Your home in White Rocks Marina you sat; always there to greet your crew before a voyage. Your red sails standing out among the rest. Silently awaiting your Skipper, our own George Hay Kain, as you rested in your slip, anxious to get underway. You wouldn’t make a sound as you patiently waited for your crew to load their gear down below. After quick yet thorough engine checks your Yanmar engine would roar to life, never failing to put a smile on your Skipper’s face. Your stern lines would come off. Your excitement would rise but you would remain still waiting to be completely free. Your bow lines would come off. You then would gracefully back out of your slip, ready for yet another adventure. Onto the Bay you’d go, wondering where you’d end up next. No matter the challenges you faced, whether in the open ocean, or in the Chesapeake Bay; you always brought your crew home safely; you always prevailed.

My personal experiences aboard never left the Chesapeake Bay, however, the Bay was all I needed. Each moment I spent on board; each trip I attended; will remain with me always: My First Voyage with our Skipper, Branson, DJ, and Sam; Chestertown; simply preparing you for the winter; Long Cruise; Hurricane Irene; Your Final Voyage.

So faithful you would be for your crew, for your Skipper; harsh conditions or not. You may not be resting in your slip in White Rocks Marina, anxious to get underway, but you will always be in the memories, and the hearts, of Skipper George Hay Kain, and the crew of Sea Scout Ship 25.

May you now sail freely across the horizon, out on the open ocean,

Kuan Yin.

The Rhyming Shuffle

Feeling all alone,
life is on postpone.
No one seems to care,
time is now to beware.
Stick me with a fork,
in my *** is a scented cork.
Farts smelling like a rose,
watching bodies decompose.
Climbing up Jacob's ladder,
peeing a lot cause of my bladder.
Calling me an Uncle Tom,
shaving my hairy palm.
Addicted to Candy Crush,
brain turning into mush.
Tired of always snapping,
I deserve some ***** slapping.
Grass is always greener,
with the little old lady from Pasadena.
On board the love boat,
left me with a sore throat.
Saving money is impossible,
spending is just unstoppable.
Writing rhymes is all I know,
all my ducts are in a row.
Going fishing without a pole,
one to many hits from my bowl.
Dying of old age,
took my final bow,
on the center stage.

Heavy Metal Lovers


A rolling stone gathers no moss the only time I was good at something all it took was four wheels
And you could be a Genius I guess the wheels gives it away this isn’t about bad boy bands heavy
That broke many a levees of the mind but it is inextricably wound together with music and how apropos
To write about it today when the music of all heaven was called to silence and then a whole lot of
Shaking began When **** Clark walked through the gate don’t waist it just taste it it’s all right to be
Burly and squirrely “Get lost in the rock and roll” amp it up Bob Seeger everything comes with rules
There was time before Elvis but it still applied cool cats had one command be cool don’t break the
Jackson rule of Cool Square is not the fit you want to project oh the sixties the place the strip in
Hollywood the car an Austin Healy convertible if they even had hard tops which I doubt reading Michael
Canes auto biography he spoke of him being there I didn’t see him but he got swallowed up by the
Great beast it flowed out of those clubs into the street the sidewalks full of hot babes and cool dudes
We were so low it was like you were on the payment it even got into the act there was a raw energy
That electrified every ounce of your being it rose out of the payment and cruised those Hollywood
Streets plus every street in America felt its heat and heard it s roar red cherry glass pack mufflers
Then songs took up the anthem I had fun fun until my daddy took my T bird away shutem down GTO Jan
and Dean’s Drag City, Dead Man’s Curve, The little old lady from Pasadena and many more but the king
of cars that held the title was held by no other than the Cobra we were a couple of brazen GIs with a
Seventy two hour pass we met the enemy at a stop light the Austin Healy sounded so throaty in that
Southern California night air and we lived the song do you know the way to San Jose LA isn’t nothing but
A bunch of old freeways we would roar up the entrance to the ten the Malibu highway the Five to Dego
The 710 to long beach and the Queen Mary this southern California kid from Compton a suburb of LA
Was giving me the grand tour Disney and Knox berry later in the day the big sad Walt had just died
And then there was this monster next to us it was towering before we felt so continental a slight British
Smugness as we drove this fine European sports car but when the lion roars your purring becomes a
Little puckish it was bulging in comparison we were like a joke your mother won’t let you have a real car
What did they paint the light red how many shades of red did we turn as we set in this shadow of green
Paint and death for any idiot that tossed out a challenge when he took off it was like our car was
Wearing a smug British suit and the force he generated when he accelerated tore every stitch off down
To just underwear praying the smog would quickly envelop us the rest of the way didn’t happen so you
Do what anyone does you choose the less of two evils and rattle on about how they put Porches engines
Into VW bugs like who cares why is one of those suckers behind us well they are cool and this is about
Cool cars you could always tell them by the tail pipe instead of a round rifle barrel it had a wide round
Funnel at the end like the old blunder bust guns of the colonists then an era and times needs a voice
The male was a mix of Lou Rawls and Berry white doing the singing but also any time introduction was
Needed Aretha took care of the female side Jimmy Hendrix took care of the instrument on his
Supernatural guitar Hugh Masicali African Jazz drummer follow the beat every teen Idol was making
The girls swoon then you add in the mix the American auto chrome and steel dreams see the heat rising
Flashes that were blurs running wide open filled with teens and thrill filled screams and then there was
The exit and the entrance there was a royal distinction that rubbed off on its occupants the cool look
And clothes and hair for both sexes dreamy stars in all places not just the bright lights of movie magic
For girls it was they rode well but if they took the wheel this sealed the deal how can you add curves to
Curves they had the saying your blowing my mind man it in toned them as perfect inter changeable the
Womanly softness the interior the lines outside truly defined you are in the presence of qualities that
Run deeper than just the surface you see so much more how blessed when both car and women
Continually amaze you think you discovered everything oh foolish one you just stepped into another
Power zone that was built in at creation somehow the car was somewhat accidental but the woman’s
Was on purpose cheating would cease to a great extent if the truth was only known you got more
Excitement than you will ever know and for the man let him step out rise to his full height there is
Something sweeping and grand about it how could it be any different muscle and brawn distinction
Used as in art subtle but by being so it is so telling appeal runs no stronger and it effects effortlessly
Adds maximum benefit and joy girls find it unmercifully enjoyable packaged like fine wine in a wooden
Box with straw in other words perfected delivery of romance simply a soothe that washes over you
With lasting ramification the golden straw has glistening particles as well as star dust that make other
World tastefulness abide in two lives equally shared so drive into the setting sun in your own heavy
Metal dream that we love so well

Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?

The Little Old Lady From Pasadena
My Hot Rod Lincoln...oh
Daddy took my t-bird away
Where did my car songs go?

Way back in the sixties
The car song, it was boss
Where has the music travelled
It's this generations loss

Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?


Hot Rods, and dune buggies
The cars would go go go
Where are the car songs hiding
Does anybody know?

I miss my barracuda
My "Woody"  was the bomb
There's nothing out there like it
Where has the car song gone?

The music they are playing
Just puts me fast asleep
I need to hear my car song
No more "Rolling In The Deep"

Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?

And so I wandered
Out

Have you ever just walked
Relaxed
And walked upon the earth?

It's quite beautiful
And yet how can I explain
In words

I can only try
But walkers

You know
You know

Observers
You know too

Parked at the library
And walked through the park

Through those suburban
Neighborhoods
Of Pasadena

I see"E Clampus Vitus"
On a license plate

The founder of
The order was Tertullian

A Christian
But A heretic
Nonetheless

His teaching
On the trinity reveals
A subordination

Of Son to Father
That the church
Described
As a form
Of Arianism

A man read a book
In that car

And
As I walked some yards by
I banged my hiking sticks
Together

Angry at her
For something she said

I tell you living
With your parents
At this age

Is a pain
And life is always
About money

Turns out
I'm just a debt slave
In this miserable land

And so I wandered on
Through those
Suburban streets
Expensive
Ranch style
California homes

Massive shady trees
Out of the sun and
Into the shade

No one to hug
I'm used to this
After all
It's my life

And so I settled
In the park
After wandering

Yes,
I'm a park dweller now

And as I lay against
The tree
I observed the volleyball game

And as I write this poem
I think about the therapist
She used to say my poems
Were beautiful

We had a good time

I was relying on you
I was having an enjoyable time

Then you left
Why did it have
To be that way?

I got sidetracked there
Well anyhow I watched
The volleyball game

And two people
Train their pitbull
To catch the frisbee

I had thought earlier
How I had played
Baseball on that field
Some twenty years ago

Those little gnats
The sun lights them up
As they swarm in the light

I am a lover of the light

You know to see the afternoon
And the evening
It is sacred to me

And from that park I made
My way back to my neighborhood park

A pretty woman making
A call on the green benches
Underneath the warm yellow glow
Of the oblong overhead lights

She looked my way
I was nestled in the corner
Against the tree
With my small blue bag
To lay my head on
And my yoga mat

I wanted to say hello
To her as I made my way
To my car
To get my iphone
She was at her car too

But no, those are just dreams
My life is maybe like
That of a wandering
Chaste monk

Oh yes
And I forgot
To mention earlier
That I crossed myself
After I banged
The hiking sticks together

I'll leave that portion here
Even though it belongs
Earlier in this composition
Because it is the order
In which it was remembered

After reading about
The life of St. Antony

Well I feel called
To live that life
I am chaste
And poor

The world has
Rejected me

The stillness of nature
Yes, this is the way
The way for me

St. Antony was of
The desert

I am of the mountains
And valleys

you are a child
opening presents at 6:34 PST on a
Sunny Christmas morn in PASADENA, CA
while her parents look on in
feigned interest
razor scooter abandoned amid
crushed scrunched wrapping paper as you
tear apart a box of Legos
for the plasticky viscera contained therein.

you are a teen,
finding marijuana at 15:34 CST under a
bed in BOULDER, CO
while your parents shout at your brother
feigning sympathy
simply to ****** it back
and you are wrenching open ziplock
to swallow a chunk of his stash
and you find yourself
enamored with the aroma.

you are a woman,
fighting for equality at 10:26 EST wielding
picket sign (paint and sharpie on cardboard) and megaphone in
MANHATTAN, NY
while your parents
turn over in their graves,
uncertain what you are
fighting for.

A Peregrine Falcon circled the vast expanse of grounds surrounding the huge manse in Old Pasadena. It soared, looking for a favorable tree to land upon. Rabbit hunting. The bunnies loved to crop the grass growing on the expansive lawns.

The bright wind played windchimes of the leaves of the trees, a lilting, rustling sound barely heard above the birdsong of midmorning in Pasadena. A normal morning in every way. But not for Sir Arthur Barrett. Nor his murderer.
   Lord Arthur's heels beat a tattoo on the Persian rug in his library. His hands first scattered the pieces of the puzzle he'd been working on, then grasped at his throat, constricted as it was by the plastic bag stretched across his face and neck. The muffled sound barely heard over the cacophony of birds...

---  

   The old mansion where Lord Arthur met his violent demise was named Puzzle Tree Mansion, in part by the many Puzzle Trees growing on its property, but that was not the only reason. The entire mansion was a puzzle.
Every room of it. Each had a secret. A false bottom drawer. A secret passageway. You even had to solve a riddle to work the bidets in the bathrooms! In short, it was a puzzle, within a riddle, within a conundrum. Sir Arthur had loved it that way. He had, in his lifetime been a writer of mysteries. The author of arguably the most popular American mystery... The Monkey
Puzzle Box.

First I went on a hike in the canyon
I made sure that my stone message
Was still in tact

I saw a woman who I often see working out at my gym
A beautiful asian woman and her dog
I bet she would love my companionship
I would love to give her oral pleasure

I made sure that my stone message
Was still in tact
"There are four lights"
A testament to man's ability to reason
Captain Picard was tortured

He was promised a life of ease
And luxury
If he would change his answer
He would rather live as a slave
Then be a non rational being

There are four lights!
Picard, my hero

My stone inscription
Is a testament to your dedication to reason
Man's ability to reason comes from God, the source.

I emerged from the canyon
Walking with my hiking sticks
And went for a relaxing drive
As I am often prone to do

There is something sacred about the evening
I would say it is my favorite time of day
I wound my way up into upper Altadena

I saw a woman walking her dog
I made my way back down and reached Lake
Then headed west of Lake

I saw a woman pulling up to her residence
She emerged from her car
What a beautiful body she had
I hope I find a mistress like her one day

There is something sacred about the Tao
I like to observe
A man on his bike made his way past me
And followed my route back toward Pasadena

I ended up in Best Buy
Still enjoying my podcast
About British colonies during the American Revolution

It is fun to wander
No particular purpose
No rhyme or reason
Just to wander
And listen to my podcast

I very much enjoy the Tao
I enjoy observing everyday life

I got my hiking poles and made my way
Into the neighborhood
Parallel to the Best Buy parking lot

I saw a beautiful woman heading in to her house
As I walked by
And a few other men walking in the neighborhood

My how I love to go walking
Something ancient and beautiful about it
I think about the beauty of walking

Too many Americans waste time
Sitting in front of the television
They should tune in to reality
Tune in to mother earth
The Tao is wise mother

The Tao is just normal everyday consciousness
It is said that a man who understands the Tao
Can die content in the evening
Having observed the course of the day

One day I hope to go walking with a woman
A woman who cares for me
I am such a kind person

It would be a tragedy not to meet someone

What Should I do?
On a Sunday afternoon
Alone in a suburnan home

In a quiet mountain suburb
The homes here are ranch style
First built in the fifties

This is Pasadena
Home of the Rose Parade

I guess I could
Wander out again
With rain clothes

Or wait until it stops
I suppose I'll go up the
Mountain

Or to the park
I'm not sure

No parties to go to
No money to spend

I went to the gym today
Watched a documentary
On Shaolin monks

I don't know
What to do
With myself anymore

I've spent my life
Alone

It was nice to meet
With the therapist
Funny you don't realize
How much you enjoy
Someone's company

Until they leave

Well I'll be somewhere
Out there
Walking around

Searching for what
I do not know

I figure the female friend
Is not coming

I am content to
Walk around for hours

Earth is strange
A great mystery

Sometimes
I dream
I live in a community
With other people
I can spend with
Sometime

Oh
What should I do?

The mountain view is beautiful
Perhaps I'll just go to
The park today

I am a bit tired from working out
Strange
Human life
Incredibly strange

They say no man
Is an island

But I'm close