you to decide. The flavour of life is the spice of diversity and I like poetry for that reason above any other. Every once and awhile its nice to write without bounds and do without set rules. Poetry blesses the writer with such freedoms that you'd be a fool to ignore them.

The type of poem Silence, Solace and Self is I'd call stream of consciousness, which doesn't always work, but I will put myself in the spotlight and post this one.

Imagine the passion, waves clashing with shore I so adore
And me walking and remembering following the beach wood
wondering if I could forget the absurd everything!
that blankets all clear thoughts with the clutter of living hard
rather than the morning, the birds chirping, the sand sifting between my toes
and the wind softly blowing controlling the balance of -me- living
All this so consuming
I lay down now weak from so much sound
what loudness you may ask?
This life I have cast, the stones have landed and they stand fast
and my beating the inevitable past
burdens me with hope, such bitter remorseful hope
but the taste of the cool ocean-moist air rushing, rumblings rivers through my soul
steals my past, those thoughts of old, of past loves
those long gone, days when I was young and strong
and pulls me back to me and the sound singing like a song
is so silent, such silence harbors me like a spicate of land
and my world of blowing sand, this desert becomes an oasis from the madness
and I am glad, full of gladness
and the orchestra of this life builds and blooms into a million words without words
and that alone makes me feel at home and whisks me back
to the rocky, ravaged edge of an ocean and the peace and quiet of nature's choir
opens my eyes and cuts my ears off and casts them aside
and a blind man becomes a deaf man who hears what is to be heard
and listens to what is said

Softly blowing now, a cool wind frowns with a deep chill
and the hounds haunt my realm of silence by treading deeper still
to the stillness that reaches through years, through fears, through all that I may feel
for my solace is my chalice of salvation, my rendition of redemption
I am cold now but not cold, I feel only alive, so alive it makes me bold
courageous enough even to challenge my soul and my peace of mind
so empowered am I that I am willing to attack my other self in defense of my true self
I left sadness for a happy trail, I left a hell bent life on a heavenly gale
and I flew high, as high as I could fly
to find my angle and my imaginative fairyland fable
Only a dream? Yes, but a dream inside a dream looking inside a life
and at a person who wanted escape but could not find freedom
could not stop running to see the sun until today, right now
All past wrongs, miscalculations, mistakes, and lapses of judgement begone
They are accepted for what they are but not for what they have become
This burden is my harness and I will not till the fields
under a master who lays seeds on fields of white
This moment, now, I must seize my peace
for without peace, the mind is a jumble of thoughts
and self cannot coexist in the absence of solace
And so I find myself in the midst of a thunder cloud carrying the waters of this world
and I feel a raindrop drip and another until I am soaked
and each drop a blessing of remembrance and semblance of forgiveness
which I alone could accept and I alone accepted
that I am me and I am at peace
With my arms in the air and the ocean rushing up to my knees
I declare, “I must be free?” And I am not afraid

From here to the beyond, I ride the waves still in search of freedom
By searching I find I am able to see into this inner self that haunts me
and what I see, does it’s violence, velocity to destruction
steal me back to reality? I wish it were so simple - to escape.
I see only madness and I feel mad
I surrender to this violence and lose all semblance of me, my freedom to be free
and yet there is a bridge to another time and I walk, I cross this bridge to the other side
where a fluttering, flickering flash of a dream resides, reminds, opens the blinds
a recollection of my past seemingly holds me, steals me, even hates me
but time harbors, helps, and regenerates the heart and soul of me
going back to the child that was so uncouth,without the weight of wisdom, and truth? Only the feather reality
and simple harmony of pure blissful satisfying delightful discovery of everything
I grin, I sigh, I uncover and find that I can mend my life
and in a rush of pure joy - I realize the madness -
for the first time I heard the rhythms of my heartbeat and the calling of this life
and I didn't feel beside my life but inside it, a part of it
two and two we became one and the same through and through
not an eye looking in but an eye looking out
And there, sudden like, I witnessed a sunset bloom
reflecting ghoulish motifs of an angry sky and a wondrous smile brightens on my face
and I swim in such happiness, such joyous happiness
because I am me, myself, and a self only of self
free at last to be myself
and so in a revelation of imagination silence, solace and self
swim across the ocean of my mind
where a-swoon I sing to the coming moon...

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


This poem is about lies, hinting at the consequences of doing so in a very metaphorical way. For some I think that lies are a disease, the easy way out when telling the truth is too much trouble or maybe an convenient out.


I tell you what I saw
only a bit like a seesaw
see misconception
saw misdirection
seesawing truth and all
is like a great invention
and truth, a great sloth
like a turtle lost
and lies
like a rabbit fast
ready to dash
I must confess nonetheless
I like my seesawing nice and slow
but occasionally a rabbit jumps
out of the bushes and as a hound I rush
chasing my precious
but the white twinkling ears lie still in fear
before again I sight such delight
sometimes I catch and kill
other times we’re quite the match
often though dinner is hatched
and my hunger is soothed with a rabbit stew

Monday, May 7, 2007

Vision Quest

Challenge tastes bitter when the drink of choice is failure. You can go thirsty, never succeeding. But failure forges a man, tempers him of stronger metal. It casts him sharper and more finely balanced than success alone would. It is this reason alone that you should tempt failure by seeking it out like a hunter does his prey, unforgiving and unrelenting. The best quarry is not that which is easily caught thus the most satisfying of life's endeavors is succeeding in that which one has sought for long and hard. He has failed at it over and over, but in spite of that succeeded, the journey more valuable than the conclusion.

My advice then, seek challenge and stand on the bones of your failures. Don't give them life because they will burden and overrun you like stampeding horses. Feast upon them and they will sustain you all of your living days.

I must venture yonder off
On my vision quest
Take all the knowledge I have gathered
And challenge thy nature’s wrath
For only there can I forge my metal
There in mountains high
Where man is but a visitor
And visions but dance beautifully
across the alpine sky

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Memories that meant

Some say taking risk is a danger to myself and a danger to others. I agree. It is my life's pursuit to tread among mountains. But I must also submit, "Is it not a risk to risk nothing at all?" Merely the lowest of us fathom life without challenge and those that simply do nothing wither and rot away; their dreams dying along with their inspiration and will to live. In challenging oneself, there is always risk. Facing it takes courage and commitment. It is my hope that when my life is done, I stand proudly on the deck of this great ship I call life. I stand on the bow, not with a fearful gaze, but with a smile. And I will remember memories that meant.

Pace back and forth and erase empty space
clear your head of density
and race ahead into a future daunted with challenge
and die on a sinking ship with a smile
memories that meant...

Tuesday, May 1, 2007


Nature is an amazing place. There is so much there that is so awe-inspiring and breathtaking that you often wonder why you had never noticed before. It was always there, wasn't it? But it isn't. Not in the city. Not in the town. Surely not in your house. In nature, beauty is something different. Something that captures you and holds you captive. Not fake or contrived. It is powerful and frightening. REAL. There is meaning out there. Seek it out, taste it.

Why do I find a flower pretty?
Was it because I was told so?
Did culture tell me what is beautiful?
Of course it did, but it didn’t.
I’ve heard, “Beauty is in the beholder.”
I’m bound to agree.
"The flower is pretty because I like the color blue
and not just any blue, but rather a lighter shade.
I also like yellow, but not at home on the walls
for that matter not anywhere else beside nature.
Yellow is a beautiful color there.
In fact ugly in nature is difficult to find.
What is most ugly to me is that which we create
-not that all of our creations are ugly,
because we create beautiful things,
but because at times our building, our mining, our logging
-many things that we do,
destroy nature
treads on that which is always beautiful
So why do I find a flower pretty?
Maybe because it was something that I didn’t create.
It was here before me
and has survived the ages..."


Writing is a looking glass staring candidly into the very core of your being. It can lie, it can cheat but in the end these words aren't said in vein, they are spilt out with emotion. They tell tales of high fantasy, horrible reality, love and even comedy. This and everything between. More than that, though, writing is a journey of understanding, a growing realization of who and what you are. For some words come like the tide, for others a constant patter of rain, but for me words are like a seasonal flood. They satisfy the thirst of a parched dessert that blooms instantly, then is gone as quickly as it came. But, before thoughts batter their way out of my scull and make good their escape. They have found their way into the ink and onto the page. For those precious few moments I have what I have always sought. This voice. Mine. Mine to wield and control as I see fit. A wild beast that, for the moment, is domesticated. We all seek control of it, but few of us truly find our voice. When you do, take the time to listen. It will reward you handsomely.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Early Retirement

With the introduction of Spring-like weather yesterday, I sat in my cheap office chair trying to close the shutters enough to block the sunlight. I exclaimed, "God damn light, quit shining on my computer!" I eventually finagled with the cord enough and sat down satisfied. No sunlight for me, no 60 degree weather, only me, the customers and computer. Ah, the joy of being a working man??? This poem is an ending I hope I don't ever have, but if so, it would be my own fault.

There I lay, scattered across the carpet, dead.
My coffee cup had spilt onto my papers;
Someone would have to reprint them.
The last words I said before I collapsed were,
“Anna, when is this weeks meeting with John Dallenger from Dal Investments?”
Now that I am dead, I really wish I took that vacation in March to South America.
As a matter of a fact, I wish I would’ve super-sized my Mickey D’s order during lunch.
Shit, I died hungry.
I wonder how long it will be before someone notices me?
I bet Bob Jurence will take my place;
he’s wanted my position for years!
Bob will do well, and anyhow he is in much better shape than I am.
He might even make retirement unless he adds onto his house.
In that case, he may have to put in a few more years
depending on interest rates and how well his stock portfolio does.

Friday, April 20, 2007


There is always risk associated with life. There is always a chance you could die. Being a mountaineer and lover of nature, I imagine death in my pursuit of these most happy endeavors. I'm told, "Don't risk yourself. The mountains are dangerous. You could die!" And I agree that mountains are dangerous, but that I need risk. It is what keeps me sane, on my toes and prepared to face all lives challenges. The alternative of city life is not one that appeals to me. I need to range across glacier and ridge, test my metal on mountain side, and cast my luck with nature whom treats me with satisfaction and peace of mind.

You see I've got it all figured out
death isn't a racquet.
Without risk, what's life about
but a full metal jacket?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

The Soul of a Mountain II

I thought I'd write a paragraph of a story. I'll add to it a paragraph at a time, as I write it. I'll try not to go back and change anything. It could be fun. Others could add to it if they want.

Lift up the night to awaken
on this mountainside
take sun swept slopes between glacier and tree
and watch the shadows march and ride

Born on the morning with the waking sun, the blackness gone, the fire of blushed excitement greets this sunrise, stretched over the hills below the mountain. Its actual name lost to a people whose wood homes long before rotted into the earth; trees now stood on their bones. A cold spring night had left a frost on newly budded branches and a bubbling stream fought its way out of ice. Beneath a blanket lay a young brother and sister fighting to stay warm. Nearby another blanket lay still, steaming as the sunlight marched on up the valley. Wolves howled, but no one seemed to care. Life had been too brutal. Yet the kids understood what it is they had to do.

Today they would leave their father, and carry his message home. He had said it could save them; they had seen enough to believe it. It had been two weeks since they had escaped the city, but the night before they had been spotted. In their flight their father had climbed this mountain, but hadn't made it far. The man that had been chasing them, had killed their father, but he had been wounded too, and lay licking his wounds further down. They had hoped he didn't make the night, but somehow they feared he had.

"Sis, we should go," the brother indicated as he shoved off the blanket. She was crying he could see, but there was nothing he could do. They had been put to the test like father had uttered they would be, "You are my blood, you know what to do," he had said. "Steel has dealt me a cruel blow. You are my son and daughter and you have strength undiscovered. Test it and it will temper you of stronger metal than what was wrought against me." His father wanted to say more, but that was all he had said. They were lucky to have heard anything at all over their beating hearts. Neither of them could believe their father had fallen. Not this time. He had survived so much before as leader of their tribe. They had lived in peace for nearly a decade, that is until they met the Osarks. He cringed thinking that one of them could still be following. At 12 he would stand and fight. The knife at his side held testament to that. But right now they needed to go, "Sis, it is time to go."

Unbeknown to them, trees swayed far below with wind funneling through the valley and dark clouds cursed the horizon with foreboding darkness. Awakened, a man could be seen next to his dead horse. His leg bleeding and his face bruised and bloodied from his fight, but he was alive, and three sets of tracks could be seen leading up the hill behind him. He grimaced as he prepared to follow. There wasn't a choice. He was pretty sure his quarry was not too far beyond him. He had to make sure his job was done.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007


There stood side by side me and you
all of us
We looked at the world upside down
old, scared by rust
And understood that there isn't truth
but trust
And that we are all children earthbound
full of lust


It is easy to lose track of time and let life pass you by. You think that maybe now isn't worth remembering. That day at work pushing paperwork. That time spent cleaning your house. The truth is, every moment should be lived. They are all special. It is just your point of view that needs to be changed. If you look at the boring close enough, you will discover that it isn't so boring.

Don't lose track of now
life doesn't have cruise control
no sonic boom will sound
it is the moment you must console...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

A Universal Cog

I wrote this during one of my first plane flights. Looking down from so far above, I imagined the world from such a perspective.

The power of air
down through which I stare
shows me a world
that dances and twirls

A great wide ocean sea
that behooves me
of what grandness lays below
and what small part I play of the whole

The city, the town, the wilderness stand proud
above them all, I hear not a sound
and of the madness I have seen
there below, lay only peaceful and serene

“How vulgar,” I think
“the horizon bold and pink.
How vulgar these pillow clouds that lay
streaked with red, swimming in gray.”

And now as the day is swarmed in black
shooting stars attack
the Earth and my understanding
this “place” I am commanding

Such realization quakes
a rising urge to awake
Earth is not a lonely flower ornate
Life’s universal steward of fate

This everything out there
up through which I stare
shows me so many worlds
dancing and twirling


Captured without light
littered without sight
Stumble toward nothing
never stop running

lost in nowhere
forgotten and unaware
open your eyes
scream, no one hears your cries

Stop struggling so
Let go
Don’t ask why
you know you’ll die

turn and look at your face
look back at you through space
It is yourself you attack
here in the dark-black

All we are
is a point of light, a star
you can look and think
tomorrow forget and blink

life is everything
married in life we sing
a universe that breaths
futures that tease

Around we twirl
alone on this world
Around we wonder
life born asunder