I was out at sea in a fishing boat,
fishing in calm waters;
standing, I held a rod,
longing for the tug on the line
at the baited hook.
And as I stood there,
I saw everything around me suspended
like an image within a frame;
the white flight of a gull in the air,
the sun’s bright reflection on the water,
the boat’s intoxicating sway upon the foam—
all within the same frame.
At one point, the line was pulled taut,
and the world changed in an instant:
the seagull vanished into the northerly wind,
the sun hid behind the clouds,
the sea turned turbulent,
the fishing boat tossed like a walnut shell on the waves,
and—with such stubbornness—
I struggled to stay upright, clutching my rod.
And as I battled the wild waves,
holding the rod with all my might
against the pull of the line,
suddenly the boat soared like a seagull—
a white sail fluttering where wings should be—
yet, with such stubbornness,
I still held fast to the rod,
fishing for dreams
in the open sea of the frame.
I sought, in silence, solace and peace,
by which, my dank soul cried 'release'.
From pent up ridicule, guilt and shame,
long nights of torment, I wept Christ's Name.
I wept Christ, as lies pierced my mind,
my sombre spirit poised to - walk the line.
Instead I battled through decades of pain,
led now, to step out, and enjoy the rain.
09.01.2026
('The perpetual black dog, has one but cure,
That is, Christ Jesus, for that I'm sure'. - prayers welcomed )
I experienced early on the block
Don't respect a rebel
So I etched my own lane, created
On truth,
And battled every day just to
Earn my come-up
' Cause the streets only fear a real rebel
One who won't fold, won't flex from the truth.
Some twilights I bled for the cost of truth
But discomfort never immobilized my
Hierarchy rise,
It only amplified the fire in a rebel.
Rebel, truth, rise; the lore I transmit through
The shadows
Oh, Mantis the Celestial Madonna,
with so many skills and psychic empathy,
I wonder if she will reach Nirvanna.
Has she truly fulfilled her destiny?
First as an Avenger, she battled threats
As a Guardian of the Galaxy,
she would later come to have some regrets.
Has she truly fulfilled her destiny?
Meant to birthe the Messiah of Space,
she mated with “plant” alien, Cotati.
But since her lovely son had fallen from grace,
has she truly fulfilled her destiny?
Sadly, Mantis would need to fight her son.
Now on a voyage of self-discovery,
she finds herself; that journey is not done.
Has she truly fulfilled her destiny?
At first you're diagnosed
with a disorder,
Then labelled with
having a learning delay,
But branded and accused
of being difficult,
All because you're wired
a different way.
----------
Forever being told
that you're "too much",
Always the one
to be at blame,
If only you could
realise the impact,
Of enduring the agonising
weight of shame.
----------
I've swallowed too
many years of judgment,
Yet I still battled
through the pain,
Spending all my days
masking my identity,
Wasn't just exhausting,
it drove me insane.
----------
Wasting time and effort
bending over backwards,
Desperately hoping
one day to fit in,
But in reality
I only made myself ill,
Finally I accepted
that I would never win.
----------
No longer overwhelmed
hiding behind a mask,
Becoming content,
I'm slowly starting to heal,
Compensating for needless
years of lost time,
As me, boldly unapologetic
raw and real.
----------
Softer than her being, she stood.
Inclined to the wall in that semi-lit darkness--
gazing at me, with the charm I wanted to dive in.
Her eyes inviting, convinced I’d steal the moment.
I stood, gazing at her, listening to words unspoken.
While in that silence my me screamed to rush
To hold her softness, to press her with mine---
I waited, with a promise that glowed, let the desire die
Even as my nerves and my heart battled in protest.
I didn’t lose her and the flame is still as warm.
********************************************
A scant twenty years
grieved a century or more
Poetically perfect
in spirit and lore
A man and his horse
alone on the range
The cattle his instrument
and music to play
Civil War veterans and blacks
from the South
Through dust and dark clouds
even blizzards they mount
Together they battled
in concert they fought
Each unto himself
through prairies uncrossed
The hardship and death
to him worth the price
Pushing always ahead
a stranger to fright
The only thing branded
to be left at the end
Was the legend he gave us
— and the message it sends
(Cowboy Poetry Gathering: Elko Nevada, February, 2017)
a jolly and crusty old fisherman
into the water, he threw his line in
with lots of hope and wishing`
he wanted to end his day grinning.
but all he caught was a cold
and soon told a tale so bold
a tale that he had caught a shark
a tale told as a joke, a bit of a lark.
now it`s written down in folklore
the fame he never really asked for
how the shark battled as if it was in war
and was as big as a dinosaur.
the fisherman became king and monarch
with his tale of the day, he said he caught a shark.
Do you remember how excited you would get when you were about to test? Do you remember thinking that maybe if you didn’t look at it till the timer rang, it might be positive.
Thinking two pink lines meant happiness. Negative after negative, one after the other, month after month. But pain and disappointment still followed, even after you mentally prepared yourself for the worst; your world still felt dark. The bitter pain of seeing announcement after announcement, post after post yet she didn’t let the sadness and anger peek through.
She cried in secret to keep the facade that they weren’t trying month after month.
After a while, you stopped tracking. The unknown was better than the disappointment of the single line.
Your heart and head battled one another, hating your body for not doing the simple assignment at hand.
The darkness of those days, the heaviness that always weighed.
Inside you're screaming, why me! The feeling of unfairness that it comes so easily for everyone else.
All she wants is a home filled with laughter and love, while soothing an angel in her arms. And little feet racing down the hall.
Maybe one day there will be more than two.
When a pair of fighter jets
Buzzed over the parapets
They woke up the entire block
Though the pilots had regrets
But still the neighborhood frets
At each ticking of the clock
This deafening sound they battled
Their dishes chipped and rattled
And went crashing to the floor
With nerves all spent and addled
The block packed up and saddled
No one lives here anymore
Could never predict,
In any way,
What would unfold,
Throughout each day.
Walking on eggshells,
Living in fear,
Stuck in survival,
Declining every year.
Constantly torn between,
Fight or flight,
Until it erupted,
Changing everything overnight.
Now or never,
Said the voice,
Without a doubt,
Knew my choice.
Didn't know how,
I'd ever cope,
But never once,
Gave up hope.
I battled alone,
Jumped through hoops,
Could never win,
Rotating in loops.
Assigned to support,
Instead got worse,
Weighing me down,
Like some curse.
Fed empty promises,
Hoping I'd believe,
Unlucky for them,
Wasn't that naive.
Reaching my limits,
Couldn't fight anymore,
Made them leave
Out my door.
Taking back control,
Standing my ground,
Was never lost,
Didn't need found.
Choosing to pave,
My own path,
By creating beauty,
In the aftermath.
what appeared to be poisonous was merely phosphorus
deeply tattooed into the warrior’s skin from an ambush
in the land of never-ending wars against imagined foes
with a myriad of causes cascading from power and greed
what does a Welshmen have to do in bloody Afghanistan
he used to have a lilt but now the speed impediment
was carved deep into the persona of horror shame and guilt
the snake had promised paradise not a distorted Adam’s apple
the stars had been bright connected by nebula and a waning moon
what an omen for the self-righteous soldier misguided of course
by fame glory and that now elusive war veteran’s pension
dole money merely covered the cost of the shack under the bridge
he attempted to count his blessings tried gratitude and the booze
which gave him some solace because blackouts were better than bombs
and the stink of his urine improved no end when vodka battled with vomit
but the protagonist never rose above the faceless evil of legalised slaughter
As if sage raccoons,
Let’s survive and overcome
We’ve out-battled worse:
Slavery, denied voting,
And days of the hooded clan:-
Let’s not be dismayed,
Ancestors did more with less,
Sojourning onward;
Leaving us with more courage,
And less to be overcome:-
Time to get it on,
Justice can’t be blind,
Nor we, impotent;
Let’s get to overcoming
Today’s political strife:-
Let’s get together,
Irrespective of the hue;
Time’s waiting on us:-
Let us not be in pity;
We've survived worse bigotry!
I observe the tapestry of life
Consumed by all of this strife
I tried to raise the wall
Only to watch it fall
They told me it's over
As I battled to stay sober
But why am I so lost
And what is the cost
I'm in the Hell of my own mind
Like a stranger I've yet to find
But if I were to truly fail
Would my haters hail
So I get up again and smile
Knowing it all goes to hell after awhile
But I just want to be fine again
No longer burdened by sin
I threaded through thoughts
I saw the discord it brought
So I took scissors and cut my ties
Unraveling a bevy of my own lies
I may have never had a plan
But I wanted to be more of a man
So as my life goes on replay
I wonder if I'll again be okay
From the best came the worst
And I feel my heart begin to burst
But see it's all in my head
And it wants to leave me dead
So I observe the tapestry of life
Consumed by all this strife
I genuinely just want to be free
And finally find a place for me
Just as the eve has come
The joy of mourning has become undone
We tell ourselves each day is one
Expectance is the claim of none
A harrowed trail of battled drums
The humming sum of rains to come
Acceptance is the aim to some
While rejection feints the cause of shun
Epiphanies are all but done
The roar of morning has just begun
Harrowed hum will become
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