Poetry

BROKEN WINGS

‍

Flying

Even on dry land

Is our normal existence

But life is seldom normal.

And so we slip and fall

Crash and burn

Step on our own toes

Or get kicked to the curb

Broken, robbed of our glory

As Samson with a shaved head.

We may as well be dead

For what good we think we are.

But Another has a different view

So let us look into a different mirror

Not the one that reshaped us

Into an undesirable blob

Let us be still

And hear the faint praise

That gets stronger 

The closer we get to the frequency

Designed for our listening ears.

Let us take out our trash

The words of shame and blame

Or even misguided fame

And we may be revealed

As was that old violin

In the hands of the Master.

‍

The one who listens learns

The one who studies earns 

But it is all a gift

So we too must lift 

Our fellows when they fall

All for one and one for all.

Knowing without flowing 

Stops us up

Sometimes we need to flush

The poison from our hearts

That starts

When we forget

There but for ...

Go I.

‍

Long ago 

In a world not far away 

Our grandmothers 

Made quilts, crocheted

Sewed their children's clothes 

Cooked amazing meals

Born from the chickens

Whose necks they wrung 

From the peas even little ones 

Helped with shelling

Beans too of many kinds

Carrots and taters

From grandpas' gardens

Which was their before

And after work passion.

Flowers too they grew

Out of the love they shared

Out of the thanks 

For the families 

Who made life make sense.

Sundays were casseroles

And resh venison

Or chicken salad

And tater salad

After church on the grounds.

Volleyball, even croquet

But mostly touch football

And summer baseball

But hunting and fishing

Seasons brought food and joy

And taller tales 

That even the dogs enjoyed.

Life was simpler then

We did not know a lot

About the world so far away

But once in a while

Our sons were called upon

To risk their lives

And often lose them

To protect the lives 

We cherished in our nests.

To be sure we knew

Injustice 

It was the way things were

And many feared change 

That could burst our balloons

And challenge our faith 

In Norman Rockwell's

Portraits of America.

Today we long for shelling peas

Eating watermelon and

Homemade ice cream

The product of salt, sweat, and ice

Churning the milk and cream

And the berries we added

And the pies and cakes

In those times when calories

Were burned in our labors.

We wonder how empty 

Are the lives of those

Without community

Without a bond 

With the land and their neighbors

Without extended families 

Yet how can they live wisely

Without their history

Which they are told to trash

Bash and condemn 

And they without a history

Have no reason to disagree.

Yet the hearth fires still burn

Here and there

And there remain families 

Despite all the propaganda 

That the family, the old ways

Are remnants of a failed

Civilization.

As Thanksgiving draws near

The destroyers rage

Finding fault in all our past

Yet no civilization can last

Once shelling peas 

And all we once did together

Is done at factories

By those we do not know

And we each live apart

No longer needing each other

To thrive, let alone survive.

The isolated today chase about

Looking in vain 

For they dare not, 

No, they know not

How to break bread together

Or even that their lives

Could be intertwined

And thus enriched.

So how can we restore

A civilization lost

To isolation

And the fruitless

Pursuit of self.

It was Sartre who said

Helli s other people

But we say 

That heaven itself

Is community

And only through

Sharing the gift of life

Can we find true joy.

‍

‍

There is a highway

They call Eighty

Used by those 

Heading east from 

The Martian colony

To get somebarbecue.

But many choose instead

To play and sway

On the Martian stream.

The river rolls with twists

And turns

Often carrying tubers

[Not the kind you eat]

Making merriment

As they pass the Martindale bridges

Heading east to

Staples with its own Staples Center

Fentress with its own post office

Yet born in the 1800s as Riverside.

Prairie Lea, first settled in 1839,

Named after Sam's bride Lea

And home to Scott H. Biram

Who is claimed by Fentress too.

Yet City Market is the spot

Where the firesare always hot

And thesausages have a flavor

People drivehours just to savor.

The town gets an annual bump

From Luling's famous

Watermelon Thump

And on the outskirts lie

Lavender Fields with a big wide sky 

And a view of the world's largest

Gasoline mall and maxi-mart

The beavers ’delight they call Buc-ee's.

Now Martindale was born in 1855

Miss Nancy kept it dry

And people grew seed corn

And cottonseed for oil.

But today the town

Is back to 1923

At least on future TV.

Yet it is the spirit of music 

Cultivated by Kent and his kids

That is its life's breath

And not even death

Can break the bonds 

That have forged a strength

To face the future with amazing hope.

There are also stories

Of a great darkness

Tonkawa and Comanche 

The fight at Plum Creek

The bad blood on both sides

The Buffalo Hump raids

The betrayals that did not end well

But helped forge the Texas spirit

Chronicled in song and story

Where all the gory past

Has morphed into a glory

Where yellow roses 

And bluebonnets

And majestic oaks abound.

Highway 80 runs through 

Hallowed ground.

‍

The dead will rise

That was the promise

And though it seems 

Impossible

There it was in the bones

The dead must live again

Or we will all die soon.

The spirits of those long gone

Seethe moral decay

And grieve

And pour their broken hearts

Into the fires of resurrection 

To save tomorrow 

For the children of today 

Whose souls were slaughtered

Maimed and reprogrammed

To respond to the culture of death

Or just beaten towards

Submission.

Butunbeknownst to the evil ones

Inthe hidden crevices

Inunseen places

Thereborn are growing.

For the sacrifices of the dead

Have triggered a regeneration 

And the children of hope

Are singing Hosanna 

As they feel their new legs

Standing tall

Their new hearts 

Beating strong 

Their new minds

Obedient to the Voice

That leads them through

The wilderness 

Into freedom.

As I watch such a resurrection 

Knowing the Hand at work here

Is guided by the prayers

Of ones lost too soon.

I marvel at the handiwork

And quietly rejoice

Thatte gift that comes 

Only from giving

Is now living

Resurrecting the love

Resurrecting the joy

Bringing peace

As the preparations

Are being made

For our own tomorrows.

‍

Y'knowthat feeling

You spent HOW MUCH

Keeping that old dawg alive

That last six weeks

When if it was a horse

In the Old West

You'd a shot it

Ending its own misery.

She must have known

The junkyard grave 

The cannibalization

Was just around the corner 

But those last rides together

Meant way too much

Couldn't throw in the towel

Until the doctor pronounced

The end had come.

The mourning began

The very next day

How could I let her die?

But then you knew

The old girl had a good life

Lots of adventures 

And I mean LOTS!

And after all you once thought

She had died young

Bu tthe doctors brought her back

With a new heart and nervous system

New pipes, too.

That was in Michigan

Long after those wild nights

In Napa and Big Sur

And the endless trips

To Big Shoulders

For the pizza and "potilics"

The My-T princes

And the angels of mercy

The shadow boxer

The theater buff

The Micks of Naperville

So many others

The nights she drove 

To Nashville for eclipses

And Independence parties

And hangs with the homie

Who delivered the free shoes

One cannot forget 

The poster maker 

Creator of the imagery

That fueled many stories

And the candlemaker too

And that day at Manuel's

So many good times 

So many more to come

Florida too was in her sights

Those breezy April nights

The salty air the reggae fair

The reunions galore

Lattes with Lotte

The Moral-ity days

The songs of TayTay

No cryin with Ryan

And two nights 

With the JV squad

Wildest of all though

Was the winter in the Valley

With the pizza chef

And the carnies 

And the best tea shop

That also sold coffee

St. Louis with the Mud Queen

Denver with the carpenter

Amarillo by very early morning

After a Colorado sunrise

And other Colorado days

And very cold June nights

When the dance hall doll

Lit up the Telluride skies

That darkest day 

When Baltimore 

Was too far away

To save the swan 

From Jason's wrath

Yet out of that gloom

And the electoral doom

New life emerged

I was on the verge

Of a brand new career

At an age when others

Were shutting down operations

Eage rfor the joy

Of bouncing children's children

I was sailing into 

The greatest adventure 

Since meeting my Champagne lady

And all that went before

I could finally adopt the moniker

The New Jim Bishop

Op ed writer to the world

And Sunny D

May she rest in peace

Was there for it all 

Just as my Shadow

Had held my hands

During the hardest years

Of all.

‍

PORTS IN A STORM

‍

Wildwinds raging

Thewaters coming up

Thefloorboards creak

Lightningcuts a streak

Butwe have power

Evenin the darkness

Evenwhen the cell tower

Isblown far away.

Nightbecomes day

Asthe fires begin

Andyou realize

Thatacid trip

Maskeda very different

Reality.

Thetrue storm is strife 

Andthe taking of a life

Ispainted as a cheap trick

Asif that one fatal click

Hadnot scattered brains

Andleft the remains

Shroudingthe little chicks

Likea mother hen.

Andthen

Theyrealize 

Hecan't get up

And hislife as we knew it

Wasover.

Youread the news

Andthe morning views

Bringback the storms

Thewind, the rain, the fire

Mockyour very desire

Toget out of bed

Defeatthe dread

Plungeright ahead

Andscream.

Whileothers gasped

Themockers laughed

Orsmirked “he missed”

Buttell that to the one who died

Hiskiller now a suicide

Bydesign if not intent.

Theywatched him die

Andhundreds fly

Surrealturned all too real

Andnone knows why.

Butthe other guy

Lives

Andgives

Yourheart a boost

Yetfrom their roost

Thesquatters howl

Fakenews most foul

And thedead’s survivors

Mockedas they mourn

Feellike they were hit

Withanother round.

Thescene’s too big

Tocomprehend

Butin your dream state

Youtake in

Theheartfelt pains

Thescattered brains

Asall that remains

Arelifetime memories.

Andyou mourn

Notfor the lost love alone

Butfor those who drone 

Asif it was just a scripted

Lie.

‍

Life just happens that way

The Light was bright

The sun was high and mighty

And I was in awe.

Stairs we climbed

Were not on this plane

As the great Southwest 

Came into view 

Wall after wall

Room after room

And outdoors the party

Never slowed down.

It was a celebration

Dates figs figments

But no prunes or kumquats

Lots of colors lots of shades

And one Bright Shining Star

A never-ending Roman candle

Sparkling like great champagne 

Overwhelmed

That so many

Heard her call 

And saw the glory all around.

Vendors galore 

And every store

Just fit.

And the band played on

And off.

Night rose and the moon

Gave rise to an intermission of song

That led to a grand finale

And then the cool down

The denouement

The breathing slowed

As we took in the majesty

And the immensity

The future holds 

As we stilled ourselves

To receive having given all.

‍

Lying out in the yard

Far from city lights

On a clear night there are

Stars

And they flicker and dance.

And for as long as we know

And likely longer

We have told stories

And created fantasies

That somehow ring true.

Castor and Pollux

The Dippers and Orion's Belt

And our favorite candy bar.

And we let the energy of the Stars

Revive our souls and heal our hearts

As we realize

Or rather recognize

The troubles of the day

Disappear into the ether

Or maybe just escape

Through the ozone hole.

It's not that different

From watching the clouds

Drift

We think aimlessly

Across the great expanse

And imagining elephants

Or trees or any number of shapes

And while admen want us

To see commercial angels

We know the true angels

Move about in another plane.

Unseen but surely felt

If we have listened to the Stars

Time is relative

Even though measured

How many days of drudgery

Fade

When we feel the touch of love

And bond with the eternity

We see in the clouds

And in the Stars.

Yet how rare the day or night

When we reserve the time

To look for four-leaf clovers

Or even smell the roses

Right under our noses

Or visit a friend

Inconveniently far away

Right down the street

Long enough

To go lie in the grass

And just look up?

‍

Listening to the lute I wonder

What did instruments sound like

In the millennia before

Manufactured strings?

What was the standard

Of excellence

And how often did their

Strings break?

Voices, too, evolve differently

And tones that once were

Thrilling

May differ from what we

Cheer today.

Justice too has changed.

Brutal justice rarely denied

But often in error

But the error was often

Just not running fast enough

From greed and lust.

How many innocents today

Have to die

Because our strings are tied

To missions of death

When other paths

Were deemed unprofitable

To those who spend

What we had held

But they took

From our strings and wallets?

George warned against

Tying ourselves to strings

But like the Hebrews

Who demanded a king

We did not listen

And now their strings

Tie up even those

We thought

Spoke for us.

The puppeteers rarely

Show their faces

But the traces

Of their control

Are there if we kick up the dust

And yet we never look

Out of fear they will be

Watching.

‍

In the beginning we are One

One man one woman came next

And over time the multitudes.

So we divided, or were divided

BaBel, Ba'al, Babylon ...

But in the early days after

We set rules 

Based on the revolutionary idea

That if “God don't make junk”

Then every human life has value

If only the rest of us do not crush

The life gift within our neighbor

Or poison it with envy, lust, or hate.

All humans are created equal, yes,

But more to the point

All humans [even twins] are unique

And when they discover their ears

That hear the Voice

Saying Go this way or that

Trust this one not them

Love each and all

But let only the purest hearts

Become your soul mates. 

When however we let bullies

Or con artists

Overpower or beguile

Or when sirens blinded but "special"

Persuade us to follow their lemming path

And we fall off the cliff 

We may realize they knew

The secrets about our true selves

We hid or did not even know

And used them to manipulate our hearts

And as we awaken in our haze

We find our gifts perverted

Misused, abused and broken

Our very purpose put on hold

And, we may think, made useless

They tell us that as well

Make our lives a living hell

We may take as “normal”

Our gifts are locked

Our little puzzle pieces for peace and life

As they turn one up, another down

Chaos rules not serves us.

And we implode.

Not all, nor really any, is fully lost

We just need revival

Which means a community

Where each one sees each other

As adding value to their lives.

Freedom of association is not

To be but rarely used

But is the way we keep up

Knowing when to speak

To the things that matter

We solved problems together

On the frontier

But today

We want others

To solve our problems for us

So that we can be self-righteous

Not realizing we are alone

And enslaved like Edmond.

So humanity began without law

Or even the need for law 

We could talk and act

In harmony

But oh so quickly

We fell into factions

Followed leaders

Despite Dylan’s warning

Became the rah rah squad

For tyrants, traitors, and trillionaires

Who only pretend to care.

For the law is death

To community

To honesty

To humanity

Much better is grace

Which the bitter call privilege

And the loveless luck

But which simply means

Seeing our own frailties

And following the example

That set us free from faction (us v. them).

Once the law is used 

To advance a faction 

That action only leads 

To more and more

Power grabbing
Kinda like they never stopped

Killing pigeons and buffalo

Until for many it was too late.

The taste of blood

Whets the appetite 

For more of the red sticky stuff.

And brothers fight

Even to the death

And in some the hate

Consumes their entire families.

But how to corral a lawless “Law”?

Who will stand the abuse

Run the gauntlet endure the shame?

Aslan arose even stronger

And so shall we who stand

And remind the world

Of our unique valuable amazing

Humanity

That shines forth

When we water our neighbors' hearts

And let our neighbors water ours.

‍

Pampered or pummeled 

Life got you here

Wake up the day is in gear

Chimneys are puffing 

Sidewalkers are shuffling

The trees they are blooming

For a sneeze or a smell

People are waiting for you.

Even if you are just

A walk-on for their stage

Sometimes a one-line wonder

Steals the show.

[Tho when misspoke 

Becomes a pinprick

That bursts the whole balloon.]

Be chill

Be a thrill

Show your skill

At turning on the lights

Changing dread to delight

Listen to their hearts

Feel the rhythm of their souls.

But how do you know

Before or even during the show

Which words or non words 

Will turn on the lights

And not the screaming sirens?

Be chill

Listen

Feel

And breathe.

‍

Those who

Demand 

You be like them

Or die

Or just be shunned

Abused

Deemed as animals

Or Zombies

Or just The Borg

Fulfill Rousseau

A governing by polls

And when the polls fail

The ruling classes

Do what they want anyway.

I mean who can stop them?

It's not like it's 1215

There is no new Magna Carta

Even the Declaration

Is called Abomination

And calls are growing

To bomb our nation

But why?

The looters, like rats

In an abandoned grocery,

Are taking everything

Off the shelves

Trashing our sacred places 

While demanding their own

Safe-from-life spaces

The true pandemic

Was not a Chinese virus

Or even the Salem-ish response

But the apathy, the excuses 

For exiting a world far too corrupt

And too sophisticated

[ And what is sophistry again?]

And as they have been lied to believe

Too dangerous 

So they bought into virtual unreality

As a better, less risky substitute.

Video game kills don't really kill you

Like stray bullets ... or knives... 

But the siren songs and catcalls

On the spinning web 

And in the daily jail sessions

Where dissent gets you expelled

Blackballed, de-platformed

And you already did not really exist.

On this Day long ago

Was born a man who

Said

Dude, we live by a different code

We have a different abode

You enrich yourselves

We enrich those around us.

That inner voice

That tug of heart

That says

Heed not the sirens

For they bring death

And steal your essence

And hold you captive.

Like the dancing cobra in abasket 

You are spellbound 

Captive

Though you have the words

To break the spell

To leave the cage

To live free,

Captive only

To the voice

That guides you through 

The darkest valleys 

And frees you from being

Just another brick in their wall

Trust them not

Their plans are not The Plan

Their rule of fear and lies.

And you can do much better 

Living free.

Corrosion sets in

When the winds of change

Are barred

And the dew seeps through

Infinitesimal cracks

In your impenetrable armor.

But it is that armor

That blocked the wind

And sowed the seeds

Of its own destruction.

And yet that shell

Is not your true self

And though you have forgotten

How it feels to be

Truly free

The memories return

Now and then

Aahhh

And the sad eyes blink

And the unreality returns

Yet you see not the cage

For you have reduced your world

To its tiny dimensions.

And then ....

One day the light hits the cracks

And the wind blows again

And you realize

The jacket's corrosion

That began with your tears

Is complete

You feel again

You breathe deeply

And you step timidly at first

Not ready to run

Getting your legs back

And discovering people

Who once were but shadows.

Life

Revisited.

‍

HIGHWAY SIGNS

‍

September24, 2023

Slow Stop Yield Merge

And things like cattle crossings

Highway signs ignored?

Crash ouch omg death

Or maybe just aticket

Or a big "whew!"

Listen Look Love Join

And things like dishes or laundry

These too must be heeded! 

Tears Shouts Withdrawal Breaking Glass

Or maybe just Dear Joan

Or "I'm so sorry."

Too many times we bail

And leave a chip unhealed

Too many times we fail to see

The sacrifices made to bring us joy.

Oh, boy!

That one hit home.

Kindness is in short demand 

Instead we cheer for misery

As our own needs company

And she loves company too.

And you

Pretend you are strong

When all you are is brittle

Scales protect your heart and lungs

Tho they really just

Keep a lock on the real You.

The path to joy begins with

Forgiveness

That detoxifies the poison

Each grudge holds.

Be bold

For only the brave

Overcome their own shadow.

We are brave in our secret hearts

But when we face the music

Out pour the excuses 

We never even rehearsed.

Life is a highway, the poet said

Miss too many signs

And love, like life, is dead.

How Why Who What?

Are you really there?

Did you hear me?

Do you fear me?

We don’t really pay attention

Until we realize

Weare not the only ones

On the road.

‍

Traveling through backroads

Heading to Lockhart

Dusty winter fields

Empty but alive

Power lines overhead

The sunny sky above

And in your head

And in the car as well

All is well

When the sky is clear

But a cloudy sky laments

The ghostly absence

And you are unsure

You believe in ghosts

Even though they haunt

The ones you love.

Suddenly the rain

Comes down

And the windshield is cloudy

And the sky turns gray

And the day

Seems over

The celebration abruptly ended

When the raven failed to fly

And I

Shut down the engines

Waiting for the storm to end

The rainfall slows

The drops grow soft

And slowly rewarm

The extinguished heart

The sky reopens

And joy floods the room

And the gloom

Falls away.

‍

Didn't catch the nameWell, not true

Caught ... and released

Alas who was that unmasked

Soul

Who thinks I know

At least the name?

That name is the key

To being recognized

Not just Bub or Miss or worse

But then it hit me

Some of us hear at different speeds

And so Go slow

Is not too hard to ask

Not an admission of guilt

Not a handicap

Most, maybe some hear

At different brain speeds

Their listening is enhanced

Not just by concentration

Though concentration matters

Yet some who hardly seem present

Remember every word and gesture

We all run at different speeds

We are not carbon copies

We adjust as best we can

To intertwine our lives with others

And that is a great portion

Of our human journey

Just as we adjust our hearts

To the wind and the smells

And yes the creepy crawlies

As we leave our cages

And reconnect with Home

The Earth that brings us food

And air and water and joy,

And so (rather than be rude)

We admit

We consider each person we meet

Worthy

We want to write their names

In our Book of Life

And pray ours in theirs

As if we were in a scavenger hunt

To find as many others

And so we stop and say

Hey

I want to know enough

To always remember you

In that shared adventure

That uniquely curated scene

In our long-play lives

So that when we meet again

Our joys will hold our hearts

And we can live in peace.

Did I catch your name?

Wanna?

‍

The 911 call brings the EMTs

They rush into battle

For the fleeting lives

Wounds, damaged organs 

Even restarting hearts and lungs.

The massive attention needed

Is for the moment yet

To ambulance junkies

It is an everyday 24/7 high.

TV shows are like that.

Magic happens in 39 minutes

Credits and intros included

Gotta pay those bills.

Actors aren't cheap.

So too those who rush in

To revive the lonely 

To breathe life into dying souls

Create massive energy fields

As virtue is pumped

To rekindle the faded embers

And at that moment

The one in need

Is the VIP of your whole world.

The urgent gets the headlines 

Well deserved and grateful 

The important though

Is often overlooked

Mundane

Boring

At least to the speculators

Those who see from the outside

Those whose perspective

Ignores the glue

That the important provides.

Being there in time of need

Bringing that word of faith

To an unstable friend

The little things few notice

Often done in secret

Without fanfare

Things that, not done, might create 

The headlines the urgent

Find as their reward.

The urgent is important

Yet the need to remain 

Important 

Even when ignored

Is always urgent

Though we only realize 

Just how much 

When the one in ten

Says thanks.

‍

Yesterday was mybirthday

There was nocelebration

No party, not even aphone call

Which is not to saythat no one cared

But no one dared

To create an event

But then

There is no home forthe homeless

And while there is aroof and a bed

A home is more thanthat

A home is a center oflove

And love lost and notregained

Leaves one on thefringe.

To be sure there arefriends

Still around, stillcaring

And there are many joys

Almost nightly

But in the morning

I rise to an empty room

And the gloom

Pushes me into the car

To travel afar

In search of

Someone

Somewhere

Anywhere

That love can be shared

And breakfast made

And memories and dreams

And hope.

I would love to go home

But I don’t know wherehome is

Anymore.

‍

Sounds like a toddlers cup

Or a married hippie lady

But we're not supposed

To use that old binary code.

Tall pines, tons of rain

Southern food galore

Black-eyed peas please

Rooting for rutabagas

And yams not sweet taters

Cos flavor and texture matter.

You can drive from Natchez

To Nashville on a 2-lane road

Without a Trace of a red light

Or even a motel

Unless you need gas

Or food

Or conversation

But that's the rub.

Faces without names

Order please, keep that mask on

Keep your distance

Intimacy might be deadly

But casual chat is safe

Or so it seems.

Life is on SloMo

Even the mail

Takes a week or so

But that's everywhere now

And we wait

For the Apocalypse

Or maybe a newer song

But no cigarettes

And no sex

No touching at all

No sharing even a lighter

You might die

Or so we are told.

The stories are real

But it all seems surreal

As if universal cryogenics

Is our only hope.

Was Rip vW a pioneer

Or a prophet?

Meanwhile

Ol' Man River

Keeps on rollin'

The deer and the alligators play

And we all are living

In a virtual reality

Except for those

Who aren't.

‍

You started out hot

Played some early roles

Bright star of the fam

Sorta

Little professor

Sportscaster

Freak

Friend to the famous

Father

Fathead

High energy editor

Broadcaster

Husband

Dad

Collaborator

Catalyst

Creator

The list goes on.

And as your real life ended

The role that mattered most

You became the lordly host.

Lots of roles opened up

Travels with Bernie's boy

Chicago Cancun

Venice Beach Napa Oakland

Memphis New Orleans

Even the Atlantic beaches.

And the wisdom flowed

And you rode

All the way to the top

Your name again In the papers

And then the rapers

Brought their rapiers

And sliced and diced

And took everyone away.

Now there is nothing

Or so it seems

The good roles are gone

The joy extinguished

Death awaits but

Not of the body

That's a given

Its the sadness of the soul

That says

You won't be missed

Not really.

Are there no more roles to play?

Is there no more today?

Has despair become

The highest emotion left?

In these dark days

We must find ways

To keep alive the flame

To gather around the Name

Tend our flocks

Wind our clocks

And build an army of songs

And stories to remind us

We are all people

We are all essential

Our gifts remain.

The Voice says quietly

"Well done"

And what says it better

Than the mighty Atlantic

Watching the waves flirt

With the sky 

As the sun fades away

(No ocean sunsets here).

Sometimes the smallest things

The most mundane

The least glamorous

Make the most difference

Make lives last longer

Make human bonds stronger

And even those dainty things

Are part of the great adventure

The discovery of infinities

Identities we never imagined were ours

How to comprehend 

Events unfolding severing ties

Strange goodbyes

Joyful Hellos

New players on the stage

We are living in an age

Of endless tomorrows

Yet focused on todays

Because today is in our hands

To build or quietly watch

The stars and clouds 

And even the waves.

And as I remember

One adventuress told me

Always remember holds the key

While never forget blurs your focus

The words of the Teacher

Before Abe was, I AM

Reveal an equal truth

Before our todays, WE ARE

Grafted into infinity

And with that knowledge

We truly can heal the sick

Give sight to the blind

As we wash each other's feet

Or just clean their house

Or whatever our energy can supply

To turn a watery broth

Into a hearty soup

And after bowls are emptied

And bellies are filled

We look up and say

Well Done.

‍

You didn't know

Whether to laugh or cry

Leaving looms

But tonight breathes

And in our tribe

No one leaves

Without a party.

We celebrate life

Each day a brand new

Adventure

Like Fifty First Dates

Not Groundhog Day

The videotape in your head

Is enough

You know your yesterdays

But you don't

Live in them.

And everyone you meet

As your minds and hearts

Sync up

Has a puzzle piece

You might recognize

If you remember why

"Two ears, one mouth."

You know your heart

Has its plan

Your head has

Objections

You gotta You wanna

But is anything fixed

In place or time?

And eternity is both

Timeless and instant

Which is why

Leaving

Is just another step

Toward saying

Hello again.

‍

Midnight in the country

The rain hits the roof

The tin reverberates

The staccato sound ofthe raindrops

Falls upon my head

And through my ears

Into my soul.

Rain makes us whole.

Brings the water oflife

Refreshes all livingbeings.

Brings sometimesrainbows

If you are in the rightplace

You might get even atriple arc.

Magical runs and slideson the grass

Or (barring lightning)into the water

At the beach or on thelake

But not at the pool

You might slip andslide

KAPUT!

The rain washes awaythe past

The detritus of ourlives

Thirsty new lifeemerges, grows

And shows

Its gratitude (not anattitude)

By blossoming andblooming

As we sometimes stopand watch

In amazement

At the skill of theartistry

That has whittled yourrougher self

Into a warming calmingbeauty.

Rain falls

And we arise.

‍

The Flyboys sang

Of an artificial energy

That left them high

And dry.

The FDA and NIH once lauded

Artificial sweeteners

And downplayed

Their side effects

Just as their owners do today.

7-Elevens and their clones

Stock their chill cabinets

With Monsters and Bulls 

To augment coffee's natural highs

As drivers cruise 

On double speed.

Plastic surgeons promise 

Paradise 

As they nip and tuck

But often

Their advertising campaigns

Yield unhealthy results.

So too artificial "friendships"

Open us up to calamities

We never knew existed

Where lives get twisted

And hearts broken 

As words never spoken

Enjoin our souls

To the true nature

Of betrayal.

And yet we all too often

Want the sugar high

That fades

Even degrades

While the pure and natural

Seems mundane,

Insane.

I mean, how dare we

Walk through dark valleys

Looking for the guiding light?

Trust in a promise too good

To be politically true?

If only we can believe,

We are destined to receive

The daily signposts

Placed by some hole-y ghost

That lead us to a life so new.

Take us out of the black

And into the blue.

With thanks to Darwin from 2149 the Aftermath.

‍

Busy little town on theriverbank

Lotsa people out onFriday night

Willie and the boys arewailing

Songs from years goneby

With lots of brasstracks

And the svelte sisters

Who struggle to makeends meet

Know this town won’tlet them down

Are beaming ear to ear

As each new set ofpatrons appear

Bottles and brewsflowing

Sliders, slices, andsweets

And the specialties ofthe house

The citizens and guests

Puffing out theirchests

And for some, cigars

And bragging rights.

Good company at ourtable

Good seats for the show

And that full moon

Make this night thebest.

‍

Why must I

Continue

Living alone

Apart

Exiled

From loved ones 

Whose love died.

Is it pride

Or politics

Or perception

That old is bad

No not really

Just that tomorrow 

Will always be there

And though time is

A mirage

Doors do close

Thar cannot be

Reopened.

How sad 

That our futures

Are missing

The relevant past

As we ignore our Fathers

And mothers

But this is nothing new.

Worse may be

The public show

For the credits

Or the cash

Bought with bitterness

Swallowed 

Souring stomachs

With the bile

Of resentment.

We clear our arteries

But clog our hearts

And cloud our minds

With imaginary

Grievances

Over trivial pursuits

That rob our lives

Of meaning.

And yet the truth is found

The prodigal reunion

But that story

Is unfinished 

The joy

Diminished 

Until brothers

Remember 

Their love 

Matters more than

Their way.

‍

We used to think in words. 

Writing was our passion. 

Aeschylus, Shakespeare,

TS Eliot, Voltaire

And even Zane Grey

We sang in words 

From chanting to the Beatles

We argued in words 

Does anyone still know

Lincoln and Douglas?

We fought in words,

We cheated and stole

Twisting language

In print or face to face.

We even used words 

As a covenant to trust.

Then some were entranced

By the movie romance

And soon we wanted 

Our own lives

To be just like the movies.

Today though

Our children live in

Images

Subliminal

Or in your face.

The image, the app face,

No need for thought

Nor even dreams

No plans or schemes

You do just as your 

Memes, mimic and mock

Those they know

Are their enemy.

Eight hours a day

For 12, 15, even 18 years

And those best programmed

Get another 4, 6, or 8.

One voice one image 

One message:

Good or Bad

Us or Them

Pro [gressive] or

Con [servative]

No need for argument

No need for words 

No need for love

No need for life outside 

No.

‍

‍Putting on too much weight

Is like

Putting on too much world.

To find out just how much

You get on the scales.
‍

People who want to know

Actually read the numbers

And avoid that second dessert

Or that late-night pizza

The scales keep you honest

And on the proper path

Only if you read the numbers

And do the right things.

‍

Ah, but the scales of God

Are different

Belshazzar found out

The hard way

The writing on the wall

Said Daniel the Prophet

You have been weighed ...

And found wanting.

His day did not end well.

‍

But our story is not about

Falling short

“Discern the spirits”

Said the Apostle

And walk by Spirit

And you will know

By the trail of LIFE

‍

And so tonight

It was a Gristmill dinner

And two ladies in front of me

Waiting in line to wait longer

It was Two Ton Tuesday

And they were out to dance

While I

Was headed to the Speakeasy

To meet friends who sing

Songs they wrote

[Or sometimes interpreted}

And so we parted ways

‍

Or so it seemed.

‍

Long hours later

KD and Marshall and I

Were headed out to refresh

Our energy and wisdom

When

All of a sudden

There they were

And we stopped to talk

About the music we had heard

And some of us had played

And next we knew

Twenty minutes had passed by

And I

Was stunned to know

[As they were both from
Adam Schatz’ Washington State]

That of all things

They loved the musicians

Who had graced my home

Been my friends for years

And I thought

The scales of God.

Music by --

Marshall Anderson   (211) Marshall Anderson - 'Marigold Bloom' (Official Video) - YouTube

Bill Whitbeck (211) RIP Levon! Bill Whitbeck - Man Behind the Drums - YouTube

Kassy D [Daniel] (211) Enough by Kassy D - YouTube  [retitled as Jack's Song]

Keith Michael Kallina (211) Keith Michael Kallina - Can’t Take It With You (Live Acoustic Original Song) - YouTube

Landlady [Adam Schatz] (211) LANDLADY- Washington State Is Important @ PIANOS - YouTube

Two Tons of Steel (211) Two Tons of Steel - Not That Lucky - YouTube

Acoustic Minds (211) Acoustic Minds - Undertow - YouTube

La Fonda (211) La Fonda - Time (OFFICIAL VIDEO) - YouTube

‍

I thought at first

It was just me

Getting old

And I am of course

But No.

I am busier at work 

With exciting projects

Daily.

I still ramble about 

From town to town

In search of

Community

And I am blessed

With family and friends.

I cook, clean, entertain 

Myself

And I would still 

Entertain others

If only they 

Would come out and play.

Was it COVID 

Or video games

Or just the malaise

From a world turned ugly?

The climate fear

The war that robs our treasury

The hatred spurred by

The struggle for power

The censorship 

The deplatforming

The name calling

All and more isolate

Separate 

Inculcate us

With a sense of NO.

No I cannot be your friend 

No, gas and everything 

Cost so much.

So we have forgotten

The simple joys

Of just hanging

Crafting our own days

With that reckless abandon

That joie de vive

That our podworld

Cannot 

Will not

Must not

Let happen.

Gone are the days

Of shelling peas

And butter beans

And shucking corn

And playing cards

And quilting together.

Gone even are the memories 

Of 'the good times we had'

The raspberries strawberries

The cheap [good] wines

The little gatherings

That celebrated our need

For one another.

And our thankfulness

For those with whom

We could share

Life's simple pleasures

That made it possible 

To endure the heartache

The suffering

The diseases the deaths

The inevitable time

When some of us

Are no longer around.

Perhaps

Economic collapse

The end of hope

The fulfillment

Of the media's dark tomorrows

Will lead us back

To interdependence 

To true friends

No matter their opinions

Their pronouns politics pods.

Or maybe such revolutionary thought

Will displease the powerful

And turn freedom of assembly

Into a criminal act.

The intolerant demand

That others tolerate

Their abuses

The tolerant soon become

Slaves

If they allow intolerants

A different code

A different mode of behavior

Than "Do unto Others"

Or "Be Excellent."
‍

For unchecked abuse

Creates monsters

Those who mutilate

The young and old alike

Those who force feed drugs

They do not take themselves

Those who prey on

Other people's children

All the while saying

"It's good for them."
‍

But once the intolerant

Gain power

The only way to restore equity

The only way out of hell

Is to make intolerance

Untouchable

And the only ones who can

Are the intolerant themselves.
‍

The risk however

Is that once made gauche

They retain sufficient power

To like Samson

Bring the walls down

On friend and foe alike.
‍

Sodom was intolerant

Arrogant, insistent

And even Lot's wife succumbed

In its utter destruction.
‍

Babel too was intolerant

Of any who did not speak

The praise of its majesty

And like the naked prince

Its fall was immediate

And Earth scattering.
‍

Yet Noah tolerated

All the laughter and mockery

Until the rains came

And like the little red hen

Fed only those who had believed

And earned the golden ticket.
‍

Intolerance is an affront

As it by nature breaks

The Golden Rule

As if there were no authority

Big and strong enough

To pull the plug and the rug

To champion the meek

Make strong the weak

And remove the blight

With the writing on the wall

Or Herod's worms.
‍

Yet be not one

To fight the intolerant fire

With dragon's breath

Of your own

For by so doing

You have joined them.
‍

The blameless leave judgment

To the judge.

‍

Have I said enough?

Have I done enough?

Is my book complete?

Yet I sense

There are more chapters to write

More adventures to live and share

More days

And more ways

To bring Life to lives.

The inadequacies

The lacks

The quacks who promise

Yet do not deliver

The emptiness of loneliness

That brings me to surrender

To find the path through weakness

That reveals real strength

And changes outcomes

Without misdirecting glory.

The story

Has to be told

By the ones delivered

Not by the agent of deliverance

Who is merely playing the role

Cast by the Director

And produced by the Ghost.

The Host

Not the invited guest

Must be the focus of the Plus 1.

And there's the fun

The joy comes

From the introduction

That brings explosions

Of creative energy

That reveal the Life

That rekindle stars

Long blurred or dimmed

And the Lamplighter's aide

Basks in the plethora of stars

He has watched turn bright

And so did I ask

Are all the stars relit?

Are all the lives made new?

Surely there is more to do.

‍

Whaddya do when

The desire of your heart

Is far away

And does not even know

You had a vision

Because she will only know

When she receives the same

Message.

If that is to come at all.

For the heart must be won

Before the word is spoken.

"Love the one you're with,"

said the Still man from NOLA.

But what is love?

Not possession, domination

And abandonment

Of body or soul .. or both.

"Love is gentle, love is kind"

Love is never being blind

But aware with care to share

The ups, downs, and easy rides

To stand beside whatever betide

To hear the heartbeat

An echo of your own.

And so you ask

How great a task

How many days

But then you gaze in the mirror

And though you are nearer

You're still in training

Or rather being molded

And given the tools

That only fools

Would fail to see

We're an absolute must

Before one could trust

That you had what it took

To write in down in the Book

And the other as well

Had to grow for a spell

To ever believe

There was no need to grieve

And there's air to be breathed

And a life full of giving

From the love you'd receive.

Dedicated to Susan Flanakin [07-27-79 -- 05-22-02]

‍

Out of your darkness
I called you into My light.
Now you are the light of the world
As you reflect and show forth Me.
‍
You may well be unable to see
Because My light in you is bright
And you may look out and not know
From your vision where you should step.
But take heart,and heed My voice.
And hold my hand
And I will direct your paths.
And you shall walk in My light.
By My words in your heart.
Yet not by your own sight,
Or your own wisdom...
‍
That you might know that I AM the Lord
And that you might hear
How others follow you to see Me.
Trust then not in your own vision or understanding.
Just Follow Me.