Sixteen and hungry for experience,


Neither man nor child,

I try to be the man, (I am)

most of the time,

But am scared like the child (I am),

some of the time.




Life is all forward; instant gratification,


Moments of pleasure, strung together like rosary beads,


knitted by man.


A new motorcycle,



evening at the pub,

Zeppelins new album.










Now, an older man,


The rear view mirror is my main source of vision,


Regrets cloud the windshield, and looking back seems easier,

Except I can only see the scene of the accident

that just happened—years ago

stuck in this YouTube movie of this event

like Groundhog Day.




How I long for the present,


To live now

and savor nourishment,





as if each one was the most important in my life. Which it is.


Show me the way of noticing,


leading to awareness.


And ignore the coming features, which are all nightmares,


or Classics I can’t relive.


The Moment Pill

The Moment Pill

The devil’s pulse is the heartbeat of happiness;

Or what you think it might be.

A moment of pleasure that doesn’t’ dissolve instantly;

But leaves wanting for a moment lasting for another,



Pretty soon I am addicted to moment pills,

Living in future meaningless moments

which destroy,

or never arrive.

Driven by a passion to satisfy needs

            which can never be satisfied.

All the time separating me from God.  


It is a great disguise,

Happiness seems like a nice coat to put on,

everyone wants one;

“So try this one, first one is free”

leading to somewhere

To regret immensely.


Put out those old fires you thought were happiness

Lives that you might have lived,

lives that you still could live, if only,

I did this, met this person,

an imaginary life of happiness.

Like some J. D. Salinger,

living my fantasy though books,

only worse.

Really living it.

Hurting many along the way.


Listening to the pulse, the primeval sound of future happiness,

The pounding of desire,




those vinyl records still playing,

memories, scratches and all.

Erase all for the present,

lead a life authentically,

In the present, now,

With the gifts I have, and those most precious given to me.

So I may have peace and joy,

Not the happiness of the moment.


“Day pours out the word to day, and night to night imparts knowledge.”

Psalm 19


First taste of pure water trickles downward, 

Each droplet a stream of delight and coolant,

for the creature in me.

Refreshing and renewing,

purifying a body,

and perhaps soul,

in thankfulness for today.


A mind set with only these thoughts,

pass through or become part of this water,

heading into a ready body

adding no weight,

merely meeting all needs.

No more or less.


It is the purity needed,

the cleansing power of spiritual want;

each bead cooling me down,

as it descends on a journey.

That is life desired,

            the way I should be.



Knowledge and Wisdom

Knowledge and Wisdom


When I was young, I thought

Only owls and old teachers were wise,

and knowledge was contained in Encyclopedias,

JAMMED full of useless stuff to help me pass a history test.

Now I know the truth is what comes first.  

            Then knowledge and wisdom.



“Teach me wisdom and knowledge,”

Psalm 119

Decide On Love

The time has come to decide on love,

Advertised as “will last forever”,

So why is mine fading,

Like an old pair of jeans?

Perhaps too much bleach?

or the wrong spin cycle?


Maybe love is not a washing machine at all.

Cleaning outerwear.

Rather touching the owners.

With the energy source called Love.  


“He is like a tree planted near running water”

Psalm 40

My Angel Guide



For that soul that truly wants to help me.

Listening with sincere anxiety,

clearing felled trees on my path,

questions and answers her tools of the day.

My loving guide,

doing for me,

what I thought I was doing for others in a dream.

but in real life.




“but is not rich in what matters”

Gospel of Luke

World Series

The angels are in the majority,

So many we cannot imagine,

the 99.

And many are left in that one per cent.


A shepherd heads out,

Through the narrow safety gate,

Leading to that outer world,

created with love and of great beauty,

to be cared for by us. But now neglected.

Leaving angels (slightly confused) alone in their billions, and

dons the cloak of humanity so sheep may notice him and be unafraid.  



Here the lost lamb,

Alone and shivering on a desolate mountain top,

Seems to have no idea what had led her there,

waiting for wolves to come in the night

and devour her.

She bleats aloud,

knowing her crying will bring all enemies,

but cries anyway, tears of hope,

Of rescue.


Disguised by the cloak, the shepherd

climbs the last rocks, sees the huddled lamb,

and now both crying, lifts her to His shoulders

where she cries no more.




Carried back to the flock—day turns to night;

A mysterious light emits from Him, revealing an isolated but sole, safe path,

and the lamb becomes heavy on his shoulders,

as if wood.

Once home, He enters to jubilation as man returns to glory.

Choirs rejoice, as their beautiful Garden is restored,

Grass is lush, the sun shines,

and all is well once more in paradise. Until a distant cry is heard.  



Jesus said to his disciples: “I tell you, everyone who acknowledges me before others the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God.”

Gospel of Luke