Early in my recovery, I began a journey of looking at all the religions as well as the ancient mythologies.
As you can see, I have a very strong bond with the Native American beliefs, but before
that, I found a strong fascination with the Gods of Olympus.
The video is called Who's Eyeing Me? and it's a story of those gods and how they have
entered my life.
Showing posts with label mythology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mythology. Show all posts
23 June 2019
22 June 2019
East vs West
There is so much joy to be found in learning the different ways the western world functions compared to the eastern world.
The images below are from the book Peeling The Sweet Onion by Martin Segal and gives the western view.
Then below is another image with thoughts by Vietnamese Reverend Tran Binh Trong.
The images below are from the book Peeling The Sweet Onion by Martin Segal and gives the western view.
Then below is another image with thoughts by Vietnamese Reverend Tran Binh Trong.
01 December 2015
Creating Dreams, from the nightmares of hell...
When I first meet someone our
conversation usually ends up getting around to "Well, what do you do?" I
kind of chuckle trying to put everything into a couple of short
sentences so I don't lose their interest. If they continue to keep this
conversation alive I bring up my involvement on the Internet and my
website.
Than usually, with the natural progression of questions they ask me what the name of my site is, and once again with a chuckle, I say “Creating Dreams, from the nightmares of hell.” Which is usually followed with “What?” And I repeat what I just said and try to explain to them what it means and what this site is all about. In time, the name of the website changed but the title became my third book.
So one night, after one of these conversations, I wrote a poem about the site and its name...
the time... this time...
could it be this is the time
the time to realize
God's dream for me
got to wonder
if after years of nightmares
my dream was past
or lost forever
is there such a thing
as a dream
after many years
filled with terror
destroying myself...
taking no prisoners
in the destruction of others
so many nightmares
years of drugs
many more years of booze
put on a pedestal
worshiped above all gods
forgot how to live
knew how to die
but in the illusion
it was easy to lie
is it a fantasy
to wish for a second chance
is that my dream
to find acceptance... forgiveness
putting the nightmares
in their rightful place
an act of faith
a search for hope
through surrender
the dreams came back
with a simple... yet powerful statement
"I'm an alcoholic"
life didn't change overnight
there's still nightmares
but now... they're fixable
all because of dreams
dreams that were found
through a Higher Power
which I knew was there
but never understood
Than usually, with the natural progression of questions they ask me what the name of my site is, and once again with a chuckle, I say “Creating Dreams, from the nightmares of hell.” Which is usually followed with “What?” And I repeat what I just said and try to explain to them what it means and what this site is all about. In time, the name of the website changed but the title became my third book.
So one night, after one of these conversations, I wrote a poem about the site and its name...
the time... this time...
could it be this is the time
the time to realize
God's dream for me
got to wonder
if after years of nightmares
my dream was past
or lost forever
is there such a thing
as a dream
after many years
filled with terror
destroying myself...
taking no prisoners
in the destruction of others
so many nightmares
years of drugs
many more years of booze
put on a pedestal
worshiped above all gods
forgot how to live
knew how to die
but in the illusion
it was easy to lie
is it a fantasy
to wish for a second chance
is that my dream
to find acceptance... forgiveness
putting the nightmares
in their rightful place
an act of faith
a search for hope
through surrender
the dreams came back
with a simple... yet powerful statement
"I'm an alcoholic"
life didn't change overnight
there's still nightmares
but now... they're fixable
all because of dreams
dreams that were found
through a Higher Power
which I knew was there
but never understood
27 November 2015
Untold Heroes
Through my journey of life I have come to understand and sometimes regret the celebrations that North Americans have. One of them is Columbus Day. This is a celebration built upon the pain of another nation - The Native Americans.
Heroes of a nation,
We didn't know.
Tried to bury their stories,
On the back pages,
Of a history book...
They were just savages,
Didn't need a second look.
Really - spiritual men,
Brought to war,
Lost their land,
Wouldn't take it no more!
Their way of life,
They fought to save.
Near the end,
Full of anger and rage!
Lied to, with treaties they signed.
White men treated them,
Like they were dumb and blind.
Finally, they'd be pushed no more,
They'd fight - to even the score!
Little Big Horn is where they'd unite.
A young nation was awoke,
Full of fear, they'd show the Injun,
All their might!
No more - would a peace pipe be smoked.
What happened at Wounded Knee?
It took a century, but now we see.
They weren't savages, just men,
Protecting their home!
Wakan Tanka, gave them land,
To be free.
Gave them visions,
Buffalo and family,
Is who they'd see.
Now we see their pride,
For the Indian, there was honor,
In the way they died.
We didn't know.
Tried to bury their stories,
On the back pages,
Of a history book...
They were just savages,
Didn't need a second look.
Really - spiritual men,
Brought to war,
Lost their land,
Wouldn't take it no more!
Their way of life,
They fought to save.
Near the end,
Full of anger and rage!
Lied to, with treaties they signed.
White men treated them,
Like they were dumb and blind.
Finally, they'd be pushed no more,
They'd fight - to even the score!
Little Big Horn is where they'd unite.
A young nation was awoke,
Full of fear, they'd show the Injun,
All their might!
No more - would a peace pipe be smoked.
What happened at Wounded Knee?
It took a century, but now we see.
They weren't savages, just men,
Protecting their home!
Wakan Tanka, gave them land,
To be free.
Gave them visions,
Buffalo and family,
Is who they'd see.
Now we see their pride,
For the Indian, there was honor,
In the way they died.
25 November 2015
Broad Shoulders
In
2000, my ex-wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. Four surgeries, chemo,
radiation, a short death, I witnessed it all, including her
"rebirth." People around me, didn't want to deal with it. "You can
handle it. You're strong, you have broad shoulders." Just once I wished,
someone would have taken the time to just listen, to my fears..
Atlas has been holding,
The earth for eons.
Gods of Olympus,
Gave him his eternal prison.
But Zeus, in all his wisdom,
Did he ever wonder,
If you'd quit,
Or give into depression?
Would everyone think of you less,
If you gave into the stress?
Would they understand,
If you missed work for a day?
Or would there be a price to pay?
Everyone knows your big and strong.
Your shoulders broad.
But no one sees, deep inside,
The frightened little boy,
Wanting to runaway and hide.
But everyday, you hang on,
With shoulders, broad and strong!
We have to wonder, for how long,
You'll be responsible,
And spiritually strong.
From now on, I promise,
Not to take you for granted.
To listen - try to understand,
Just who you are,
As a man.
The earth for eons.
Gods of Olympus,
Gave him his eternal prison.
But Zeus, in all his wisdom,
Did he ever wonder,
If you'd quit,
Or give into depression?
Would everyone think of you less,
If you gave into the stress?
Would they understand,
If you missed work for a day?
Or would there be a price to pay?
Everyone knows your big and strong.
Your shoulders broad.
But no one sees, deep inside,
The frightened little boy,
Wanting to runaway and hide.
But everyday, you hang on,
With shoulders, broad and strong!
We have to wonder, for how long,
You'll be responsible,
And spiritually strong.
From now on, I promise,
Not to take you for granted.
To listen - try to understand,
Just who you are,
As a man.
24 November 2015
Beatrice Bakery
This is just a "fun" poem for the
people I work with. This is our busy time of the year (October to the new year) - so it can be
stressful. Anyway, picture is from one of our catalogs. It was about
the size of a quarter. It is a lot easier making a big picture small,
then making a small picture big.
The name of the Bakery is Beatrice Bakery. But don't say it like the woman's name. It is said "be-AT-trice."
And the poem is to be sung to the Beatles song "Yellow Submarine." This was written in October of 2006...
In the town where fruitcake was born
lived some bakers who aimed to please
and they told us of their life
in the land of bakeries
Tales are told under the sun
how they found fruits so clean
the big oven baked all the cake
in our golden bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
Cakes topped with nuts and cherries
all picked from the finest trees
and the band begins to play
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
[Full production ahead, Mr. Leach, Full production ahead!
Full production over here, sir!
Mixing station! Sorting station!
Aye, aye, sir, loading in!
Ovens! Ovens!]
As we bake we aim to please (we aim to please)
all of our fruitcakes (all our fruitcakes) will fill your needs (will fill your needs)
berry skies (berry skies) pineapple seas (pineapple seas)
In our golden (in our golden) bakery (bakery, ha, ha)
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
The name of the Bakery is Beatrice Bakery. But don't say it like the woman's name. It is said "be-AT-trice."
And the poem is to be sung to the Beatles song "Yellow Submarine." This was written in October of 2006...
In the town where fruitcake was born
lived some bakers who aimed to please
and they told us of their life
in the land of bakeries
Tales are told under the sun
how they found fruits so clean
the big oven baked all the cake
in our golden bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
Cakes topped with nuts and cherries
all picked from the finest trees
and the band begins to play
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
[Full production ahead, Mr. Leach, Full production ahead!
Full production over here, sir!
Mixing station! Sorting station!
Aye, aye, sir, loading in!
Ovens! Ovens!]
As we bake we aim to please (we aim to please)
all of our fruitcakes (all our fruitcakes) will fill your needs (will fill your needs)
berry skies (berry skies) pineapple seas (pineapple seas)
In our golden (in our golden) bakery (bakery, ha, ha)
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
We all work in Beatrice Bakery,
Beatrice Bakery, Beatrice Bakery
IT is winning
My number one demon in my life I call - IT. If I don't watch IT then IT will be in charge. With sobriety, I've learned to manage IT by accepting IT and realizing that I have the power to stop IT.
It won’t leave me alone
at times, I know It is winning
winning a battle for normalcy
It is depression and futility
It is despair and remorse
It remembers the past
and It won’t let me forget
old messages replayed in the mind
old images seen still fresh and new
yeah, It is winning
It knows what buttons to push
It steals my dreams
and buries my hopes
It makes me forget the accomplishments
It owns a world of regret and sorrow
It is a past that won’t let go
It is a shame that can’t be released
Today, like everyday a battle is fought
and I pray I won’t surrender
the journey has been long
the path has been set
just for today
I’ll remember the dreams
and renew the hope
for a serene tomorrow
There is no rest
It won’t leave me alone
for now It is content
watching me struggle
trying to erase images and voices
from a past best – forgiven
Yeah, It won’t leave me alone
It offers a sick sense of comfort
but dreams offer a challenge
to a life not yet known
where the hope is…
It won’t survive
22 November 2015
The End of Sgt Pepper
During April of 1970, the rock and roll band The Beatles went their separate ways. Though the band dissolved, their music still lives today. On my first journey to England, I went to The Beatles Museum in Liverpool. It is a memory of mine that I will cherish for life. The photo was taken in the museum. It was then and still is now, my favorite Beatle Album.
The first line of this poem says, "It was 35 years ago today," which shows that this poem was written in 2005.
The first line of this poem says, "It was 35 years ago today," which shows that this poem was written in 2005.
It was 35 years ago today,
The Beatles were the band that played.
They've never really been out of style,
John, Paul, George, and Ringo,
Guaranteed to raise a smile.
Don't need to introduce them to you,
The act we've known all these years,
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
They were the Lonely Hearts Club Band,
We always enjoyed the show.
They were the Lonely Hearts Club Band,
Sit back and let the memories go.
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely,
Oh how the Beatles were our Hearts Club Band.
It was wonderful to be there,
Certainly was a thrill,
Screaming in the audience,
We'd like to take them home with us,
We'd love to take them home...
Please, don't end the show,
John and Paul, didn't you know.
Your were the singers and you got to sing a song.
We promised, we'd all sing along...
No need to introduce all of you,
The act we've known all these years,
The Beatles and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
The Beatles were the band that played.
They've never really been out of style,
John, Paul, George, and Ringo,
Guaranteed to raise a smile.
Don't need to introduce them to you,
The act we've known all these years,
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
They were the Lonely Hearts Club Band,
We always enjoyed the show.
They were the Lonely Hearts Club Band,
Sit back and let the memories go.
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely,
Oh how the Beatles were our Hearts Club Band.
It was wonderful to be there,
Certainly was a thrill,
Screaming in the audience,
We'd like to take them home with us,
We'd love to take them home...
Please, don't end the show,
John and Paul, didn't you know.
Your were the singers and you got to sing a song.
We promised, we'd all sing along...
No need to introduce all of you,
The act we've known all these years,
The Beatles and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Sound Soul Evolution... Rock and Roll Revolution
Years ago I watched a show on PBS about the late 60s and early 70s. It dealt with how America changed due to a revolution involving music, sex, and drugs. It was from that show that this poem was created... sorry if I didn't mention your favorite... there were so many of them..
It wasn't a revolution,
But rather an evolution.
Invited from across the sea,
As teenagers, they'd set us free.
The Beatles wanted to hold our hand,
For many years, they ruled this land.
Glad all over, theme of the Dave Clark Five.
A little different, but the music was alive.
New bands came along.
We listened to every song.
Donovan, gave us a different beat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, got us off our seat.
Green Tambourine and Hurdy Gurdy Man,
And other songs, ruled underground radio land.
Paul Revere sung of the Indian reservation,
And the pride of the Cherokee Nation.
We were Born to be Wild,
And Born to Run.
A song, for every mood,
Under the sun.
The Mama's and The Papa's,
Had us California Dreamin'
Jefferson Airplane's, Grace Slick,
Scratching and screaming.
The Byrds, wanted us to,
Turn, Turn, Turn.
Deep Purple, just said,
Burn...
Edwin Starr questioned War.
Jim Morrison was moving The Doors.
Louie, Louie was a hit in its day.
But we wondered - What'd they say?
The Allman's, Marshall Tucker, Wet Willie,
Dickey Betts, New Riders of the Purple Sage,
And The Charlie Daniels Band,
Showed us music, from the southern lands.
A restaurant, owned by Alice,
Was heard from Arlo.
And we can't forget,
Zeppelin and Jethro Tull.
Country Joe, gave us the Fish Cheer.
While at Woodstock - sex, drugs, and beer.
The Moody Blues, rested us at nights,
Laying back, watching starlights.
Mott the Hoople and The James Gang,
Different music, with a bang.
Bob Dylan, Crosby, Stills, and Nash,
Great music, gone in a flash.
Tim said we need to "tune in, turn on, and drop out."
On a Magic Carpet Ride, didn't know north from south.
Protesting! Resisting! The hair got longer.
The message, the music, a little stronger.
Mini-skirts, ponytails, sideburns, and goatees.
Called Freaks - didn't know what to believe.
Girls had flowers in their hair.
It seemed like hippies were everywhere.
Billy Joel sung, "Got to be rock and roll music,
If you want to dance with me."
While Neil Young sang, "Hey, hey, my, my,
Rock and Roll will never die."
Feeling groovy...
Far out...
Peace...
It wasn't a revolution,
But rather an evolution.
Invited from across the sea,
As teenagers, they'd set us free.
The Beatles wanted to hold our hand,
For many years, they ruled this land.
Glad all over, theme of the Dave Clark Five.
A little different, but the music was alive.
New bands came along.
We listened to every song.
Donovan, gave us a different beat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, got us off our seat.
Green Tambourine and Hurdy Gurdy Man,
And other songs, ruled underground radio land.
Paul Revere sung of the Indian reservation,
And the pride of the Cherokee Nation.
We were Born to be Wild,
And Born to Run.
A song, for every mood,
Under the sun.
The Mama's and The Papa's,
Had us California Dreamin'
Jefferson Airplane's, Grace Slick,
Scratching and screaming.
The Byrds, wanted us to,
Turn, Turn, Turn.
Deep Purple, just said,
Burn...
Edwin Starr questioned War.
Jim Morrison was moving The Doors.
Louie, Louie was a hit in its day.
But we wondered - What'd they say?
The Allman's, Marshall Tucker, Wet Willie,
Dickey Betts, New Riders of the Purple Sage,
And The Charlie Daniels Band,
Showed us music, from the southern lands.
A restaurant, owned by Alice,
Was heard from Arlo.
And we can't forget,
Zeppelin and Jethro Tull.
Country Joe, gave us the Fish Cheer.
While at Woodstock - sex, drugs, and beer.
The Moody Blues, rested us at nights,
Laying back, watching starlights.
Mott the Hoople and The James Gang,
Different music, with a bang.
Bob Dylan, Crosby, Stills, and Nash,
Great music, gone in a flash.
Tim said we need to "tune in, turn on, and drop out."
On a Magic Carpet Ride, didn't know north from south.
Protesting! Resisting! The hair got longer.
The message, the music, a little stronger.
Mini-skirts, ponytails, sideburns, and goatees.
Called Freaks - didn't know what to believe.
Girls had flowers in their hair.
It seemed like hippies were everywhere.
Billy Joel sung, "Got to be rock and roll music,
If you want to dance with me."
While Neil Young sang, "Hey, hey, my, my,
Rock and Roll will never die."
Feeling groovy...
Far out...
Peace...
21 November 2015
Amber Waves
A photo of a wheat field in Nebraska... swaying in the wind...
I’ve never seen a purple mountain
but I’ve seen the amber waves
I’ve seen the spacious skies
above the golden grain
Swaying back and forth
like a gentle sea
wheat heads dangling above
on a continuous roll
The mind wanders and wonders
anyone on that hill watching me
this is the midwest
sea to shining sea…
No homes… no roads
that little patch of green
just amber waves
separate us
Oh yes, God shed His grace
on farm fields
with an occasional hawk
flying above
It is spiritual land
and a spiritual home
His Presence is found
on this ocean of gold…
The Old Babe
The thought for this poem was
inspired by Jay Knepper of Beatrice(NE). I published a poem of his
about an old house, for my old 'Poets Quill' column. It made me remember
all the old things I've "thrown away" because they outlived their
usefulness.
Though the seats weren’t as comfortable
and the headlights didn’t always work
rust lined the floor boards
new strange sounds appeared almost daily
she took passengers wherever they wanted to go
no questions asked
check the gas and fill the oil
showing her age
she never complained
the old babe hauled the children
to sporting events or the store
a dome light offered comfort
for the youngest… scared of the dark
she was the first to see a new romance
as they kissed on the front seat
groceries and Christmas presents
she always had just enough room
but age started to show
brakes didn’t always work
a/c quit and winter rides…
became an adventure
no longer the family’s main cruise
she became the commute vehicle
no longer washed… no longer pampered
but she performed her job
with grace and dignity
188,000 miles later
her valves gave out
anti-freeze spilled into her heads
slower and slower she limped home
in the comfort of her garage
placed on life support
she would have one final trip
25 miles to the place…
where all cars come to rest
with pride… she made her final trip
going 15 mph… she made it…
in just under an hour
in the corner of the lot…
she’s at rest
a shell of her former self
now salvage…
her parts… still cruise the streets
through the dirt, grime, rust
and broken windshield
she still has class
always waiting for her owners return
and the headlights didn’t always work
rust lined the floor boards
new strange sounds appeared almost daily
she took passengers wherever they wanted to go
no questions asked
check the gas and fill the oil
showing her age
she never complained
the old babe hauled the children
to sporting events or the store
a dome light offered comfort
for the youngest… scared of the dark
she was the first to see a new romance
as they kissed on the front seat
groceries and Christmas presents
she always had just enough room
but age started to show
brakes didn’t always work
a/c quit and winter rides…
became an adventure
no longer the family’s main cruise
she became the commute vehicle
no longer washed… no longer pampered
but she performed her job
with grace and dignity
188,000 miles later
her valves gave out
anti-freeze spilled into her heads
slower and slower she limped home
in the comfort of her garage
placed on life support
she would have one final trip
25 miles to the place…
where all cars come to rest
with pride… she made her final trip
going 15 mph… she made it…
in just under an hour
in the corner of the lot…
she’s at rest
a shell of her former self
now salvage…
her parts… still cruise the streets
through the dirt, grime, rust
and broken windshield
she still has class
always waiting for her owners return
20 November 2015
Distortions
Do you remember the Twilight
Zone? "Don't touch your TV. We control your horizontal, we control your
vertical." We see a distorted world where everything is the way we
learned - either by books or by experience. Distorting our views of a
world waiting to be found. The question is will we find this world in
our lifetime or will we find it in our next realm of existence?
Distortions is a sister poem to Illusions.
Eyes look but they don’t see
… strained …
to see objects of this world
hidden in cubicles of glass
is that a person or a tree
a picture frame, a book,
… or something else …
thoughts of this world
images learned…
are no help
entering a new realm
an existence never perceived
eyes open… we understand
distortions cleared
a picture… crisp and alive
a fantasy comes to life
never in this world
maybe… not the next
… an existence …
we can’t comprehend
no matter how we try
with limited knowledge
learned from books
… not the mind …
patience and faith
is the path…
to clear distortions
and… maybe…
see the other side
… strained …
to see objects of this world
hidden in cubicles of glass
is that a person or a tree
a picture frame, a book,
… or something else …
thoughts of this world
images learned…
are no help
entering a new realm
an existence never perceived
eyes open… we understand
distortions cleared
a picture… crisp and alive
a fantasy comes to life
never in this world
maybe… not the next
… an existence …
we can’t comprehend
no matter how we try
with limited knowledge
learned from books
… not the mind …
patience and faith
is the path…
to clear distortions
and… maybe…
see the other side
Simplier Times
dreaming of simpler times
and simpler things
times never experienced
with things never seen
sleeping on the range
where cities don't exist
stars and the moon
light up the night
sounds of frogs and crickets
fill the evening air
in a synchronized melody
with the gentle sounds of a stream
across the banks
hills filled with teepees
smoked venison
adds a tasty aroma
not enemies
two societies
live in peace
sharing God's gifts
sunrise provides a silhouette
of buffalo in a field
hawks and eagles fly overhead
a perfect paradise
simpler times
one with nature
one with man
one with God
one...
and simpler things
times never experienced
with things never seen
sleeping on the range
where cities don't exist
stars and the moon
light up the night
sounds of frogs and crickets
fill the evening air
in a synchronized melody
with the gentle sounds of a stream
across the banks
hills filled with teepees
smoked venison
adds a tasty aroma
not enemies
two societies
live in peace
sharing God's gifts
sunrise provides a silhouette
of buffalo in a field
hawks and eagles fly overhead
a perfect paradise
simpler times
one with nature
one with man
one with God
one...
18 November 2015
Dreams of a Haunted House
This was an actual dream that I constantly had, a couple of times a week for well over three years. It really shocked me and surprised me that the dream ended when I got a divorce...
buried in the dreams of a haunted house
is a reality not yet understood
within it lies a comfort zone
where one simple rule exists
stay away from that one room
seeing one person… in that one room
brings a temptation to venture in
comfort leaves… a pressure builds
evil is felt but not seen
a room without dust… immaculate
perfect to the naked eye
but a presence can’t be denied
everyone knows it is there
but that one room attracts its prey
to unknown and unseen fears
friends and lovers become enemies
in that one room… rage comes alive
but leaving can’t be done by oneself
yet… two won’t leave together
in the dreams of this haunted house
lie many secrets…
neighbors visit and can come and go…
still… they never know
about that one room
secrets remain hidden in that room
that perfect pristine room
where glass is felt but not seen
and evil thrives...
in the secrecy of children
even children 50 years old
is a reality not yet understood
within it lies a comfort zone
where one simple rule exists
stay away from that one room
seeing one person… in that one room
brings a temptation to venture in
comfort leaves… a pressure builds
evil is felt but not seen
a room without dust… immaculate
perfect to the naked eye
but a presence can’t be denied
everyone knows it is there
but that one room attracts its prey
to unknown and unseen fears
friends and lovers become enemies
in that one room… rage comes alive
but leaving can’t be done by oneself
yet… two won’t leave together
in the dreams of this haunted house
lie many secrets…
neighbors visit and can come and go…
still… they never know
about that one room
secrets remain hidden in that room
that perfect pristine room
where glass is felt but not seen
and evil thrives...
in the secrecy of children
even children 50 years old
14 November 2015
Watching Eyes
The same eyes we see with...
are the same eyes that see us...
In the darkness, under the blankets
my mind began to slowly drift away
I saw eyes, beautiful eyes
full of life… and love
it didn’t matter…
if it was his eyes or her eyes
there was comfort and warmth
and most of all… understanding
no words were spoken
just staring… couldn’t look away
didn’t want to…
what beautiful eyes
they touched my soul and I found
the beauty of this world
at ease… I felt my worries melt away
the eyes continued to look at me
they spoke, “now you understand”
I began to sing and dance
and I prayed I wouldn’t wake up
the eyes spoke some more
“it doesn’t matter your wealth… your equal,
don’t fight because of your skin color
your blood is the same”
I didn’t say a word… but the eyes understood
wishes filled my soul
to be partners… to stay together
the eyes smiled and I knew
we were already… one
when I awoke… I felt refreshed and alive
and though I realized it was a dream
it was… more then a dream
it was warmth and comfort
love and peace and hope
I knew the eyes watching me
were the same eyes watching you
my mind began to slowly drift away
I saw eyes, beautiful eyes
full of life… and love
it didn’t matter…
if it was his eyes or her eyes
there was comfort and warmth
and most of all… understanding
no words were spoken
just staring… couldn’t look away
didn’t want to…
what beautiful eyes
they touched my soul and I found
the beauty of this world
at ease… I felt my worries melt away
the eyes continued to look at me
they spoke, “now you understand”
I began to sing and dance
and I prayed I wouldn’t wake up
the eyes spoke some more
“it doesn’t matter your wealth… your equal,
don’t fight because of your skin color
your blood is the same”
I didn’t say a word… but the eyes understood
wishes filled my soul
to be partners… to stay together
the eyes smiled and I knew
we were already… one
when I awoke… I felt refreshed and alive
and though I realized it was a dream
it was… more then a dream
it was warmth and comfort
love and peace and hope
I knew the eyes watching me
were the same eyes watching you
External Beauty of a Godddess
your beauty is so easy to see
a goddess…
walking among mere men
your eyes can melt ice
warm and comforting
tantalizing beauty
covered in clothes
making imaginations run wild
visions of kissing every inch
of her naked body
sadly she helps nurture this illusion
mascara accentuate her eyes
contacts hide her weakness
never to be seen with eyeglasses
highlights in her hair
only add to her persona
every year she works harder
to maintain her status… a perfect goddess
and every year some men leave
while many others… worship her
and every year she dreams
of her perfect lover
a lifelong mate
her dream is never realized
as every relationship ends
she feels… used and violated
no one feels this pain
as she continues her beauty rituals
keeping alive the illusion…
keeping alive the dream…
or has it become…
a nightmare…
one created by her own vanity…
years from now…
when the beauty leaves
lovers from her past
and her present…
will ask the same question who are you?
13 November 2015
Sweet Dreams
A poem from the mind of an old friend - Horus. A lovable house cat with a great personality and a never ending quest for food... anyway, these thoughts are Horus'
This plan of mine is slowly working.
I’m no longer chased off of here.
They all think I’m sleeping.
Except those damn fish.
But, someday, this act,
Will bring me a tasty meal.
I’ll sit so still.
I’ll be so patient.
Those fish will forget.
Then they will be mine!
For now, I’ll wait.
I’ll eat my dry food.
They’ll all think I’m content.
Oh, but someday,
Someday, they’ll be mine.
All mine – live fresh fish!
Oh, I can’t wait…
Oh, I can’t…
Oh, I…
Oh…
zzzzzzz
I’m no longer chased off of here.
They all think I’m sleeping.
Except those damn fish.
But, someday, this act,
Will bring me a tasty meal.
I’ll sit so still.
I’ll be so patient.
Those fish will forget.
Then they will be mine!
For now, I’ll wait.
I’ll eat my dry food.
They’ll all think I’m content.
Oh, but someday,
Someday, they’ll be mine.
All mine – live fresh fish!
Oh, I can’t wait…
Oh, I can’t…
Oh, I…
Oh…
zzzzzzz
12 November 2015
Voices of an echo
an echo
in a lonely world
can be
a best friend
or maybe
a worst enemy
all depends
on the message
an echo
in a lonely world
can bring
serenity
or be filled
with shame
all depends
on what is heard
the voices
from an echo
filled with love
bring hope
filled with shame
bring death
the voices
of an echo
never stop
listen closely
but don’t
believe it all
in a lonely world
can be
a best friend
or maybe
a worst enemy
all depends
on the message
an echo
in a lonely world
can bring
serenity
or be filled
with shame
all depends
on what is heard
the voices
from an echo
filled with love
bring hope
filled with shame
bring death
the voices
of an echo
never stop
listen closely
but don’t
believe it all
The Power of Secrets... Never Shared
So they both remain silent. They both go about their normal business acting like nothing ever happened. Until finally, a new secret is created. But this new secret is shared by two people - who never talk about it.
Sorry for the length of this poem. Those four days were quite different. It is based on an actual event which now seems like it never happened.
DAY ONE
can you believe... in miracles
maybe it was mine
but somehow you keep seeing it
you've entered my fantasy world
not on purpose... but you've unlocked the door
you've seen what I've seen
through my eyes
yet I still hide in embarrassment
it was my dream world
my own private space
you've seen it all
never made a comment
nor have you judged
but I wonder... what do you think
of my dream... can it be reality
or just a silly fantasy
I wonder what my eyes
will show you next
will my thoughts... become yours
I guess I can only dream
and wonder... what's your dream
can it be seen through your eyes
it's a vow of trust
I pray we can share
through our eyes
DAY TWO
sharing awkward glances
I know my dream has come to light
don't know if it's good... or bad
but I know... you know... that I know
we talk about anything
except... the thing
something we'll always share
a story we can't talk about
nothing we can hide from
nothing that should be kept secret
but yet... we avoid it at all cost
I wonder what would happen
if I talked about this dream
would you walk away
or would you listen
than smile... because it's out in the open
I'm glad you witnessed my dream
and while I hope someday we share it
today... I'm not sure what to think
and to be honest I don't care
this fantasy... this dream
will always be mine
and now I find some comfort
because it's been shared
DAY THREE
oh well, back to normal
whatever that may be
it's now an act we perform
the dream wiped from our mind
but it was real... I know it is
no matter how you try to wipe it away
it happened... you witnessed
an event... that will grow
you'll know when it will happen
because you already saw the vision
it won't come as a surprise
but I wonder... will you regret
... the silence ...
the dream will stay a dream
it may always be a dream
that we'll always share
no words were spoke
but our thoughts will be forever linked
thanks to a dream
what tomorrow brings
will be a new adventure
a new journey...
one which... the dream will tag along
DAY FOUR
it seems like an eternity
since you entered my dream
life is back to normal
but I wonder
can you just turn it off so easily
to act like nothing ever happened
I wish you'd trust me
that talk would come easier
you have to wonder
how you entered this dream
and I'd love to know what
you thought than...
and what you think now
awkwardness would disappear
if only we could share our thoughts
to lower our walls... being humbled
realize now that the original dream
has created a new one
a dream to share
a dream to let each other in
yet we're both to scared
to talk... to let each other in
sadly a dream died
and a new one came to life
and I wonder will this dream
be exposed... like the last
will the awkwardness reappear
will our silence and insecurity
turn our dreams into nightmares
God help us...
maybe it was mine
but somehow you keep seeing it
you've entered my fantasy world
not on purpose... but you've unlocked the door
you've seen what I've seen
through my eyes
yet I still hide in embarrassment
it was my dream world
my own private space
you've seen it all
never made a comment
nor have you judged
but I wonder... what do you think
of my dream... can it be reality
or just a silly fantasy
I wonder what my eyes
will show you next
will my thoughts... become yours
I guess I can only dream
and wonder... what's your dream
can it be seen through your eyes
it's a vow of trust
I pray we can share
through our eyes
DAY TWO
sharing awkward glances
I know my dream has come to light
don't know if it's good... or bad
but I know... you know... that I know
we talk about anything
except... the thing
something we'll always share
a story we can't talk about
nothing we can hide from
nothing that should be kept secret
but yet... we avoid it at all cost
I wonder what would happen
if I talked about this dream
would you walk away
or would you listen
than smile... because it's out in the open
I'm glad you witnessed my dream
and while I hope someday we share it
today... I'm not sure what to think
and to be honest I don't care
this fantasy... this dream
will always be mine
and now I find some comfort
because it's been shared
DAY THREE
oh well, back to normal
whatever that may be
it's now an act we perform
the dream wiped from our mind
but it was real... I know it is
no matter how you try to wipe it away
it happened... you witnessed
an event... that will grow
you'll know when it will happen
because you already saw the vision
it won't come as a surprise
but I wonder... will you regret
... the silence ...
the dream will stay a dream
it may always be a dream
that we'll always share
no words were spoke
but our thoughts will be forever linked
thanks to a dream
what tomorrow brings
will be a new adventure
a new journey...
one which... the dream will tag along
DAY FOUR
it seems like an eternity
since you entered my dream
life is back to normal
but I wonder
can you just turn it off so easily
to act like nothing ever happened
I wish you'd trust me
that talk would come easier
you have to wonder
how you entered this dream
and I'd love to know what
you thought than...
and what you think now
awkwardness would disappear
if only we could share our thoughts
to lower our walls... being humbled
realize now that the original dream
has created a new one
a dream to share
a dream to let each other in
yet we're both to scared
to talk... to let each other in
sadly a dream died
and a new one came to life
and I wonder will this dream
be exposed... like the last
will the awkwardness reappear
will our silence and insecurity
turn our dreams into nightmares
God help us...
11 November 2015
I'm Still Tired
One poem that I wrote that so many people could relate to was the poem I'm Tired. It was a very honest poem about the physical and emotional state of mind I was in at that time.
The poem since then has taken on a life of its own. It is seen on numerous websites, blogs, message boards, and forums. Recently it has found a new venue being united with different photographs, to help bring a picture to life. And it is one of the masterpieces on the CD 12
It has amazed me how many people have been able to relate to it. Trying to build on that emotion, this is the "sequel" to that poem.
This is the sequel to that poem and is named I'm Still Tired...
The poem since then has taken on a life of its own. It is seen on numerous websites, blogs, message boards, and forums. Recently it has found a new venue being united with different photographs, to help bring a picture to life. And it is one of the masterpieces on the CD 12
It has amazed me how many people have been able to relate to it. Trying to build on that emotion, this is the "sequel" to that poem.
This is the sequel to that poem and is named I'm Still Tired...
I'm wore out... burned out... tired
I dream... for just one day...
of peace... quiet... restful sleep
hands cover my eyes... I just weep
I'm just so tired...
this ain't life... ain't death either
just a numb state of confusion
where stress and responsibility become one
I forgot how it feels
to be alive... without worry
I stare... at what... I don't know
I'm numb... defeated... tired
I wish I could cry
to let others know I'm scared
the mind is in overdrive
trying to find answers
I'm tired of the questions
just want to run away
everyday I die a little bit
and I don't stop it
I'm tired of being tired
mentally drained
physically weak
I just don't care
I'm tired of asking for help
I'm tired of begging and pleading
I'm tired of hoping for a day...
that will never come
I am so damn tired...
I dream... for just one day...
of peace... quiet... restful sleep
hands cover my eyes... I just weep
I'm just so tired...
this ain't life... ain't death either
just a numb state of confusion
where stress and responsibility become one
I forgot how it feels
to be alive... without worry
I stare... at what... I don't know
I'm numb... defeated... tired
I wish I could cry
to let others know I'm scared
the mind is in overdrive
trying to find answers
I'm tired of the questions
just want to run away
everyday I die a little bit
and I don't stop it
I'm tired of being tired
mentally drained
physically weak
I just don't care
I'm tired of asking for help
I'm tired of begging and pleading
I'm tired of hoping for a day...
that will never come
I am so damn tired...
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