To
this blue
lawn
came
the lutenist
Thulia whose
snow
belt whistled "WEALTH!" to town-
ish bullies bent on howling down the
bowl-
ing hall of whatnots just arrived
for Beast or Plunge Day.
To be loved,
Is to be confused.
It’s receiving roses without thorns,
And looks without scorn.
The feeling of melting in someone’s arms,
While being unarmed.
It’s being afraid of the dark,
But knowing the moon shines afar.
The wind that brushes hair from your face,
Making your life suffice.
The moth that’s usually drawn to the flame,
Waits by the porch light to hear you say its name.
The glitter on the floor you can’t get rid of,
The thread in the cloth that you stitch.
The one you get to keep secret,
Safely tucked away in your pocket.
Even if their mention never leaves your tongue,
They still make you think you’re enough.
Because they’re job is to confuse you,
And to never leave you.
Because even after they’re gone,
They still linger on.
In the perfume that they wear,
And in the roses that they share.
On this verse, Isaiah, not Levitical,
I can't help being political,
I hope, without being hypocritical.
I feel an inundation,
of bogus information,
from the current administration.
To discern malarky, bonafide,
each man or woman must decide -
their conscience as a guide.
Take me now, oh dear lord of greater good!
Make my worthless life have meaning
As I throw it all away
Dashed against the walls and defenses
Of an enemy I create
To be right
No matter how wrong
I know my heart to be.
(1/10/26)
(“Citadel of Light Merit Badge”, 2016, original pen and ink)
Greed is good because it is our natural desire
To have more of what we want and like;
It is the desire that drives us to acquire.
Sure, it may seem excessive and often is,
An insatiable desire to have it all,
And yet as any child with an ice-cream knows,
That lust for more is soon satiated
Making room for the next desire to take hold
Driving us forward to reach our goal.
What we strive for is an ever changing value
From comfort to pleasure to self-realization
It is our destiny to discover.
(1/10/26)
1.
Blown to pieces
It ended
Hook, line, and entrails
The blowfish
Puffed harder out
Than it should have.
2.
Cone stared back
At red squirrel
They chased each other
‘round the fir.
Not that it matters much:
The squirrel
Always wins.
3.
No one hears
The rubber scream of worms
Quite lengthy and horrid
One may add,
When robin slurps
Morning mud.
4.
Trailing behind
Bird
Was snake
And right behind them
An old man
With a poem.
5.
Subtle she was not
An old eyeless racoon
A stump left for a paw.
Her saggy skin and rattling bones
Sweeping the forest floor.
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
I like the stories I tell myself about myself.
As cliche’ as it sounds,
They are the story of my life,
But yet, not the actual life.
They are instead the mythology of a life
Of actual moments
Woven from birth by family, friends, and self.
Firstly as a warm, soft, comforting blanket
Then as a home secure and sound
Finally as a world vibrant and vast
Giving us everything we need,
A psycho-spiritual whole to contain
And explain it all.
At some point though we reach the limit
Of our story, our hopes and fears,
As vast as they may eventually grow to be,
And the crack in our cosmic egg
Reveals something completely different
Beyond us, beyond our world and story.
Of course we just add this to our story
But it will never really be the same.
Once the truth is seen
The lie can never fully be unseen.
But lie is a harsh term
For the comforting half truths a child needs
As it prepares to know Life
Outside a blanket, or home, or even world,
A life that weaves and leaves stories in its wake,
Of Self as friend, lover and mate
Or trickster, seducer, adversary and foe,
But as the creator
Always something more.
(12/4/25)
Verse 1
Girlfriend Trouble
Pain
Hard
feelings
take hold.
A fight with her,
the one I care for,
and everything now
feels broken and heavy.
I just don't know what to do.
Why does love have to hurt this much?
Verse 2
Time Waits For no One
Tick.
The clock,
quiet machine,
Eat our youth whole,
Chews love into dust,
Leaves bones of memory,
Still,chase its shadow's tail,
Calling seconds by sacred names,
Pretending they'll stop if we sing the song,
We keep on running from the final tick
Verse 3
The River Forgets no Face
Flow.
Limps on
Through our sins
Washing lies away clean,
It hums to the drowned ones
Names carved in its ripples,
Even the mud remembers feet
No step unseen,no crime erased now,
The river keeps our softest griefs always,
Its ancient water never forgets a single
face
I hope he makes you feel at home
hope it’s sweet when he’s singing you songs
I’m sorry I choked chewing on
my own tongue for too long
You’ve moved out
and moved on
Making vacancy space inside my arms
but there’s something I’m still clung on
Vagabond who can’t wander on
or let go of that glimmer of home
I wasn’t living in love
but I was somewhere so close
Does he listen when you’re silent?
Does he watch you as you sleep?
Is it everything we were supposed to have?
I can’t help but feel like the trick’s on me
You said
he makes you feel
like magic.
and I transcended, disappearing from the picture
as I imagined your passion
watched
my love story
col lapse
in
to
trag
edy
in a second
and a half.
The air turned black all around me and the fear truly set in. The darkness is surrounding. Who's to know what lies within? The voices spin, dizzying in my head. They repeat all those words to me. All the words they said are closer than memory. As my blood runs out, the darkness swirls around me. My wrists stop shaking, and I die soundly.
My lot in eternity is to forever gather dust.
And I agree.
For the way I lived my life, that's probably just.
But I'd so hoped for a task
were at least part of the ask
was to do something fruitful with the excess of my lust.
I asked this whiz of divinity,
"What's heaven like for infinity?"
He said, "Each day, we adore the Lord,
as we partake of His smorgasbord,
then hang with the Holy Trinity.
Completeness
May appear
Incomplete..
The incomplete
Already
Complete...
Freedom
Is already
Not confined..
But may appear
As our
Confinement...
Longing
May appear as
The experience
Of wanting...
How far from earth are heaven and hell?
And which way do you go to get there, pray tell?
Did God create a GPS for the soul?
Or did he give little devils or angels the role
to escort you to the place where for eternity you'll dwell?
It was so hot, my nose melted off my face.
It was so hot, my blistered feet got fused in place.
It was so hot because of an infernal fire
that God eternally stoked to fulfill his desire
to flash fry those who'd refused to be in a state of grace.
If not for this fence, there'd be no shade,
and we'd be burning up watching this hellscape parade
of hellhounds and lizards ~
and three-headed wizards ~
and griffins with gross gizzards ~
making the little kiddies afraid.
(Dzachuka Tibet, summer of 2017)
The Madness of the Crowd and Other Popular Delusions
The crowd is always prone to madness
Since reaction as a herd in danger
Demands conformity without reason.
The fact we live in a time of madness
Is nothing new or unusual,
Relative Reality after all being
Merely a conspiracy of relatives.
But sometimes it seems it’s all now extra crazy
As traditional boundaries break down
And everyone is free to think and say
And increasingly do whatever they want.
The ascendency of gender dysphoria
And acceptance, even celebration
Of child mutilation
Being a case in point.
But the fact is, we live in a world of illusion
Which the madness and delusions of the crowd
Is merely attempting to adapt to,
As all our perceptions and thoughts filter through
A mind which can do no other than interpret and distort.
These are the tools we are given,
A mind and body hardwired to survive
In a world of illusion, thus adapted
To the point of expertise with spinning illusions.
It’s not our fault, but instead our destiny
To find a way through
Out of the Cave of Unknowing
Into the Space
Of a land before time.
(12/6/24)
Hans Staten explorer in 1557 was at large!! And into the Amazon he did
Barge..He was sion taken as a prize..To be cooked and eaten
Later..No lies.) It took all his ingenuity, and our God the only Creator.)
To be the survivor.' And an escaper, of such really vile capers.'
He had to sing a merry song..? That they taught him while he
Waited long (it went now! here comes your meal.) Or close enough
Narrated i feel' in reading you'll be quite enlightened.!! And learn of other religions.' Of pagan deity and how that affected some people
A bit frightening..? And religions? anyway..) Its a cultural feast.' to
Put away.' in this you may; choose (how you will banquet?) On the sacrifice of Jesus.? Or you could go by these green gods; rule sets?
You choose.' And they are now again
Reviving? As the davosites have reset, or re-started? devising.? Just have a read about dear Hans; before you. And real sanity are parted Oh lands!.. Reminice of
Those oak leaves? on ss lapels..And repeat after watching
At least' 10 million peoples hell? That some experiments didn't really go
That well.'
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