Mom's Garden

Winter treds upon my heels
Hard and cold is how it feels
Yet the memory of this green
Warms my soul by what I've seen
Mom has made a paradise
Peaceful quiet simply nice
Solitude serenely mine
I can go there any time

Remember

It was summer 2007
the days were beautiful
it felt like heaven

Off to War

He has now gone off to war
The bromance with Dante has garnished a scar
It is for him the "best thing I could do"
And for me it leaves my insides blue
He lost a cherished baby girl
Sending his life into a chaotic whirl
Now his "duty" is what must be done
And I've become the the lonely one

gallery 7

Still Life after 50 years

"Got my eyes, got my nose, got my fingers, got my toes, I got life!" On the eve of celebrating a living milestone I pause to tell the world that it is so.I have come to witness and share five eventful decades of rich, dense, momentous life on earth. Thankful am I to be able to do so with family, friends, and a creative mind.

All that's come before me
to mold me into a man
I celebrate and recognise
as the precursor of my plan
Joyousness abides within me
relishing the time now at hand
What happens next is of my choosing
if it is to be done I can
The open door beckons ahead of me
I've passed through the burning sands
The future I know not the outcome
yet I'm stirred and ready to make my demands

The Secret Life of Water

Water knows the secret of life and harbors subtle shades of pain
It hoards its power to disappear then re-materialize again

Water relishes its ability to grow and morph and mold and change
Bending, lending its regal majesty to earth’s diverse inhabited range

Ocean, river, lake, pond, stream
Water craftily becomes not what it seems

Power is water in the art of transformation
It is patient, pure, highly skilled in manipulation

Giving shape to the formless and repudiating strife
Immortal water above all is this elixir of life


Be it solid, gas, or liquid, water wells within time
Bringing life into planet yielding order by design

Water needs not the charity and piety that we give
Yet for us it sacrifices all and through its gift we do live

Before the Curtain Rises

There could be no calm and no ease for the fair minded in this formidable situation. All involved, whether mindfully placid or organic in movement, were left unhindered yet still seen standing open mouthed, silenced by the spectacle that took place unbelievably in front of them.
Redundancy had been removed on demand by an overage action starlet still finding colorful and inspiring methods to fenagle fraudulent finances as part of a bizarre sinister system.
Haute for the moment yet unable to grasp fine details of subterfuge, the mildly tortured soul is made fodder for the whipping cynic in lofty abandoned under-urban structures built as towers on the bones of conquered tribes.
The double meanings caught a few tepid wanderers by the neck. There rose great shouts of derision which became were melodious psalms for the starlet to begin her new freedom performance. Now that an audience was assembled, with every backstage weapon in place the show could begin...

Life After Death

I.
Oooh love comes quickly in the wake of mourning
bursting through daily activities like the sea
As open wounds of sadness finish festering
there is ample space for compassion to be placed
Upon the walls of this house and added to its foundation
Six no seven months of compounded imbalance
cry out for calm structure and sense support
The eyes and countenance of friends and family
hover on the edges of concern poised to intervene
at just the moment when faltering comes to call

II.
It is energizing to think of you
It is well to behold your gaze
The soul is soothed when its consumed
By your vibrant love-filled blaze
Joy upon joy this heart is full
This spirit seeks no glove
The bitter chill of solitude
rests safe in a blanket of your love
It has taken all of a lifetime
to be born in this place of release
As the arms of your love now envelopes me
Regret and remorse do now cease

The Age of Miracles

The age of miracles looms upon us
Offering promise to a hope starved stock
Acts of renewal of faith scattered near and wide
Happen second to minute by the clock

Golden days of salvation stand in waiting
The hour for commitment is at hand
Celebrate the rise of fulfilment and pride
Bombs of compassion are ours to comand

Relive the hour of creation
Its essence is part of the soul
Go deep to a point of raw connection
Forever immortal, creative and bold

gallery 6

realy real

touch

life sign

gallery five

avitar 2

gods &angels

inner beauty

Home for the Holidaze

The moment my body hit the bed I knew a point of action had been attained. I lept back up to my feet, grabbed the box of socks that had been taken from me and was determined to not let go. A battle ensued from the bedroom to the hallway where, after being pushed repeatedly I took a hugging hold of his leg and just refused to let go. I screamed a mantra without end, "Zenny stop! I love you, stop!" My contact with his leg had him off balance causing him to fall crashing into two framed photos on the wall. I held on as we thrashed into the den. He fell into the small grandfather clock at the corner of the living room with a second crash. I think it was at this point that I discovered Mom prying me loose as I was relentless in maintaining a grip of that right leg. I wondered what Mom must be thinking as her two adult sons waged war from room to room in her house. Now free of my leg hold, I lay on the den floor sobbing for what seemed like just a few moments. Then, remembering that it was Mom who was in danger and the reason I was having this altercation I jumped up to pick up the broken mess we'd made. Oddly, Zenny was quick to then do the same. He lunged at the large bits of glass and frame and wood pieces scooping them up without care and taking them in two trips to the trash bins outside. I continued my stalking of his every move. Watching for another outburst of rage. After he hurried to put away all evidence of any indescrecsion, Zen finished his dressing by putting on socks, shoes, and hat all the while maintaining a verbal battle with Mom. I watched him each second as he then stormed through the front door, up the hill, and down the street still in a vocal tyrate. Cathargic is the feeling that pervades me after all this expended energy. I was instantly taken back to the unspoken habit we had as kids in south Georgia of somehow getting into a fight every Sunday after church.