#values
I seek connection with the river of stardust which flows through the infinite ocean of creation
I am born, I will live, I will die
Creation was never born, it was here all the time, and will be, ever changing
Time is the mysterious whisper of infinity
Along my journey I will be compassionate, loving and share my spirit
I am one tiny grain of sand in the great mandela I am born, I will live, I will die
My atoms came from the stars and will be scattered again throughout the galaxies
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 8:15 AM UTC
If I seek the truth I continue to learn
If I continue to learn I continue to grow
If I continue to grow
I become more today than I was yesterday
If I become more
I am alive in the fullest sense until my breath ceases
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 8:14 AM UTC
Here is a link to a song I worked on yesterday from lyrics derived from my poem with the same name from 2020. I'm having fun with this, though frustrated at Suno not cooperating in cloning my voice yet. (Voice and music generated based on my prompts and many iterations at Suno).
Song link (free): https://suno.com/s/IRFEXshTGD7FnFDW
True Wealth
[Verse 1]
Government can take your money,
Thugs can take it, and your life,
There’s only one thing you own, friend,
That’s impervious to strife.
[Verse 2]
Governments can’t confiscate it,
You can use it, share it freely,
And you’ll never use it up,
Pays tax-free dividends for life.
[Chorus]
Only your honor’s worth more,
Can’t buy it in any store.
Your greatest legacy, true,
Unlike this wealth, can lose it too.
[Verse 3]
War can’t dilute its value,
Thrives in markets, bull and bear,
All this is the truth, I swear,
It’s even recession proof!
[Verse 4]
Not stocks, bonds, or precious gold,
Nor currency of any kind,
It is owned by young and old,
Princes, paupers of sound mind.
[Chorus]
Only your honor’s worth more,
Can’t buy it in any store.
Your greatest legacy, true,
Unlike this wealth, can lose it too.
[Bridge]
Verse 5]
The more you have, the more it grows,
Whether you get it for free,
Or buy it for a high fee,
Its value is just the same.
[Verse 6]
It’s the only one true wealth,
To which wise humans aspire,
It can be used and improved,
And shared widely once acquired.
[Chorus]
Only your honor’s worth more,
Can’t buy it in any store.
Your greatest legacy, true,
Unlike this wealth, can lose it too.
[Outr ]
The wealth is knowledge, as you may have thought,
The only coin with which wisdom is bought.
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 3:46 PM UTC
Verse 1
Yesterday's gone, won't return,
Tomorrow may never come,
Live to the fullest today,
For the race is too soon run.
Verse 2
Seek neither fortune nor fame,
Do good work, they you will find,
Look with your heart and you'll see,
Ample treasures all around.
Chorus
Yesterday's gone, won't return,
Tomorrow may never come,
Live to the fullest today,
For the race is too soon run.
Verse 3
The most precious things in life,
Are never those you can buy,
Love shared, honor served, lives touched,
The legacy we leave behind.
Chorus
Yesterday's gone, won't return,
Tomorrow may never come,
Live to the fullest today,
For the race is too soon done.
Verse 4
Teach your children, love your friends,
Help your colleagues all around,
Share time not just money with them,
Plant good seeds in fertile ground.
Outr
Love shared, honor served, lives touched,
The legacy you'll leave behind.
You can hear my song free of charge at the following link (no sign-up necessary): https://suno.com/s/D3SdhT3sLNon7inz
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 12:37 PM UTC
She says the streetlights blink like tired witnesses,
every flicker a lie we agreed to keep breathing
we dress our sins in daylight and call it living,
as if the sky forgot how to take notes.
We laugh too loud at things that should bury us,
mouths stained with jokes that smell like graves
there are children learning silence before speech,
watching us normalize the unholy like weather.
She confesses: it wasn’t sudden, this rot
it was drip-fed through screens, through shrugs, through “it’s fine,”
until even guilt started feeling like nostalgia,
and heaven became a rumor we scroll past.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 7:21 AM UTC
The child is dead.
The earth drank down her cries,
a final, gurgling sigh the rain-washed street
absorbs without a tremor. Overhead,
the sky’s vast, stupid blue observes it all.
And in the chapel, polished, hushed, and sweet,
with candlelight and lilies, voices rise
to praise a hidden calculus, a seat
of judgement that we must, in faith, call good.
But I have counted up the sum of things
in the long ledger of the fever-ward.
I’ve watched the cancer eat a mother’s brain
while prayer groups knit soft blankets in the narthex.
I’ve seen the famine’s arithmetic: the cost
of grain is weighed against a toddler’s weight.
And in the silence that these horrors bring,
a question forms, a serpent in the orchard.
Is God willing to prevent this evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent. So let us speak it plain:
he is a crippled king, a well-meaning fable,
a gardener with blight upon his grain.
His arm is short, his vision clouded, weak.
He meant the world for joy, but lost the reins.
We build our cathedrals to a divine antique,
a wounded watchmaker bound in his own chains.
To such a god, I owe no awe---but grief,
a fellow-sufferer, stumbling, blind, and brief.
Is he able, but not willing? Then is he malevolent.
Then he is not a father, but a fiend.
He sits above carnage, complacent and excellent,
and watches while the mechanisms grind.
He could divert the bullet, still the gas,
un-make the tumor with a single thought,
but finds a reason in the suffering class---
some “greater good” that must be dearly bought.
A god who holds the cure and turns his head,
who has the power, but lets the child drop dead,
is not a being to be loved or praised,
but one to be defied, with fist upraised.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Then from himself! The logic is complete.
He is the author, then, the prime and primal
architect of every burning street.
He writes the script of **** of war, of bone
that grinds to dust beneath the tank’s slow tread.
He is the silence in the frantic phone,
the final, whispered prayer beside the bed.
If he is both, then evil is his art,
a masterpiece of agony, his “plan.”
And worship is the most obscene of parts
we play for a celestial tyrant-man.
Then call him not the Good, but call him Might,
a demon enthroned in uncreated light.
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?
Why waste the breath on such a hollow name?
A phantom in the sky, a charming fraud,
a useless idol, useless to proclaim.
He is a portrait hung in vacant air,
a comfort for the fearful and the tame,
a cosmic shrug, a silence in the square
where mothers shriek and children end in flame.
To such a vacancy, I owe no prayer,
no fear, no love, no loyalty, no aim.
He is a zero, an absence, a lost cause,
a final, disappointing, hollow pause.
So let the church bells ring their sweet deceit,
the incense rise to veil the bitter truth.
I stand amid the ashes and the sleet
of this world’s unrelenting, brutal proof.
No god I’d deem worth naming, much less kneeling,
would let a single sparrow fall in vain.
If power and compassion both are wanting
in the one who claims to hold the sun and rain,
then let the final, honest epitaph be:
I will not kiss the hand that holds the knife.
I will not trade my outrage for a half-
truth dressed in robes, to buy a quiet life.
The silence of the heavens is not love.
It is an empty throne, far, far above.
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 10:37 PM UTC
Sometimes success isn’t victory
It’s to make others win
Along with you
Like a river
That flows cherished history
Success is often failure unmasked
To slip at a step is to learn
How to climb it back
You never cooked those failures
That served you success
Triumph is never seen by those
Who didn’t turn the mask
Success is never heard by those
Who never did a task
Success kept strolling along
When failure proved you wrong
Failure lost the battle song
When the door opened success
Success told “Remember the name”
Failure told “I gave meaning to fame”
When grim clouds hover
You felt sad that sun is hid
You never saw the rain
The clouds kept your tears
And never let it fall
When your tears precipitated
It could no longer hold its weight
Yet the shower of rain
Gave you hope and freshness
You gave up your shivers
And started enjoying rain
That drank your heart’s pain
Life turned sides without a stain
When you blinked your eyes
Transformed your screams to dreams
Turned your mask
Dissolved those failures
Evaporated those worries
Fear the rain, fear not the failure
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 12:12 PM UTC
Outside the usual longitude and latitude
sat an uncommon place,
one with zero gratitude
or an ounce of grace.
The story goes like this:
the rules were what each one wished,
every issue was unceremoniously
settled with a fist,
the words 'thank you', therefore,
were often missed.
Children became parents,
parents became children,
with wisdom no longer
an inheritance,
good sense fell on its head
and became broken.
With nothing but foolishness
in their blood,
such a place was hard to defend,
and like a flood, it raged,
so it was until the bitter end.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 2:35 AM UTC
They say Cassandra was cursed
because no one believed her.
That’s a myth we tell ourselves
to stay innocent.
I was believed. Barely.
That was the problem.
I stated it clearly, early,
in rooms with working microphones:
this is how governance executes now—
not with boots at dawn,
but with branding decks,
legal scaffolding,
and paramilitary compliance.
I named the campaign
before it learned its smile.
I named the winner
while the polls were still data points.
I named the plan
while it existed as a PDF in private,
a draft for risk assessment, not ritual.
They nodded.
They “interesting”-ed.
They bookmarked.
The levee of their attention held nothing.
Do not tell me I was unheard.
I was cited,
then sidelined.
Quoted,
then diluted.
Invited to panels
designed to produce reports, not change.
The curse was never disbelief—
it was timing.
Prophecy arrives early
and precise
enough to be inconvenient.
I said:
loyalty will be deputized
and called procedure.
Uniforms will lack names;
names will lack faces.
Enforcement will be scalable,
measured, plausibly deniable.
I said:
corruption will pose for logs.
Compliance will appear procedural,
statistically defensible.
You said:
Extreme.
Unlikely.
Our institutions don’t operate this way.
I reminded you:
institutions operate exactly like this
when admitting fear first
carries risk.
The systems are still logging.
The audits are still incomplete.
The risk registers still active.
And suddenly—
now...
you remember my name.
Not to apologize.
Not to ask for action.
Cassandra does not predict outcomes.
She predicts process.
I am not cursed to be ignored.
I am cursed to be accurate
in a culture that treats accuracy
as a personality flaw.
I spoke because observation is sovereign.
I spoke knowing
truth does not halt collapse
it preserves the record.
The feeds are still indexing.
The logs are still streaming.
I am still here.
Not screaming,
just documenting,
so no one can ever claim
they didn’t even know.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 12:13 AM UTC
Serendipity Go your way
We’re Not listening to what you say
Your menacing way at play
Is not going to work today
Our faith has made us whole
Finding a mate, The ultimate goal
Exploration of the soul
Has taken it’s toll
Emotions barely there
Walk through life without a care
Reacting to happen chance
Tender blossom of romance
Sunshine Rainbows Start each day
****** Sicker slogans we say
Carnival rides our guides
Roller Coasters and a giant slide
Peeks and valleys everyday
We wouldn’t change them anyway
Cat and mouse Games sought
Ears and Eyes that see not
In time Salt loses it’s flavor
Take time to savor
Tragically morality forgot
Lust not Love now sought
Magical sheer delight
A whimsical plight
Two people meet collide
Smile open wide
It’s going to be a wild ride
Innocence lost denied
Under the blanket of plaid
A fantastic time they had
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 11:27 AM UTC
On the 7th day of Christmas
it was new year’s eve,
and on that midnight 2025 ended
- just like that -
with the **** of fireworks.
Did we have to rush right into 2026?
No. We could have talked about it,
and come up with a better alternative.
We’ve all seen money
- you know, dollars, euros and pounds - right?
Those little pieces of paper have no intrinsic value
- we all just agree on their worth.
We should've channeled that extrinsic power and agreed on something else,
Like deciding that the year after 2025 would be 2029.
You know, the midnight when 2025 ended - **** - 2029 could’ve begun.
We’re all adults - must we amortize this horrible mistake we made?
Think about it - Donald Trump would’ve been out of the White House in days.
Or is it the ‘Trump-Gold-House’ now?
It’s hard to keep up with CrAzY.
.
.
Songs for this:
That's Me Trying - William Shatner
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 10:13 PM UTC
I used to look up to success.
Glossy and distant,
like yachts pulling into sunlit harbors.
While my brothers and I posed,
thinking cool was something you wore.
A picture snapped becomes a prophecy
one we’re sold before we understand
we're being trained to consume.
We watched the boats drift in
like kings returning from invisible wars.
And my brother,
bold, naïve, beautiful,
pointed and said,
“I’ll have one of those.”
When asked how he’d pay,
he simply explained:
“I’ll get it from that wall, just like you do.”
God, the way children believe -
no fear in their hunger,
no shame in their dreams.
Maybe I’m just older now,
my lenses fogged from wear.
But all I see is people
wrapped in things
not selves, not stories,
but trinkets, masks, trophies.
Like they forgot that real wealth
was once built on time,
on tending soil,
on tears held back
while saying goodbye.
Maybe I’m not better.
Just tired of pretending.
Fifteen years I spent hiding,
living so cautiously
I might as well
not have lived at all.
I thought if I became invisible enough,
it wouldn’t hurt when no one looked.
But now I see it:
No one's looking.
Not really.
They’re caught in the hum -
faces lit by screens,
minds dragged along
by headlines, algorithms,
urgencies that mean nothing
when the world goes quiet.
And I don’t want to be them.
I never was.
So what was I hiding from?
Not them.
Maybe just from the part of me
that believed I had to earn belonging,
to twist myself into shapes
too small to hold a soul.
I always tell myself I'm a people-pleaser,
a labrador in a crowd,
always wagging, always watching.
But maybe I just wanted connection.
Maybe I was trying to make sure
everyone on the bus had a seat.
And maybe
that’s not so bad.
I no longer look up to success.
I look for faces in the street
at how someone treats the waiter,
the ********** crying on the curb,
the man with cardboard for shoes.
We are all human.
All breakable.
All still learning
how to love
without masks.
And I want to shout it,
before greed drowns our voices,
before we forget
how to hold one another
without asking what they own.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 2:43 PM UTC
are you ready?
who cares
you’ll never be
just come,
remember
how great it feels to be
you
in your skin
in your energy
feel it all
stop running girl!
there is no final destination.
you are already home.
go clean up that mind
throw away those limiting beliefs
try on your values
do they still fit?
the person you’re becoming?
the ever shifting shape
they don’t?
that’s great!
throw them away!
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 4:33 PM UTC
Who are heroes?
What is heroism?
I'm not sure,
We're at a scary lack of that,
Missing the true selfless values,
Of what we know it to be.
Today it's easy to stumble upon the self proclaimed,
What do they do it for?
For the clout, to move the graph,
Exponential gain.
But I know it's impossible to be pure,
After all, I've purged my heart,
More times than I ought to,
Bright places go dark faster than they should.
It may be consequence,
Of shooting holes in the flood-lights.
Though the sparking is just so entertaining,
Another simple pleasure destroyed by conventional good.
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
𝗠: Be a man who is moral in his actions, meaningful in his words, and mindful in his decisions.
𝗔: Be a man who is admirable in character, authentic in his self, and ambitious in his dreams.
𝗡: Be a man who is noble in heart, nurturing in spirit, and never afraid to do what’s right.
That is what it truly means to be a 𝗠𝗔𝗡.
Be a man who saves his gaze for the one written in destiny
Be a man whose wife finds no other gaze in his eyes
Be a man whose wife sees only love , loyalty not longing
Be a man whose eyes hold respect not desire
Be a man who honours every woman's dignity
Be a man who lifts the weight of his father's worries
Be a man who brings a smile to his mother's face
Be a man who stands as the strongest pillar for her sister
Be a man who becomes a hero to his daughter
Be a man who lives as a role model for his son
Be a man who uses his strength to protect , not to harm
Be a man who raises his standards , not his hands
Be a man whose actions speak louder ,not his voice
Be a human who breaks unjust rules , not her heart
Be a man who builds up woman , not break her
Be a man who respects her choice , not impose his
Be a man who is shelter
Be a man who is a protector
Be a man who is guider
Be a man who is comfort
Be a man who is peace
Be a man who is love
Be a man who loves himself
Be a man who values himself
Be a man who forgive himself
Be a man who understands himself
Be a man who invents himself
Be a man who protect himself
Be a man who believes in himself
Be a man who motivate himself
Be a man who accept himself
Be a man who has pure soul
Be a man who has heart ,not stone
Be a real man.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 7:41 AM UTC
The Duality of Man,
may very well be
The Singularity of Man.
Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
Two birds left the nest after they had learned to fly,
setting off to find what the world has got to give.
Each had what it takes to ascend into the sky,
but each bird also had different reasons why they lived.
One lived a life to soar above, his days spent in the air.
The other lived to gather in and build a stable home.
One was carefree enjoying daily views beyond compare.
The other busy always finding better sticks and stones.
As time went on, the bird who soared had many tales to tell,
all his adventures often were the envy of the cast.
But time, it never stops so when his final moments fell
he was alone when he slipped silently into the past.
The bird who built a home found love and raised a family.
He spent his days so busy, with his daughters and his sons.
From time to time he thought of all the views he didn’t see.
But he thought it was worth it, for he knew when he was done
he’d leave a heritage behind. Those who would carry on,
a family and a legacy to stand the test of time.
Now time has passed, this tale has since become an old folk song,
something that we can sing as we consider and align
the choices that we make with what we want to get from life.
It is true our lives are nothing but the choices that me make.
They add up to what is to us - the sharp edge of the knife.
So, make your choices carefully, I plead for goodness' sake.
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 10:05 PM UTC
Two birds left the nest after they had learned to fly,
setting off to find what the world has got to give.
Each had what it takes to ascend into the sky,
but each bird also had different reasons why they lived.
One lived a life to soar above, his days spent in the air.
The other lived to gather in and build a stable home.
One was carefree enjoying daily views beyond compare.
The other busy always finding better sticks and stones.
As time went on, the bird who soared had many tales to tell,
all his adventures often were the envy of the cast.
But time, it never stops so when his final moments fell
he was alone when he slipped silently into the past.
The bird who built a home found love and raised a family.
He spent his days so busy, with his daughters and his sons.
From time to time he thought of all the views he didn’t see.
But he thought it was worth it, for he knew when he was done
he’d leave a heritage behind. Those who would carry on,
a family and a legacy to stand the test of time.
Now time has passed, this tale has since become an old folk song,
something that we can sing as we consider and align
the choices that we make with what we want to get from life.
It is true our lives are nothing but the choices that me make.
They add up to what is to us - the sharp edge of the knife.
So, make your choices carefully, I plead for goodness' sake.
Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 11:00 AM UTC
As you wake each day
say Good morning
And go ....
make messes
build mud pies
Climb trees
Chase butterflies
Take chances
Laugh and be silly
Make funny faces
Help your mom
in the kitchen
Help your Dad
build you a fort
Say thank you
Hug your grandma
Say I love you
and know this my
grandson
You are loved
You are worth it
You are handsome
and
We love you
© Jennifer L DeLong 1/8/2025
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 1:17 AM UTC
Weathervane, weathervane,
whither does the wind blow?
Will you learn to point the way
or will you just go with the flow?
When the fox would rule the henhouse
as the wind twists all around
will the weathercock crow midnight
without making a sound?
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 3:54 PM UTC
I held you dear
Treasured you
Treated you well
Never a frown to be seen
So then why did she ask wheres your smile?
Where was it?
Ive checked everywhere
Inside,Outside, no where to be seen,
This sensation befell on me,
As if my lungs gave up
A calm feeling
As if the ocean has finally swallowed me whole
Is this it?
Is this the end?
Dear God i hope so.
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 12:13 PM UTC
Where is the break in our dark,
Where is illumination?
Vis-à-vis, a rational light.
For the contrast is stark
Between those who laze
And those who fight
Real values, and genuine ideals
Beliefs, not steeped, in a false virtue
And causes and movements, the same.
Do they still remain?
In the classes, in the fields,
At home? Never feeling near.
Where is the change?
Jun 25, 2023
Jun 25, 2023 at 9:28 AM UTC