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