Sunday, April 23, 2017


Are You only found in simplicity
Or is it only in complexity?
Could it possibly be a “both” and an “and”
That brings us to the touch of a Father’s hand
Could it be my eyes are so close to me
That I cannot see the good that sets me free?
I sense the fears, the angers, the distractions
Not knowing the hopes that release the refractions
Sending the light in tens of thousands of directions
More colors than I could ever know
Whether I take it in, in its glorious context
Or whether I take it in fully without
There is still a hue, a vague, a shade, a glimpse
That brings a bright spark back in to my DNA.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

The Voice

The Voice
I dream of days, I dream of ways
Where I do not have to enter into this incessant wandering
This amassing of graves between worlds of reality and fact
And the realms of reality and truth
These things I have wrestled with since my youth
Seeing the dragons get all the stronger
I still face them though I wander
between the place of courage and of fear
I sit amidst the lovely violets here
Just watching from a distance

I seek a grand but notorious gaze
a Voice that lives amongst blue-green eyes ablaze
These stories wrap around my mind
I cannot grasp such things sublime
Yet grasp them is exactly what I do, I must
Reach deep within to find the vessels of trust
That lead me to my pleasures
These things are so much more than treasures
They are rather more than things
Rather more on angels’ wings
They fly beneath my feet to greet me
All the while I look above while seeking
Those things that cannot be known or seen

I hear the whispers of gentle giants
I feel the tethering of a meek compliance
Knowing I cannot meet these ways
These ways that just lead all astray
Yet promise a sure deliverance
I also cannot yield to happenstance
Nor can anyone else for that difficult matter
For space is nothing but mindless chatter
if it truly had no beginning

I see the red roofs on those distant shores
The winding, writhing tales and lore
which break into my musings
All hair, all skin, all dark accusing
Just bristle in the sunlight
To speak of love so forthright
Is the answer to all these breathings

I cannot come into the forms and worries
Yet I cannot leave them ever since
I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies
With not a skip of heartbeats hence

I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies
With not a skip of heartbeats hence

So where does this all lead?  So where does this all go?
I think it goes where no one knows
But it does go into the knowing
The place where our listless souls are growing
In the green room of our past neglect
The pictures of our contorted wrecks
are turned into sound and life and beauty 
This happens right before our eyes
We listen and are mesmerized
by things we cannot hear nor see

In the listening I am free

It is in the listening I am free

I hear the Voice

Sunday, April 16, 2017


I posted this poem in 2013 but I felt it was a good day for reposting. Hope you enjoy it!

I’m ready to float right out of this universe
Alight onto another 
Far more distant than this one
Yet closer than the breath of my lungs
I breathe the same air as the warlords, the bright ones
That spread love and peace and happiness and battle
The ones that make their swords all rattle
As they drop them into the ground to plant some life into it
Beings placed Deep into the brown, soft earth
Reddened by another’s blood
Watered by a steeping flood
Of submitted will and alabaster

The full moon just fills the fanning window above my head
Reflected light overpowering the lingering autumn darkness
Leaves unchanged as of yet
Yet we know that all is coming
To the sounds of soulful lutes and lyres
The coolness brings the smell of fires
And a thousand thousand drops of rain
I lift my head again and again
To see if there is yet any difference
No matter how many times I lift my head to see 
It is my heart that feels the breezes

I am reconciled, I am reconciled
Like a favorite blanket to a crying child
There is a restoration forming in this quiet soul
That is surrounded by harsh and disruptive raucous
Yet nothing but stillness deep within
A stillness so deep, unfathomable, restless
Its movement changes worlds
Its vibration lifts the earth
Setting it, vast, into a different place
Where freedom never dies
An inkling, a nature, a persistent cry
Does drive us into that galaxy wide 
That is so narrow many miss the smile

Could it be that we are all so worthwhile
That on us love alights?
I foresee again, I foresee again
The friendless and forgotten do know a friend
Who smiles again as does a brother
Whose embrace is that of gentle mother
Simply warmth and grace and good and love
A place where I can truly know enough
Where a reality exceeds my expectation

Is there ever an end to this disrupting frustration?
Or is this simply the fuel that feeds me on?
In all of this weakness, through all of this brawn
I simply seek on for the firelight
Realizing my alabaster wishes have pierced the night
So the sky is overwhelming in its shadows
Clouds so immense they dance
with the movement of the moistures
They grow in ever increasing cloisters
Bringing a realization into the mix

Could it be that we are so worthwhile
That on us love alights?

Lost Creek

Lost Creek
A brooklet is a wandering poetry
Constant in its direction
Yet fluid in its ways
An ever changing constant, aware
Of the fickle winds and weathers
In these moments all these come together
Creating the magnificently peaceful masterpiece

This constant power is being released
Changing every rock and form
The sunlight becomes just a little too warm
So I’ll move my path’s direction
The blue-black fly lands on my crease
Interrupting the serene reflections
But the autumn wind whisks it away
The winds speak of the coming snows
No courage can the creeping thing muster
It hurries on out of my natural space
A memory like this cannot be erased
A  forever monument is forever created
In the midst of this wandering way

It is a good day

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Push Ups

Push Ups
I hate pushing against this planet earth
Straining with all my might
No matter if I work all day and night
Its spinnings never seem to give way
Time never, ever seems to sway
One micron from its mortal purpose
Though I’m getting bigger and stronger
My strength could never stop the traveling
These fibers continue their stark unraveling
No matter the drive or the purpose
So what is this strength
Amongst all of these galaxies and dust?

The greatest strength of all is trust

Maybe it is time for me to use that strength instead
To lift me above the path of death
Into the place where time does not exist
Where I ignore the watch placed on my wrist

Maybe it is time for me to use that strength instead

Maybe it is time for us all to learn to use it

Sunday, April 9, 2017


Welcome to the land of the poppies
Welcome to the land of the sun
Come in to the land of the waves and the sea
To the place where life is lived on
In a way where we all get to live it
Despite our differences, our opinions
We welcome the blue of our skies
We allow each one to ask their why’s
We allow each one to find the answers
We see tattoos, we admire the dancers
The artists, the surfers, the genius, the songs
We cherish the mountains, we relish the prongs
Over an open campfire on the beach
There is no dream that is out of reach here
It is the land of greatest opportunity
Sure there are those with quite the impunity
To wall us all in with their flimsy regulations
Yet freedom springs up from the very soil
We have fruitful work that banishes toil
From ever tainting our living revelations
Every smile, every breath, every sun-filled sensation
Will break forth and move toward the sunrise
Will open doors, will mesmerize
Those who have lost their way
Those who long for a better day
Will now know hope again for the very first time
No wave, no curve, no forbidding sign
Will take away their joy
For they have seen the lands of the fruit trees
The mountains, Yosemite
Speaks of eternal steadfastness, glorious
The redwoods, an ancient wisdom will always be here
The land of love will banish all fear
Only wisdom will grow there
The salmon, the whales, the cougars, the bear
Will still move along in their tapestries
The beauty will still bring the mortal to knees
And we all will relish in the land of golden goodness

Live on, California

Friday, April 7, 2017



No matter these random obstacles
The water still will find its way
To its measured destination
Without a sigh or marked frustration
it will sing on until its very end
Where actually there is not an end

Just a cycle of deep and infinite mysteries

Thursday, April 6, 2017


Light and shadow
Reflection and reflections
These can be a mystery
They remind us there is more than materialism in all its disarray
They remind us there is another world out there
A world where darkness and light collide
And the light always wins
And even when our material world tries to block out the light
It simply makes the light even more striking and wondrous
Reminding us even more resoundly
There is another world out there
Where light always wins

Wednesday, April 5, 2017


I have interrupted the plans of the grayling bird
I sit here amongst the waterfalls, the creeks, the mountains looming
The grayling bird he does his grooming
But not without a wary eye on me
He is confined to the tree
Where he and his mate do flutter
They twitter-twatter without a stutter
They speak of their change of plans

Another couple walks by the brook
To take in the wonder of the place
The birds say, “When will this end, when will this end?
“When will we not see a predator’s face
But instead we will look upon freedom
Knowing no fear at all?”
At least that is what I hear in their call
All the while wondering the very same thing for myself
It is funny how the books on nature’s wide shelf
Can often make just the right difference

Tuesday, April 4, 2017


It seems I’m always trying to write the greatest poem
The world has ever seen
Yet to me that is quite ironically impossible
When I know what nothing means

This postmodern world is a quagmire
Of needs and wants and thoughts
But no one knows the reason
Why for anything at all we’ve sought

I’m often trying to tap into beauty
In a place where it’s said not to exist
A place where cold space has the answers
A place of hard, brutal fists

I’m not trying to dry and depress you
I’m not trying to give you despair
But if there is no known standard of beauty
Then there is not anything, anywhere, there

And what sort of world is that?
What sort of place would that be?
It almost makes sense to ignore the facts
And let imagination set us free

I know that all seems irrational
But what the heck else is art for?
For if there is no existence of beauty
Then what ever is there here to live for?

Love can list a thousand things….