Long Highway Poems
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In order for us to redeem the time we need to give God our best
and be willing to do all He asks as proof of where our faith rests
as it's not about how much you've given but has your faith been consistent
in offering all you have to God with a loving persistence
to be thankful when receiving any and all blessings that come from God
and responsible when you get them and holding them in the highest regards
but to offer anything to God that costs you nothing at all
is the difference between true sacrifice and just giving a lip call
for it's not about just talking the talk, it's about being willing to walk the walk
what motivates us? and what is in our hearts?
are two of the things that most concern our Lord God
to be about giving God your best, as He's the only one whom you need to address
there will be times of difficult instructions when you choose to follow His commands
there will be some hard choices to make that you may never come to understand
yes God will test you to determine your faithful resolve
but if you place your trust in Him some mysteries in your life may be solved
and when making a burnt offering to God it needs to be free and whole
coming from one's heart with the surrendering of one's soul
so never offer God anything that costs you nothing to give
remember it's only by His grace and mercy that you even live
Abraham was so faithful to God he was willing to offer his only son
his hope for the future, his heritage, his legacy now under the gun
about to slay his only son until the Angel of God appeared
and told him, "don't touch that child", for we know of God you now fear
he was willing to make the sacrifice and give all that from him God desired
no matter how hard, no matter how difficult to follow the instructions God inspired
hand God your hands and let Him have control
adhere to God's plans and surrender to Him your soul
trusting in what He instructs you to do
believing His blessings will then rain down on you
God has much in store for us when we follow His instructions
and will supply all our needs with His providential productions
His word is the pathway to promise and the roadway to righteousness
His love is the gateway to glory and the highway to holiness
so don't offer God anything that costs you nothing in life
for He made the greatest offer to you with the crucifixion of His son Jesus Christ
April 6 Wagontire, Oregon
1973
In 1973, I went on a road trip
With my father
We left Berkeley to go to Yakima
Where my father had a summer cabin
He was a college professor
And had July and August off
And we spent the summers
Every summer from 1968 to 1978
Our whole dysfunctional family
Our annual road trip to hell and back
As we did not get along at all
We decided to drive through Eastern Oregon
Just my father and me
Just for the hell of it
The rest of the family was already there
My father and I shared a travel lust
One of the few things we shared
This was one of our best trips
We got along
Which was unusual
Normally our relationship
Was fraught
As we were so different
We left Klamath Falls
A real nothing burg in those days
And headed east along highway 395
As we entered the desert of eastern Oregon
We entered a different world
High mountain dessert
Almost no one on the road
Then we saw the sign
Wagontire Oregon
100 miles ahead
99 miles ahead
98 miles ahead
We counted down the signs
Miles after miles
As we drove into the gathering dusk
We speculated that Wagontire
Must be a giant truck stop
In the middle of no where
We pulled into the town
Nothing there but a gas station
Motel and café
We decided to stop
Last gas for 100 miles
According to the highway signs
In the morning
We chatted with the owner
He was the sheriff, the fire chief
The owner of the motel, gas station
The only business in town
And the only place open
For one hundred miles
I noticed a highway sign outside
Welcome to Wagontire, Oregon
Population 2 ½ humans 10 dogs, 50.000 sheep
I asked the Sherriff
Say who is the ½ human?
My idiot son!
And we left.
200 miles later
We finally left Eastern Oregon
2016
In 2016 my wife and I drove through Eastern Oregon
As part of our epic cross country trip
10,000 miles
31 states in three months
On the way from Medford to Yellowstone
We drove along highway 395
The signs for Wagontire was gone
And we drove through the town
The motel was abandoned
Nothing there at all
And that sign was gone too
I said I suppose the idiot son
Never took over the business
And we speculated about Wagontire
And all other nothing burgs
We drove through that summer
Heart of Trump’s America
True fly over country
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
Laughing and talking our memories in darkness, as moon shone, indefinably.
Forever friends were like feeling family, in the floral days of fuchsia's reign;
When flitting, green butterflies fanned for long, and falcons flew like a train.
I lived in the house of pleasant shadows, which didn't have many windows;
For it was one huge room without a view, like a path without the primrose.
Sparkling summer sauntered in silently, creating such scenes on my street!
Silken clouds roamed, when Sam ran his errands. Traveling was ever a treat.
Neighbors made admiring noises about me, going off on rides in neon night.
We cars were the toast of the neighborhood, nice nostalgia, in a golden light!
Clown orchids had ceased performing, in gone days of purple, beard orchids.
Now their summer relative had the holy ghost, like bliss from many sources.
Mask flowers held beautiful mystery, in alluring hues of pink, cream and red;
Like sweet secrets of moonlit shadows, and violet dreams after going to bed.
Once, Sam and I were cruising Sunset Highway, for it was my turn that day;
While dear friends waited in the cool, quiet of home, for their chance to play.
I felt a sudden impact on my left, and I knew I was hurt! There was damage;
But if not for Sam's expert driving, we might not have been able to manage!
This had happened to me times before. Such is to be expected in a long life.
As ever, friend Sam was my Superman, my mechanic in times of cruel strife.
My convalescence didn't seem so long, as I laughed about old days with pals.
When streets were not very busy, and many listened to front porch musicales.
For we were darling, daring trailblazers, quaint old paving way for all modern,
Leaving lingering feelings of fond nostalgia, like lovely fall leaves which yearn!
"Bat Crazy 5"
Some say
she was batsh** crazy
life hits the windscreens
in the labyrinth of life
that way
the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand
holding hard-gripped the gear stick
an upwards inflection, “You know”,
in the Queen’s Land, "all under control"
the open palm under the shaft
moving all the way up to 5,
reflecting on the mirror rearview
she watches the eyes
of her child
dreaming of open highways
the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand
holding hard-gripped the gear stick
never once moving from 5
the left all the way up to targa 5
right hand up on the wheel
left hand down right up to 5
windows spitting emeralds
like a baphomet
the two finger salute
the other above so below
watches on
"here we go again",
the 1 above it all
watches on
as above so below
that 1's long-suffering
that way, aghast, but resolute,
that 1 has never-ending reserves
of eternal patience
and watches on
perplexed
her mind geared on
how to kill off
a spider
and his sister, next
changing lanes
easier said than done
when you're hell-bent on
Freedom
the highway sign
Happy New Year
flashes ever onwards by,
foot to the floor
left brain baffled
at forgiveness
at Christmas
long gone by
right hand on the wheel
left hand down
open palmed
shifting gears
accelerating increduality
towards the accuracy
in the justice of karma
drivers sitting on both shoulders
inside the vehicle
holding the wheel
the internal speaks
to the universe
listening
for kindness
and answers
on a lost highway
Blue Sky
nods, as if in agreement,
that 1's always amused -
but never confused, that way
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“Is it possible to switch dimensions?
There is currently no conceivable way to get to these if they exist, and they may only be possible, not actual. To travel between realities, they need to be in proximity. To be in proximity and not interact, they need to be incompatible. If it is a compatible universe you could travel to, it is already here.”
"Won’t you let me know,
if you made it home that night
Oh won’t you let me know
If our bones made it home alright..."
Bring on the rejection slips and/or lost wager
Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt poor offspring privileged as prodigal son
pockets bursting with legal tender,
where just yesterday I had none.
All polite declinations
strung together would circle...
(fill in the blank)
matter of fact, I just got a slew of them
today June 9th, 2020, what a lucky man
me haint an idealist...,
but winning poetry (writing) contest
or purchasing lottery tickets...
yeah, nothing butta pipe dream
such improbable whimsical notion
linkedin and tantamount
with milkmaid and pail
Aesop pose fabulous incredulous solution
finally good riddance
hand to mouth existence
hello riches, perchance a dollop
and/or sizable windfall courtesy
drawn PowerBall and/or Mega Million ticket
whereby yours truly suddenly
cursed with chump change,
and/or abundant money
would experience "fifteen minutes of fame"
flush with friends and relatives
I (a misanthrope) never knew existed
(perhaps even marriage proposition,
no matter wedded bliss prevails)
interesting... how moderate
and/or substantial wealth
suddenly finds chock a block
acquisitions (regarding brand new automobile,
custom designed house,
travel opportunities galore
(maybe even vacation to Mars)
(despite coronavirus - COVID -19) prevalence,
nevertheless awareness viz immutability altering
pubescent stunted emotional, physical
and social development
profusely sweating hands, social anxiety
all the while knowing money
can't buy happiness,
yet once and for all at long last
free and clear of grinding poverty
cuz groveling along
the pockmarked highway
avails countless exit ramps
plethora of choices
how to be analogous to jolly Roger
piloting immense ship of state
(approximating size of Rhode Island)
equipped with the latest trappings
matter of fact replete
with every creature comfort
analogous to rich
self sufficient independent country
allowing, enabling, and providing
a warm welcome - think unfurled
Harris tweed Scottish welcome mat.
Meanwhile somewhere in Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania resident
(within apartment B44)...
tenant fritters precious time wishfully thinking
(luxuriant life within theoretical leisure class)
finding this nameless scrivener
invariably hoisting himself by his own petard.
Competing to weaken inappropriate business models for healthy government
too industriously advocating automated capital-enriching violence
despite co-arising globally stressed-out climates
is not an eco-theologist apologist's leading non-trump card.
Connecting intentionally cooperative people
and communing plants
and healthy commingling planet
more polypathically ego/ecotherapeutic
seems more effectively persuasive
toward historically therapeutic economic-political case studies
and multiculturing communion designs for communal integrity
through deep LeftMind with RightBody co-dominant bicameral listening
and beauty glistening
Acting widely in-between
1. Resilient Western competing co-investors
in healthy cooperative ownership
and management
and governing
and inclusive democratic authority
and co-responsibility for rights to speak and rites to listen or not
and non-sectarian integrity of thought
with co-passionate feeling models, and
2. Resonant Eastern extended family cooperative communion
poly-theological timeless models
intending eco-faith in multi-health communities
diversely composed of trans-regenerational co-arising residents
spiritually within as naturally without
sacredly peaceful below as non-violent above.
TippingPoints in-between LeftLiberal Love
and RightConserving Economically Balanced Life
wu-wei
RightWing merely secular capital-producing incorporations
for a strong ego-defense
and LeftWing sacred incarnations
for liberating universal health-languaged EarthPassion
Leaking out of both liberal/conserving dipolar ends
recreating robust multicultural rainbows
of co-arising message maps
for wellness lights
Between ZeroZone prime co-relational territories
of Yang-strength,
atomically reductive chemistry tables,
natural ionic icons
with Yin's ergodic highway flow,
wavy and multi-linear--
toward primal 4D redundant
communal
healing myths--
seasons with nutritional reasons
Restoring recreatively persuasive health trends
for positive ecological relationships
cooperatively away from absence
of future's holistic nutritional wealth.
Strengthening the inductive RightBrain
embodied sacred LeftBrain ecology case
for becoming ego/eco-therapeutic peers
sharing a full WinWin mindbody
multi-spectral
neural-sensory deck
of non-trumpian cards
for WinWin communion players.
Rolling the stone Is the glass half empty or half full I reckon that would depend on who is drinking and who is pouring and how long it takes for the encroaching moss to grow while they debate We load the freshly painted pig into the cannon, give me freedom is heard as pink blur is saw around the world Then they give you enough rope for you to trip over like the story of the politician giggling at the stumbling block he just placed before the blind guy, walking towards a ditch Alright I made part of that up but how fast is fast anyway in the who’s who’s of I did it my way I try to believe there is still a highway with a red shark stirring up dust To know one is to be but weren’t we talking about a rock Tribute to Hunter S Thompson ,from his hometown, Suicided February 20, 2005
I stand on the highway of hope getting ready for the train to go on a trip to the mountain sphere, the passengers are pouring in, the seats are filling up, and everyone is in a mad rush. What on earth is going on? The passengers have been here before the break of dawn and excitement is all over the lawn. The cities and towns are flooded with lights and everyone has made an early sacrifice, smiles and laughter are everywhere and the people have nothing to fear. The highway of hope is taking me to the show, you can get an all-inclusive ticket wherever you go; you have a ticket for the train ride, the theatre, restaurant, cinema, the football games or just to go jogging up the lane. You have tickets to go shopping or to work out at the gym; there is a bus and a train for everything and there is one reserved only for music, singing and dancing. You can ride the bus or train any time of the day and your mornings and evening will never waste away, every ticket you buy will contribute to the blue sky and your donations will not die. Meet me at the highway of hope and I will show you where to go, the mood has change and joy is spreading everywhere. If you have nothing to do, put some snack in a bag and join the picnic train, and view all the terrain. The goal is to make a million in an hour and leave the sorrows in the showers. You will have something formidable to look forward to at the end of the day and your burdens and stress will surely roll away. Come with me to the highway of hope and join, the campaign fundraising train .Every ticket you buy will raise my ambition; every train you ride will elevate you to the sky, the numbers are growing and the passengers are swelling and my life has just begun. I have five-dollar tickets, ten-dollar ticket, a thousand- dollar tickets and any money tickets. There is a bus and train for every price and someone to show you how to roll the dice. If you don’t want to ride the train, the bus will do the same; a hundred bus and a hundred train is parked up on the highway of hope in every state so buy your tickets and join the masquerade. The goal is to make a hundred and fifty million dollars a day in the all inclusive bus and train ride on the highway of hope in all the fifty states so join the fundraising effort before it's too late.
Meet me on the highway of hope anytime of the day and don't delay.
The most awaited result got publicized, but
Internet hadn't landed the soil of my country.
Televisions were tabled in few pocketed places,
Still they worked, minute and achromatic.
With huge audience circling, signal was word alien,
Viewers would holler in unison, "It's raining!"
I now understand the fluctuation of signal,
We'd leave the jammed hall. No rain outside!
Correspondences saw only lethargic typewriters,
That sounded a poll pecking of a woodpecker.
A single wireless station would be queued
With people waiting for, "Pom, pom, Tango, Charlie."
Communication gravely sought its transmission,
Three-band radio justified on its little way,
Only richer lots bought and owned pompously
And my country had a single frequency squeezed.
The announcement was radioed in a succinct brief-
"The result of 1997 ICSE examination is out."
Nothing more or less, of the India-based examination,
I jumped on my toes only to later feel crushed.
My kiths were dejected with my abortive result,
An unofficial hearsay, they caught hold onto
Their dejection pierced my heart, agonizingly.
I'd to visit my alma mater, result matted least.
A two-day-long journey, not by a luxurious car
But on the hood of a truck on a bumpy roads,
Only the Indian highway would ease the journey
Like relieving the physical pangs of exhaustion.
The mental turmoil intensified as I neared
My school where the sheets would be displayed,
The wall would announce to a hundred lot of us,
The failure provoked sleepless nights and journeys.
My heart thudded as I entered the school premise,
Lips dried, even a pool of water wouldn't wet them.
Shivering, perplexity and numbness, crippled me,
I just wanted me alone to declare the performance.
I walked up the staircase with thundering emotion,
The entrance seemed gloomily unwelcoming,
Saw I a crowd of my mates craning and giraffing,
On the either sides of the entrance, sheets full.
No greetings, no handshaking, I just shied away,
Waited for the crowd to go thinly populated.
Just in one particular column to refer, wanted I,
PCA or PCNA - biggest summary of a year's toiling.
My comrades filed out slowly, forward I lunged,
Searching my name, throbbing took its tempo.
Spotted the name, from the wall, PCA grinned,
Pass Certificate Awarded, I became triumphant!
©?Khachab Dorji
There are no words now But I Was there Twice In the presence of the first cause The consciousness of eternal love The golden light they sing of in old spirituals And more than this I was welcomed home joining and becoming a part of that light My emotions and thoughts were with me but my body was not Beleave this or not It dosen't matter to me but in heaven we are one in God And it was good And our fully aware consciousness knows everyone and everyone knows us Because we are all Gods children the color of light Once from a bloody road in Viet Nan And then from a bloody auto accident on highway 27 In Lake Walse Fla I took a detour to Gods house And this is What God told me God Said To love each other in the highest form of love we know And everyyhing would fall into place .To love with all our spirit and soul and mind wouldn't leave time for anything negative.Beleave what you will ofcouse Iam just a messenger and I'll love you eather way Twice I was written up as dead and maybe Just maybe this verse is part of why I came back