sunday verses #14


Framing seasons three
Winter starts and ends the year
Annual bookends


A breath of warm air
She comes around the mountain
Chase Winter away


She pushes forth life
Her pungent verdant bower
Earth's labour's give birth



Winter ice on trees
glitters like festive tinsel
under morning sun


When days are shorter
fiercely blows the winter wind
piling snow in drifts


Frigid air on skin
Persistent chill burrows deep
Winter wet and cold

sunday verses #11

4 haiku for the end of Autumn.

Leaves begin their fall.
Colors changing while you watch
autumn's rich pageant.

Cold, dark, windy night;
trees shudder; dead leaves unchained 
make fierce their escape

Distant in the dark.
Sweet sounds the soft piano.
Music in the night.

Chill'd, damp autumn night.
Sleepless bare trees sway slowly.
Unwrapp'd, expos'd heart.

sunday verses #10

(untitled) 1/29/19 1AM

… with bigoted clam-shelled-shut heart
pinched accusation and fervent digit all gesticulation
their unctuous moral fortitude no reverence for creation
razes the standard none can achieve
happy to fail, happy to fall 
into the boiling cauldron of righteousness
reason lost

Who will avail the good, decent, compassionate 
and forgiving soil?
… planting seeds to each grow its own kind
fruit bearing and fruitless
watered by streams of untethered acceptance.

Virtues are best left in deep shadows
where they are not exposed to the light of…
…haughty self-aggrandizement,
bleached by self-promotion or discolored by false humility….
… left in the heavy darkness when eyes close 
and sound fades to sleep…
… perchance to dream.

sunday verses #9


There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.

Empty spaces are all that remain
where factories made my world.

A dream that never was
cannot be remembered or built upon.

There is no foundation 
there is only dust and wind.

Remembrance is only a delusion
sickness of mind and soul
for a community that is trapped
in its struggle to free itself from nothing.

There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.

Places where people lived
where the voices of children could be heard.

Now there is silence
even the ghosts don't linger here.

Some say silence is golden
but the same silence can drive a person mad.

There are holes...

sunday verses #8

PLAYERS SONG (date unknown)

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the end has come 
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across 
this sawdust clown

baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town

hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the naked man 
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted 
face of a clown

milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace 
distant thunder 
smoking cigar lifeline 

rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

sunday verses #5


A shadow crept across early evening.
As I was retrieving the mail
I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

A thousand wings whispered across the autumn sky
in undulating murmurations of velvety simplicity.
None collided with the other but danced a ballet 
in perfect synchronicity across heaven.

The tinted hues of sunset;
royal purple and brilliant orange painted
against a dark blueing background.

Even the cricket at my foot that stopped its chirping
and, propped up against my shoe, 
seemed to look up in amazement.

A pair of local chipmunks scurried about in the chilled air
foraging for nuts and berries to store for winter -
oblivious to the magic in the sky.

In one step I had travelled 
from the reality of a chaotic and stressful day 
into a calm, quiet and peaceful evening.

sunday verses #2

WE ARE MEDIA (10/02/2021)

Welcome citizen,
WE are Media.
WE are message.
WE are massage.
WE are information masturbation
That you WILL enjoy.

If you do not believe
                what WE tell you to believe,
And if you do not act on
                what WE tell you to do,
Even though WE show you 
                only what WE believe you need to know,
Even though WE show you
                a heavily redacted, edited, one-sided view,
Even though, when WE do show an alternate view
                it is completely ridiculous, unbalanced and unbelievable,
Then, you are a bad citizen.
A bad and corrupt member of society.
Suited only for OUR censorship.

Dear citizen,
You and WE both know that you, 
A mere individual, 
Are incapable of making an informed decision.
Information is power that WE control for you.
WE simplify the information for you.
You are free only when WE say you are free.
WE have done all the work for you.
You may now bow down and thank US.

You're welcome citizen.
We are Media.

sunday verses

Toilet/Potty Poem (10/2021)

Sitting on the toilet in
Solemn contemplation
Staring at the shag rug
Covering the Autumn-chilled tile floor

Faces and shapes emerge
Beasts and people
Both fantastic and frightening
Revealing themselves
Emerging in the trampled fibers
Of bare footed traffic
Before I roll them up
To erase their existence
In the reality of life's washing machine
Like shaking an etch a sketch
Re-setting the tabula rasa of imagination

unfinished business


culture wars

begun long ago

and no one cares

living in the moment

ignoring the past

you did not ask for 

this war

I did not ask for 

this war

yet here we are 

stuck on the front lines

drafted by those we did not vote for

A war fomented by the news media

shaped by the influencers on the internet

and social media

Systemic Racism

Economic injustice

Everyone’s a victim

We consume victimization like our favorite foods

We digest our own destruction

21st Century Ouroboros

vipers all

We ignore the shit that comes out the other end

We stubbornly refuse to clean up (it’s up the other person)

We obsessively and repeatedly fuel our consumption of outrage

The scales have tipped

As a species we are tilting at windmills

in our self-prescribed delusion

I did not ask for this war

You did not ask for this war

And the question is not IF we should fight

But HOW we should fight

Military wars always kill

Culture wars are fought for control

control of your mind

control of your freedom

control of your expression

control of your creativity

control of your religion

(even if you have no religion)

control of your education

control of your own body

fingers point everywhere

but no one cares that 

when you point one finger

at someone or something else

three fingers point back to you

And the question is not IF

we should fight


we should fight

How should I fight this war 

that I did not ask for? 

It seems an impossible dream

to fight a war 

with love, compassion, grace & humility

when all around you 

is blame, blind rage, raw hatred 

and venomous pride

Jesus didn’t die for any one person’s sins

Two things killed Jesus Christ – 

Politics and Religion

Their control threatened by the gospel of peace and love

“You see, control can never be a means to any practical end…It can never be a means to anything but more control…like junk..” (1)

“Is Control controlled by its need to control? Answer: yes.” (2)

The way to win this war is to give up control

to lose control

The death of one is the birth of another

Change is coming that we cannot control

Change is here 

Change we can shape

“I awakened to the cry

That the people have the power

To redeem the work of fools

Upon the meek the graces shower

It’s decreed the people rule” (3)

We must surrender this culture of complaint

and realize we will never be able to control others

we can only control our selves. 

“Just Do It!” *(4)

Let the lion lie down with the lamb

Let the darkness meet the light

Let hell and heaven merge

in the forge of life on earth

to burn off the dross of our misgivings

revealing yours and mine

shining gold dream

“The siren and the ecstasy, … the one in front of me

New gold dream” (5)

I did not ask for this war

You did not ask for this war

But we CAN end it! 

Will We?

And the mercy seat is waiting

And I think my head is burning

In a way I’m yearning

To be done with all this measuring of truth

An eye for an eye

And a tooth for a tooth

And anyway I told the truth

And I’m not afraid to die” (6)

1    quote by William S Burroughs from NAKED LUNCH

2    quote by William S Burroughs from AH POOK IS HERE; AND OTHER TEXTS

3    lyric from PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER by Patti Smith

4    slogan from Nike commercial

5    lyric from NEW GOLD DREAM by Simple Minds

6    lyric from MERCY SEAT by Nick Cave