For ten years, I think it’s been ten years, I know that I’ve been sleeping. I’ve been sleeping but with my eyes open. I would say sleeping wide awake but that isn’t so. I’ve travelled through my days in a trance, waiting. For what? Well destiny I would say. I’ve been waiting for destiny to arouse me from this twilight slumber that my life has become. Waiting without answer. There is no clarion call to shake me from this slumber. I’ve been lost in the daily minutia of life and time has slipped away.Like a modern day Rip van Winkle I look around with sleep gummed eyes to find that my time has come to pass. Is it too late? We never knew what Rip made of his life after he returned to find everything he knew to be lost and forgotten.  Did he make himself anew or was he lost forever, a relic of a time gone by; out of time and also run out of time as well?


Another day in or out of paradise

One day you’re just going about your business and POOF, you’re incinerated, floating in the air surrounded by what’s left of everyone else that was going about their business just the same as you. (you know the part that’s left over after the "meat" is gone). So you’re floating around there for awhile maybe 10 minutes, maybe a millenium when stuff starts to happen. Some of that left over stuff from the other people, their soul if you will, starts to drift in different directions. Some seem to be drawn upwards to a great light that has been slowly growing above. There’s some kind of music, harps maybe but you can’t tell for sure. but yadda yadda whatever because now you see the flip side as a wind seems to be picking up and some of those left over bits are draw slowly towards a growing vortex. The vortex picks up speed and just beyond the range of what you still think of as your hearing, even though you don’t have ears anymore, there might be screams…but you can be sure. You’re so busy thinking, "Whew, glad that’s not me" that you don’t realize that everyone but you is going somewhere. Then, you’re alone. Hmmm. What to do now? Is it the old adage too good for hell but too nasty for heaven…or did they just forget about you?

The mask you wear

What is in there?


Is it a glimmer, a common ground?

I think I see you, the real you…but I don’t know.

Maybe it’s just an illusion.

I want to bite your face off and dig into you.

My teeth would be sharp fangs dripping with blood,

Your gristle jammed under my fingernails.

Ripping through layers of skin and muscle and bone until I reached the very essence of you.


And still, I know, it would not be enough.

Silent country reflected in our eyes

The world is still

A pregnant silence

The prophet sleeps inside me

Does it sleep in every man?

I can sense it

I am imperfect

I am empty

I long to burn

Food leaves me empty

My thought is convoluted

It only makes me hungry for more

I am broken

I no longer question it

I know

I will never see those shores

To fill myself with the bread of life

My faith waiting

I will hunger always

What a waste


I am flawed

Poetry, if you want to call it that

Hand reached down from heaven

No more screaming in my head

No pain, am I better? Or am I finally dead


Moon misted in the sky

Blue light on the snow

Wind blowing hard across the field, it’s got somewhere to go


Spend all my time waiting for that weight to fall

Time is running faster, tick tock it’s racing on

Measured out in bits and pieces, is this really all?


Soon the wind will blow again

For someone else, not me

I’ll be dead and buried, a faded memory.