Through the thickets and the vipers of my inner world’s nest,

From every crook and turn and eddy where the demons do infest,

I’m searching for that treasure of a life that will not bite me,

A spiteless, and a fightless place, abounding in serenity,

Where goodness lays me softly down, in that my soul finds rest.

Shut the doors! Shut them fast! Allow this world in, no longer!

That wicked place where everyone is eaten by the stronger,

Find me in a quiet room, with manna from the skies,

Satisfied and peaceful, every tear wiped from my eyes,

At home again, no longer lost upon this earth to wander.  

Is this a Shangri-La, Utopia, or my solipsistic fantasy?

Would heaven breach this world faster, just because I’m weary?

Make-believe will never bring this reality to its knees,

This world outside me—and within—will not do, simply as I please,

When will God come, and finally give, the answer to my query?


A Real Life

If you make a meal,

but forget to ‘post’ it;

is it real?

You enjoy a sunset,

yet nobody ‘loved’ it;

was it worth it?

A tree falls in the forest,

and nobody heard it;

did it make a sound?

Another day passed,

but you signed no autographs;

do you really matter?

What is the meaning,

of one man breathing?

You are a universe.

If you will put away your phone,

and can find yourself alone;

this is a beginning.

What is the sound,

of your own heart beating?

It is life!

If you can live your life,

when nobody ‘likes’ it;

you are blessed.


Are There Dogs in Heaven?

Will there be dogs with us in God’s heavenly kingdom?

I sure hope so; though the reality is mere speculation.

All the animals we love, from this world, will God bring them?

If He does so—that would certainly be—our great jubilation!

To gaze again into their deep, soulful eyes,

To feel the warm glow of their faithful tranquility;

And for all to be free! From our drear earthly sighs,

Raised into the rapt joy of our new spiritual bodies.

What might God have in mind, for our glorious reunion?

Of everything made through His Limitless Wisdom;

All the cute critters and man, as celestial creations,

A beautiful, bountiful world—gathered to Him.

I pray that along with man’s deification;

Would be our beloved animal’s spiritual transformation.


Love Conquers Death

Love allows death no victory,

Though dead, we still see them everywhere;

Vividly alive in our memory,

Ever present in our heart, and always dear.

For instance, as I drift between wake and sleep,

I converse there, with my dear departed mother;

I smell her, and she holds me close, whilst I weep,

As we await a visit from my father, and my brother.

In fact, I just shared the secrets of my heart, with my old man,

To see him laugh and see him smile, is such a pleasure;

To share a beer, and feel the warmth of his old hand,

Would you believe it? All these years after his death, is quite a treasure.

Death would take the ones we love, away from here;

Love overturns death’s plan, and draws them near.


Return To Paradise

I wish you and I could live, once again, in Eden,

Where God and man did dwell together, before shame;

When innocence was lost, once pride had eaten,

And glory diminished—our appetites wild, and untamed.

Though we yearn for the peace of that place, and its purity,

God in his mercy, to the lost, offers good consolation;

For all who do trust in His Son, of a surety,

To Him are reconciled—and given the gift of salvation.

Dear friends, why then, in our suffering, do we remain?

Spending our time here, in endlessly trivial pursuit;

Seek Christ, and His power over our sins, to refrain,

And the lies of this world, to refute.

Let us dedicate ourselves to this, God’s pleasure;

That we should dwell again, as His heart’s treasure.


I’m A Fickle Man

Lord, take me to a place I do not know,

A land where noble thoughts and godly deeds, do grow;

Yet, I fear that when your messengers come to take me,

From my pleasures and my comfort, they’ll need to make me.

Entrenched complacency, calls upon your force majeur,

To free me, for I doubt my own resolve, to abjure;

In my poverty, I desire the treasures on Your better shore,

To the riches upon this shore, which make me poorer.

Come swiftly then, please do not hesitate!

For this world, myself included, I do berate;

In this moment, now is ripe, as I’ve repented,

And the next one, may undo all I’ve intended.

It’s Your grace that gives us visions, for what is better;

Yet, earthly men, we have a taste, for what is bitter.


The Silent Conversation

On a cold winter’s eve,

sat a young man,

with his old man,

upon the fallen leaves.

At the pond’s end,

watching the sun set,

through bare tree limbs,

the young man, began:

“Dad, why does the sparrow die?

And why do the missiles fly?

For what, must this world sigh?”

“Son, your age I saw the sparrows fly,

before I felt the world’s cry,

when still, the sun shone in the sky.”

“No Dad. I feel our world’s violence.

Mine’s not an age of innocence.

Here, dark night has its influence.”

“Son. True, the world’s evidence,

show evils in preponderance,

yet still, believe God’s providence!”

A winter’s chill,

blew through his bones,

as evening turned to night.

The light of day,

with grace, gave way,

to silver-tinted starlight.

“Oh Dad, I fear my heart goes sinking,

when in this life, the truth is blinking,

the eyes and ears for love, are shrinking.”

“Between the folds of shadows creeping,

dear truth, and love, is there for reaping.

Son, make this the goal, of your soul’s seeking!”

“This life I fear, is that goal’s brevity,

Dad, goodness drowns in mindless levity.

What hope is there, of man’s insensitivity?”  

“Son, your hope and joy, and life’s serenity,

bound in the bright folds of life’s Divinity,

are found in the heart, of your sincerity.”

The young man,

sat in silence thinking,

within his soul,

sang silent weeping.

He loved these talks,

with his old man,

yet missed the warmth,

of his kindly hand.

Their time together,

now a heartfelt prayer,

sweet memories of,

when Dad was there.


Ebb & Flow

I reach out to touch,

and to be touched,

my eyes search,

to be moved,

and I feel,

for a moment,

and then nothing,

fighting back terror,

by my grasping to hold,

by making myself heard,

by a world that is moving,

but isn’t listening,

that’s too busy,

to hear,


too busy,

to hear you,

as you speak,

and as you grasp,

for something to hold,

for someone to touch,

to fight back the terror,

of the moments without feeling,

of the feeling of nothing,

so we search and,

we grasp and,

we hope to,

be moved,

as our lives,


and flow,

using our time,

and losing our time,

until it is our time,

to go.


The Plight of The Mosquito

I am a lowly creature,

despised by many,

I transmit disease,

which can cause death.

Please let me live,

I want to breathe,

don’t crush me,

I want to live.

I am a lowly creature,

despised by many,

I transmit disease,

which could cause death.

Please let me live,

and let me breathe,

no mask or vaccine,

just leave me be.

I am a lowly creature,

despised by many,

I fear disease,

which could cause death.

Please let me live,

just wear my mask,

take my vaccine,

let me live in peace.

All lowly creatures,

just want to breathe,

to not be crushed,

and allowed to live.

We poor mosquitos,

despised by our neighbors,

for simply living,

for simply being.


A Falling Rain

Rain falling on a pond;

tiny droplets dancing circles across its face.  

A silver sheet reflecting the gray sky, broken;

my dreams hidden beneath the sheen. 

I leave man’s world struggling in eddies behind me;

swirling in circles of its own. 

Peace speaks the silence that is born;

in deep dreams rising from this dawn. 

In my heart awakening from its sleep;

I taste the sweet rain falling.