Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
    Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
    Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
    Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
    Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
    Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Out of the mid-wood’s twilight
Into the meadow’s dawn,
Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,
Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,
And his shadow dances along,
And I know not which I should follow,
Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!
O Nightingale, catch me his strain!
Else moonstruck with music and madness
I track him in vain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

All I Need is this moment
I will not walk on by
Thirsty by a mountain stream
Without the tears to cry

Denial and delusion
Have not worked out so well
Existing in confusion
Creating my own hell

Love teaches me to really see
What is beneath the surface
Known by the heart but not the eye
Revealing my life’s purpose

In a flash Material World
Gives way, but what is this
A signpost points the way to
A sense of eternal bliss

I am glimpsing sweet moments
In the awakened state
The Holy Instant, satori
Where oneness replaces hate.

Sundays child
full of grace
always a smile
on his face
Longing for a lady
Who wears black lace
Town between
Good and evil
Wanting to be
Within Gods place
Sundays child
Full of grace

I used to pray
" let mother be alive"
father told us
She was dead

sisters whispers
that's not true
He took us away
So now I knew

Years of searching
to find her and care
many empty faces
it's awful out there

The streets of LA
a bitter cold place
survival changes
God's good Grace

My prayer
has been answered
she was alive
dying each passing day

God gave her to me
then he took her away

No more
do I
pray