I provide calm after you rile the storm,
You stir the hornets, while I fight the swarm

You curse the darkness - I kindle the flame,
And should you stumble,  you say I'm to blame

A song sung by two must have harmony,                                                  
But you think my songs are always off-key;

Try as I may to meet your every need,
No feast I prepare can appease your greed

How can we survive rough seas and fierce gales
In a boat with split masts and tattered sails?

Well, change is coming, and I'll not pretend
That I'm sad to see this fiasco end

And I see glory in the coming days --
A new horizon is flaunting  its rays;

This game is over,  I'll not be the pawn.
You are insufferable  . . .  and I am gone!

sage trees and salten stars
upon a pepper sky
once i walked
with my true love
through the fields of rye

parsley groves and hills of clove
sweet rosemary hair
we walked through the fields of rye
and smelled the savory air

embracing in the cinnamon
the world of heat and steam
it was stream of consciousness
it was just a dream

i looked at my love's lemon eyes
smiled at him and said,
"i really must have dinner
before i go to bed!"



Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
:soulsurvivor


4:00 in the morning
and I woke up hungry

Hallelujah from the heart of Leonard Cohen
just took Leonard and his old scratchy voice
into my heart. What a gift my music app
just slung into my afternoon
to wake me from my late afternoon fatigue.

I do not take these tech gifts for granted
remembering when I would have to get the LP album
from off the crammed shelf and play it on a turntable.

Here in a moment of peace
I look up and see the trees
and the neighbor’s garden
beyond my windows.

And I thank God for this lovely peaceful moment
thank my old piano teacher
and the conductor of the Houston Youth Symphony
where I sang before my voice changed
and my parents who carpooled me from our suburb
to the old auditorium downtown
where my young mind and soul were nourished
by adults who cared for our young minds and voices.

Who knew that the gifts of these people
would spring up in my mind eight decades later
and mental images of Leopold Stokowski who directed us
at a grand concert in the Houston Music Hall.
He loved children but delivered high pitched hell
to the symphony players at rehearsals.