I once laid in my bed content
With mama’s prayers tucked in.
Listening to trains far off across
River trestles on rails stretched
To places I could only dream of.

Beginner’s luck the magic strong.
Reality and dreams synonymous.
Early the seeds of wanderlust
Planted.

Talents forged of
Cardboard boxes and
Old trunks in the attic
And of games with friends
In woods and streets.

Old Mr. Robling’s eyes looked
Beyond . . .
Child’s play would end
Someday.

That day eventually came in
Linear time
But much longer to this
Wandering mind
That thought beyond the grade
School desk when my adolescent
Peer’s noses were buried deep.

Wander and travel lust left this boy
Rootless and restless when time
Came to stop chasing mirages
Of greener pastures.

He then looked up and saw
His little one’s grown up
With a somewhat similar
Bittersweet taste of chasing
Elusive islands of emerald green
Seen as lush vivid images
On their built-in larger-than-life
Mental GPS screens
Programmed to ****** the
Wanderer into the delusion that
They can take extended or even
Permanent excursions far from

The
Great
Gray
Banal
Sea.

Not very long ago this ageless
Boy was forced into settling for
Stark reality.
But he is slowly growing a bit
More comfortable in his own skin.

The grass is still a bit green
But parts are a bit dry
Patchy and crabgrass ridden.

At least it fashionably matches
His soul . . .
Poetic justice for trading
Most of your life for
The elusive
Obvious.

I still cling tight to my childhood  
In my own non-linear time of
One hundred years ago

But far too young in linear time
To be residing in
A tired body
Which many define age as
Value was once
Measured by quality not
Quantity

And as those running the track
And roaming free over
Thousands of acres
Of wide-open
Plains as opposed to those
Put out to pasture or waiting
In line

At
The
Glue
Factory

Upon singed wings i flew
Out of a blackened sky.
Into a world brand new
Sailing on healing wings.

Viewing eternal through
Filters of life and spirit.
A somewhat darker hue
Compared to what's in store!

This light filled my eyes
As it gently blinded me.
Burned off thick scales of lies
As I began to clearly see

We are spirit's with bodies
Not the other way around.
Subject to carnal folly
Diseases of pleasure & pain.

Perception gauging flow
In mind's clockwork askew.
Neutralizing eternal spiritual
Validating only the temporal.

wake me
               shake me
out of this febrile trance
furtively pilfering my
heart's ancient treasure
once guarded
by comforting spirits
of warm hopes and
beliefs held beyond reason

never questioned
by the minds tribunal
the jurors seated
in the cranial court
knowing eyes silenced
by misguided faith's rhetoric

never minding
the persuasive muzzle
often ignoring serpent's
retractable tongue
always turning from
the dark corridors
light banished
by modern-day pharisees

cloaked in mantles of treason
patronizingly diluting
what can only remain pure
painted with pious platitudes

away
         far away
i must sail from this folly
an orphan of mystical doubt
the frost and cold tempest I feel

cautious sensibilities
a tenuous guide
through these gray
realms I traverse
                      
trembling hands
grasp transient hopes
striving to shape
deeper meaning

disciplining lazy
traditional beliefs
that hang on like
phosphorescent
spiders in the dusty
lofty
rafters of memory

deceptive iconic silhouettes
faded       de-spiritualized
superimposed on a
human-made landscape
a beautiful picture
gold frame and all!

absence of religious
pop-culture faith
eclipses peace
i shudder at the prospect
of this purge
preparing for burial
what must die
the end of an age
burned in effigy

a raging wilderness
I now pass through
i stumble by many
a familiar and
unfamiliar fane
longing to be clothed
with a mantle of peace
                    
a vulnerable yet
strong spirit I guard
let not trivialized faith be
my misleading guide

and if it is all meaningless
alas! it may be
still I must forge
ahead to the sea
ever mindful that rivers
never return to where
they have been
separated at birth

i often hear roaring waves
crashing and gentler waves
lapping on shore
but a body of water
is not always the Sea.