These are our times,
Each of us in our cyber shells,
Stagnantly appealed to atrophy,
Sailing in search of the long
                Lost spirit,
That one gleam in our existence,
That esteemed ambrosia,
Callused palms,
          Achin’ back
Stars shooting themselves,
Through our wings.

We can dance on moonlight,
We can sing right to the earth,
We can move atop,
          Saunter into the horizon
Yet we safely sit nestled,
Afraid of our neighbors,
A new paranoia,
McCarthyism eat your heart out,
          They’ll ban freedom,
          They’ll root us out,
If only we could come together,
I fear,
That no one is left,
To live as,
The fearless had.
That the once,
Benevolent virtue,
Of being human,
In all that horrid splendor,
Has washed away,
The spirit left on the shore,
Waving.

I haven’t seen anything,
Like the Ol’ Seraphim saw,
Or the Ol’ Duluoz saw,
O has it all been lost,
Somehow the latency has produced,
A grand homogenized pile of ****.
With everyone afraid of the shadow,
Imagined,
Looming overhead,
Heating the backs,
Tearing at the truth at heart,
The sight unbearable,
People try to be people.

The impact of what had happened,
Now riding the rails,
Still on the course,
This wild horse will take,

Things will always change,
There are truisms to be had,
Dissolved into the land,
I hope for a band to come out,

A real group,
A bunch of people all there,
Out there,
In here,
Over there,
Everywhere,
That can think,
Feel,
See,
Be seen,
Communicate,
Chanting,
Silently,
Beheaded,
Buddha-fied,
Chr­istly,
Godliness,
They are bare,
Naked,
Covered in the filth,
Of pure humanity,
Celebrating breath,
Creating something,
It wouldn’t all have to make sense,
Some of it may be hard to follow,
--misinterpreted—
Partitioned as pure nonsense,
The lama lama ding blah blah,
Could come off as that fevored,
Sought after rhythms,
Straight ahead to the main destiny,
That inevitable fortitude,
Caught in the clouds,
Foretold by the unseen Unknown,
Chaos imbedded in our skin,
Slinking off,
Erupting into the cosmos,
Connecting our bemused souls,
Like the rain toppling down the mountain,
No picture can encapsulate
This mosaic of mankind,
But this is our time,
Right here and now,
While the whole thing is still moving,
Almost tripping over its own feet,
As it has always done,
The sigh of relief when,
In the blindest revelation,
In the darkest caves of ignorance,
In the coursing waters,
In the towering worlds here,
Even the truest of falsehoods,
Makes the whole thing called life,
Worth a ****.























Drawing in Dawn:

The sight of it,
The sun,
Being birthed,
From the womb,
Of the Horizon.

I draw a breath,
As I watch,
Reminiscent of,
The Moon,
Entangled in,
The eternal,
Nightly web.

The forces,
The push and pull,
Waves in,
Counter balance,
Like the,
Drawing in of,
Embrace,
The pull of,
Ever drawing time.























The dusty rag tumbled down the mountain,
Only to be shunned by everyone,
Destitute in absolute desolation,
Roaming as it had always done.

Then it came to rest beside the grove,
In an inlet that rang with melodious wonder,
It became awashed by the world’s beauty,
Lost in the splendor of it all.

Time passed faster as the grace seeped in,
The pores of its flesh inflated, elated,
The flash of fiery thunder roared,
The sand fell onto its back, and dust returned.

Time had come to move on and break aloof,
From the fortitude and pleasure allotted,
For the call of the wind was too great,
To ignore for any longer.