Category Archives: religion


Renewed garden

Serpent coiled beneath earth

Irrigating roots


Open Eden’s gate

Fallen apple growing seed

New fruit in blossom


Posted by on April 20, 2014 in Beginnings, Lent, Love, Poetry, religion, thoughts


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Death’s Last Invitation


My presence is held out to you,

in your confusion and illusion so demanding,

perhaps you can’t feel It, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only grasp Me that tightly!


My presence touches you in the sun,

blinded until the peak of darkness comes.

Perhaps you can’t feel It, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only trust Me that sincerely!


My presence embraces you in conscience,

with old discussions and new revelations.

Perhaps you can’t accept this, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only hold me that strong.


Posted by on April 17, 2014 in Beginnings, Lent, Poetry, Prose Poetry, religion, Spiritual


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Holy Vigil

Reverently balancing

Wavering from doubt

Knee and one leg dragging

Making me kneel…

Falling prostate

Head on the ground…

Toes needing a shoeshine…

I sleep now as the moon waxes

Revealed in my conscience

To awake without a history.


Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Beginnings, Lent, Love, poems, Prose Poetry, religion


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Palm Sunday

A small gray cloud, framed in bright blue sky;

A shadow cast, caught in a light breeze, brushes my cheek.

I emerge from the edge of moon light’s nightmare.

Birds gliding in tandem swoop past me,

Heralding my release with songs from heaven on outstretched wings.

Flight in graceful pantomime

For acceptance of amends, for time served,

And for time ongoing;

I feel the palms beneath my feet.

As dark shadow and I,

For the last time,

Will ever meet.



Posted by on April 13, 2014 in Lent, Prose Poetry, religion


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The ring

The ring is off her finger

 The indentation         like the vows

 L   i   n  g   e r


Posted by on March 16, 2014 in Beginnings, Children, Divorced, Hi-Koo, Mothers, religion


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On the trail to ZoralinQ:

The Merchant and the Gypsy

Oh my God, open my heart so I can see

So that my mind can soul the truth, I know.


Let me resonate the Love that chimes the light

into life and silences darkness by showing me the moon.


I have no lamb to sacrifice nor special gift to wrap.

Let dusk welcome me with the fruits of my day

Let me sleep at Your feet knowing You

and who I am; inseparable through Love.


Awaken me from the shelter of my self

with the vibration that transcends’ my own sound

abundantly impoverished in these words.


A merchant and a Gypsy came dancing through euphoria.

Skipping, banging cymbals thumped and jingled

to the beating of a racing heart.


They skittered here and there,

forwards and backwards,

sliding sideways and all about.


The gypsy with ringing bells

from dangling strings of magic beads

had clipped on her hip, in a loop on her belt,

my image

on a well-stretched tambourine.


The merchant moved with confidence,

assurance in his gait;

with a smile so well advertised,

it overlapped distinction

and recognition

of a very familiar face.


silencing the bells, with permission of the Gypsy

he displayed a wooden pony, which “he had to sell.”


“Rode through heaven and hell; to promises of fulfillment!”

for this moments “Special”.

Winking with sincerity and honesty,

stroking the slightly scorched metallic paint.


with the sweep of his hand and a nod to the Gypsy

came a thumping sound and the resuming of the bells.


Clouding dandelion puffs, pumpkins, and snowballs,

not to mention the “no vacancy sign” in my head,

popped the Gypsy in my face

but at a distant with quite a lot of space.


One arm outstretched rattling her un-clipped tambourine,

painted face playfully disguising her many races

of father, mother, birch, oak, eagle, dove, worm,

excetra, excetra.

flashing images of gala fantasies,

in unimagined mysteries of blended colors

rode the quivering wake of her tambourine.


Mind painted galleries stretched from history

 and pulled from the future to the present.

Music, pottery, healing herbs,

seeds, grain, sand, and necessities;

all found in the scratches

beneath the merchants’, shiny thing.


Starting from her toes to her nose she shook and rattled

erasing the image on her tambourine.


Things started falling out of her pockets

Treasures found on her path; those discarded and forgotten.

fallen through the holes in my pockets.


She was willing to exchange, with me,

these common things;

for things hoarded from the merchant,

not knowing, that I still keep.


He, the merchant, still quite involved,

knowing the value of my inventory,

smiling, completely disagreed to oversee.



There they were!


Their campfire was as bright as the moon that framed them.

I watch the sparks of their fire being poked,

blinking with bright sparkle into a glowing sky;

lifting light from gold to silver to ember and back into dark.

In an eyelid blink

bowing in such graceful arks,

the merchant and the gypsy, exited with my mind.

As the curtain of decision and indecision lowered

I saw the wick of infinity

in the hands of my soul’s standing applause.

The Night Before Breakfast: An Outlaw Journal    Chapter III Pine Cone Diaries   


Posted by on February 16, 2014 in Beginnings, Love, Philosophy, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry, prose, religion, Zen


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Notes Found On The Refrigerator Jan. 2014

The Buddha is the perfection of free will. Jesus, the Christ, discourages failure; allowing the dignity of risk to be forgiven and forgotten. The gods and Saints, Prophets, and Great Chiefs exemplify this understanding struggle that arrives to the Center of Inner Peace (God) before our minds created the earth. The path has already been chosen. It has been blazed and traveled on long before light. I need to stop chasing my tail.


Falling down the stairs (sorta like stumbling on the Truth) has it’s initial physical reaction but none so surprising, after landing on the first stair, as there was, in realizing (with some fear) that, there are more stairs, I was falling. OUCH! 911 me!


Every feather I found on the ground was accepted as a gift to wear 🙂


Do I really understand what it is, I receive?


I accept our similarities and I am familiar with them.

I am seeking, however, my uniqueness among you;

which we equally possess within ourselves.


I need to bring strife to a mutual conclusion.

I need to resolve it and move on.

If I can’t, I’m in real deep shit!

If, that is the case,

then let me hold my breath

and dissolve. 🙂


I have accomplished more things in my mind,

that I have failed to do.

Proud of my success I suppose,

but under an empty roof.


shaved and wearing a smile, hopping and limping along

Fred the peg all dressed in red was going to the neighborhood bar.

He had met a lady there last night, real cute and precisely square.

Go figure?

After much conversation which seemed to go everywhere

They both agreed to meet again, at exactly the same spot, there.

Fred spent the day whittling his leg hoping to better fit in,

 with the square.

Now kinda looking slim, with an awkward limp,

she made it clear when he got there,

unfortunately for him, they would never fit

Her edges were there to stay.

The peg was initially liked by the square

but, he gave too much by whittling his leg

and she unable to understand

 the free space existing there,

that could eventually be filled

 by the things they share.


Sometimes you have to scribble things into irrelevant obscurity, eh! 🙂


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~Note found on the refrigerator~ Transcending Disappointment


Do you think everything that we have done

will get us to where we said, we are going?

Are we just spitting in the wind of failure?

Are our dreams so “far fetch” that the path has no direction?

I do not think so.

Our greatest success was when we met

and agreed to go together.

Let us continue, to find each future,

that one way or another, seems to get better.

We are no longer the first nor are we the last

to find the dark before the dawn.

Love is not ahead of us,

and it certainly is not behind us.

It is in the movement,

we create in constant,

between us.


 Sundays, offers thanks for some,

others may sleep late.

Last week’s plate emptied for a new date

or a completely forgotten recipe. Let me see,

where was I? Passing through

forgiven and forgotten!

Mondays dream come true.


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Good Morning

~Note found on the refrigerator~

With a scale and a blindfold we faced each other blind.

It’s all behind us now;

like Adam and Eve before they had to pick sides.

            We sleep in each other’s arms.

            The cherubims wake us,

            rolling us over on the other side;

            back to back, butt to butt,

               smiling, about our bee-hinds.


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I need to take this call: on Bullying at all levels

“I want to be judged by the innocent.” 
~Note Found On The Refrigerator~


It is a source of humor,

a real knee slapper

targeted “faults”

spittle in the laughter.

specifications, whispered about.

Measured things of imperfection,

calibrated with latex glove

against the length of a snot.

Wine slurred dis-approval.

Tsk, tsk, between sips of West Coast grapes

and New York City Lattes.


I have to leave now.

Bushwhackers in the bush

throwing full beer can slurs.


when I think about it

Why would  I go without this upheaval;

shame, detaining progress of escape.


I need to leave now.

I cannot sit without a syllabus.

I need to prepare my right to prevail;

present my argument

for this incredible obstacle you present,

in knowing me.


like a mirror on the fun house wall.


I am leaving  now.

Excuse me,

but I need to take this call.



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