The call rises from the West Door
A steady pounding rhythm across the water
Three medicine men stand atop the Adena burial mound
hands beating against drums, rattles shake, creating spirit
a musical birth
wolf, fox, bear, ox
Nemahi Tribesmen, facing the East Gate
Climbing upwards ancient earth,
native toes sinking into soft wet ground
exchanging no words,
only melody feathers dancing on the rhythmic wind
The broken healer offers wooden peace pipe, painted polar bear
Stepping into the medicine wheel, honoring the four fathers
Inhaling sacred herbs to cleanse lungs & spirit
Nothing lost, Nothing gained
Four buzzards glide along the slip stream
Two Crows calls me Brother
Four tribesmen stand atop the burial mound
Stray dogs united

Educated cat,
debonair toe to tip,
mustache and whiskers
trimmed to suit
the current style,
demands in a fine
cultivated
clipped accent,
to the chief
of the rat hole
to surrender
peacefully, his army
cache of weapons
secret Swiss bank
account details,
gold and diamonds
stashed away in
vaults underground,
and the database on
high net worth
individuals
within 24 hours,

without much ado
to avoid bloodshed.

My pages are filled with
misery, dark drawing
pollute the pages of my
life written down, I have
been tormented through
life not anymore.

I ripped pages out to forget those
times, what was done to me, but
hate sewed the pages back in
to remind me what made me
who I have now become.

My pages are filled with rips,
the scars that I was given for
being different from you,
but those pages have healed
and I moved on.

My book is of misery, but I have
not let the past rule me, I have
turned new pages never letting
misery rule, instead I turned it
and made my self strong.

Written to the music of Passenger: Let Her Go... how apropos ;-)

may you never
know the strike
before it
becomes a blow
may you hope
to escape before
it starts to snow
hope you will never hate
what you've never known

may you only hope
that it will someday end
may you wish
you could only bend
may you never hate
what you've never known

and you've never known

Staring at the bruises on your face
one day you loved and the next you hate
but reality comes slow and you've grown so fast

You see yourself through your own eyes
and one day you'll wonder why
you prayed silently every night

may you never
know the strike
before it
becomes a blow
may you hope
to escape before
it starts to snow
hope you will never hate
what you've never known

may you only hope
that it will someday end
may you wish
you could only bend
may you never hate
what you've never known

Catching tears in the bottom of a glass
bleeding internally, drinking emptiness so fast
but the world won't last

But you see them truly when they rise
rolling so they don't spy upon your thighs
bruised so deep, fingerprints you will keep

may you never
know the strike
before it
becomes a blow
may you hope
to escape before
it starts to snow
hope you will never hate
what you've never known

may you only hope
that it will someday end
may you wish
you could only bend
may you never hate
what you've never known


and you've never known

The lamb it was a good
friend, always there when
the rumors spread, the lies
were like a virus that spread
through out my friends.

It made me think it was a friend,
when I was shunned by those
who were meant to be friends.
But I saw a tooth in this lamb it
left scratches on my mind.

I was on the hunt for truths
that lay hidden, and then the
lamb was reviled to be a wolf
preying on those around it
turning friend against friend.

Always there for me but was
whispering lies and being there
for other friends, it showed
its true face with a smile its
teeth did show and the claws
were in everyone each others friends.

It howled with glee at what it had
done, thinking it was a lamb a friend,
but was a wolf what prayed upon the
weakness of its prey, for we were the
lambs, and it left to hunt for new pray
never was it seen again..

Life is a tight rope some times,
we may cross and do it with
ease, but with every walk
there is a chance we will
miss step and fall, only to
be caught by the safety net
of life called are friends.

But with every walk we
can misjudge a step and
the wire may start to swing
and if we do not balance are
life we could if fact fall.

Life is a tight rope that is
walked upon everyday, we
may survive every walk, but
some in fact even you may
tire and fall.

You may not have the net
friends not there to catch
you when you fall, life is a
a balancing act and some
times we fall crumpled
motionless on the floor.

Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.

Have you ever
Truly, contemplated
The Void?
Have you?
Really?
Ever?

It's blackness
surrounds us
In all directions
Wrapped in its
Utter empty
Dark embrace

And we spiral down
within it
Like a lost soul
In a deep
Gravity well.

Around a yellow
Many-blessed star
Which itself
Circles the
Frigid centre
Of a Galaxy
A wide, Milky way
Saggittarian armed

Which itself
Is moving
Circling away
from a point
with its
Peers contained in
The Virgo cluster

Away, and away.
One day to unite
Violently
With Andromenda
2 million years
Of light away

Herself
In a collision
So vast,
the heavens will
Tremble
And worlds
Will spin
Off their axis'

And yet, this
Is as nothing
When compared
To the void.
The nothingness
The totality
Alpha - Omega
It watches us
Mutely
Waiting
Our turn
To return

It watches all its
Galactic children
As they
Run away
Gravity wise
Forever, eternally
From the point
At which they
Formed/born

Heat, energy
Perfect symmetry
Broken and
Shattered
Resulting
In the Void

That point
Is where the Void began
It's career of
Darkness and
Silence
Its airless cold presence
Embraces all

And ever since
Its......................
Nothingness has been
Increasing
Relentless
Light year upon
Light year

Yes, it is truth
Nothingness
Is the true nature
Of this Universe
God's creation
That we think
So mundane

The one we feel
Is packed with life,
Woods, hills, tree
Small towns
Pieces of paper

But we live in a special place
Places that are something
Are the exception
Not the rule
Which is no thing
We are so rare,
like a single teardrop
In a pacific ocean of
Nothing

Beyond here
Up there
Down there
Across there
It seems filled to
Brim with stars
Twinkle with promise
But be warned

All the stars and
Galaxies (red and blue)
Would not fill
A millionth of a
Percentile
Of the universal void.
It swallows them
All, entirely

Gently staring at us
Forever
From its dark
Black eye

Think on that
And then
Think again
And again
You cannot
Contain it
No thing
Can

The stars
And all the planets
Nebuli and holes
black and dark
Are as nothing
Human beings
Thought
Ephemeral
Taken whole

Compared to the real
Stuff of Universe
Which is void.

Think upon it
As much as you can
On a cloudness night
Stare into the sky
And realize
You are truly
looking into
Eternity

A void so utterly empty
That all things
that are, or will be
Mean no thing
To it, its deep
black heart
And complete
Perfect
emptiness

If you do not
Swoon with fear
And tremble
With excitement
At the reality of
This fact
Of your
true existence

And of
Your private
privililge
To glimpse
At this no thing

From a tiny
blue/white
rock-made ball
Of a home
Trapped in nothing
Then you have not
Truly
Contemplated
The reality of
The Void.........

you can not confess what I have already drawn in words
you can not feel what I have inscripted on my soul
transferred into these pixels of light and dark.
they are not your notions they are mine
they bleed my name
and seep my ssoul.
and when you deconstruct them
and pile them up in a different order,
you can not erase me and call them your own mine
when my heart notes are stolen they call to me
and wish themselves home to me
and you who have stolen what can not be yours
will ever know that sprite of inspiration
shared generously with you is not yours
do not confuse it with intellect they are the seals on my soul
do what you will with them, but they are my heart scrolls
when heart notes are stolen they aren't like real kisses
deep and from your soul,
they are forced and devoid of meaning, with only superficial gain.
I want them all back under my breast back to their home,
each and every one under my heart felt seal of pain.

Shades of solitude
Inviting me for a day of
self talk, truth finding

Where the river meanders for the sky’s embrace
Her lovelorn bank pines in the banyan’s shade
Blue ripples sing to soothe her travel’s stress
Lay me when all poems are dead in my head.

Write me an epitaph here rests the river poet
Who loved the cotton clouds mirrored on her breast
As her tides rose high laden with desire’s weight
He broke away from chains to madly sail her crest.

Where shines the moon makes the lover’s pathway
Flows quiet the river in her waves shadows sway
Night heron’s feet kiss her soft feathered bed
Lay me in silence when all poems are dead.

Lay me soft down make for me a space
On her alluvial soil in her riverine grace
In her diurnal shine and night’s saline kiss
The river poet would find his eternal peace.