Black Friday



Consumer violence breaks out,

Driven by greed or a desire to give,

only a soul can tell which.

The wheels of heartfelt desire,

are spinning donuts … rubber writing circles out of control.

Let our giving war begin … in the battle of Walmart Field.


RIP +++                                          Thanksgiving Day 2013.







The Nest At Thanksgiving


The Nest at Thanksgiving


Sitting empty on a late Fall day,

A bird’s nest presents itself as a waking image.


as unimagined owners now gone,

backlit by a warming sun rising to greet me,

from my nest on the windows other side.


A family raised and dispersed to warmer climes

leaves memories of their growing,

falling from trees, feeding times and fondness.



a warmth glows persistently,

fueled by thoughts and the lumber surrounding my nest.

Felt by the fire of family love.  




Kickboxing again. More violence.

Seems to fulfil, clearing clogged arteries and thoughts simultaneously;

in the gymnasium of satisfaction.

Suddenly all is blank, dark,

the power is out.


Waking slowly, bruises, hangover, dull pain are companions.

Piercing light through clinical blinds,

illuminate a mind with little else present.

Slowly, my awakening begins,

recollections of events and self produce



Motionless, but able to move.

A mind searches desperately for the library of knowledge which is me.

Age … precisely unknown,

Location … somewhere in hospital,

Name … nameless,

Family … MIA

Memory erased.

Disk failure. Where is the rescue disk?


OK, this joke should end now.

The nightmare of “nothing” begins,

But I am awake.





Terrified but without specific worries,

A past unknown haunts,

not because of its presence, but rather absence.

Deep space traveled through …

Without signs,




If no past, then what future?

Unknown without the momentum engine,

a rudder,




A sail without wind.


All that remains is Now.

Each second to be remembered.


To fill gigabytes of fresh storage.

A solid state drive with no memory loss.

No pollution,

or opinions,

political parties,

affiliations or clubs.

Because there are none in me,

just the Now.

The presence of each moment.

A hospital room with its noises and smells.


So now I lie here, still human but more so.

Identity stripped completely,

Left for life,

to start anew

in this moment.

The present. Me and my soul alone.

Unseparated and aware.

My Soul Just Fainted

Streets closed off, each with a man in a light gabardine coat,

concealing something in a perambulator,

unliving yet dangerous,

each loaded with anticipation, mumbles to a co-conspirator,

and waves me on without prejudice.

As if I am some sort of important man,

But I don’t know why.

Walking towards the perimeter, each road is the same,

Dressed the same, lookouts in place,

All wave acknowledgement of some unknown mission.

My soul faints a little more.


Meeting the man who was also the vesper

greeting me from a door years old,

Leads me into the vestibule.

Talking of nothing in particular save the functions of an old Church.

Suddenly all is vibrant and noisy as many exit from the practice room;

sounds of happiness from a preparation completed well.

Music books and scripture in hand,

as if cherished children and scrolls of import.

Those withdrawing include his son and redhead daughter,

Previously unknown, she stands alert, serene,

a beauty not of this world, immersed with peace and love.

Fixated on me in a first meeting.

That bodes happiness together. Forever.

My soul faints some more.



Want … need … take … feed … mate … dominate … submit.

Am I an animal?


Blame it on instinct.

Blame it on Freud.

Blame it on my childhood … even better my parents.

Everything is a disease,

someone else’s fault.


But no. Hold on. Where does love fit?

Is love an instinct, animal behavior?

Or something else. A gift.


Dark Clouds

Dark clouds talk forebodingly,  

of a future calamity,

wet and windy,

to destroy all.

But then, they clear.

Showing a New Jerusalem.

Inviting, golden—gates thrown open.



“The cloud overshadowed their camp; and out of what had before been water, dry land was seen emerging:”

Book of Wisdom

The Lottery of The Heart

I have already won; the lottery of the heart

My family, my wife, past lovers, friends, enemies,

All those movies of old, now so real.

Because they are.


So why do I continue to look for toys,



Will they love me better if I give them money?

Think more of me?


Or will they know already what is in my heart.

The soul quietly praying for me,

Even when I do bad, or speak evil of others.

Reminding me of what is really there.



So my lottery is just a game of desire

Fueled by greed and possessions

To create this magnanimous false self

Never satisfied, but seemingly unloved

A love only satisfied by money.



Love Is

Love is not …

A glowing fire on a cold winter night,

Kiss from a loved one,

Making love for the first time,

The face of your newborn baby.

Love is not …

The sound of birds on a summer morn,

Snow melting on a warm spring afternoon,


Knowing a new best friend.




Love is not …

The new home,

A first grandchild,

Your birthday celebration.

Love is not the blessings showering our lives.


Love is

Clearing out the corners,

Full of dirt and despair,

When we help because the response is natural,

Not contrived, or reward seeking.

Love is

Doing the least rewarding,

Least expected.

Stepping out, and seeing a self,

We need to be, not the one we are.

The self of humility,

The non-seeking self that dwells within,

Deeply hidden behind all the curtains,

And facades, faces, clothes, possessions, airs, the perfume of disguise.

The one behind all,

Our heart revealed to ourselves and to God,

Sacrificial, forgiving, tender, vulnerable, loving.

All of the time.


Love is not

To be measured,

But radiated;

At certain times only,

But forever. Always.



May I love today without agenda,

A pure spirit, devoid of myself,

And full of you.

Alone. Where peace will return.