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