Friday, November 27, 2015

Before the Internet

Before the Internet there was a different
Kind of loneliness

Obsession was weightier
Not easy to slough off
Without endless distraction

Love felt like an enormous
Production complete with spirits
Arrayed in symphonic splendor

Never before discovered
Or enjoyed
Exactly so

There was a different kind of
Inner silence
In the seams between the sighs

More than just pauses between clicks
Or never-ending texts
The waiting moment

Touchable, reachable
Only by a cascade of experiences
Each to be absorbed

Going back in time to greet myself
I might be surprised
To feel that same ennui

That agony that used to fuel
My creativity
When having a muse

Was the difference between
Loneliness and being
Alone on a sea of joy.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

To My Fellow Artists (and Humans)

... and mostly to myself.

Who cares about criticism?
Criticism doesn't matter.

What matters is fighting through the depression
to what counts.

Don't let fear of criticism
stop you from creative

Be yourself.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Tough Talk

Scientists have confirmed
Reality is a figment of our imagination
Or more accurate to say
We create our reality with our minds

Our minds
Those sacred organs
Given to us in trust
Each lifetime a fresh start
A chance to do it better
Not forget the truth

The Buddha said
Reality is a construct of your mind
Self is an illusion
Thus it’s most important to remember
Compassion is the first thought
Compassion for self as other

Jesus said the same
Love is the source of all wisdom
Love your brother as yourself
Love yourself as your brother
Once you feel that

In your heart
For all life forms
Then you can know
Truth …

Reality as imagined
Is not truth
(Let me rant just a little while
It’s my mind
After all)

Reality is only truth
When you strip away
The body nation culture
Strip away the name gender family
Strip away the construct
Of morality philosophy

What’s left …
What then is left
Is truth
Lennon also said that
But names don’t matter

If we just do it.

Monday, November 2, 2015


Nature’s softness
Reaches its branches
In an expression of solidarity
With a consciousness
We cannot understand

Humans craft a language
To describe a tree
Ascribing feelings
To the sap, the leaves, the roots
Yet no one knows except

The sapling nestling its trunk
Against the mother
Talking to the breeze
Knowing truth
With timeless clarity

As I walk
I cannot help but wonder
How it feels to be the earth
The sky, the wind,
The insect in the bark

And if they will be here next year
And the year after
I let my heart speak
Giving all I’ve got,
Imagining an answer.