the quiet place

i am your greatest grandmother
softly calling on the ocean winds
i was never lost to you forever, only
swallowed by the other half of life
come down with me to the quiet place
deep down to the beginning of us all
there are no words in the quiet place

                               only song

naked jaybird

the wicked emperor has been exposed
yes, he was naked as the jaybird all along
that priceless rare invisible silk was just a
cover up for some sinister conspiratorial plot
it seems that we were meant to be deceived
it couldn't have been us that chose to mis-believe
what a devious charade they played upon us all
how could we possibly have seen behind
such a clever exhibition of smoke and mirrors

yes, he was naked as the jaybird all along !

by his absence

one can only ever truly
know him by his absence
as the buzz and flutter of
his presence so confounds
he came to walk among us
as his father's precious gift
he cannot always be here
to help us through the night
one day we shall arise
he'll be no longer here
it's not for lack of love he
will choose to leave us thus
for his place has always been
there at his father's side
i beseech thee to be fully
present as he abides with us
he cannot always be here
to help us through the night
one day we shall awaken
and he'll be here no more
then it's but for us to strive
to know him by his absence
as the buzz and flutter of his
presence will be forever gone

essence of night

the essence of night

is her infinite darkness

that cannot be measured 

by space or in time

she's as large or as small 

as one cares to imagine

with allmighty power

or....she's nothing at all !

to examine dame darkness

and learn of her secrets

she must be approached

with advantage of light

but whenever one dares

to surprise her as such

no matter how silent or sly

she instantly pops out of sight

she must certainly then be

endowed with black magic

or possessed of a spirit or two

it's far beyond reason that
she performs this slick trick

one moment she's as broad and  

as high as the vast midnight sky 

then poof !....she's swallowed by light

behind closed doors

there is a big old elephant
stinking up our family parlor
back here behind closed doors
we all just play make-believe
as if he ain't even really there
not only is he sitting pretty in
the epicenter of proceedings
there's that other crucial matter
of the poo mound piled so high
heaven forbid that any of us
should dare to bare this secret
everyone knows it just ain't done
ours is but to grin and bear it
and never reveal what lingers
in here behind closed doors

pray for him

he refuses to listen to reason and
must always be seen as correct

pray for him

he presumes to be one in authority
with etched-in-stone ways and beliefs

pray for him

he abhors that you dare disagree
with what he deems good for us all

pray for him

you are often beneath his contempt
he's not averse to inform you at all

pray for him

like many a rum fascist before him
he must rule with iron hand and will

pray for him

how could we do without our hero ?
as to reign is his preordained fate

pray for him

of course it's a foregone conclusion
that he's the only man for the job

pray for him

he's certainly not a good looker
tho he promotes himself awfully well

pray for him

his ego and pride are all wrapped in one
woe be to he who sees past the front

pray for him

he cannot let go of the need to control
as he abides in his frail house of cards

pray for him

he must ever exist in a furious frenzy
chaos and drama are tools of his trade

pray for him

spite and betrayal are all that he's known
and he can give as good as he's gotten

pray for him

he's hard-wired to be vengeful and cruel
if he thinks that you stand in his way

pray for him

he cannot conceive there's anything wrong
with the world view he's so slyly devised

pray for him

he'll huff and puff and put on a grand show
but wait til you sleep before he strikes

pray for him

he's been trapped behind the mirror's lens
far too long to ken that his vision's flawed

pray for him

he righteously battles that which he sees
as clear and present threats to his stance

pray for him

forgive him father, he knows not what he does
forgive him father, he needs you more than I

pray for him

bully boy

every day along the path
ye must e'er encounter him
as it's the only way to arrive
at one's intended destination
the rules are clear and simple
surrender up the going rate or
suffer the bully boy's wrath
this game is old as man himself
yes, and women play it too
there's no mercy for the weak,
the sick or maladjusted ones
it's a proven ancient culling tack
to ensure survival of the pack
in case we think we're over that
check out our schoolhouse halls
the killer instinct of human beasts
is very much alive and well

sacred cows

you must do just as we say
but certainly never as we do
this will hurt us more than
it could possibly hurt you
sacred wisdom does apply
to all, except of course for us
thus our broken hub-less wheel
keeps us ever stuck, you see
if the wheel were to roll along
then wherever would we be ?
quite likely ending up outside
our off-white ticky-tacky boxes
horrors upon horrors, goodness me
how could we dare to dream of
risking such an open-minded scheme
it may be good for you folks but
surely not for double-dealing us
we have come so far for this
to be righteously perceived as
true and guiding lights for all !
so it is decreed by self-anointed us
you must but do just as we say
and absolutely never as we do
you must place your trust in us
it's for your greater good, you see
you will thank us in the end
there is no doubt or question
you must but do just as we say
surely never ever as we do
if this continues as we hope
then another day shall pass and
double-dealing us won't be found out

horrors upon horrors, goodness me !

Judas calling

a man named Judas came a-calling
knock-knock-knocking at my door
boldly stating "you can trust me sir,
have i ever lied to you before ?"
i was looking for some back-up
with the sacred mission i am on
"i'll be there when you need me
sir, of this you may rest assured !"

i was startled by the curious mark
that was struck across his brow
unlike anything i'd ever seen before
i chose to take him at his word as
this mission cannot be done alone
i soon realized he proved true and
faithful as his solemn oath declared
if fair and sunny weather did prevail

but when nature's fickle forces shifted
so too our doubtful sideman changed
he then became an unwitting saboteur
at crucial times of struggle and strife
it seemed he could not help himself
if up was called for, down he would
invariably proceed, and "forward on"
was met with stubborn blind retreat

it's certain he was driven by his very
best intentions, surely true of all he tried
his clever plots and schemes of such
profound benevolence and good will
were designed with a crucial fatal flaw
he couldn't ken the difference tween
the image in the looking-glass and truth
thus his great intentions e'er led straight to hell

forgive him father, he knows not what he does
forgive him father, it's he who needs you most
if he could only see the nature of his treachery
but the halls of darkness don't allow for light
it's the guiding light of truth and nothing less
that would show him where to strike the torch
not only is it dark there behind the mirror's lens
but back is front, here is there and e'er shall it be

forgive him father, he knows not what he does
it's his very nature that allows him not to see
it cannot be for me to condemn one such as he
if he could just but see the nature of his treachery
i'm certain if he could change, then he surely would
betrayal's piercing blade tho, is all he's ever known
if all he knows is darkness how could he ever see
that light of truth and nothing less would set him free

forgive him father, he knows not what he does !

just keep moving

he had no notion how deadly hot
was the fire he danced with daily
he could not foresee that sudden
swift descent into hell on earth
he became convinced he had sold
his soul to the double-dealing devil
but couldn't remember how or when
he was certain there was no way out
death would prove but worse, and eternal

he wasn't tooled to know how to escape
there seemed no relief, nowhere to turn
no-one to talk with, he no longer recognized
the stranger occupying his body shell
it seemed forever he couldn't leave his home
during daylight hours, venturing out only
at night for necessary food and supplies
it was love for his mother, then alive
that kept him from committing suicide

when all seemed lost, he found himself
penniless, homeless and hopelessly alone
the emotional agony and mental anguish
seemed excruciating, unending and unbearable
the city became so hard, cold and unforgiving
he rightly sensed it would soon devour him
there was nothing left but to hit the road
and keep moving, only just keep moving !

the highway soon became his only friend
in time it seemed not to matter which
direction he was headed, as long as he
could keep moving, only just keep moving !
while he traveled out on the open byways
he didn't need sweet soothing mary-jane
only but to keep moving, just keep moving !

he must have traveled 100,000 miles
in those lost years alone on the road
during times he chose to stop for a while
that powerful urgent compulsion to linger
with sweet mary-jane would surface quickly
the only solution he knew could help was
to keep on moving, only just keep moving !

now in his seventh decade it's but a short
time since being driven to surrender to
the merciful universal powers that be
only now can he be still and calm here
without being driven to hit the road again
in times of trouble, conflict, grief or strife
he's no longer compelled to just keep moving !

thanks to the merciful universal powers that be !

patience

she was always in such a
frantic hurry to acquire that
elusive priceless jewel we've
come to know as patience
which forever showed to be
one step beyond her grasp

it seemed to matter not how
clever was her master plan,
how hard she tried or fast she ran
it was like that tasty carrot
there dangling oh so close
and still so very far away

one must not forget to mention
those stacks of books, sacred texts
and ancient tomes collecting dust
upon her rare antique oriental shelves
or impressive posh degrees hung
above the pricey marble mantle

if only she could have solved
the mystery of how to chase
that juicy morsel, yet eat it too
surely then precious patience
would have finally proved to
be her true and just reward

if only !

still waters

water ever seeks it's perfect peace
from distant mountain heights
to the depths of scattered seas

so too our spirit follows every
mist, ripple, torrent, wave and tide
of this worldly song and dance

searching for it's place in time to
settle into nature's one true goal
to be still, to be calm, to be free

family

there's no-one left to love
but every living soul
with nothing left to lose
still he shares the whole

his sisters and brothers
are foreign to him now
his mother and father lay
dead and in the ground

quite some time ago
he had removed himself
from any Christmas list
especially his very own

the open wound across
his pristine mourning heart
bleeds for what is lost and
can ne'er be found again

it was love for life itself
and morbid fear of death
that called him back to living
having no-one else to care

he remembers names and faces
of those he knew as family
now upon sincere reflection
they were never ever there

it's not with condemnation
that he looks upon them now
but sad and aching grief where
once there had lived hope

doing time

another mark upon the
shit-stained plaster wall
he stopped counting 'em
too many days gone by
he's likely doing time
for someone else's crime

he can't remember what
got him ended up back
in stir this time around
he either did it or was framed
at some point it seemed
just not to matter anymore

on those rare occasions he
was loose and on his own
he'd sit there staring out
the open bedroom window
longing for the freedom of
those rusty jailhouse bars

whatever game that was
being played out there
he never made the team
and didn't know the score
now all that's left for him is
this old revolving iron door

old dog blues

he's been around the block
and even toured the world
with scars upon scars
to show from many an
epic hard fought tussle

yet like most old dogs
in this neck of the woods
it's like he has never been

the young, sleek and strong
preen and prance about
strutting their stuff so fine

the old dog's eye can see
and battered snout sniff out
that they have rarely ventured
beyond their own backyard

he lays here now curled up
at well-earned blessed rest
wondering why the young-uns
show not a whiff of interest
in learning of his old dog tricks

what is an old dog to do ?
with no more bite to bark about
and teeth too long or gone
now the only growling going on
is in his ample belly while
awaiting on the dinner bell

desert song

the infinite cool desert sky
is blacker than night
with stars that are stuck
on with twinkly light

evening's fire softly subsides

sister wind she is sighing
her sybilant caravan song
our stout beasts of burden
are settled in for the night

the silence is humming
in sweet harmony with all
that is timeless and true

there's nowhere that i'd
rather be on this night
with only one heartfelt desire

to dance with my beloved
neath this crystalline moon
and the infinite cool desert sky

as evening's fire softly subsides

self-anointed savior

there must be marked upon this brow
some special brand or symbol
to advertise that i'm fair game for
every pompous self-anointed savior
with their divinely decreed sermon
chosen especially for me today

heavenly father, spare me these
righteous christ-aholics, please
for this i sincerely genuflect
down on worn and aching knees

i near choked on my own vomit
from the latest god-sent dissertation
rammed down my gullet on this morn

i wonder where you are, sweet lord
when these crusading zealots call
could it be that you are stuck
again hanging there upon another
urgent hopeless bloody cross ?

or perhaps you've slipped away
to wander in the barren desert
for yet another go-around of
forty days and forty nights

i wouldn't fault you in the least
if you felt a need for some relief
it's a tough job you've been assigned
without the option to retire or resign

it seems to me, oh blessed lord
that they are not yet finished
with your poor and pitiful
blood-soaked, savaged carcass

it's certain ye shall never be
freed from that unholy crucifix
and mercifully laid to final rest
not as long as there's this
blind and desperate need for
some convenient sacrificial lamb
to take the brunt and blame
for their endless crimes and sins
or a suitably sanctioned
official trademark for that
exclusive inner-circle club

heavenly father, spare me please
the well-meaning, self-ordained
crusading christ-aholic saviors

and as for me, sweet lord
i have learned to set you free

desert dweller

for folks who only know oasis
it must be difficult to fathom
another way of life beyond
the walls amidst the dunes

those that follow gypsy trails
have quite a different eye to
the sustenance and comforts
abiding by the lush oasis' well

for this old worn-down pilgrim
still the open desert beckons
where many mates and allies wait
though i know not yet their names

i live to share this wanderer's tale
thanks to one such anonymous friend
we shared our gypsy journey briefly
and will likely never meet again

had it not been for that stout soul
i would have died out there alone
it was this kind and humble nomad
who stayed by me til aide did come

now but for age and infirm health
i wouldn't hesitate to venture out
beyond the walls amidst the dunes to
meet again these noble desert dwellers

out there is a greater thirst fulfilled
that can ne'er be found in an oasis
but a few drops of this holy nectar
quenches more than the deepest well

sentry duty

to be still

to be silent

to be aware

to be patient

to be prepared
for any eventuality
given current circumstances
and prevailing conditions

to identify potential threats
regarding safety and
integrity of the whole

to efficiently communicate
relevant information with
appropriate parties
so as to maintain safety
and integrity of the whole

to be committed to
sacrifice oneself so as to
ensure safety and
integrity of the whole

to be still

to be silent

to be aware

to be patient

to be prepared

to identify potential threats

to communicate

to be committed

to be free

unspoken creed

what is this 'code' we agree upon

but dare not ever speak in words ?
that mysterious unspoken-ness

which looms wherever humans gather

it's sure we must be seen to know

that which we are desired to be

and demonstrate undying faith and loyalty 

to some ancient nameless formless creed

more than choice it seems an urgent need

some distant echo of archaic tribal rites
or shades of even deeper lost in time
when pack-law was the only rule of life

beyond the grave

sometimes it seems
my father's spectre
reaches out from
beyond the grave
to clutch and squeeze
this trembling throat
so i might breathe
and speak no more
as if the terror and
the horror of that
fateful moment so
many years ago
lives on and on
and cannot ever die

he's dead near 30 years
still each and every time
that cold and bony grasp
drives me shaking to the knees

it's him, of this there is no doubt
though behind yet another's mask
i pray he has some other need
than to call me back again to hell

i cannot run, neither fight nor hide
yes, all of these i've tried and tried
there is no magic herb or potion
that can relieve this cursed spell

i've more than once too often
partook from those unholy wells
what then offered such great solace
became a vile and deadly poison

what does he try to say or do
that demands he seize me thus ?
why does he seem so unwilling
to lay at rest amidst the dust ?

i was strangled and left for dead
while just a slender lad of seven
at the hands of my late father
for a cookie that i had not stole

before i died that certain death
while dangling from his iron grip
i saw the fury of a hellish demon
where once had been his eyes

i awoke upon our tattered couch
astounded to be here and still alive
to see my father's ominous shadow
looming in the doorway there

"don't say a word !" was what he said
his voice so sharp and hard and cold
"don't say a word !" he barked again
"i will kill you if anyone is told !"

of course there was no one to tell
my blessed mum the least of all
how could i dream of risking that ?
he would indeed fulfill his threat !

sacred mission

tonight i sit and
watch you slumber
just to marvel at
such timeless grace

the silver moonlight
is softly dancing
across your carefree
child-like face

before the dawning
of this new day
i shall embark upon
a sacred mission

i pray as you awaken
your heart will ken
tis for love of thee
that i now must go

beast of burden

i've cried your every drop of sorrow
til there were no more tears to weep
blessed to be your beast of burden
so you might rest in peaceful sleep

siren's song

how does a landed mariner
ever tell a living soul about
the exquisite rapture of the
sultry siren's hypnotic song
as it echoed through the mist
calling him to sweet surrender
out there in the poppy fields
just above the rocky shore

he's been to those forbidden isles
but almost didn't live to speak
still the scars from being bound
with rope upon the oaken mast
bring a wry and crooked grin
to his weathered grizzled chin
he knew so many hearty seamen
who never made it home again

the "in" crowd

i much preferred the lie
than what was truly so
it seemed that just
like most of you
the myth had won
as it had always done
what else was left to do ?

i had mortgaged
my immortal spirit
so that i could say
i was not alone
and be seen
as one of you

the cost was cheap
it came so easy
i just signed along
the dotted line
and just like that
fabled roadside inn
down california way
i might check out anytime
but i could never leave

the mortgage man
was oh so nice
as he handed
me the keys
his grip was firm
his smile seemed real
but his touch it
was cold as ice
yes, his touch
was cold as ice

if the truth is what
shall set me free
what was there to gain
from this clever deal
that i had made ?
how could i pass to
the great beyond
having sold my soul
along the way ?

that noble road
boldly set upon
so many years ago
seemed guided
by the master's light
but i didn't see the
fork of the road
that i had followed
having wandered much
too far throughout
the dead of night

i had heard it said
that one could ne'er
serve two masters well
trying to please them both
would honor neither one
and to continue thus
led but straight to hell

i somehow thought
that i was special
and could perform
this high-wire act
but have since then
come to understand
no-one who had
ever tried could
deny this simple fact

it can't be done
it never could
nor ever shall it be
though caesar does
demand his due
it is the timeless one
who offers lasting hope
for such as thee and me

veils of fear

some years ago an acquaintance referred to me as an "emotional cripple".
that statement seemed to slice through me like a rusty razorblade.
the pain was so acute, there seemed no choice but to conclude this must be true !

while huddled tonight in this cluttered hut, i'm feeling quite limited regarding options in general...."emotionally crippled" actually.

there's an excerpt from AA's Big Book declaring that an alcoholic is like a person who has lost a leg....they will never grow a new one !
this alcoholic in recovery identifies completely.
this issue has been one of life's most consistently frustrating challenges....to look down and see 2 legs, attempt to walk as others do, and fall face first into the gravel....again and again and again !

i am afraid !

AA's Big Book refers to "100 forms of fear"....seems more like 1,000 to me !

i am afraid !

how many veils of fear ?

100....1,000 ?

i am afraid !

today i spoke with an AA friend and advisor....his suggestion was simple....pray to be relieved of these veils of fear.

of course....recent experience suggests that prayer has always been what has brought about necessary change.

i am afraid !

i am afraid of prayer....i do not know why !

i imagine that without fear i will not know who or what i am !

i imagine that without fear i will be overcome by mysterious deadly forces !

i imagine that without fear i shall die !

i imagine that if i let someone love me, i will suffer endless excruciating agony !

i imagine that if i let myself love someone, i will suffer endless excruciating agony !

i imagine that i am destined to a monk-like existence....committed to learning to love all beings....at the cost of personal intimacy with any individual !

i imagine there is no escaping this fate !

most days i can live with this notion of life's prospects !

some days i despair !

today i despair !

prayer has never come easily....always it seems the pain has had to become greater than the fear of change !

in fact, when the pain was too much to bear, prayer to be relieved of the agony proved the only practical solution.

mood-altering and pain-relieving drugs no longer were an option....they just stopped working at a certain point....only compounding the suffering.

for this stubborn, arrogant, opinionated fool, to be led to a moment in life when absolute surrender and prayer were the only things that actually relieved the agony....i am still amazed....i had become the miracle i could never believe in !

yet, i am afraid !

i am afraid to pray tonight !

i do not know why !

you who read these words
please hear my plea
pray for me if you might
perhaps your prayers may help
as i am afraid to pray tonight !

what's the point ?

the other day during an encounter with someone i've known for some time, this person suddenly felt compelled to channel his personal rage and contempt in my direction.

looking back, i understood why he would hold that point of view, although i do disagree with his ideas.
it was his choice to voice his concern in a violent abusive manner and tone that was disturbing.

my best guess is that he's unable to control his angry impulses and likely sees nothing "wrong" with venting his bitterness and contempt upon others.

in that moment, i did the best i could to counter this verbal attack and hold ground.

i was quite disturbed by the sudden, unprovoked outburst of unveiled spite.

from what i know and surmise about him, i am not surprised.

still, i am shocked whenever these types of incidents occur in life.
shades of my unpredictable, volatile, violent and abusive father.

it wasn't til returning home that i noticed i was trembling uncontrollably....feeling over-whelmed with a convoluted wave of intense feelings....a PTSD episode !
the most challenging set of emotions was the powerful urge to counter the verbal attack with swift and brutal vengeance.

this kind of event represents a crucial social issue for me....especially with men who behave and communicate in this way.
i understand this is a sick person, who probably has no idea how his communication style may affect others.

still though....i have been quite upset for nearly 2 days....which of course, is my issue.

i did see that person today, and they behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, which must be true for him.

this is frustrating, because it will only happen again, i do not know what to say or how to say it....as my ancient belief seems to be...."what's the point of speaking?"

with my early life history, that core belief is a no-brainer.

this is certainly a common self-defeating belief throughout life....still to this day...."what's the point of speaking ?"

i wonder if anyone has an idea how challenging it is to muster the courage to look beneath the core belief and see if there's actually something that can be said or done to affect change.

for the chronically bullied to stand up to the bully....these efforts are no less than heroic.

whereas the next person might have no idea.

tin soldier

you bark real well
for a scruffy old mutt
i'm not so sure
about your bite
since it seems
you've left your teeth
at home again

you wear that tattered
uniform like you've
actually been to war
but you and i both know
you've hardly strayed
beyond your own back door

so what's the deal
and what's the fuss ?
you may fool yourself
but you don't fool us

you yarp all day and
put up quite a fright
but once the thunder rolls
and lightning's struck
you're under your bed
faster than the speed of light
shivering and whimpering
throughout the night

you march and strut
about all puffed up
trying so hard to impress
what is it that you
hope to prove ?
and to whom is
more the point

that great long nosey
snout of yours
seems almost always
out of joint
it's no surprise
your prying beak
takes it's share of lumps
as it's always deep
in someone else's
business or affairs

just in case you
haven't noticed
that parade square
where you preen and
pose and prance about
has been deserted
for some time now

that rusty saber
you wield and rattle
boasts of many an
imagined battle
my genuine concern
is that when i turn away
you might just stab
me in the back

so what's the deal
and what's the fuss ?
you may fool yourself
but you don't fool us

by grace alone

many sins and vices
i could not leave behind
though everything i tried

the anguish became
too much to bear
still i doggedly defied

if i couldn't do it
then no-one could
so was i filled with pride

they say pride comes
before the plummet
this was not so for me

i had to fall and fall
and fall yet again
to finally be set free

there was nothing i
could ever say or do
to change the course of fate

i had to fall upon my knees
and pray to be relieved
of the stubborn will to fight

it is by grace and
grace alone that i have
come to know the light

the least of us

hello, can you see me here
please, might you stop a while
i am the one you pass by daily
as you scurry homeward bound

i am that one who's least of us
i ask nothing of you now
only might you stop a while
as evening's chill is closing in

long ago i had lost the way
and could not find my home
when finally i did return, there
was nought but ash and bone

fickle winds and restless tides
have led me to this shore
i stand here by the lonesome
byway, forever on the move
but with nowhere left to go

i am that one who's least of us
please, can you make some time
i'm here to touch your very soul
if you might only stop a while

lost child

alone in the
same old crowd
trying to ignore
this stifling pain

i am but a lost
and lonely child
aching to be seen
and touched again

i am ashamed to say
i don't know how
to reach beyond
this veil of fear

i miss you and
love you always
though i know not
who or what you are

snake eyes

i know some one who
dons the guise of a
suburban female human
she almost pulls it off
but i caught a glimpse
of her sly serpent eyes
i'm surely not mistaken
they are far too coldly
hypnotic to discount

i sometimes sense
she's about to shed
her sultry bourgeois skin
and with darting tongue
and steely purpose
strike to do me in

i think she thinks
i know....she's right
to think this way
i surely must take
the greatest care while
passing by her gate

it's likely she'll
just lay in wait there
in the higher grass
on the outer edge
of her manicured estate
and do what all
snakes do so well
just lay there in wait

the razor's edge of
her viper's glare
could slice through one
like a flash of fangs
if too long transfixed
upon that amber gaze

beware all those
who roam or wander
through the higher grass
out there beyond
our scaly lady's
manicured estate
before one knew
what bit them
it would already
be too late

trauma-drama

it's not what's so that pains me
it's the myth that life must
somehow show up differently
to accomodate the daily script
of the soap-opera i create,
produce, direct and star in to
provide some meaning for it all

it's the mystery stirs the jitters
not the actors or the drama
where's the fun or tragedy
without a suitable juicy trauma?
one must always ask oneself
do i play this part for thee and me
or to impress some critic or another ?

there's no more need
for higher billing on the
local playhouse marquee
as i've quit the business
some long time back and
dropped the trauma-drama act
this hack no longer needs a name

there is for me a greater calling
that requires no paint or wardrobe
i'm just another bozo on the bus
it's not about where it's been
or where it might be headed
it's that i take a seat and
buckle up for what promises
to be a helluva rockin' ride

for thee, tonight's show is over
with the velvet curtains drawn
the overheads have dimmed
the joint is empty now that
the audience has taken leave
to wherever it is they go
the crucial question of this time
who to be with the lights gone out ?

what costume does our actor wear ?
what role is there left to play ?
there's no-one at the backstage door
not a soul where our performer sleeps
it won't be long til the boards are up
and the gypsy show must travel onwards
our player must be ready when it does

there is no choice but to jump aboard
that tattered road-worn caravan
the roles may number in the dozens
but it's the player who mimes the part
that must arise and don the greasepaint
for as long as the trauma-drama plays
as we all know, the show it must go on !

or......

the living dead

i feel your clammy tendrils
slip-sliding round my throat
and the ancient killer lizard
lurking neath this human form
burns ablaze with murder
savage bloody murder
hanging on that perfect moment
to strike and slay....or perish !

there are no words or treaties
to resolve this timeless conflict
if it isn't thee that bites the dust
then it's but for me to die

i know what it is you lust for
you've dwelt so very long there
in the haunt of the living dead
i smell it oozing from your pores

i know without a doubt that
you would ice me on the spot
if you could succeed without
the threat of being caught

i suspect there once was
a living soul breathing neath
that dry and brittle shell
but at some crucial point
you must have made
your final fatal choice
and pay the going price
to the prince of thieves

it's quite the deal you have
you even get to see daylight
but it's no secret to these eyes
you're devoted to the darkness

like all who hail
from the halls of hell
it's mortal creature's
life-blood that buys
you yet another night
the hunt is an eternal one

unless you fail to score
then....
it's nought but crumbling
into barren ash and dust
and what it is you are
shall be here never more

spider's web

you lie in wait with
your best suit on
all innocence and charm
lusting for that next one
there always is a next one
as the last one's been all
chewed up and spat out

what a perfect setup for a
sly predator like yourself
it's no wonder that your
wicked sticky web is woven
right there at the gateway
so you can catch them
before they suss you out

i hadn't seen a vampyre spider
until landing in this place
i've watched and watched
and watched some more
as you picked them off to
suck there life's blood dry

what was there for me to do ?
being a stranger in these parts
i too was baffled and bamboozled
by the slick and oily practised
smoothness of your carny bluff

but not for very long at all
as your scent was soon apparent
being quite familiar to this travel
weary pilgrim's seasoned snout

aaahh....but the crafty spider
and the oh so eager hapless fly
have danced this deadly tango
since the very dawning of
what we know as time

who am i to judge this drama ?
as the fly seems ever willing
to fulfill an ancient inner calling
and devote itself to wily spidey's
luncheon menu of the day

trusted servant

there was a panic in my belly
that just wouldn't go away
it was mortal fear of placing trust
with you who professed to care

from what i had seen and heard
and most certainly by your scent
you were not all you claimed
no-one could ever be, you see

your masterful disguise seems
to do such a brilliant job
especially well for thee
until you turn away from us
and then the tatty strings
of that clever mask you wear
are hanging there for all to see

it's like that guy with the horrid wig
we've all encountered such as he
however does one break the news
to him that no-one is deceived ?

you cling so tight to your charade
as if your life is in the balance
you mean so well and try so hard
and utter all the right things to say

but it's your very bearing and
the way you speak and move
and most of all the subtle hint
of doubt behind your wary eyes
that always gives the game away

at first i trembled in silent dread
and could not fathom why
it seemed so certain it was i
who was somehow mistaken

one day the truth revealed itself
i recognized your desperate ploy
then boiling rage and indignation
came roiling up from deep inside

by grace the fury has subsided
the wounds of your betrayal
no longer haunt me while asleep
tis just a sad and sorry pity
that remains for me to feel

there is nothing left to do
but offer prayers of mercy
with hopes that what you hide
may know the healing light

amen





 

smug complacency

there are days when all i want to do
is run naked fult tilt boogey
screaming through the streets
leaving all you milktoast ninnies
whining in your lukewarm tea

where are all you sniveling bastards
while the bloody war is raging hot ?
can't you see the walls are crumbling ?
as the enemy slavers gleefully
outside our nearest fortress gate
it's that self-righteous smug complacency
that seems to blind you to the truth
or perhaps you've resigned yourself
already to your half-assed fate
don't you care ? can't you hear those
trumpets blaring ? don't you feel the
rumbling tremors just beyond our walls ?
perhaps you choose to numb your mind
to no longer sense the looming threat
or you've committed some long time ago
to join with them once the battle dust has set

it's easier to stay within the safety
of your off-white mortgaged walls
and leave the empassioned needy ones
the sick and desperate hungry ones
the ones who have no other choice
but to rise up and defend our land....or die !

if you wonder why you suffer
and you need to dull your pain
with whatever you can clutch or grab
no matter what the price to pay
it's likely that you've sold yourself
to some subtle scheme or plot
to the clever barker at the carnival

he's always been there on the job
waiting for yet another hapless rube
to bite upon his shimmering lure
he could never care about
what it is you truly need
it was always all about his
promise to fulfil your hunger
which he could never feed

once you realize what has happened
you may hasten to seek him out
but the tents would not be there now
he'd be gone into the empty wind
to that place from whence he came
with what you chose to give him
that you claim he stole from thee

the master wasn't known to
have frequented temple halls
twas the roadhouse and the traveller's inn
where he found his place to be
the folks that he encountered there
misguided or deluded though they be
were but sincere in their simplicity
with no unspoken motives or desires
only but to live for yet another day
with hopes of a better one to come

hero's legacy

the hero's legacy
cannot be held within
one's worldly grasp
there are no words
to express the depth
of what's he's given
he has offered up
his very soul
on the bloody altar
we did prepare
there was never
any doubt of
how his legend
would come to end

the hero's legacy
cannot be measured in
wealth or earthly spoils
what he's done for us
is more than we
may ever ken
he has sacrificed
his personhood and
any chance at love or fame
for the sake of all of us
yes, for thee and me
so that we may
know tomorrow
without horror, pain and strife
so that we may walk in freedom
so that we may have our life

he knew his destiny
before he ventured forth
for not a single heartbeat
did he falter on his
predetermined course
he understood completely
that it was he who must fulfil
this sacred call to arms

without the hero's legacy
how could we ever fathom
what it is he did for us
what it is he gave for us
where he went on our behalf
that we could never dare to go

the hero's legacy
may be only truly known
as we come together in
sanctified communion
to share our love and awe
in silent prayers of honour
and heartfelt gratitude
our hero's legacy
is now etched in stone
with reverence and pride
our hero's legacy lives on
that his legend has now died

hero's legend

he wears no
cloak or emblem
to proclaim
nation, sect or clan

tis not for lack
of courage
he now turns
away from strife

it's inward that
he's wont to dwell
for what days
are left in life

he's answered
every call to arms
gone where angels
feared to tread

though every earthly
skirmish won
he shall never
win the war

the only prize
there is to gain
lies waiting deep
within his core

the hero's legend
must end here
the tales have
all been told

sword and shield
have served him
well and long
although the
bloody battle
rages on
his war is
finally done

the hero's quest
may now begin
the legend
having died
his journey
lies before him
to return from
whence he came

taming the beast

64 years old....one would think the "blame-game" would have ceased by now.

nope....that's much easier said than done !

for this pilgrim, the "blame-game" has been anything but a game....due to decades of extreme emotional reactions to apparently minor events....in earlier days often resulting in physical violence.
i've come to think of these episodes as "road rage without the vehicle".

seems that however much this truth ( no-one is to blame ) is understood intellectually,
my knee-jerk reaction is to jump straight to the conclusion that "it" is someone else's fault.....whatever "it" is.
it's been so frustrating and confusing to experience these sudden mysterious shifts in perspective.
the feeling of malicious contempt that surfaces during the initial trigger period is always shocking, frightening and disturbing.

what helps is to accept and understand these phenomena as natural human-animal reactions to a perceived threat and/or violation.

one might think that awareness of this fact, combined with that violent personal history, ought to ease and settle my heart and mind at these times, and it does to a point.
but still, those first blinding moments seem like boundless hell broken loose.
for however brief period of time, suddenly there are no rules, consumed with a savage animal rage.

while writing this, i'm able to objectively acknowledge that these experiences are "normal" defense mechanisms for any living animal....the " fight or kill reflex " !

this is the crux of it....to remember there is nothing "wrong, shameful, evil, immoral, criminal or bad" about feeling this way.
there is nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for.

my personal and social responsibility while triggered is to be with and observe the disturbing feelings, while managing the "episode" as efficiently as possible until becoming again of a sane and predictable state of mind.

what seems to help mostly is exactly this....to write about it, talk about it, and contemplate the experience from any and all angles, being the student of these "episodes".

i cannot repeat this truth enough....

the fact is....these triggers are "normal" human-animal reactions to a perceived threat and/or violation !

it's the perceptions, not the perceiver, that have been chronically distorted....due to personal life experience and conditioning.

for any living creature....patience, love, acceptance, tolerance and understanding go a long way toward soothing the heart of the "savage beast".

throughout life, with few exceptions, i was the one that animals liked and trusted, it seemed as if they immediately recognized in me a friend and ally.

i pray that the beast within would accept me this way.

i pray to accept the beast within this way as well.

amen

love and thanks

i offer love and thanks
though i know not
who or what you are
you may be aged
and close to death
or burbling in some crib
however many legs
or fins or wings you have
i offer love and thanks
for oh so many things
i cherish you and need you
for oh so many reasons
i can't begin to tell you
what you do for me
i wouldn't be here now if
you hadn't shown the way
i ache so much neath
this passionate love
so much that up til now
i couldn't let you know
how beautiful you are
these cleansing tears
come at great expense
fear long barred the way
i couldn't dare allow
the stony dam to burst
i thought i'd drown in
those ancient waters
with everything to lose
now that tears
have washed away
clouds of bitter gloom
i now clearly see
without you and you and you
there could never be a me
i offer love and thanks
for every little thing
you do for me and thee
without knowing me at all
i offer love and thanks
thank you one and all

amen

pilgrim's quest

i must confess
to suffer still
dwelling here in
this cluttered hut
just as if i'm
passing through
on some endless
search for that place
i might know peace

if home is where
the heart is
then this seeker
must move on
tis time again
to pack yon
roadworn bag
and continue on
this solitary quest

there's nothing like
the open road to
test one's living faith
there has never
been a time
the gypsy gods
weren't there
to offer comfort
care and guidance
while i trudged along
the pilgrim's trail

it was not like
here and now
trapped behind these
cold bare walls
within this sterile
man-made box
where the gods
seem sometimes
somewhere near
but surely never here

i am like the
life long sailor
who's been beached
upon dry land
longing for those
carefree days at sea

the seaman needs
no god to bow to
for tis wind and tide
the sun and stars
that in the end decide
the mariner's fate

dark and stormy night

tis a dark and stormy night

i'm huddled yet again
within this cluttered hut
troubled by the
chilling sense that
the 'witches 3'
are lurking near

halloween is the
perfect time for
creatures of the
mirror-world to
skulk and prowl about

the 'witches 3'
are calling me
i can hear
their haunting echo
drifting through
the misty shadows
just beyond the gate

that eerie forlorn
hollow sound 
seems from some
unknown other world
where neither dead
nor living dwell

yes, the 'witches 3'
linger just outside
the double bolted door
i can feel it in the
marrow of my bones

it's clear to me
what they have in mind
i have always known
they would not ever rest
til they've captured and
returned me through
that cursed rabbit-hole
to their topsy-turvy
backward land
where here is there
and then is when
with no such
place as here
nor time as now

the mirror's lens
cannot allow for things
to show as true
for at that mystic
meeting place
that line tween
here and there
things are only
ever as they seem
and never never
as they truly are
 
the 'witches 3'
must feel certain
that it won't be long
til their quarry's won
for on this
special eve of magic
their collective
power is strong

i must not venture
out this night as it's
a fool's errand at best
but the 'witches 3'
are quite aware
that common sense
has not always been
something i possess

i dwelt there in that
mirror-world for
quite some time, you see
long enough that
front looked much
like back to me

it wasn't til
fate beckoned
i escaped through
the looking-glass
that i would
come to realize
hope for lasting peace
lay right here in
this time and place
where there and then
meet where and when
in the everlasting
here and now

these words i speak
do serve as comfort
it's good to know
that you are here
this helps to ease
the dreadful fright
as their hypnotic chant
might yet lure
me out again
into this dark
and stormy night

where were you ?

dear sweet mum 
where were you then
while the beast
was on the loose ?
it seemed when help
was needed most
you were never
there for me
you were there
yes....you were
there of course
but you really weren't
there, were you ?
as you didn't ever
offer aid or solace
for the bitter pain
of living at the mercy
of that cruel and
heartless one

he was not the same
while you were gone
he seemed to slip
his human bonds
to run rampant
with a feral vengeance
to ensure that those
about him dearly pay
for his endless days
in ancient shackles

it could be seen
behind his eyes
like some famished
creature on the prowl
seeking out it's prey
his focus somehow
oddly distant
set many miles away

he couldn't know
that which he did
while freed of
his constraints
for he was not
the master then
only just the
beast run wild

if he could have known
the terror struck
within the breast
of this helpless child
i choose to think he
would have turned
back towards his
familiar chains

i'm sure he would have
if he only could have
his heart though must
have been so stony
hard and bitter icy cold

it must have been
that way for him
while he was
but a guileless boy
i wonder if he
ever felt at home
at ease and safe

i cannot say what
his truth was then
only that today
i truly pray
for the soul
of such a sick
and troubled one
so that he may
rest in blessed peace

mum, you're not
around to answer
to these solemn words
i can't begin to dream
where you may be
but it seems
to me that still
you are not here

where were you, mum ?
were you ever
really there ?
where are you, mum ?
can you be here now ?
wherever it is
you are, mum
may your soul
rest in blessed peace

amen

pandora's box

there is a fearsome beast within
huddled tense and waiting
in the cold dark furthest corner
of this battered broken heart

it lies alert to any signal
that might offer hope
of bursting through
it's ancient chains to
prowl freely once again

it's steely sinews quiver
as it crouches in it's haunt
those feral eyes
are burning bright
with a hellish crimson glare

there never was a time
when this infernal cur
wasn't lurking in
that icy darkness
awaiting still and silent
upon that perfect moment
for it's chance to pounce

it was the forgeman
who did commit
the awful creature 
to it's eternal lair
as only he could see
the need for such a
ruthless guardian there

an open letter

this is an open letter
one which i suspect
will bounce right off
the other's noggin
to fall clattering
upon the cellar floor

why choose to write ?
why then speak at all ?
i cannot answer this
it seems the lesser of the sins
at least to bear my soul
if i don't reveal
this profound concern
how may i serve at all ?
i hear your plea for help
hidden neath those words
whenever you express yourself
it's like a mournful cry
though others may not hear
and likely cannot see
these eyes and ears 
are finely tuned
to one such as thee
it's not what it is you say
but how the words are spoken
that pains this lover's heart

i must be still
and let you be
however you might suffer
i pray for thee
that in your time
you may cease to rage
there is no victory to gain
from that war
you choose to wage
there is no way
to embrace the light
while sword and shield
are still in hand

the enemy is
at the gate
it has always
been this way
no matter how dark
appears the night
tis ever followed
by light of day

now what now ?

okay
this is a new now
it's a whole bunch
of new nows
all strung together
now after now after now
etcetera ad infinitum
what now ?
okay now....

what now ?

i was in such
a blessed hurry
to gain patience
why'd it take so long ?

that other now
which we call then
and some future now
which we call when
and all the other nows
don't seem to mind
how they're strung along

then when we
get to when
it then won't
be when then
as when will
then be now

it will certainly
be then when
we reach that
future when
and this now
shall be then but
it won't be then
as when would
then be now

it won't be then
when we reach the end
of all the nows
we've strung together

we'll be then at
yet another now
in that then
we know as when

it shall still be
now of course
when when
and then begin

there is no end
to the beginning
of the string of nows
as at the time
when then meets when
it shall then be now

it's now we
must consider how
to be here now
not then or when
as at the end
of the beginning
it's the beginning
of the end

then then when
when meets then again
there's nothing then 
but to be here now
and now
and now
and now
not then or when

only then is when
to be here now

now....
what now ?
now what now ?

what now ?

what now ?

not what if
not what then
but only just

what now ?

if someone were to
view a work of art
that did provoke....

what now ?

what is there
to say to that ?
the mystery
would sure abide
behind the viewer's eye

the artist might be lying
in a drunken stupor
under some sleazy
bar-room table
at that moment
in space and time

or long deceased....

or worse yet
trapped within
a living death
dependent on
the fickle favour
of some other

if you cut me
i will bleed
i am not the
words i utter
i shall not
always be here

so pass the
bread and butter
this could
very well be
the time of
our last supper

i am not some
cardboard character
performing in your
convenient cartoon-land

i am that one
who's the least of us
i am that long
forgotten friend
i have died along
the concrete highway
again and again and again

what now ?

there's no secret hidden
behind these words
it's all up front to see

if i'm not living
here and now
when shall i ever be ?

if this is true for me
it's likely so for thee

there is no answer
to this riddle
only just to be

the answer is
to be the question
tis all that's left for me

what now ?

i am a thief

it started early....
the first memories of stealing are at age 7....heading downtown with my older brother to shoplift at 'eatons' department store
i think it was more for the thrill of succeeding than anything else....as i don't remember swiping anything of actual importance to a 7 year old.
our family moved to another neighbourhood at my age 8
there were several shops within walking distance that sold candy, soda pop, chocolate bars, chips, comic books and such.
now we were into serious business....everything available to meet our needs
by this time i was old enough to begin part-time as a work animal for my father
delivering magazines, flyers and newspapers, cutting lawns, shoveling snow
the rule was simple for my brothers and myself
all of the proceeds went into my father's hand
from which he would allot us a meager allowance
certainly not nearly enough to keep us in daily snacks and such
by nine years old i was smoking cigarettes along with my running mates
we discovered a convenient source
our neighbour behind us was in the habit of leaving a box filled with cartons of cigarettes in the back of his station wagon
pilfering these got us started and of course we were soon addicted to nicotine and had to get our daily supply somehow
we then began almost a decade long routine of cruising for milk bottle money....as in those days on weekends it was customary for folks to leave empty milk-bottles on their front porch with cash inside for the milkman to collect and fill their orders.
we also discovered a clever method of "milking" globe and mail newspaper boxes for cash
it was several years before the boxes were upgraded to theft-proof designs
this provided basic cigarette money from my age 9 til about 15
i couldn't count how much i stole from my mother's waitressing tip money
whenever the opportunity seemed to present itself i stole
there was always a need for more cash
i was a working man by age 11
by this time i was attending school regularly as well as working 5 or 6 nights weekly at a local bowling alley as a pinboy
all of my peers smoked cigarettes, most were around my age or a little older
weekend days were filled with caddying at local golf courses or in colder weather delivering groceries by bicycle
during the summer it was caddying everyday as long as school was out
all of those earnings (which averaged $30 to $35  weekly for each of us five boys) went into my father's pocket with the exception of an "allowance" of $1 or $2 weekly
by 12 years of age our felonious sights were aimed somewhat higher
we began to perform "break and enter" jobs, hitting restaurants, gas stations, local business offices,
and even the bowling alley that employed us.
i don't think a week went by without us having stolen something to feed our lifestyles.
of course to be a successful thief it soon became obvious i needed to be a skilled liar
it didn't take a rocket-scientist to understand that getting caught would incur our father's considerable wrath.
3 different occasions we were able to make off with large sacks full of cigarettes from back counters at local stores we had "hit"
we were never nabbed for these capers....but on one occasion my father discovered our hiding place and confiscated them for his personal use.
what stands out upon looking back is this....nothing seemed wrong with this picture
it was a somewhat common story for many kids living on the edge of little italy in hamilton ontario
some of my running mates were named angelo, nino, pasquale
i was later to discover they were the actual sons of local mafioso
the culture was simple....there was no crime in stealing....only in getting caught
my dad knew i smoked from age 11, his rule was simple, go ahead and smoke, but don't let him catch me.
i never did....i will always remember my parent's birthday gift to me at 14 years of age....a carton of cigarettes and a lighter.
i was now legal in my father's eyes....i could smoke in the house....this was a big day for me !
somehow it represented a rite of passage....into what i'm still not sure
i was still a work animal and stealing was a necessity to sustain my habits.
something important happened at around age 13, i began to grow, and with years of physical labor behind me, i was becoming quite strong and fit, as well as a skilled fighter.
what this meant was that my father seemed less inclined to hit me, i was beginning to represent the possibility of physical retaliation in his eyes.
like the perfect bully and coward he was, he just moved down the line and continued picking on the younger smaller ones.

as described in "for bruce" entry....the stealing stopped at around age 16
the possibility of jail scared this thief straight

more true confessions from later life regarding stealing to come.....

i am a liar

i am a liar
so sayeth the truth-teller !

sometimes i lie about my late father
i want the world to understand what kind of a monster he was at times
sometimes i exaggerate details to make him seem more demonic and myself more the innocent victim
although most of what i've reported occurred before i was of legal responsible age
i was in fact an innocent, helpless, hostage and victim
these were the formative years
it's no surprise i would be hard-wired this way

what was the lie ?

he did not actually kick my front teeth out at age 12
a combination of poor oral hygeine, several hard blows to my face by him, the fact that our tap water was not fluoridated....and sugar sugar sugar.....combined to contribute to the dentist deciding my 4 front adult teeth had to be removed at age 12

the rest written here is the truth as i know it today

of course he was a human being
he wasn't all bad
perhaps now since publicly revealing the sins and crimes he committed behind closed doors
i might be able to objectively acknowledge the positive influences he was responsible for

this i pray for

even speaking of him causes me to shudder and cringe
that culture of terrorism, minimizing and denial
and especially the taboo regarding speaking at all
still seems second-nature within me

i cannot exaggerate the depth of terror i lived with as a child
i cannot imagine a more fearsome being than how my father appeared to me
he is an example of the ultimate bully !
whatever his intentions, he was responsible for soul-rape upon me
he consistently demonstrated utter disregard for my humanity
and profound indifference as to my life's hopes and aspirations
i was in fact considered less than human by him
i was a work animal
i was useful as long as i was able to continue working
and providing him with his necessary pocket money
this is not an exaggeration....it is the stone cold truth

i doubt that much of what occurred was personal
it was what he knew....
in my objective opinion, he was criminally insane
he didn't ever seem to think there was anything askew with his world view
i heard him say " i'm sorry " once....shortly before he died
i did not believe him then....i don't know what to believe now

i imagine i've experienced whatever human shortcomings that he likely suffered with
fortunately certain people i physically harmed didn't die...or myself at other times
the cycle of violence did play out for me well into my late 30's
fortunately, i've received so much help
i've always known i needed help
although it took some time to seek it out
i imagine he could never accept that he needed help
i remember as a child thinking....if only my father would get some help
i heard my mother say that many times
of course he never did seek help

i see people around me daily that remind me of him
people in "recovery" who have found a way to stop drinking alcohol
but seem to have no interest in risking letting go of their negative, resentful and vindictive ways
my father carried those beliefs and attitudes to his grave

it's been quite a journey through life seeking to find some redeeming qualities about my father
yet being absolutely blinded by the visceral horror of his sins and crimes visited upon me and my family

the worst criminal i've ever encountered was he.
the most domineering, vile and toxic human being i've ever encountered was he
the most manipulative merciless mind-raper i've ever encountered was he
i've been around and had a look
what i say is true

his soul has long ago been in the hands of the powers that be

if he were to appear today, i wonder if i could face him eye to eye

this man who saw no problem with rubbing my face in dog-shit and pissy sheets
this man who struck me hundreds of times about the face and head
without the ability to defend myself or tell anyone
this man who murdered me twice....only i didn't die
this man who murdered my 2 older brothers....only they didn't die
this man who forced me (us) to watch as he viciously beat one or more of my siblings
this man who had a habit of beating our dogs mercilessly....so many nights i cried myself to sleep having to listen to the mournful whelps and yowls coming from downstairs
this man who made a career out of degradation, invalidation and visiting me (us) with bitter contempt
seeming to take perverse pleasure from this
this man who tortured and mind-raped me as a distraction from his boredom
this man who systematically stole my childhood and any hopes for a functional life
this man who robbed me of any hope of fathering children

i had become such a dangerous violent person, i instinctively knew i must not have kids
i knew i would hurt them
i knew i could not control the explosive temper i had developed during early days at his hands

how could i ever dream of forgiving this human being ???
how ???

i don't know....i i imagine i might never know....

so many days, months, years, decades of carrying this sorrow, grief, hurt, indignation and rage....
the rage at being left S.O.L. and absolutely on my own by everyone and anyone who might have helped back in those hurtful days
the rage at being exiled by the only living survivors (my sibs) of what happened
seemingly to protect their preferred collective version of where they come from

please god relieve me of this burden
i cannot go on like this
forgive him as he knew not what he did
god rest his soul...and mine as well

amen

what's love got to do with it ?

what's love got to do with anything ?

everything !

looking back over
life gone by
it seems so clear to me
i've had to
medicate myself
in order just to bear
the unexpected visitations
of those daunting
ghosts and demons....
horror, terror
hopelessness and despair

in so doing
i lost the will to feel
unconditional heartfelt love
for anyone or anything
i could think love's thoughts
and dream love's dreams
i could imagine
being that one in love
but the sorry truth
was i could not
ever be that love
as i'd forgotten
how to feel

by some tender mercy
i now do hear
love's subtle song
softly played upon 
my own heart's strings
this is the grace
of these living days

i live alone
i eat alone
i sleep alone
yet, within my being
i know a love for
all within creation

if i were to depart today,
i'd miss you one and all
and what's curious to me
is that i'd miss that
very farthest star
perhaps the most of all

it seems there's
neither good nor evil
that human thinking
doesn't make it so....

words borrowed
from the bard

there's nought that's
not divinely cast
i've always had these eyes
and through a
simple leap of faith
i now have come to see

just as you are
to the least of us
so are you
to thee and me....

as spoken by
the man called "jesus"

the powers that be
have granted me
blessed peace of mind....
and consequently....
a truly grateful
open and willing heart

no way home

i think it's time
to share the truth
of how i came about

the mirror-land
through that rabbit's hole
is where i started out

i know first-hand
the elephant and
the naked king
and everyone through
that looking-glass
is familiar with
the 'witches 3'

i grew up just
around the bend
from where they
gained their infamy

i've moved away
of conscious choice
as here is where
my home shall be

but neither elephant,
nor naked king
and least of all
the 'witches 3'
have any choice
of where to be

for they are
ever stranded in
exile for their deeds
they can never
go back there
yes it's here they're
doomed to be

they long for their
topsy-turvy world
where back is front
and here is there

if only they could
scheme a way
to trick the guardian
at the rabbit's hole

they don't know how
to be at peace
when the opposite
of what they think
proves always to be so

the same old tale

hiding in my hut again
afraid to venture out
a week's gone by
since the 'witches 3'
had cast their spell about

they will recognize me
from that other realm
with just one glance
i would be found out

i must not break
their unspoken rule
nor speak the truth of
what they're all about

they know behind
their prideful blindness
that i can really see
where it is they're at and
what they wish for me

it's the same old tale
and the same old trap
that they have set for me

the elephant, the naked king
and the sly old 'witches 3'

they cannot e'er be
seen as they truly are
only for what they seem

they have no use
for one like me as i'd
only blow their scheme

the elephant, the naked king,
and the 'witches 3'
can't really be to blame

they cannot help
where they came from
it's all they knew you see

the mirror world
down that rabbit's hole
was always front to back

i must be hidden away
from their probing gaze
of this there is no doubt

they cannot dare risk
someone like me exposing
what they're all about

there can be no rest
for these exiled ones
never shall there be

for they're ever stranded
in this limbo world and
home they'll never see

open mind - open heart

an open heart
how shall this come about ?

first i must have an open mind
how shall that come about ?

i cannot relieve myself
of the problem of
close-mindedness
if i could have done so
i would have done by now

what does an open mind
look like through these eyes ?
a clear and unencumbered
state of awareness...
peace of mind

personal experience has shown
that once i had been triggered
into some distraction
regarding people, places, things
my mind snapped shut
while those grinding gears
were set again in motion
no more open mind
therefore, no hope
of an open heart

it was the process of resenting
someone or another
that was the distraction itself

regardless of the details
the individual or group involved
my mind was in an altered state
that which was not free or open

resentment is the killer
it is always waiting
waiting just to take me
for another hellish ride

i must choose to pray
to be relieved
of this obsession
no longer can i run
or fight or hide

and who or what
shall be the one
to offer this relief ?

a higher power
of my understanding

the very 'higher power'
that i prayed to
while at the very
bottom of the pit

PLEASE HELP ME, GOD !

yes, that 'higher power'
who subtly whispered in my ear

STOP DIGGING !

that 'higher power'

yes, that one !

i had to pray
to be relieved
of the stubborn will
to keep on fighting

then freely choose to
offer up that will  
to the care and protection
of my 'higher power'
and because of this
and this alone
i am living still

there is a prayer
that i know of
heaven sent
i have no doubt

this is a sick one
that i deal with
i am sick as well
how may i be
of service?
please save me
from anger
and resentment
thy will be done
not mine

it's the only
thing that works
and it works every time

this simple prayer

sometimes it is
the only thing
that saves me from
a journey into hell

this simple prayer

when sincerely uttered
can bring those
grinding wheels
to a halt

only then can this mind
be open and at peace
bringing renewed hope
for a free and open heart

cross to bear

i have had to
close these eyes
for relief from
the blindness
that's been
visited upon me

your silence cries
an urgent warning
you know not 
what it is you do
or who it is you see

i did not choose
this bloody cross
that has been
prepared for me
to save you from
your sightless state
so that you might
claim to see

i must not opt 
to leave it now
the wheel of life
has turned again
our drama must
continue til it's
prophetic end
only then might you
come to know
what it is you do
and who it is you see

it was never me that
you were looking at
twas only ever thee
yes, only thee
your blindness
was complete
it was impossible
for you to see

if you could have
closed those eyes
you might have
come to see
it was not me
you placed upon
this bloody cross
twas only ever thee
yes, only thee

what's for dinner ?

it was the scrawniest
of the 'witches 3'
who sputtered with
a raspy wheeze
i shall brew the tea

and i will stoke the fire
spat the plump and warty one
with a cackling snort

the tall imperious crone
looked down her haughty nose
while chortling to herself
i must keep a lookout
for our guest when he's about

the hatter, hare and dormouse,
were restless in their seats
they'd been waiting far too long now
to discover what's to eat

a little bit of this
with just a pinch of that
and 2 large gobs of
something scraped from
within the hatter's hat

that's what we'll add
while our supper simmers
our special guest
ought soon arrive....yum !

he's never late
to the dinner-plate
of this we can be certain

so say the 'witches 3'

more from the witches 3

i'm here to fill
some role in a
script i cannot see
there is someone
to direct the scenes
what i know is
that it isn't me

i suspect we all
are rehearsing lines
til the moment
we shall meet

the 'witches 3' have
been behind the scenes
until it's time for tea
their brick oven is awaiting
the kettle's whistling with glee

the hatter, hare and dormouse,
are settling in for tea
what's for dinner ?
cry the threesome
as we'll be hungry after tea

our old lost friend
will soon be here as
we've invited him for tea
yes, we shall surely see
what's for dinner after tea

so say the 'witches 3'

so say the 'witches 3'

so say the witches 3

what's certain ?
nothing !

there are no words to explain
what's been transpiring here
the answers lay between the lines
if one were just to see
first though it seems
one must choose to look

it's been impossible
to gauge what's true
while peering through
such troubled eyes

what i held as gospel yesterday
proves wholely false today
just another bread-crumb
along some winding path
while stumbling through
this tangled earthly forest

to the abode of the 'witches 3'

the 'witches 3', the 'witches 3',
they think they're hiding
but i can see

the elephant, the naked king,
and the witches 3
yes, i can see

how can that be ?

i've been to the land
where they hail from
i know what they're all about
it's mirror business
down that rabbit's hole
of this there is no doubt

i've been invited for a visit
they're having me for tea
the hatter, hare and dormouse,
will all be there, you see.

they're not pleased
that i've made my
way out through
the looking-glass
they miss me and
they want me back
to take my place for tea

the 'witches 3', the 'witches 3'
they shall not rest til
they've welcomed me
back through the mirror's lens

yes, i must return for tea

so say the 'witches 3'

so say the 'witches 3'


















nothing i perceive
can be trusted as truly so.

this too shall pass

what a night....a full-fledged PTSD episode....completely taken over by traumatic emotions.
it's always been the case that while under PTSD's influence, my belief was "it's always been this way, and always will be this way !"

so-o-o....tomorrow has come....the episode has passed....thanks to the powers that be !

there was a time when these "attacks" would occur 3 or 4 times weekly, for months on end.
i believed there was no help....that i was "cursed" somehow.
any hope for a better life lay in studying each episode while engrossed in the traumatic feelings....to see what could be learned so i might "nip it in the bud" next time around.
i did experience some success, learning to identify the early signals, and do what was possible not to fuel the "panic attack" with more raging fear.
of 60-plus PTSD episodes over the last decade, more than half have resulted in some degree of temporary physical paralysis.
these would usually occur while in a group of people, or within the context of an intimate love relationship....suddenly finding myself mysteriously triggered into extreme panic.
i most often lost my balance, falling to the ground or to a nearby chair, barely able to move, hyperventilating, with intense tingling sensations, as well as paralysis throughout my extremities
after 3 or 4 of these experiences it became clear i wouldn't die....the average duration of the episodes being 3 to 4 hours until feeling strong enough to walk, and sometimes days before feeling "normal" again
the triggers have almost always been social and utterly mysterious in nature.
i had been able to reduce the chances of a PTSD episode occurring by simply avoiding group encounters....and sadly, intimate relations of any kind.

last evening was a classic example of a PTSD attack....except the paralysis didn't occur, for that i am truly thankful.
the sense of extreme terror and confusion was as strong as ever.
fortunately, i knew to leave the current situation, and make my way "home".
it's not so long ago, i had no safe "home" to retreat to.
the PTSD was so out of control, the best i could manage was a camper van and life on the run.
that lifestyle...along with this dude....had gotten old along the way....as spoken about in earlier entries.

for the longest time, marijuana seemed the perfect medicine,
having never experienced a PTSD episode while under the influence of pot.

of course, there eventually came a time when mary-jane turned completely against me, instead of being that trusted soothing medicine, she became like a vile poison....making me physically ill.

and here i am....learning how to face these demons....clean and sober....one day at a time.
thanks to the powers that be, the AA program and community, and a stubborn will to be free of the "curse" of PTSD.

this too shall pass....






"

the trickster

the fabled glass that's
half-empty or half-full lay
smashed upon the floor
and instinct warned me
i might just die of thirst.

the elephant was winning
the elephant has won
who was i to think that
i could be the one to
break the code of silence

how does one speak to
another who has assumed
the role of "trickster"
and lures one into some
hidden web of madness ?

they seem to have no inkling
anything could be amiss
with their perceptions
or their modus operandi

they are the ones who
carry the banner declaring
as honestly as they can

come and be with us
ye lost and trembling souls
ye shall be safe within
this sheltered harbour

but i did not feel safe there
in fact i was struck dumb
there was something
soul-devouring there
just behind the veneer
of middle-class propriety

i know this is true
it's always been true
there was never once
that it wasn't true.
i see the enemy
and the enemy is....us ???

my best of intentions
have always led me only
straight to the gates of hell.

why would your's or
their's do any differently ?

i've chosen to retire from
being with those others
this isn't what i want
but it is that which i need.

their best of intentions
would not allow for me
to speak, or any like me.

the "trickster" is a sly one
donning clever masks while
mesmerizing those about
to think that all is well
and "normal" as could be.

there was no-one there to
reach out with compassion
the hypnosis was complete

where were you when
i was most in need ?

my voice was lost,
with vision blurred,
my heart was aching
praying only to be heard.

where were you when
i was most in need ?