Food.

Fasting is necessary to reboot your body. Fruits and Vegetables are the foods for humans to eat. Everything else is to be eaten with meticulous moderation and caution.

"You can pick all the flowers, but you cannot stop the Spring." -Pablo Neruda

I must try to remember this... because I don't want to pick all the flowers, I only wish to be glad they grow for us to see.

"...like the deserts miss the rain."

"Dislodging a green nut from a shell is almost impossible, but let it dry and the lightest tap will do it." -               Ramakrishna

Like seeds sown on cement, nothing grows when the sower throws his seeds in thorns.

Simple words from a simpleton.

What is the use in ridiculous word fragments
the way I feel?
doesn't make a difference
I can't carry on
pretending I feel fine
I'm a man with a shattered heart
No day is as good as the days were
I work and sweat through each day waiting...
Today I am not a poet
or someone who doesn't know that
I'm a simple man
without.

Deliverance from the Wicked

The wicked hath no path;
in the sight of angels,
they crackle like dry wood in fire.

Their path is laid only by tongue;
spitting snares like a web.
The wickedness charms
and waits to strike;
you can feel it in the air.

Although snare and bite and charm,
and trick and bait disarm;
my cloak is hidden,
and what you cannot see cannot be moved;
cannot be penetrated or changed.

Know the wicked hath no path
in the way of the truth,
it also hath no lie,
that can't be seen or heard;
to the angel, all is seeable.

The trick of the wicked,
is to trap the angels;
to maul their wings,
to blot out their vision of light,
to make them lose consciousness of the feeling of wind.

It is with an uncertain spirit,
could then an angel be disturbed;
like a wounded man,
the angel can be dragged down,
to almost human levels.
But by the pit of a heart,
does flow the light of angels;
and the love of that heart,
is the endurance against the wicked,
and the consciousness of a soul,
in love with something pure.

   

Postcard Series

I Collect Postcards. Old and New. Used, Blank and Written On Too.

 

                                                                                                  

                                                   

Svoju Boju.

The leaves on the branch have never lost their color
I thought it was a symbol
I cut the branch
for us to know
and the leaves have not let their red color go.

..And the wisest whale
gathers its share
heavy with answers
drops to the deep ocean floor.

A Father to His Children.

Every chance that appears to you
is a test of what you'll do
and if sometimes your dreams come true
chances will be the proof.

Every chance that appears to you
is a test of what you'll do
and if all your dreams just fade
chances too will do the same

Every chance that appears to you
is a test of what you'll do
and if all your dreams sink like a plunging stone
chances are you're not alone

Every chance that appears to you
is a test of what you'll do
and if all your dreams collide
remember the test at every sunrise

Music tickles my soul
I wrote a song for you
Didn't you hear
It said, where you go
I"ll be there.

Sometimes, the worst thing about war is not dying, but trying to survive the wreckage of change, for the rest of your life.

Old Pecan Tree

the old house is making strange noises. the old tree in the pecan field is dead. she's long been stripped bare of all her limbs. her lean arches from high above the houses. though her stretch has withered frail. there hasn't been enough rain. only but the old telephone wire tied to the edge of the old house is holding her from falling. breaking and crashing in half. the old wind forces her to rely on the old telephone wire completely. if she goes there may be a great fire. just above the old telephone wire is the new power line currently buzzing. teeming electricities. if she goes she'll snap that new power line like an old rubber band. but the old pecan tree in the pecan field balances on a tight wire. it groans in strain and weakness unable to be nothing more than helpless. no one wants to see her go, nor endure the inevitable anymore. the old pecan could not help her crooked stand or her resilient rings. the old tree had been there and seen many things. her hips once bore fruit. her limbs once had branches that leaves grew from. green leaves that loved the wind and rain and sun.

the Mustard Bus . 1975 - 2009

What a pretty gal!

My Grandmother, Violet Kurilla circa 1930

I FOUND THIS RECENTLY. SOMETHING I WROTE ON THE BACK OF A BUSINESS CARD YEARS FROM NOW...

All that Love.

All that I opened
all that I began
all that I discovered
all that I am
you are
if you see
your heart
like a tree
All that I muscled
all that I bruised
all that I bore forth
all that,
you conceal
nothing but
the purest bow
at your service
not too proud
all that strength
all that endurance
all that weight
all that wait
all that time
all that proof
all that solitude
attitude, graditude and spruce
all that unending
all that faith
all that carefulness
all that fate
all that I
all that me
all that you
all that need
all that youth
all that age
all that trying
all that proof
all that work
all that press
all that ink
all that stress
all that distraction
all that forget
all that distance
all that regret
all that redemption
all that hope
all that acceptance
all that cope
all that forgiveness
all that soap
all that explanation
all that truth
all that perfection
all that use
all that compassion
all that void of
all that labor
all that love.

Oliver's Dreams

My dreams are like balloons
my dreams are like cacoons
my dreams are like rain
like sun, like day, like night, like moon
my dreams are passing
through a room
over houses
up the stairs
like woven baskets
thrown in the air
my dreams are the weather of the mind
is it time ticking time
or knots of emotion
or nothing at all
just floating
on clouds of water
my dreams are.

hammertooth beatin heart

Why did Ciken cross the road
Why did Ciken go?
Why did Cik go cross the ocean
Why did Cik jump to a notion?

For the Ciken and the Cik of course!
For the Ciken and the Cik of course, my horse!

For how did the horse become this plan?
For did the horse who wore a bore
scratch his feet into the sand?
Did he ride molasses shores to wait
upon the milky land?

Did his hooves dry up and crack,
did his coat fall from his back
For the Ciken and the Cik,
when they did meet the horse
they tripped!
And everyone they met from then
had one foot stuck in the sand
and one eye dented,
and some teeth bent
They came with their own shine,trend and speech
From way down south,
to the north
to the west
to the east
Different rhymes but
still a beat.


Some lifetimes away from a coffee shop in early morning ritual and walking bliss and gray scale outcasts, you stopped tormenting. You stopped riveting yourself into stagger. You forgot about it. Canned the lime light. Ran with the motion sickness bubbled in fizzing delight. No one that seeks to be lonely, receives more than lonliness. As no one that seeks to be happy, finds more than happiness.

Sitting by a river can roll your mind.
And if you put your hand in to touch the water
You've already done good.

Maybe a man's own words can make him crazy
if he repeats them enough.

Maybe all the corners of the lands are bleeding because it's time.

Maybe sentiment only comes from the lack of reality.