ah the mystic madness!
   what within my mind?
       seek but does not find
              time. time. time.

Violence and Hypocrisy
America the Abyss
Blue sky yellow yearning
******* times like this

Gratitude to see them
sleep. sleep. sleep.

              sleep

the permission of predation
this one can't be known

the innocent in this situation
faith, and faith alone.

The only God Zarathustra would believe in
Is a God who could dance! ...

Zarathustra said would
But Zarathustra WILL not
Do not misunderstand him

             - Friedrich Nietzsche
              Thus Spoke Zarathustra


At the still point, there the dance is
Except for the point, the still point
There would be no dance
And there is only the Dance

               - T.S. Eliot
                 4 Quartets

my problems with depression
life as relentless pain
never been to Heaven
never been to Spain

the rain sounds so good
I hope I die in sleep
protection for my sons
promises to keep

            Ms. Susan Meek

Life as perpetual fear
Countries as unities of terror

        the American Abyss

futility in daily life
   moments of joy, moments of strife
                  restlessness rife...

                           agonia.

........The agony of race........
               in the States
            Useless debates
                      Fates

The aching loneliness
Wind in the trees
Please.

Can't find what I'm looking for
Anguish of the search
Not in a happy home
Not inside a church

Battle of South Mountain
Battle with my self
Seattle in the winter
Legolas the Elf

Oxford was quite beautiful
Twilight grey on blue
Mario Cuomo's article
Me at Seattle U.

Let centuries pass
Box clicks slowly open
Susan Darlene Meek
Holy holy spoken

                     Red Pine!

Time tick tocks on
Everything disappears

Except anxiety
And my mortal fears

This anguish still persists
Everything in vain

Mountains in the mist
La Mancha mystic Spain

                The Pain!

I am afraid I will be a psychiatrist's case study
Poetry comes from pain
Bad marriage, mental illness
I yearn for Purple Rain

I am haunted by the past
Can't let go; Can't forget
Live long and prosper
I'm not quite through this yet

                 Gambler's Bet.

Can't find what I'm looking for
Anguish of the search
Not in a happy home
Not inside a church

Battle of South Mountain
Battle with my self
Seattle in the winter
Legolas the Elf

Oxford was quite beautiful
Twilight grey on blue
Mario Cuomo's article
Me at Seattle U.

Let centuries pass
Box clicks slowly open
Susan Darlene Meek
Holy holy spoken

                     Red Pine!

It's a world of mystic terror
But wind blows through the trees

Help me take myself
Far less seriously

The yearning comes so strong
Will not let me go

Seattle and the Battle
Softfall cedar snow

Ay yay yay yay yo!

swimming, basketball, books
      photos to remember their looks
               my sons, my sons - gadzooks!

Journalist: What do you think of Western Civilization?

Mahatma Gandhi: I think it would be a good idea.

You never really know anything until you can explain it with clarity to an intelligent 11 year old girl, said Einstein.

I know they think God is not real
And they have Darwinian nature to prove it

Natural selection of the fittest
The weak ones their lives they lose it

I have no believable answer
To the predatory terror

I do have sins and suffering
But my life is not an error

Thin Red Line in Nature
Green snake in the grass

Blue sky in the morning
Eucharist at Mass

I have been truly tested
Thus it came to pass

The beautiful girl in Ireland
She was a grand wee lass!

I don't know about the alleged wisdom of poets and philosophers, but I can tell you they come to see me just as much as anybody else.

Said a temple courtesan from ancient Greece.

In one of his earlier incarnations, Pythagoras was a bird. And in another he was a fish.
He said.

Nature long ago condemned me and them both.

In one of his earlier incarnations, Pythagoras was a bird. And in another he was a fish.

He said.

Just a few hours in Monterrey
Nobody else on the beach
Quiet little tidal pools
My sons take off their socks

Photos in my memory
California grey not sun
Cheyney's got a gun
The sacred is Mr. Spock's

California is 40 million now
Soon only electric cars
Some say Santa Fe
Some say water on Mars

             xie xie Irish bars

Coastal California
The poetry of place
I saw Europa Report
Aliens in space?

San Francisco fog
Misty rain Seattle
History is undone
Tecumseh goes to battle

I miss her in the morning
Isn't hard to do
Silent meditation
Ah! Sophia U.

I wish I wasn't so serious
Humor has its place

The beautiful female form
Her hair. Her *******. Her face.

I drift on towards death
UFOs in Space

I'll disappear forever
Who will see my trace?

             Ah! her lace.

Atheism is a difficult sell in America
Land of Lincoln and King

But guns and drugs and violence
Ah! That's another thing

I'd like to live a gypsy life
Town to town by train

Start off in Budapest
End in La Mancha, Spain

Fly to Portland, Oregon
Drive to Portland, Maine

The problem with knowledge
Is that you can never go back

Innocence lost
At the scene of the attack

My favorite geeky uncle
Is my uncle Jack

Unknowing is slow going
But light does shine through the
                     cracks

Leonard Cohen was quite right
Broken grace in my CD stack

Late along in London
White man dancin' with the
                       blacks

Sand Creek massacre
Racehate manifest

Interview with Dylan
Still he is the best

Antelope Canyon
We take the beauty walk

The wind, the way, the water
No need at all to talk

Disappointment and pain
    Struggling daily life
                  hope...

Threads
Not only obsessions

Dread
Soul confessions

Meds
Matrix Resurrections

Cred
Taiwan free elections

Yes, it's meaningless
But I still I don't give up

Anxiety attacks
My life it does disrupt

But just that one good look
That is itself enough

                  Futurity!

Moonlight in my hands tonight
Nothing there at all

If Jesus was from Mississippi
My sons in Wetheral

My friend Mark met his wife
At the Senior Ball

The sadness. The aching sadness.
I feel so helpless small

       Leaves. Rain. Mist. Fall.

Sometimes it"s better
When we don't get to touch our dreams
Rainin' hard in Frisco
Wildman Wizard inside me

No sexuality in the Lord of the Rings
Gandalf the Grey turns White
12:22
I'm awake again in the night

Women as they really are
Cruel and selfish and pretty
Stockholm in the summer
Such a pretty city!

A wiser and a sadder man
53 and falling
Little Sage Ridge School
I hear London Calling

               Come out!

I seek but cannot find
back home and all alone

email from a friend
gratitude is grown

quiet, quiet, quiet
no answer on my cell phone

what is consciousness?
my mind in time does moan

The players return to their respective bases.

The presumably apocraphyl tale of the cowboy who shot Iago dead on stage during a 19th century production of Othello in the American West.

The presumably apocryphal story of the American cowboy who shot Iago dead when Othello was performed in the 19th century West.

Mine eyes hath seen the glory of Rabindranath Tagore.

From a Hemingway letter to Charles Scribner:  For my 50th birthday,  I ****** three times, shot 5 quail (very fast ones), and looked the ocean all day for big fish.

Why has Writer always suspected the parenthesis is modifying the wrong activity?

Dear Sir,

      I am sitting in the smallest room in my house.  Your review is before. It shall soon be behind me.

my hopes might hide in ignorance
ignorance and surprise

the ignorance Socratic
the kind that’s actually wise

surprise almost suspicion
something else perhaps the case

unknown, now undiscovered,
in this Land of Waste

de docta ignorantia
and on desperation too

what happens when the Unknown Land
appears a bit to view?

Neither God nor Reason
But a country full of treason

Awake again at night
The terror and the fright

I so miss my boys!
For them please future joys.

Sleep and quiet calm
The phone calls are the balm.

I had messianic terrors
I admit I'm glad I fought
But now just hopes and fears
For Cate and Mark and Scott

Nothing satisfies
Not food or drink or ***
I wonder what she thinks of me now
My long lost ex

Sleep, grateful sleep
Speeding bullet train
European history
Purple Rain! Purple Rain!

Now she lives in you
Which is what Pat Hinman told me
When my mom died.

               I tried, Mom. I tried.

The Church is corrupt.
The President is a fascist.
The country is racist.
I am falling and often in despair.

Have I given up hope?

Yep.

Nope.