Wednesday, February 08, 2017

Death has no sting. An original poem by Kenneth Richard Harley 

Death Has No Sting
(An original poem by Kenneth Richard Harley)

Death has no sting,
But, it stings me every day!

Death Death
Has no sting, but
It stings me every day.
Death stings me every day.

Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day.
I hurt in the right side of my heart every day.
I bleed every day.
Every day, the stinger stuck in my neck, aches
Aches, Aches
But Death has no sting
Death has no sting
Because Jesus takes my pain away.

Death has no sting.
But, it stings me every day!

Death Death
Has no sting, but
It stings me every day.
Death stings me every day.

Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day.
Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day
Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day
I feel the pain I have caused others.
I feel the pain others have caused me.

I am blind.
I am lame.
I am imprisoned.
I am calamity.
I am self-pity.

Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day.
Death has no sting,
But it stings me every day
I bleed every day.
Every day, the stinger stuck in my neck,
Aches Aches Aches Aches Aches Aches Aches,
But Death has no sting
Death has no sting
Because Jesus takes my pain away.

Then I have joy!
I can smile and greet others warmly.
I can laugh and hold someone's hand.
I can sing a love song to the lonely.
I can paint a world without fear.
I can serve in happy solace
I can remove a person's fear.

Because Death has no sting
Death has no sting
Death has no sting.
Jesus takes all of our pain away.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

An original poem by Kenneth Harley

Rainy Inside

We start on a bright, fiery day and the sun is burning my skin
But the day still feels like it is raining inside.
It is raining inside.

And there is great hope,
great overcoming of sin
healing of skin 
to my motives and Maldives and olives
and things.

And although it is rainy inside
The rain is going away away,
I am being dried by the hope-filled
Holy fire, Holy Holy fire within.
 And the rain has gone away, away.
And the rain has gone away, away
Replaced by
Gone away, away
Gone away, away
Replace by
Gone away, away
Gone away, away.
Go away.
Go away.
Replaced by Holy,
Whole Eve.
And the rain has gone away, away.
The rain has gone away, away.
The rain has gone away, away.
It is replaced by a Holy, Holy Nightly Fire.
A benign fire, A hon's fire.

My insides are dry and hope-filled.
The rain has gone away and it is replaced by Holy fire!
I am empty, but you fill me.

The rain has gone away, away and a great light
Shines and shines and fills me with energy.
The rain has gone away and it makes me happy.
The rain has gone away and I am happy.
The ________has gone away and I am __________!!!

Can you feel the canoe that you are sitting in?
We are escaping to a better life.
Away, away come away with me, my darling.
I love you.
I miss you. 
I need you!

Come away with me and you will find
The Peace you have always been looking for!
Come away with me,  
Come away with me...

You will find the rest you have wanted.
Come away with me.
Every child won't be hurt.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Two lovers walk in a Seoul Park on a Sunday Afternoon 

(This poemic feeling was conceived of about a week ago on a Sunday afternoon as I was returning back from a Sunday afternoon in Seoul. I don't remember the specific lovers I am writing about...but I remember the feeling of lovers walking around Seoul on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Maybe this feeling came to while I was watching the young lovers coming back from their day on the Subway on a Sunday evening...)

Hello young lovers,
singing your songs,

Hello dear lovers,
as you walk along
a beautiful path
on a great river parkway,

Holding hands
never afraid of the dark way.

Hello young lovers
in your romance
comfortable with your father

Comfortable with his plans.

Hello young lovers
Sitting close on a bench
But never losing your frailty
Always being your best

In your warmth
In your grace
In your delicate breathing together
In your gentle beautiful face, forever!

Hello young lovers
What a beauty from within
As admirable as a heron.
Landing from the wind.

You glide and soar among the Gingko trees and foliage through the night
Until you must go away again
For a week or more into the light.

Hello young lovers
Will I meet you again?

Yes, I will see them and rejoice as a very close friend.

Hello young lovers
Will the darkness send you fright?

"No, no!" They answer,
"We are protected by the LIGHT!"

Goodbye young lovers until
the break of dawn
when cows will jump from out of their stalls
and the two Korean children walk again home.


Monday, September 06, 2004

The girl in Seoul with the car... 

The God who reveals my deepest fears
in a dream that reminded me of a Korean movie.
September 7th, 2004

This morning I had a dream:

I met a girl.
Her name was Allie
and we seemed to get along.

She was a nice educated, university student.
She invited me to a fair where there was a great street market.
We walked and talked,
Looked at the different booths
Filled with delicate, brightly colored scarves,
Trendy clothes,
Games for children, and
Exotic food extracted from octopus and garlic.

She then asked me if I would like to have dinner with her.
A few minutes later, she drove her new blue car
To a very nice
Four star hotel for dinner.

I was amazed the she was driving me and so friendly!

When we walked into the restaurant,
She introduced me to an older couple in their mid-50's:

She told them:
I was her boyfriend.

She told me:
They were her parents!

I was quite surprised as we had only met that day.

Her father and mother were warm to me and shook my hand.They then started to ask me about my career jobs,
My education and plans.

I described what I have been doing the last several years.
For some reason I was quite afraid.
I can't describe the fear,
For I thought I was a more mature adult,
You know, I really don't have to be married to a girl.

What is my fear?
Maybe the Lord is drawing my fears out to free me and to give hope and encouragement to others:

What were my fears:

1) Was it the fear of really falling in love and being loved by another person and then being rejected because I owe student loans?

2) Am I afraid because, these fears coming up in me need to be given to God?

3) Should I really not fear another person coming into my life and helping me to be more familial later in my life?

For if someone wants to have a family with me, I just need to plan finances better and live a little more middle of the road in my decisions:I don't have to fear rejection from the person that loves me.

4)Am I afraid because God is helping me to work out my understanding of marriage and
I don't have to be deceived by a woman because of her beauty,
Based on her outside appearance and initial pleasing manner?

5)Was I afraid of being alone as I am approaching my forties and I am afraid that if I marry an older woman with a child that I really can't have a family that will wholly be mine and feel the love I think everyone needs?

6)Is that concern of mine being selfish?

7)Am I afraid because I question God and doubt that he has promised me a great end to this life
That I should have nothing to fear or worry about?

8) Am I afraid that I will have to go back to America and struggle again without hope approaching my middle years?

9)Why should I be afraid when God has taken care of me well all of my life and he will continue to take care of me well?...that is his business and job not mine!

Finally, in my dream the parents started asking me the hard questions.
They showed me a copy of my credit report with many blemishes.
They asked me how and when I was going to pay my student loans?

I then told them I was planning to stop teaching children and adults in all of my specialties and ministries,
To return to working in a corporation to provide for their daughter, or too, at least, give her a more stable existence.

The funny thing with them,
They didn't worry about the money because they were willing to pay everything!
They would accept me into their family.

As long as they decided that I could be of some value to them and the family...there had to be a negotiable price for becoming a member of their family!
Then they would take me in and let me work for the family corporation and be a valued asset.

At this point in my dream, I left for a few minutes, to do something with some other Americans as an act of service and when I returned there was another American.

He looked younger and more stylish and the father and the girl said to me:

"'We have to be practical, he is the best looking guy!' We are trying to make the best decision based on all the information we have on you both!"

Then my dream came to the end and I had to go to work.

Through this busy day of teaching the Lord has revealed some things about fear in me and how I need to let it go.
The next question is when I will wake up from my current dream?

Plus, I am thankful that all of this pain and fear is coming out on Tuesday because as I give it to you, Jesus...then I will live better and feel better...
and be able to encourage others that they can feel better!

Forgive me Jesus for I weak and poor and way too prideful but you have always taken care of me and love me and will never abandoned and you have good things in store for me and all of your children!

Saturday, August 07, 2004

Korea: Imjingak, the freedom bridge and the North. 

A poem that I have been thinking about tonight in response to my visit today:

Shredded bodies, shredded aches, barbed wire, never ending, never ceasing, never receding,
Always makes our bodies quake...and shake...

When will reunification come?

Stiffened soldiers marching in
Stepmarching more rigid than the
Pigeons that eat crumbs and foliage between words, between the worlds, between the precise steps!

When will reunification come?

Little children laughing on a humid summer day,
Licking an ice cream,
Thanking God it is Tuesday and they don't have to pray.
But a tear comes into their eye when they see their grandmother bow,
And tell them a story of when she was a girl
and she had to leave her town:

Her town that was lush and green.
Where everyone knew her name and watched her keen.
This grandmother, she had to leave her grandmother and run to unknown future in the South,
Below the Han, below what she knew
Beyond her friends,beyond her posessions very little (what she had, too!)...

She crossed her river Jordan,
She crossed her clothes like sins threadbare,
She crossed the Han with a hope,
That her life would somehow end what the war gave her: Despair.

And with all her tiny might, 50 or so years later, she bent on bended knee,
And remember her now faded,jaded homeland and how it once was part of a great tree.

After the right time of tears and feelings and dreams of the past,
She slowly arose from her knees at Imjingak,
And hugged the tender little one standing beside her.

She told the eleven-year-old girl that life was getting better,
She showed the girl how birds feeding on abundance of South Korea was a sign that pain
of the loss would end very soon, more quickly than how the pain began.

She told the girl that Korea's suffering was coming to an end.
For the old woman knew her days were also coming to an end like the North's days.
She told the girl that children would be playing together throughout the nation,
and Nations would marvel at the peace of Korea and
Follow suit with supplications for the rest of the world.

The grandmother saw the end of the highlands crying and the rivers sighing,
the trees bending and the leaves shedding, and the sunshine blinding.The grandmother knew that her day was over and the legacy she would leave the little one would be like a levee in the storm to all of wearied and in need of -soulful lifetime of rest.

She saw countrymen and how they would cheer, for the moments were coming closer to when the military jackets will be shed and the helmets forever removed from every native son's head.

The longing for family would come and be proved right, at last
The judgement would be finished the sentence would be passed.
Our people would never again misconstrue
The end of the war by historians and politicians would finally acceptably be reviewed.

Yes, the day of our dream has finally come:

When will reunification come?

We don't have to ask anymore for it his here and we are finally, from everlasting to everlasting, free!

---by Ken Harley 2004

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Korea: From the mountains to the oceans... 

From the mountains to the oceans
God's will goes throughout the land
From the south to the north
God is working and giving his love
From the mountains to the oceans
God's will goes throughout the land
From the south to the north
God is working and never failing to love
His Korean people.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

An angel helped when I was scared! 

One day
I was walking outside the school
but it was a cloudy day
and it was dark...

I saw a crow flying above my head
and I got nervous.

I said a prayer:
Help me God,
O Jesus

Then a bright angel
with big wings
and a michael jordan body
flew by and said:

"Hop on my back!"

His smile was warm and the 2 minutes
it took him to fly me home
was fun:

'cuz he told me that
God us always answers our prayers
when we are scared!

Friday, October 03, 2003

New Song from Estonia: Great rejoicing! 

There is a great rejoicing in the sky,
great rejoicing by and by
great rejoicing in the woods,
great rejoicing: more is good

As I hunger for the presence of my God
In Estonia,
As I wait and wonder for the presence of my savior
In Estonia

great rejoicing in the new world
great rejoicing from the past
great rejoicing of the mercy
from God throne ever-last

great rejoicing in the city
great rejoicing in the university town,
great rejoicing with the birth of baby
great rejoicing in a wedding gown

and I hunger for the presence of my lord
in Estonia
and I wonder, "let me enjoy the presence of my Father
in Estonia

run on the land
and swim in the river
dry off on blanket
in the little park

walk through the garden
to learn about botanicals
drink a little coffee
and laugh to the music

pray in the silence
of your closet and kin.
sing silent 'thank you's'
when town bells daily ring

hurry and get busy
until its time to let go
and slow down

feel the beauty within you
and feel God all around

feel the beauty in each other
and see God all around us when we celebrate his
presence together.

As we hunger for Jesus' presence
in Estonia
As we eat the bread and wine: the Divine,
in Estonia
As we love each other through presence of God
in Estonia
And our wanderings cease and we have a place of rest
the Eucharist
in Estonia

Until the end of time when we sleep: then we come to final
rejoicing---as well all down together in the Eucharist
In Estonia
the precursor to heaven.---by KHAR

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Prayer of Healing--Prayer Brigade for America Version 

I open my eyes to heaven and see the gates leading to my family. These are the people of all the ages. They loved me before I even existed. They are my American Family!

There is no shame there, or brokenness. I am comfortable, calm and refreshed because I hear a beautiful voice singing these words and I know they are for me--the American Individual fighting in the struggle for Life, Liberty, And the Pursuit of Happiness:

Thank you Father for loving me.

Thank you Jesus for loving me.

Thank you Holy Spirit for loving me.

Thank you Virgin Mary for loving me.

Thank you Saint Peter for loving me.

Thank you Saint Paul for loving me.

Thank you Saint Joseph for loving me.

Thank you Saint Jude for loving me.

Thank you that you all welcome me into your arms of love.

Thank you God that I can rest in you and receive healing.

Thank you that you forgive my sins and restore my soul.

Thank you that you have put me in this world for a purpose: That I am consequential.

I will make my country a place that we all can be proud to live, love, and live in...

Thank you that when I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, You Comfort me and bring me beside the still waters.

Thank you for bringing light, health, and joy to my life.

Thank you for allowing me to love and share with others my rich American heritage of strength, victory, and compassion.

Thank you for being with me every moment of every hour of every day!

Thank you for keeping my spirits up and bringing healing and a smile into my life!

Now I wait in expectation for my healing and restoration. My America will be a place of love and respect where we all will work hard and build a great city of light and liberty to shine throughout all the world.

Saturday, August 23, 2003

Tiffany the river raft queen. Part 2 

Sailed on a river raft,
Down the wide Missouri River.
One day she heard a scream down the from her parent's house.

Her friend Elizabeth was screaming.
Tiffany ran to the front of Elizabeth's house.

Elizabeth was crying--sitting on the ground:

"Tiffany, my kitty is stuck in the tree. Can you help me get her down?"

Tiffany had never climbed a tree before--But
She loved petting the kitty.
The little kitty was named Ambrose.

Tiffany got all the strength she could and then reached for the lowest branch,
Pulled herself up and went up to another branch,
Pulled herself up again.

Tiffany called for Ambrose to come to her.

Tiffany took the kitty and petted it for a while and then handed him to Elizabeth.
Tiffany climbed down the branches and then--
Day was at an end,
For right.

Tiffany, the river raft queen Part 1 

Sailed on a river raft,
Down the wide Missouri river.
One day she had to fight a dragon,
That was scaring away,
The little boys and girls of her friend, Jeilah’s, town.

The dragon’s name was Ralph.
He was a bully.
“Bully, you are a bully!”
The children screamed and then they ran away.

Tiffany got all the strength she could and then...
Day was at an end,
For right.

All I want to do is love you, darling. 

All I want to do is love you, darling.

All I want to do is see your face with smiling eyes.

And when the tears flow from your eyes,

May they be happy, or may I be there,:

To comfort you and be a friend.

And the lips of blazing fires will roar until the moonlight ends.
And willows brush,
It makes the bed of rest for you.

And the waterfall majestic flowing down steppes of time,
A dwelling of the free hearts waiting for you.

We'll one day see a group of children admiring the wine,
That grew from sweat and blood
And well used sinews.

My eyes grow dim,
My legs grow cold.
My heart is on fire,
The rest of me is old.

Weariness does not descend upon my aged brow.
The golden tongs of freedom inspire me, somehow.

A lily of flesh and bone,
And water of defends many stone.

A peacock of ten thousand little mother's dreams,
Swimming and laughing away to peaceful streams.

The many tired swelling of a daughter 'bout to birth,
The subtle glaring of a flower curled little girl.

I fly away and feel spray upon my dew-eyed cheeks.
My loved-one kindly says, "Goodbye,"
My lovely that knows by accident whom she seeks,
But lets me go upon my way further and in,
To heavenly gate from former that was so stained with grief not grin.

And burros fly and children laugh and the freedom is like a pear.
My lovely someday will gladly meet me there.

And my longing will be fulfilled as she always loves me until the sun arises.
And moonlight sets of lips on fire are cooled by the daylight air.

The darkness wants to 'get me' and tear me away from the rain. 

The darkness wants to 'get me and tear me away,
From the rain.

The blackness in this world wants to 'get me and mutilate,
Me, away from the rain.

I am sliding down a muddy hill and falling into an ocean of sewage.
My daughter is not born but her life is at stake,
By the poison trying to 'get me away,
From the Rain,
From the Rain,
My Rain, My Rain

It washes my dirty heart,
And cleans my dirty hands,
And eliminates the dirty hate in my head.

The rain ain't born to go away.
The rain will stay for another day,
The rain will hold your hand and shed a lovely tear with you.
The rain will lift me up,
The rain washes those in the street,
The rain gives chances to everyone I meet,
The rain sees a person the way a person should be seen.
The rain frees a person to how that person can be free.
The rain is my friend and will clean my filthy pig-pen.

I will come every day,
And sit in the rain.

I will not be dismayed,
But sit in the rain.

Ole, Ole!
I sit in the rain.

The bulls run by,
I sit in the rain.

The seagulls fly,
I sit in the rain.

The rain will restore my broken heart,
The rain will fix broken arms,
The rain will heal my broken insides and I will be with you.

I'll walk with the rain.
I'll talk with the rain.
I'll live in the rain.
Where I will be with you.
With the rain,
Always with you, My rain!

Friday, August 22, 2003

I will lay me down before the flood. 

I will lay me down before the flood,
I will lay the Terror down.
I will lay me down into the blood,
I need the cleansing found.

I will lay my life,
Completely cut--
And give it all to you.
You will come to me,
And cling to me,
And may I learn from you.

I will lay me down--
"My cries, my fears--
I will lay my body down.
I will call for your unending Power,
You will heal and bring me near.

Let me be a living sacrifice,
Of mercy to the world.
Let us serve and lay our bodies down

I will lay me down before the flood,
I will lay the Terror down.
I will lay me down into the blood,
I need the cleansing found.

I am empty, but you fill me.
I am empty and you fill me.

Would hope breathe in me the way?  

Laughing, laughing
Dancing abut in winds of love.

I was drifting through a crowd,
Slightly unseen,
Lightly unavowed.

Where would I turn?
Where would I go?

Is there anyone for me?
Anyone I know?
Would life give a chance for no remorse?

Would hope breathe in me the way?

A Tomatoe Story 

A fat red tomatoe
Rolled up the chimney.
He was ready to splatter himself
Against the pavement.

"My king is dead.
The end has come.
Honor departed.

I see violence stretched pulp
Strewn across the sky.
My, oh my, what have I.."

Hurace rolled off the chimney.
He imagined the slatter off his juice and seeds on the ground.
He imgined that soup Hell spooning him,
And rotting in a rich man's belly.

Hurace fell and cried and expected blackness and rot.
Rot, rot, rot, rot,rot.
Spaghetti, rot, empty belly juice sucking and torturing,
Hurace's half empty soul.

A tomatoe named Humphrey tried to catch Hurace.
This swell, Humphrey, decided to try to save Hurace.
Just for the thought of it--
That was the right thing to do.

Hurace crushed the tomatoe.
Hurace was saved.
He barely was bruised by the fall.

The other tomatoe called out to Hurace,

"Are you alive, I wanted to save you.
Life is worth living.
Be happy...I die."

Hurace felt his insides crush.
He wept bitterly over the dried tomatoe skin and paste.

Hurace decided to roll to his children's house,
And try to make a difference.

From a Red Tree: 

The rushing of the wind,
Blowing through my hair,
Reminds me of you--
You're coming through.

The sitting on the lawn,
The ending song,
Reminds me of you--
You're coming through.

Wake up sleeping giant,
Terrors in the land.
What will we do,
Where will we go?

We ever fight,
We need a hand.
Could it be you,
That pulls us through?

Raven black hair, sitting there
Watching the tear.
The end song is near,
I shed a tear--
No more fear.

Watching and waiting,
Losing the hating.
No more fainting,
No more waiting.

Hope to you,
Hope to you.
Longing for me--
Setting free
From a red tree.

When I see the robin feed her babies  

When I see the robin feed her babies
As I walk the lonely beaten path.
I will dream of rushing ocean waters,
Clear and smooth about me--
Around me, around me.

Little ones are snuggled by their mothers.
Tiny ones are nestled in their beds.
Dainty wreaths of flowers on the daughters,
And the boys they follow Father in his stead.

I long for the flowers simple and true.
I long for my birds to be saintly and blue:
Yet, the raven flies on, and the swan has a song,
And my scarlet is ibis, at times all along.

Many a day I walk the great big highway.
I walk the path lonely, dirty and pale.
Men beat me, cover me with refuse,
Stench and soot about me,
Around me, around me.

Long ago, I was snuggled by the mother.
My tiny ones were nestled in their beds.
Dainty wreaths of flowers on my daughters,
And my boys they follow their Father's stead.

But I know, yes I know that the,
Rain will come down and refresh us as a spring,
To the showers…
They will come and return us home.

Russian sounding songs coming from an old movie on TV 

Russian sounding songs coming from an old movie on TV.
The comrades hold hands and kiss each other for the glory of an old, fat red-faced mustache god.
And I wonder and dream…
Until I meet the daughter of a colonel.
She tells me of how she grew up.

I want to know her,
She wants to know me.
An iron fist of dollars, urine and American fear and hate
Shuts down the Internet and
Leaves my emails silent and cold.

My comrade does not answer,
Her lips are pale and still,
My comrade's fingers are stiff and cold,
Because she did not have the gold.

And I am sap of Democracy--
Allowed the soldiers to convince me,
That Red and Blood, Fist and Hammer,
Should cause my communication to stammer,
And bust the very nature of my being,
Into hate and sickness over someone named "Ling."

And I venture into a slammer of injustice, black-filled pain,
When once I dreamed of loving and caring,
And holding by a fire-place listening to the rain.

O Comrade will I miss you,
And will you have a thought for me--
A dreamer who tried to leave the dread,
Only to lose access to the world wide web.
To grow cold from desire, and Truman beer,
To end up wrapped in a flag of insecurity--dead.

Thursday, August 21, 2003

The singer, Eric, tries to remember a normal life.  

The singer, Eric, tries to remember a normal life.
He never thought that making money and doing videos
Would make him famous.
He does not want to be a "one hit wonder."
He, also, does not want to lose the childhood sweatheart,
He has never stopped loving.

Eric signs a contract to do one hundred shows a year,
At the Las Vegas Sands Hotel.
He thinks about the state of his career,
Is he a "Pop" star anymore?

His last concert four years later was almost empty.
His agent never calls anymore,
The chicks mock his long hair and wrinkle filled face.
It is true he has a few houses left,
But his life is empty.
Karen called last Christmas and wished him the best.
She talked of the PTA and her two children attending,
Elementary school.
Eric realizes the fame was not enough.

The next year the Internal Revenue Service forced him,
To sell off all of his property to pay his back taxes.
He still has an apartment in Pittsburgh,
And struggles to make a living hosting Karaoke bars,
Seven nights a week.

He has cut off all his hair,
Works in a soup kitchen in Chicago.
The alcohol consumption and cigarettes finally killed his,
Golden Voice.
His wife threw him out of the apartment after he cussed her out,
For throwing away his old albums.

He looks in the mirror at himself.
He has lost all of his teeth,
Stole the shoes he is wearing,
And contemplates robbing a liquor store for something cheap,
He remembers President Kennedy and the shows he sang.
He cusses himself and then sings,
For strangers on the street.
He notices that the day is extremely hot in New York this afternoon.
He takes a nap.

The city foot-patrolman calls the Morgue to hall the body away.
He hates to see the city streets littered with terminated people.
The body is deposited in a final unmarked grave.
The city goes on with the normal day's business.

Eric notices that he feels young again.
He can breathe and sing.
He does not understand what happened to him until,
He saw his body cold and stiff.
He begins to shake, wondering
What destiny is before him?

He hears a voice that he remembers as his childhood sweetheart, Karen.
He feels tears on his eyes,
Eric starts saying to himself: "I want to see her, I want to see her."

All of sudden he notices the smell of her perfume and a turkey.
He did not feel hungry, but he wanted to eat the turkey,
To feel normal, like he was alive.

Karen was cleaning up the kitchen with,
Her granddaughters and daughter-in-laws.
The Christmas dinners had been a success.
Her sons asked her if they could throw away her records,
As they bought her a new compact disc player,
And replaced most of the records with the newer versions.

She had a mist in her eyes,
As she looked at the Eric the Postman records.
She told her offspring that she once knew the man on the record.
Karen told them about how she once accepted his marriage,
Proposal only to see his career become more important,
Than her.

She had always wished the best for him.
She never from him since the sixties.

Her son, Archie, came to her and put his arm around her.
He told her that there was a recent bit of news:
Eric had died in a street in New York homeless.

Karen looked at her son and kissed him on the face.
"Maybe Eric will have more peace in the next life,
I heard it was difficult for him to live in this one!
We played together as children,
Went together during high school.
He was like candy to me, your father was a man to me.
Let us all wish Eric the best in the times to come.
Now let us go in and sing some Christmas songs. It is
Funny that a song that Eric wrote is now one of the most,
Popular Christmas songs in the 1990's.

The children sang.
Eric saw that the darkness was engulfing him,
He saw the flames and in a surrealistic fashion,
Heard Karen and her family singing one of his songs:

"I'll be walking with my sweetheart along the Christmas,
I'll kiss her lovely cheek with my heart.
We'll pass the Christchild's home,
And ride a Santa sleigh,
We'll be home before New Year's day.

We'll spend Christmas together.
We'll see and love our families.
I will never regret the beauty of being with you.

We'll spend Christmas together.
We'll see and love our families.
We'll never forget, nor regret the beauty of,
Christmas together."

[Dedicated to Chris and Annie Christopherson--my grandparents...]

Won't you try to understand?

I feel the sunshine on the back of my neck.
I listen to the waves flowing,
Over the thin, sandy shore near my house.
Okay, so it just an apartment,
Of clothes and old furniture.

I want the wine that is rich and deep.
It is not just the hue of the liquid, but the rest that the grape brings.

The river brings un-weariness to my sweat-marked, weary person.
I want to drink from the cup and eat the wafer,
But, instead I hold on to a set of values that advance my pain,
with little victory in sight through my raised periscope.

I want to sing in the choir,
Mow my lawn,
Kiss my dog.

The white fence needs to be whitewashed.
Can I paint, even the sepulchre?

I want to drink deeply of your love.
I need to forget the past and become a man.

Kiss my face and hold my hand.
I am willing to fight all Hell, if necessary.
I would rather watch the fights.

Shall I soar to the moon with you, my darling?
The moon could make a nice picnic site.
I don't care about anything else, Baby.
I must drink with you until I fall asleep.
Weep after the cows have come home.

I must drink.

It is eleven in the evening on Labor Day 

It is eleven in the evening on Labor Day.
The day was spent in too much sleep
With a little study and washing my laundry.

Tonight, I enjoy a little football,
While reading about editing words,
Using grammar and word meaning.

I turn on a videorecording of two lost people
Who find a friendship in each other.

While relaxing in the night,
I find that a cool wind is blowing into my bathroom.
I find the air is clear.
I feel that rest is near.

The air is coming.
It brings me to happiness.

I Love the Blood 

I love the blood,
The red cup filled with the
Overflowing mass of goodness.
Golden goblets, or wooden chalices never mean as much,
As the bloody wine,
That changes my veins into,
the Rood.

I need the blood,
The blue berry cereal comes from the redness in your arms,
Your side.
Let me learn to love the blood.
The cup.
The bread.
The body broken,

I need.
The Cup.
The Blood.
Blue berries.
Peach melba toast.
The Cup.
The Blood.

I, Percival of the Lakes, travel into a strange grotto... 

I, Percival of the Lake, travels into a strange grotto,
Filled with the incense of a thousand ripened rose trees.
I feel empty of all that I have known; yet,
Alive more than any man can bear.
I sit down a nearby boulder and listen to the sounds from the quiet.

Remember the passion of the Mother for her God,
The passion of the Mother for her Son.
Drink the fruit of this vine to remember,
And do not forget.

I am lying in a boat painted brown and white,
Floating on some stream within the grotto.
The woman sitting next to me is filled with brightness,
Her golden hair like wheat,
her piercing smile,
and, oh what, tender, fair eyes?
She gives me a sense of peace,
I fall asleep and dream of only one thought.

The woman in the boat with me wakes with a soft calling my name.
I don't know if she really called for me or if I was dreaming.
I begin to awake from my pine-filled sleep.

The girl/queen/warrior tells me her name:
I find her to be Rachel of the Seven Seas.

"Why are you hear with me?" I ask.
"Because you visited the Lion and the Lamb,
You have seen the Great Portion divided.
The little star has grown brighter in your eyes,
As you have traveled through the night."

Rachel gave me her hand and I walked with her from,
The water to the dry land.
I asked her for the Truth.

"I have always loved you from the day before your birth.
The angels cried when you came to earth,
They knew that someday you would find the Fire and Rain,
That would lead you to perish.
I have loved you from the beginning.
I will love you through until the end."

I took my sword and gave her the handle.
She kissed the blade.

"You will never see your family,
Nor visit your loving friends.
You will learn to love the battle,
Until the very end.
I will never let you fall,
Until you meet me in the house,
Of your fathers,
In the house of our love that you have drank,
From a cup of labor and daily bread."

Rachel kissed my lips,
She kissed my cheek,
She kissed my forehead.
She bid me farewell,
And told me that she would wait for me.
She told me that she loved me, loved me:
I would overcome for all times.

Every day I walk through the cities of men.
I travel in the boats of the gods.
I am fed by bountiful harvest of the daughters of Woman.
I can only share what I know, and what I have learned:

Remember the passion of the Mother for her God,
The passion of the Mother for her Son,
Drink the fruit of this boiling wine to remember,
And do not regret.

The army was never forgotten.
The war was at an end.
The victor had received a crown.
I wish to share it with Rachel.

Remember the passion of the Mother for her God,
The passion of the Mother for her Son,
Drink the fruit of this boiling wine to remember,
And do not forget me.

Jimmy Part I 

Jimmy had a desire to take a trip to the city of Paris.
He saved up his money,
His money,
His money,
Then took a flight on a United 767 to Paris.
The plane landed at Orly airport,
He took a taxi to his hotel.
The ride cost fifty dollars.

Jimmy was used to motel rooms from traveling in the States.
He never expected that a two hundred dollar room,
Would have half a bed and two toilets.
He did have a great view out of his window,
Of a back alley.
The streets were not too dirty,
And the bums were at a minimum.

Jimmy came to Paris by himself, as
He was sometimes considered a little different.
He sat at the cafes, waiting for a happening.
The waiters sneered at him and love to spill things,
On this "dumb" American.

Jimmy thought and dreamed for a kind soul,
To become his beautiful girl of Paris.
Jimmy never thought he would be alone in Paris.
He decided to buy a bus ticket to the south.
He arranged his trip to go to Libya.

He figured that a death in Africa was better than,
Watching his rotting flesh in his little,
Hometown in safe America where everyone thought he was,
Nothing and stupid.

He traveled to Libya through Algeria by bus.
Everyone on the bus touched some part of his body and gave him,
Gold coins.

Uncle Pete's Song (1998) 

This is the song that my nephew, Kenny,
Wrote for me after I have been dead for over a decade.
He identifies my sense of humor,
With the character of Groucho Marx.

What is the true meaning of his inquiries?
It must be something to do with a sense of loss in his life.
I learned over the years of my life,
How to save money and cut a little niche,
Out of life for myself.

I did pretty good with myself and married,
A good woman who I learned to love.
I missed her after she succumbed in our senior years,
To colon cancer.

We tried to have real relationship with her son and grandchild.
My wife, actually, was quite a young great-grandmother.
I enjoy the simple things now.
The tomato plants in our backyard.
Playing blocks with a young Kenny and his sister, Kristie.

I live in the words that Kenny is writing in this poemic,

I worked hard when I was young and stumbled,
Into a pretty good thing for my life.
I can say that I was happy and satisfied,
With the life that I chose.
It was a dark day the night that I screamed for help all night.
I was glad that Nancy came to visit me and asked me,
If I was prepared to meet my Maker.

I told her that I was prepared.
She prayed for me.
Kenny was recuperating from having his appendix out,
A few weeks before I died.

I wished that I could have more time.
I did miss Myrtle.
I had to live on my watch and Kenny has to live,
With the moments he has been given.

I appreciated that he was able to enjoy some of my Navy,
I never had a son that anyone knew about.
It is always good to think that you have left some impression,
Upon someone before you die.

I did leave an impression on Kenny.
He even wrote a poem about all of us in his family,
Called, "Everyone Loves Kenny."
It is also on his poetry archive Web Site.

I must leave and return to the heavens.
Now how many kids would say that I came from the other place of weeping.
I never smoked a cigar in front of Kenny in those,
Old days.
I did wash the dishes with Myrtle after dinner.
I had a cane that I would use as a steadying tool when I walked around.

I drove a pale blue Volkswagen and went,
Shopping for Myrtle and Mildred at the Long Beach,
Navy base.
I think it a shame that the Shipyard and base has closed down.
I think it is a waste against our national defense.
Of course I was a Navy chief petty officer.

Kenny has a hard time explaining that his mother, Nancy,
Use to visit us when she was a little girl for the summer.
I guess that I loved having children around for a time in my life.
It helped to rub off the rough edges in my life.

I have a feeling that Kenny will do well in his life.
He does need to think about money a little more.
Well, I was the money man anyway.
I wish Kenny well;
Especially, as he is writing the script for my speaking parts in this poem.
I think that he is an alright kid.
I wish him well.

New Socks: I keep falling in love with the wrong woman. (1997) 

I keep falling in love with the wrong woman.

I realized today that I keep falling in love with the wrong woman.
I truly believe that with God, anything is possible;
Yet, I fall in love with the wrong woman over and over again.

God in Heaven has protected me as I could have been destroyed.
All I wanted was their love,
I would have been satisfied to lose my dreams,
And follow their ambitions for me.
I just wanted a nice picket fence.
Now those women who rejected me:
They have shown me the Light.

You see, God allowed me to go through the past,
That I could really choose the way I would want to go.
See, when I was a little boy I sang a song,
“Is there anything I could do for you [God]?”

During these years God knew that I did not,
Have a clue about life, love and truth.
God protected me.

I could have married a sweet minister’s daughter.
Would she love me and respect me if I,
Painted Adam and Eve in the Garden in front of our children?
Would she still think I was the nice minister if I said,
“Love God, follow the right way,
Hate sin because it ruins you up really bad!”

I fell in love with an upper class woman.
She was svelte in her figure,
Had a Father who worked for National Geographic.
We could talk well together as friends.
She probably would not understand,
My desire to serve God or help the unfortunate.
Would the champagne that we both drank make us both hate each other?
She, the shallow: myself, the holy, (Was she really shallow?)
Or are the roles really reversed?

I could not find a friend here in this country, so I
Searched the world.
I fell in love with a missionary,
She did not think I was worthy.
I fell in love with a minister...
It was too late.
I fell in love with someone who tried to change me.... Because she cared.
For a few months, I became severely sick to my stomach.
I fell in love with the One,
It was not the time.

Yes, women have fallen in love with me and I have said, “No.”
I have felt that it was the right thing to do.
One person from that time on for years brought her boyfriends,
To my house to show them off.

You may ask,”Where is Jesus in all of this?”
He has protected me from myself.
Now that I am older,
My tree has, perhaps, grown a little stronger to bear additional fruit.

I still feel pain from my last love.
I wanted to be with her and her with me as much as I wanted to live.
Matter of fact, I have been trying to slowly kill myself off since my demise.

I don't kill myself with poison, or razor blades. I am more cautious, and evil.
I kill myself slowly with selfless acts of service, and over-prayer (Am I that pious?). I eat large-unhealthy portions of meat and drink vats of sodas and teas.
I work long hours in the name of some goal.
The goal being integrity, or is it really pity. I need to be pithy in my self-analysis,
I want to do fine; however,
I look for recognition.
I should know that I am valuable and loveable.

I over worry and over stress.
I spend too much money and I enjoy that---when I have it--on others most of time,
I get angry because I have created myself to physically look like a monster (am I a monster?),
And then get angry when others mock me as the Fat One.
Some women look at me at disgust,
Like I look at a bit-up 'ol possum.
(the comments are can't you eat better and maybe lose a little weight?)

I kill myself by writing poetry and sending it out to friends.
I not only get to work through my issues of death,
But I share them with others.
I do this so that, someday, we may all be alive,
In the perennial sunshine of God.

And then I paint little childish pictures,
I long to return to a time where love was real,
And childhood meant something other than drugs, babies, and shootings.
I cry in my paintings and share them with others,
For death, or for Life?

I think the painting is much more aesthetic and beautiful,
Than me paying money to some MSW,
To get healed of the dung that comes from MSW’s (or does it come from me?).
Painting to me, is a much better way to kill myself.
A wasted life is better than wasted time with a MSW (Is painting a waist?).

I feel my mother is proud of me for my growth in God.
I think she is happy with the direction that I am taking in this life.
I think my grandfather is proud that I am learning to work hard.
My grandmother is proud of me for living.
I don't know her that well to perceive what she would admire in an individual.
Maybe she is from the side of the family that is more open to failures.
I don’t know.

My sister is proud of me for me, and for trying to be strong.
I think she feels that I do not need to be too strong (why do I have to feel that people are proud of me?).

When you are alone,do not be afraid.
If you are not married,
Do not rush too fast.
A worse fate awaits the person, who is married,
Because they chose out of their needs,
The marriage is either dissolved, or a rotten one.

Sex is full for a short time, sin is but for a season, in a shinny sham of a marriage or relationship.
God wants your sexual relationships to be full for a lifetime.
Keep your head clear,
And allow God to steer you to a person,
You will love you for the rest of your life.
That person will be special, as they will say,
“I know this person well, they have a lot of faults that are minor,
Agitating, but basically, they are not violent and out of control
I choose to love that person for the rest of my life.”

A wandering fool/soldier is what I used to be.
He left in blinding fury.
Now ten years later, I miss him.
The only Father that I ever knew,
I miss him.
I don't miss him.

I want to try to be a better Father.
I hope my children will not guess how lonely and dysfunctional I am (are you dysfunctional in 2003?).
I still miss him.
Yes, I still miss him.
I don't miss him.

The angst in my soul is just a bunch of words.
Today, the muck is less "mucky!"
I am becoming De facto, De Foiled.
Maybe a non-threatening way to say it...
I am becoming more tranquil and accepting of my course.

The ugly is going away.
It is time for a new day.
I need to love my children and take care of them.
This is the plan.

Let us try it!

(Note---this is 1997...how I look at this today as foreign...much of it???)


The redhead gave her self to her husband.
The husband knew her.
The husband gave the woman a son.
The redhead could have aborted the son.
She didn’t.

The uncle of the redhead drank,
Alcohol until nothing was left.
This uncle died on the street.
The redhead loved her son.

The light rescued the maiden from the darkness.
The light rescued the son from the darkness.
The light ate darkness and until it was consumed.

My gay friend whom I truly love,
I rescue you from the darkness:will you come,
And live with me in the light?
Come out of the cold and sit beside me near the fireplace.
I truly do love you.
I remember when the boys beat you and mocked you.
I remember the salty tears upon your lips.
I kissed those lips and made them warm.
I made your heart warm.
Come sit beside me.
I’ll take you in my arms and be your mother.
I will embrace you in my arms and kiss you like the Father you never had.
When you close your eyes in death, I will take you home.
And now every day I will recognize you,
Give you favor in the day of today.

The Wedding Angel  

The little town of Smithville--in the Appalachian Mountains,
Of West Virginia--received a miracle on Christmas Day.
One never thought the challenged community,
Would ever see New Hope again:
Just dirty snow covering,
The once busy streets.
Silence filled the morning of the sweet birth day.
Many slept with no dreams.

The young couple came into a solitary Baptist Church,
Hoping the clergyman would make an exception and,
Marry them.
The old parson heard their tale and
Proceeded to complete the paperwork.
While writing, he thought about their story.

Two 18 year old children:
They promised last Christmas they would marry in a year.
Both parents had been killed in car crashes.
The boy lost his job as the town factory closed down.
The girl was unable to pay the mortgage on the family farm,
Lost the farm.
The boy worked in the coal mines until October,
His lungs started hurting.
A city worker with a ladder accidentally hit the girl.
She lost her three front teeth.
No dental.

The boy and girl live in a little one-room trailer with no heat.
They are not sure if they will last the winter.
They have tried to commit to each other.
They should receive the sacraments of marriage.
The minister completed the papers
And motioned for them to come to him.
He asked God for a miracle.
One that would change their lives and provide compassion and assurance.
That man asked for sickness to become well,
And mourning, sadness to end.

The old man closed his heart and knew,
There were no miracles.
He had them wash their hands and faces
For preparation.
He wished that he had fine clothes for them,
As they needed more than what was available.
A new coat was given and an old woman’s dress.
The wedding was set to begin.

The preacher cranked up the record,
A melancholy song played about lovers and friends.
He talked about the traditions of marriage, family and commitment.
Far above from this scene,
A messenger was released to bring a message.
The air was sweet as the Presence that descended upon the town.
Mothers and Fathers woke up and knew something special,
Was about to begin.

The mayor was approached and told that a great,
Wedding was in progress.
He called the key members of the community,
“Hurry and bring gifts and celebrations for the young blessed couple!”
The kitchens brought meals and the bakeries brought cakes.
Within an hour the town had mobilized to,
Provide celebration and safety for the Boy and Girl.
A wealthy realtor gave a house.
Mr. Dentist offered new teeth.
A hospital would provide healing and health for the children.

The angel walked into the midst of the holy church.
He told the Reverend his desires were answered,
Then the message was given to the young couple:
“The favor of God has come and rested upon you both.
Soon your hopes will be realized,
And your shame will be lifted from your hearts forever.
You will have a start.
You will give thanks for all the restoration.
Never forget the joy of Today, as the world celebrates your love,

Your beautiful love.
You will receive many gifts today.
Give to others and it shall be given to you.
Answer the door knocks from others and,
They will be answered when you knock.
Help others to seek, and you will be led as you seek.
Give love away and it will never leave you both.
Kiss your community and job everyday,
Let all bitter things flow away into a small river."

The Angel disappeared.
The Couple realized they were adorned,
With finer clothes than money could buy.
The Rector was dressed in clothes lined with pure gold.
He noticed the all the repairs had been made,
In the formerly broken down church.
The boy and girl jumped in excitement as they saw,
The church decorated with the finest decorations.
The mayor led the townspeople into the little church.
He exclaimed, “Congratulations on your wedding day!
We have forgotten that we love you both.
A danger for us all has now passed.
May you forgive us as we honor you.
We all can live, love, and give as a community,
As God ordains the rest of our lives.”

The Bride, The Groom, celebrated with all the people,
As the gifts were shared,
Everyone noticed that a new fruitful day was borne for the children,
And the whole town.
One wonders what miracles abound,
We close our eyes to celebrate,
When the party is all around us.
We need to live, love, breathe, kiss sweet lips, forever.


I believe in the laughing revival.
Some day I will laugh in great joy.
In my heart--that time is not here.
That time is for another day,
When no longer I sweat out,
The stinking days of a hot summer,
Where coffee stains the hot, wet, air.
And no more will I smell the despair,
In the little disappointed girl,
Who sits in a public bar,
Waiting for her boyfriend,
To finish the pool game.

She wants a little house with a white picket,
Fence...why can’t we ever learn that,
Only Jesus is the gate to that perfect world.
This little girl I saw while walking with,
A dear friend, seemed like lost Ophelia, a forgotten dandelion out of Season.

If I cried, I did cry on the inside.
I want to drink the fourth cup on that day.
On that coming day.
Until that day, I am only destined to mourn for the,
Loss that I see.
Yes, I will experience great days of happiness.
Like on my wedding day, and the first birthday of,
My dear child.
However, I still mourn as every day leads to death...
That is the only road to life and the end of decaying,

And now to a brighter subject.
The light of all lights,
Causes the darkness to flee away.
The children who were in the dark have now been,
Exposed to the light.
Will anyone catch them before either the sun goes,
Down, down, or the children--exposed,
Run back in to the dark ways.

Yes, you can feel good!
The toucan has lost his head.
The tire blew out on the way to debt.
The pigeon was slit for healing.
The fit was decompressed after it was,
Too late.
Too late.

The release never came,
The lemonade tasted sour.
Life comes to us.
Every morning.
Take your breath..
Thank your God.
Thank you, God.

I am rapidly approaching thirty years old. (1997) 

I am rapidly approaching thirty years old.
I, again, here the Good News, the Truth.
Like the singer from U2 sings,
“Wake up dead man,”
I feel like I am beginning to awake again.
The mountain of rubble pressed on me,
Is beginning to loosen, loosen...more,
Not so that I can be free,
But to be a former unloved slave,
Turning into a son.
A son.
I have to get up, right now,
I have a watery feeling,
But, I’m still a son, son,
Not unloved,but a son--
But a son, a son.

I approached the Dead Man,or,
Rather, he approached me,
And put out his hand.
I grabbed his hand, as in an act,
Of friendship.
His hand was strong and he looked,
Deep in my eyes.
He spoke and said, “Wake up,
Wake up.”

I began to open my eyes and see,
What I am, I am, I am.
You see, I pulled the trigger,
After calling him UGLY.
Then running, and shooting, and running,
And shooting and laughing, and yelling,
You see, I plugged him 36 times in the face, and hands,
Arms, legs, abdomen, yet, he was wounded for my,
IniquIties: because I was really the ugly one.

I shot his forgiving eyes and watched the blood flow.
Then I took a knife and stabbed, and stabbed, and
Stabbed--Tearing his shirt and clothes to shreds.
I yelled more, “UGLY, UGLY, UGLY
Why have you done this to me?”
His eyes, though in excruciating pain--
Managed me.

I went home and left the Dead Man for the dogs.
Worms Meat. I will soon be worms meat.
A diet of worms.
Only alcohol and speed can numb me.

As I am resting, looking for any kind of sleep,
Any kind of sleep,
Any kind,
The UGLY MAN, the Dead Man.


He grabbed my shoulder,
His face was scarred and hardly recognizable,
BY MY shameful, demented,
He grabbed me by the hand,
Looked at me in eyes,
And I started convulsing wildly,
And choking.
Vomit rised out of my lungs,
As tears violently purged from my being.
“Be gone from my son, son!”

I felt release.
My pants were wetted and the DARKNESS flowed AWAY FROM ME,
Like a green oozing putty.
Then the voice again said,
“Be gone from my son, son,
My only son in whom I am well pleased.”
I felt release again.

The thing tried to remain in me as a familiar friend,

I’ll send in the military for assistance on how I can DECEIVE my son, I am his DEMON-dad,
I have the right,
To emasculate him and make him FEEL UNLOVED AND NOT MANLY.

That was what my father always taught me.
He said that money could only buy happiness,
And curses on others could only bring the good life,
From our holy father, on Sundays, in our nice suits and dresses,
Praying to my friend, God.
He needs me because I am rich and I don’t need my,

Even with the familiar fiend,
I say-- “how can I share this DECEPTION with anyone?”
It must be shared so that all may become free!
I had the feeling that a cloud break was forming and I’m “Going to the sun,” like the U2 song says.
Do not weep, my lady.
The children of the latter ladder, will live.
No more sorrows will exist.
The children of the damned will be redeemed,
And finally come to the place of peace.
They will be damned no more.

But as I look deeper and see that I am a man with unclean lips and a broken heart that longs for libations and opiations, while realizing that those,
Curses, only bring me nearer to the brink of death,
And separation from the only one, not thing,
That ever cared for me, like Jesus.

And now I do not remember whether,
It was my own destructive nature, or DECEPTION,
That helped me to hate myself,
And fall short from being,
Like how the Dead man loves me.

For my words are like many drunk nights,
Though drink was far from my lips,
The pain of never measuring up,
Opiated and destroyed my hope.
I still believe...but, little in myself.
To love or not love myself,
As I feel bereft of hope,
Though I still hope.
I really do believe,
Though I lost my hope.
My hope.

It is important to understand that a prayer,
With shaking fits of laughter, and Barking and,
Whinnying like a horse--I do love and accept..
But the deep damage in my soul,
That causes every part of my make-up to be questioned and,
Requires deep tenderness, and true authority.
That is why the Dead man has had to walk up to me and say,
“Be gone, Be gone from my son, son,
My only son--whom I know.”

My friend, I love you,
So deep that you do not,
Even understand. That is why I will let
You pray for me, and I desire that your prayers,
(Especially, when you are praying in your closet for me.)
Will encourage me from the Chaos all about.

The Old Preacher from Sleepy Town, Maryland 

The old preacher,
Sitting in his easy chair,
Remembering the days of his life.

The tractor accident at the Bible College,
Where his hand and forearm were lost.
The bed in the hospital room,
Where he awoke to understand the hand of God.
His wife whom he shared his good and sad,

He remembered the salvation of many,
And the losses of a generation.
He was glad he lived in peace;
And kissed all he met these days,
In a humble loving, adoration.

I knew that old man,
He treated me like a grandfather.
He saw the future I had
And wished me nothing other.

He lived with pain and sorrow,
And grieved in prayer for children.
He will celebrate great victories,
And march with others on to heaven.

I will see the old preacher,
Leaping and singing and praising God,
In Glory.
And we will Embrace God.
And we’ll finally know what it is to Live
Kissing all our family,
A spectrum,
Without Shame.

This Summer I Think I Live In The Desert 

This summer I think
I live in the desert.
No more spring rains.
No more green grass.
No more peaceful brooks.

The heat reminds me of Las Vegas.
I like that dry heat.
I just didn't think it would make it to Kansas City.

Summer is burning and
I am loving it.
But there was a time in Wisconsin
when the snow was past my ankles
and my face was burned with cold
and I felt alive and breathing,
like my life was gold.

So when you're burning in the sun
and looking for the cool.
New pavement is bubbling,
Closed are some of the schools!
Remember that your beloved is,
near you and not so far away.
He'll always be like a freezer on a hot,
One hundred degree day.
And when the winter comes,
a time when darkness tries to flow:
Your lover will keep you warm and light,
and not afraid of snow!

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

A plan of living: 

It is a new day,
A new way,
A new flavor.
It is time for a new plan of living.
And you will never let me down:
As sure, as you wear a crown.

I hope to not forget your care through all my days.
Thank you for the remembrance,
Of my weakness,
And your faithfulness.

A plan of lving: 

It is a new day.
A new way.
Anew flavor.
A plan of living.
And you will never let me down.
As sure, as you wear a crown.

I hope to not forget your care through all my days.
Thank you for the remembrance,
Of my weakness,
And your faithfulness.

Such Love 

Such love,
Is so sweet.
Like little calves,
On their mother’s breast.

Like pine trees,
After a winter rain:
Full of dew.

Like a pretty girl,
Visiting Santa Claus for the first time,
Holding her Daddy’s hand.

Such love,
Is so sweet:
I love that love.

Its Gonna Be A Party on that Train to Heaven! 

It’s gonna be a party,
Gonna be filled with friends.
A fiesta through the end,
As we ride in our seats on that train.

We’re going up y’all.
My friends, but we must make a STOP!
On the bad sign of town.

We’ll pick up those judged ugly.
We’ll pick up the loud.
We will see the gangster boys come on board,
And the rap “hounds.”
Yes, there’s room for the chicas,
And hermanos, too.
Let’s make sure your ticket is paid.

I got on board in my nice suit.
Were in my seat.

I knew that I lived my life wrong,
Until an old preacher from,
Across the tracks came to me.
He sang me the song.
The good ‘ol boy got down on my knees.
People gave me hugs and kisses.

I Truly Have A Father 

You are the vast heavens.
You are the liquid in the streams.
You walk with me in an old churchyard on a dusty road.

I truly have a father,
You will let me hold your hand.
I’ll never be ashamed again.
‘Cause you walk with me,
As I overcome in this land.'

I ride a train in the city.
I pray for a bearded man.
He holds his wheelchair in place,
With a railing in his hand.

I truly have a father,
You will let me hold your hand.
I’ll never be ashamed again.
‘Cause you walk with me,
As I overcome in this land.'

Sitting in a Boardroom on the 27th floor,
Laying sick in the street.
Being forced to be half naked,
Wishing to be discreet.
Crying on a bus all alone,
Unable to walk in your own home.
Sleeping in a depressive state,
Being a death row inmate.

A priest who is in love and wants to marry.
An innocent tormented with as strap.
A child lost in drugs for someone else’s profit.
Boats, Cars, Houses, Clothes from
Cash, Cash, stolen merchanise, lost sight.
A revolutionary fomenting a riot,
Without bread or a bath.

I truly have a father,
You will let me hold your hand.
I’ll never be ashamed again.
‘Cause you walk with me,
As I overcome in this land.'

I truly have a father,
You will let me hold your hand.
I’ll never be ashamed again.
‘Cause you walk with me,
As I overcome in this land.'

You prepare a place for me.  

You prepare a place for me.
The sun will rise (Rise.)
The sun will set. (Set.)
Days pass, Days move on.
You prepare a place for me.

You prepare a place for me.
The wings of God,
Fly to us.
Cows come along,
Seagulls beside,
Robins to and from.
Gators’ and Ostriches and Elephants,
You prepare a place for us.

If I could be a rose in your garden 

If I could be a rose in your garden,
If I could maybe, be a baby tree.
More water is given to the those who are, Needy of a drink,
Drinking you.

If I could be the cup of your wine.
If I could be the grain of your bread.
Maybe I could be the hay,
In the manger for your head,
For your head.

But I wake up in the Morning and need,
To feel your breath:
I see your loving eyes,
Supporting me.
I am empty and lonely,
Needing your sweet caress…
Holding me forever,
In your love.

My loved one,
I give you an apple for pleasure.
An apple filled with honey for all time.


He came upon a time.
One pillar had gotten married,
Another had moved to the Ocean,
And Jimmy to a different road.

He was alone.
Looking for fire,
Or gas for his engine.

A kite flew by,
His spirit was lifted,
He clung to a life buoy,
Until the clouds went away.

He went to the orange farm,
And saw an apple pie
In the clean locale.

Only the brightness,
Could fill his life.
Tears would flow,
But He would walk,

Even Alone,
Is a perceived Anti-reality.

Eternal Love Is Not Fleeting 

Lilac Water,
Splashed upon skin.
Delicate fingers,
Flowers of purple, yellow and red,
Adorn the crown.

There were times,
Of illness, bad humor.
Weariness broken,
Day heart not taken.
There will always be love.
Eternal love is not fleeting.

Boise City, Oklahoma Apr 11, 1998  

The little town in the Prairie,
Closes down when it becomes dark.
The travelers and the truckers either,
Check-in to local motels, or travel down the one-lane state highway.

I settle in at my little room at the Longhorn Motel.
The night is calm, the sky is clear.
An Oklahoman moon looks down at the friendly folks,
And their bountiful farms.

Kathy brings my Chicken Pasta dish to my table at the Pizza Hut.
She wears a big smile after laughing with two guys at another table.
She is still young, happy, and filled with promise.
Supper in Boise City satisfies my hunger.

The East Indian innkeepers wish me a pleasant night,
In the quiet plains turned purple.
Farmers sleep near to their crops and soil.
It, truly, is well.

Dancing around the campfire 

Dancing around the campfire,
Singing songs of my heart to my friend.

It reminded me of a time,
When I was not always happy,
But now the light glows,
I can see clear skies
Around the island.
My ship is safe in the harbour,
And I am not alone.

Dancing around the campfire,
Singing songs of my heart to my friend.
Always leading,
But never alone.

We Worship You! 

As we come today before you.
As we walk into you house.
We will sing with open hearts,
We want to love you,
To love you…
Jesus Our Holy Lord.

We worship you,
We raise our eyes and receive your most Holy, tender care.
We worship you,
You love us, and we’re most down, you say:
“Don’t be afraid.”
We love you, you love us.
You Love us, We love you.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Algerian Songs 

Sitting in my room.
Staying at the house of my sister.
The window is open and she is gone.
The warm spring air breeze,
Filters into my refuge and reminds me of times,
Of little girl’s toys and peppermints, mixing
With rich scents of elixirs and spices.

The sunshine lights and,
the brass orange stands in my world, where
Agatha held my hand as we walked in the open air market.
She cried at the excitable birds that chirped and sang at,
The open tops of the tents.
The world was new and exciting for her. She
Drank the potion as it was stirred and poured.

Beggars asked and moaned for alms.
We were warned by the guards to avoid the lecherous thiefs that,
Masqueraded as humble patriarchs in a hard world.
Algeria had grown turbulent these days.
The great teacher had persuaded the religious elect to,
Sponsor a great contest that would choose the new leader,
Of the desert--The government did not welcome this news.

Arresting the great teacher caused riots and
Threats. President Amman, eventually, proclaimed the
Contest would,
Begin on June 1st and end on July 25th.
The throne of the Ancient Pearl would be established on July 26th.
The contest proved to be an exciting event.

Men came from all over the world, performing
High feats of strength and wisdom;
Daring acrobatics of the first degree.
Magicians flew, Lions and bears were tamed.
Bombs shot through and decimated target buildings--just for the
Sake of the entertainment and recognition needed for the prize.

My associate,
Hakeem came from a small town on the edge of the desert.
If I would have been close to him,
I would have seen his great anger:
A bitterness that burned with such fury,
It could not be quenched.
As I later learned,
It was not beneficial for Hakeem, Agatha, or I.

The military ten years ago attacked the small desert village,
Of Akbar (Hakeem’s ancestral home) and,
Killed his wife, child and parents.
Hakeem’s family lived in that town for a thousand years,
But the unjust leaders in that region forced all persons,
Including his older uncles and aunts to vacate the premises,
As the city was given to a religious leader:
One known as the Great Teacher.

I came to this land to develop project teams for,
Telecommunications installations throughout the country.
I was requested as the French Utilities Board,
Mandated all national and international business,
To upgrade communication devices and security due to,
Regional instability.
Most French and Algerian firms refused to assist,
These local businesses.

After being in the country nine months,
My wife passed away.
She was on her way to work,
And a semi-truck lost control of its,
Brakes, while on a large hill in San Franciso.
My daughter stayed with my parents for another six months,
But that was too long--
She needed a daddy and missed her and my wife terribly.

Our family and I decided that she would,
Stay with me for a month every three months.
I sent Hakeem and His new wife, Janece to,
San Franciso for a two week vacation and,
A return trip with my daughter.
We all decided that my daughter would be safe,
As she had the look of an Algerian national.

Her dark brown hair and brown,
Olive skin fit in well with the rest of children,
Of nationals at the American school.
You see, my wife was an Algerian student at San Francisco State,
University for three years, and we graduated together.

I learned over the last ten years,
A version of Algerian-French and, also, of
Much of the culture.
That is one of the reasons why,
I was selected to come,
And try to save a nation.
Hakeem and Janece arrived with,
The only jewel of my life, Agatha, on June 26th.

Little did I know that while in my hometown,
Hakeem met with several exiled leaders of his,
Former community and political persuasion.
These comrades made a pact that they would end the contest,
And settle the old accounts with the Great Teacher.
I greeted my friends with hugs and kisses,

And Agatha with gifts and love, my deepest love.
Little did I know that this friendly couple,
Held my life in their hands.
I did not even have any control over the life of my daughter.

Hakeem was in charge of hiring,
A team of electronic and telecommunications professionals,
In the first year of the project we had completed ninety-percent,
Of the task.

My wife had always mentioned in our early years,
That any industrial undertaking in Algeria would,
Take three times longer to finish,
Than in the United States.
I was surprised that progress of the project was three years ahead,
Of my conservative budget and time estimates.

I was amazed at Hakeem’s skill at directing,
And managing several different operations all over the country.
It seemed that he always knew when trouble,
Occurred--He stopped any interruption of the work,
Within minutes.

He was limited in his foresight in the design process,
Of the new national communications links.
For months Hakeem tried to convince me that,
One central location trigger was necessary for control,
Of the nation.

I always came back to logic and taught him,
That centralized systems would be a disaster.
We designed forty-two COMM centers in the country,
And then three Satellites with the main trigger functions,
In Paris, Brussels and San Francisco.

The systems were not designed for the foreign offices to be able,
To shut down communications;
But to override any kind of national breakdown,
Or terrorist attacks on the main,
Communications networks in Algeria.

On July 4th, all of our teams gathered,
At local sites througout the nation for a great celebration.
The project was finished:
Years earlier than planned.

For the last few days, I conferenced
With all of our site managers to confirm that,
All was completed.

On July 3, I authorized the party,
And planned to personally to tour every new facility,
Over the next two weeks.
I just did not understand what had happened:
Was my wife’s insight incorrect?

The French Board asked me to stay until August 1st,
To review the final adjustments needed for the new,
Communications network.
Some of the work sights were in dangerous parts of the country:

Hakeem accompanied me with several assistants,
While Janece taught Agatha her lessons.
Whenever I returned from my trips, I found Agatha dressed,
In Algerian childrens’ styles.
She ran to me and jumped into my arms and kissed,
Her daddy.
I was reminded of a better time with her mother.

On July 24th, Hakeem traveled with me to a far,
Outpost in the Sahara Desert.
When we arrived at the COMM center, I noticed
Most of the workers to be gone.
“The crowning of the new ruler has almost forced a shutdown.”
Hakeem almost seemed excited; yet, very calm.

Hakeem gave me a tape recorder when I did some test work,
Underground, near an electrical transformer.
The tape played some traditional music for about a half-hour,
Then the music stopped and the words and began to hit me--
“My friend, thank you for assisting me in becoming,
The new leader and friend of all in this country.

Under the guise of additional Telecommunications,
Installations, I have put together a network of people,
Committed to a new form of government in this country--
A benevolent dictatorship--

You have been my friend and have taught me much,
And now I repay you with temporary evil for your kindness.
Do not worry...your daughter is safe.
Matter of fact, we have arranged for her,
To become our daughter.

There are plenty of supplies where you are and we will,
Come for you in five days.
At that point, you will be flown to England.
Goodbye, ny friend we will probably,
Never see each other again.

Agatha will remain in out care for the next,
Two years until we can safely transport her,
To be with you. Goodbye”

My heart stopped...I cried aloud and ran to,
The phone center...Nothing, everything was dead.
The next 24 hours were a blur--

A camel was left a mile from the COMM station;
I rode to a nearby town and hired,
An old World War I byplane for travel.
I fought bandits who later told me that,
Hakeem was trying to stop me from finding him.

I swam across a four mile river,
Only to awake covered with sweat and shivering as,
A young Algerian woman told me how Hakeem,
Had his knife by my throat; yet,
Let me live for some unknown reason.

I arrived in Akbar on the afternoon of the 26th of July.
The city was overcrowded in anticipation of the crowning,
Of the throne of the Ancient Pearl.
I assumed that where the Great Teacher was staying--
Is where I would find Hakeem.

Two hours later, just before dusk,
I found the Great One.
He was seated in an old 1950’s version,
Of a Lazy-Boy chair from the Levitz’s,
Furniture chain.

Then I saw Hakeem as he approached the Great Person.
Hakeem bowed and seemed to be speaking,
To the Great Personage.
A minute later, Hakeem yelled to the crowd,
“The contest is complete,

To the victor goes the spoils,
The Great Empire of the Ancient Pearl has risen again.
We live in the era of the sun.
The sun. The sun. The sun. The sun.
I now present you the victor...

In the crowd is Mr. Justin...
Please come forward.
I was shocked, why had Hakeem called me up,
To the front of the crowd?

Akimba Natalie, one of my assistants pointed me out to the crowd,
(Akimba is a hardworker, I really like, originally from Nigeria).
Several young men in long beards rushed and came and bowed,
Before me...They set me on an ancient chair and ran me up to meet
The, the, the...
The Great Personfication,
The Great Alliteration,
The Great One,
The Great Oxymoron.

I walked and shook hands...he bowed and,
Shared with the crowd,
“My children, this man is my equal...
He is a Great Man, The Great One.
He is the only one deserving the Ancient Throne of the Pearl.
While the whole nation sought war, or
Politics, or terrorism...

He sought peace.
While we reveled and awaited a leader,
He built a network of communication.
He lost his wife and his child while,
Trying to save our land.

President Amman, come here and assist me with,
The crowning of the King of the desert.”
I interrupted the ceremony by saying,
“You have selected me to be King,
But I am a broken man, my only skill is managing,
Multi-national projects without a hitch.”

The great one replied,
“It is time for you to manage this nation under God.”
President Amman added, “It is time for us to reveal the truth, now.
Hakeem is now coming with your daughter and,
two other woman. One is Janece,
The other woman is...”
I yelled between tears and ran, “ Jatene, my Jatene, my wife.

I thought you were gone...Thank God!”
We then embraced.

The Great One sang with Hakeem, Janece, and President Amman,
As the crowd listened and then sang,

“Our God in Heaven gives us one life.
He allows our feet to roam, searching for anchors.
When we are ready, He gives us the ability to work and love.
We kiss our children and build for today and tomorrow.
We can share with our Family, the fruit of the,
Heavens and peace on earth through the heart.

Sing to the Creator and the Ancient One.
He has brought to us a Pearl of Great Price
The Leader we will present to all the nations,
Has proven himself because of his love for his wife,
Daughter, Father and Nation.

We will see a future,
That will not be pure, perfect;
However, it is time to make the law, Love.
Deep within our natures.

Cheer for your friend, Mr Justin.
The Crowd left happy that evening.
Mr Justin restored the Communication Networks that night,
And shared of his good fortune.

The announcement brought hope to the world as Mr Justin,
Announced that elections for Parliamentary seats would be,
Held in a year and,
Peace needed to rain for the country to become healthy again.

President Amman was sent with The Great One to,
Washington D.C., to negotiate with President Clinton,
For the Algerian Infrastructure Act of 1997.
This bill, as you are aware, brought jobs,

To most of the unemployed workers in the region.
President Amman stayed New York as the United,
Nations represenntative, as The Great One,
Became the Paris Ambassador who,
Discussed better ways that French relations could improve.

Hakeem became the chancellor and Prime Minister of the Algerian,
Government-- His strength was his ability to organize,
And make decisive decisions for positive results.

Akimba Natalie remained chief advisor to Mr Justin
(The people always called the King, Mr Justin),
The King used his expertise to modernize a nation and,
Instruct the people how to grow and maxmize their daily,
Lives...in working, sharing, caring, and laughing.

Mr Justin brought his sister over from.
San Francisco and found her a house,
That was peaceful and quiet.
Where birds could chirp and sing beautiful,
Bird songs.

Mr Justin would go and spend non-working days at the house and,
Wait for his sister to return from the American School,
Where she taught History.
Mr. Justin would sit and be thankful,
And ask for help.

Then he would think a thought,
Similar to...
“Sitting in my room.
Staying at the house of my sister.
The window is open and she is gone.
The warm spring air breeze,
Filters into my refuge and reminds me of times,
Of little girl’s toys and peppermints, mixing
With rich scents of elixirs and spices.”

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