Sunday, May 27, 2012

Pieces Awry - May 27th, 2012 - by MrM


A man it seemed time had embodied, 

(or maybe he embodied time) 

shuffling slowly betwixt things 

he tinkered and fixed things 

broken, in pieces awry. 


He may have been, (just a bit) like them

understanding perfection's a dream.

He too may have been broken,

(yet gentle, soft-spoken);

quiet work was his daily routine.


So with patience he gave a small portion.

That may have been all he could give.

He gave for a while, 

With a humble old smile

that helped others, in small ways, to live.


And when time for giving was over,

That man that we knew just disappeared.

Leaving memories behind

he surrendered to time

that small portion he'd been given here.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Smoke Signals - February 16th, 2011 - by MrM


Treasure deep inside my blood
History unknown

Chest of voices, soothing, deep

Howling, painful groans

Names, places, full of meaning

No more to be found

Paddles dip, ply calm waters

Silent ripples round

Touch dark forests of my mind

Muffled voices fog

Mists of language, loss and time

Flensed bones rise from bogs

Stories echo from dead jaws

Ancestors of old

Long disarticulated

Context now untold

Soft whisperings of wonder

In a tongue unknown

Lessons passed from ancient minds

Rambling, constant drones

Call to me from my own veins

Wave with undead hands

Set fires to mental chaff

Draw pictures in sand

Drums sound. Ghosts sing. Shadows teach

Dances to the wind.

Beckoning their children lost,

"Listen once again."

Inner ear tuned to faint sounds,

Echoes lost in time

Attempting to decipher

Smoke signals sublime.


Monday, October 25, 2010

Aha! - October 25th, 2010 - by MrM


The cicada larvae digs for 17 years through the soils of time,

Longer than it takes for a human fetus to become a mother

Or a young man burned by the searing fires of lust.

What wisdom does that nymph pass on to the Universe?

What does it mean to be fully encased

In the shell of the cicada?

Breaking out of the molds of experience,

Free of the trappings of earth

Flying and singing in one last triumphant “Hurrah!”

Before breaking free yet again

Of life as we know it.

What comes next for this musician and lover?


The garden spider spins its zig-zag pattern in the trees.

Its life much the same when it’s old as when young.

As the mist rises from the moist ground in the morning…

As the sun sets across the waters, reflecting the moss

Hanging from the branches…

Who is to say which life can tell us more about reality?

In its web it catches whatever comes.

Today the unwary cicada falls prey.

The spider rushes instantly, traversing both time and space

Like a terrible spector, who can be here and then there,

Effortlessly arriving at this new source of nourishment.

It slowly wraps the cicada’s last look at life, through compound eyes.


“Am I like the cicada,” says the boy to the man,

“Or am I more like the spider?”

“You are both,” says the man,

“And they are both.”

“I do not understand,” the boy answers.

A wasp settles down on the back of the spider.

One egg, delicately placed… new life will soon begin.

“All you can do son, is observe with wonder

The truth and the beauty of beginnings and of endings.”

“I want to hold onto the joy and leave the sadness behind!”

“You can not have the beginning without the endings.

You can not revel in the joy without wallowing in the sorrow.”


Universe watches as I dig through the dirt

Where I first found my soul.

It cheers as I rise, forcing clumps of soil to give way,

Breaking open the paradigm that has encased my consciousness.

Forcing blood into these new wings to fly, finding these hollow drums,

“I will beat out a song that will force the whole world to listen!”

It watches as I spin the web of my life

Zig-zagging to and fro madly, with care and dedication.

It wonders as it sees me capture that majestic creature

So much larger than myself, its tangled life now beyond repair.

The wasp settles down on my back. My fate is sealed. New life begins.

Universe now sees for the first time, through the multi-faceted eyes of the wasp.



Monday, November 23, 2009

Vanguard of the Moon - November 23rd, 2009 - by MrM



orange-black vanguard of the moon…

Flaming phoenix 

brought down in mid-flight.

Glowing, boiling, churning… 

Seething, crusting, burning



ember of the night.


Not this light, 

a comfort in the dark…

This, a torch 

in meaner strangers' caves,

Burned out not long ago, 

still smoldering as though



misbehaving slaves.


Neptune silent, 

fireball breaks through...

Fiery feather 

crashing to the sea.


by the pool 

of ether, nature's drool



settling down 

with ease.


Thursday, August 27, 2009

Smile - August 27th, 2009 - by MrM


I don't have time for love. 

I barely have time to wake up, 

Stretch in the morning sunlight, 

Squint in wonder at the beauty all around me, 

Before gasping my last breath, 

Keeling over… 



Love … pesky mosquito…

Whining high-pitched around my heart,

Arms of reason slap in vain. 

Elusive little SOB! Die you bastard!

Crumpled body. Victory!

Blood squirted out…



Raid! Combat! Roach Motels!

Soak in a warm Deet bath right now!

Light citronella torches!

Give those cupids poison pellets to feed their queens!

Quick! Take proper precautions . 

Sit back. Relax.



Monday, March 16, 2009

Bought the Lie - March 16th, 2009 - by MrM


You bought the lie, and sold me out.
From catacombs of your self-doubt.
Hid your eyes from the dim light
A candle flame against the night

Your soul endangered from within
Protected, guarded from the wind
That blew from outside windows through
The damp stone walls of this cold room
Where you've kept you soul a secret

Dim light so blinding in the dark
This place you've built with all your heart
This place you hide in your glass cage
Lit with kleiglights; you're on stage

An act, though stunning, it's not real
You never show just how you feel.
Impressed, the world just passes by
With nods of heads, contented sighs
It shows you its approval.

But you know this is all a game.
It's all a sham, and it's a shame
That you could see this little light
Glimmering, burning in the night

Shimmering from something real
Do not trust what it made you feel
That narrow, piercing tentacle
Forced you off your pedestal

Fire pure and fire so true
Too bright for you to stare into
Fire is such a simple thing,
Too unsophisticated.


Friday, February 13, 2009

Wrestler - February 13th, 2009 - by MrM

Make the grown men bleed
To hear the cheers.

Serve humanity,
Then face its jeers.

Keep your dignity
At any price.

If true love appears,
Better think twice.

Jump into the ring.
Forget yourself.

Hollow praise - meaning:
Trophys. Dust. Shelf.

Old, washed up has been,
What are you now?

Just a hollow shell.
Take one last bow.


written after watching the movie "The Wrestler."

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Beautiful Indeed - August 5th, 2007 - by MrM


Just you and I in the garden.

 It is beautiful indeed.

Flowers, fruit, misty mornings... 

all sacred to our creed.

Without clothes and with no fear 

we venture here and there,

Communing with all of nature, 

naked, uncovered, without care.


Isn't it lovely in our garden? 

Together. This is grand!

To have you, hold you, love you. 

With God watching, passions fanned.
Exploring hidden treasures, 

discovering things new,

All we see, ours for the taking, 

except that forbidden fruit.


We have so much, 

who could want more? 

Paradise all around.

All that is asked is that we not partake 

of that tree that we once found.

How blessed are we to have all this? 

 I have you! You have me!

How could we ask for anything more 

than everything we see?


There are others in this garden. 

Do you hear them when they call?

They offer life and knowledge, 

and freedom most of all.

We're told that they are evil. 

I wonder if that's true? 

Can it be wrong to want to know 

what they know the way they do?


The fruit is always there, 

it is whispering my name.

In the day it shines like gold, 

in the night it is a flame.

I want what I'm told I can't have. 

Who is He to say "No".

I will try, just one small bite, 

it can't harm much, just today.


My God I'm free! I'm naked! 

I'm running from the light!

The world is not so simple 

as it felt here just last night!

My eyes are held wide open, 

by my choices they are pried.

There is no turning back now, 

the fruit already tried.


What is that you were saying, Darling? 

My mind was far away.

A walk again? Already? 

We went out just yesterday!

Don't you know that God is watching? 

You are naked, can't you see?

You want too much. You're not enough. 

I want. I fear. I need.


Won't you try this fruit, I wonder? 

 I wish you would my dear.

I would certainly feel less lonely 

if you would but join me here.

In this new world I've created 

with just one little bite,

That changed the world we knew before. 

Come! Join me tonight!


But I liked the world as we knew it. 

What is this you have done?

How could you take of that tree? 

What made you choose that one?

I'm not ready to go where you're going. 

 I want more of the same!

I want what we've already had! 

This is real life, not a game!


Please try it, I feel guilty. 

 I don't want to be alone. 

I want you to know the freedom 

of the world that I've been shown.

Just taste it. Here, just try it. 

I'll feel better if you do.

I know that you are scared. 

I'll be right here with you.


My God! I'm free! I'm naked! 

We must run from the light!

We were naive, but now we see 

dark shadows in the night.

We can't avoid that spirit. 

 It's floating through the trees.

He'll chase us down. We will be found. 

He'll see us. Find some leaves!


I miss our simple garden, 

with its luxuries and charms.

I can almost remember how it felt, 

to lie there in your arms.

We had so much. It was all ours. 

 Life was beautiful indeed.

Now I want too much. 

 Nothing is ever enough. 

 I want. I fear. I need.


Thursday, February 1, 2007

Parting Wish - February 1st, 2007 - by MrM


You walked in from the barren world,

Drew castles in the sand

Envisioned places far and strange,

Then placed them in my hands



In a fragile, clear, thin sphere of glass

Holding plants and magic things

To those mystic lands you added life

That had six legs and wings.



You gave, and gave, and never took

You always kept your word

You never left or changed you mind

You made others seem absurd


Without words, you said so much

In life you were so large

Yet modest, simple, kind, and true

You brought me safe this far.


When I was young you took the helm

And steered me from the rocks

As I grew up you fashioned me

Winter clothes, thick hats, warm socks.

Through soft words and quick jabs,

Diatribes when I would hear

Wisdom shared guided my life

Through love, and truth, not fear

A boy I was when we first met

Confused I've been before

A man I am and ready now

To aim for heaven's door

So I accept your parting wish

Mentor, Teacher, Friend

I'm ready now to take the wheel

Held true until the end.


Thursday, January 18, 2007

Furry Blurry - January 18th, 2007 - by MrM

Through thorns,
Pointy tipped
Moonlit shadows

Scamper fast
Down low
'Neath ground cover,
Pine needles

Bright eyes
Clawed toes
Fuzzy face
Adventure greets
A lurking

Timid, Bold
Fuzzy, Cold
Whiskers break out
Through soil

Glances left,
Front, right, back
Nose twitching

Coast clear
No Fear!
Watchful eyes
Quick burst
Jumping, moving

Monday, December 25, 2006

Fermented - December 25th, 2006 - by MrM


Fermented, sweet scent wafting
Over and between pews
Blood of Savior in a cup
Sacrificed for me and you

Semi-circled we all stand
Take a sip and pass around
This cup passed on to man
Bread, torn body, no thorn crown

Meaning lost through many ages
Meaning gained from what we give
Can we offer more than wages
To help others better live?

One man died and changed the future
We are alive. We have today
What we believe does not matter
If we don't act on our faith.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Phoenix Acrostic - March 25th, 2006 - by MrM

People never talk about the pain of the process.

"Heroic bird, risen from the ashes,

Overcoming death time and again."

Even the bright feathers, gloriously recreated,

Never cease their hissing and curling

In the flames of my imagination.

eXhumed from their eternal bliss, time and time again.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Morning Walk - July 26th, 2005 - by MrM


I walk over you
Your spirit in the mist rises right through me

The light from the rising sun shines so blinding

The songs from the morning birds sing sweet

I walk over you

And your name carved in stone

As you lie there all alone

But who is more alone... you or me?


Tuesday, February 1, 2005

Patriots Act - February 1st, 2005 - by MrM


Authors censored in foreign lands,
Now they can't be published here unless approved by "The Man"
I thought this was a place where words could not be banned.
What's going on?

So we moralize; then we tell the world lies,
And when we're criticized we say it's politicized.
With our guided missiles we communicate
Through collateral damage, sowing seeds of hate.

You say these are not soldiers who you've demonized
So now torture is ok - the old rules don't apply.
So now we're on their level. Can we really say why?
It's going on.

We put them in prisons without representation.
We won't publish their names, saying we're afraid that revelation
Might let their friends know that they're still alive...
But three years later innocents are STILL inside.

We give up our freedoms - as though they were candy
That could be traded for security; It all seems so handy.
As we trade lives for oil and call it war on terror;
We condemn the world court 
because we might just be judged there...

We've lost freedom and respect in this war.
Can we justify the sacrifice or what it was for?
Are we more or are we less than what we were before?
What's going on?

They may accuse me of sedition. They may call me a traitor.
But I'm a U.S. citizen, not some foreign invader.
I'm a true patriot - and that's a fact...
And I think it's high time we true patriots act!

Sunday, January 16, 2005

One Path - January 16th, 2005 - by MrM


One path we walk along.
We come to a cliff looking down to a flowing river.
We jump hand in hand and land in the water,
Coming to the surface sputtering and laughing
At our good fortune

Before we notice the waterfall.
Then we swim against the current
Trying to stop the forces of nature
And to reverse the hands of time.


But we are only human
And gravity is our master.
We are forced to accept our fate
As we are pushed over the edge
By the currents we have chosen.

We close our eyes.
We hold hands.
And land 
In a pool of clear blue water.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Water Gun - September 23rd, 2004 - by MrM


Droplets drip

From the end of this plastic pistol

Like the last drops of life's blood

Dripping from the end of a man

Who found himself on the wrong side

Of what that toy became

In the hands of one

Who learned too well how to use it

To spill more than just water.



Thursday, September 16, 2004

Journeys and Adventures - Fall 2004 - by MrM


I look over in wonder

At the beauty in this room

On her side now next to me

Wrapped in warm folds of unconsciousness

Taking part in journeys and adventures

In places where I will never go

While holding onto me

Breathing softly

A smile, barely there

Her touch is deeper than her slumber.



Saturday, May 15, 2004

Vision Fast 2004


Vision Fast – Spring / Summer 2004
In the spring of 2004, I had a spiritual encounter. I don't know if it was as much an awakening as it was the sudden awareness of a doorway standing directly in front of me, which I could walk through by just making the decision to do it.

It was a beautiful sunny day with hawks and vultures flying high above the lush green mountaintops. The yellow grass was rolling gently and rustling in harmony with the soft sound of the breeze. On a mission offered to me by my chosen spiritual guide, I was sitting on the ground in a valley next to a dirt road and a wooden fence, waiting for some sort of clarity.

I was waiting to receive some kind of message, not expecting much, when all at once I saw a multidimensional picture in my mind which has since helped to redefine the way that I see my life, my world, and my role in it. I had been doubtful that my quest for meaning that day would bear any real fruit; but what the Universe chose to give to its seeking inhabitant that day was quite profound.

For the next 2 hours I tried to put on paper what had been revealed to me in an instant. What I wrote that afternoon was an allegorical description of my life as it had been and how it could be.

Everything around me became part of a living parable, full of deep symbolism and wondrous new meaning.

The message received from the Universe that day was as crystal clear to me as it may be cryptic to anyone else. My whole life was surrounding me in the form of the grasses, the animals, and the plants, which were speaking to me in ways that I was hearing for the first time since I was a child.

My messenger that day, just over a year ago, was a very young pine sapling, growing near the place where I was sitting beside the road, in front of the fence, facing the mountain of choices ahead.


This text came to me, and I probably wouldn't have thought much of it over the course of time, but what happened during the vision fast that came a month later was so incredible and amazing, and such a validation of everything written in this text, that I almost have to conclude that this text was itself truly a vision, and that what happened during the vision fast (which I will write about in the next post) was probably the closest thing to a miracle that I will ever see in my lifetime.

15 May 2004

I walk down a path of my own choosing – searching for depth - searching for clear guidance – searching for truth. I'm searching for the clear words being spoken by the inner voice that has never lied or led me astray. The inner voice which has screamed at me from deep within – the inner voice that I have listened to when it was convenient and ignored when it was condemning me. I realize that the depth that I seek is all around and within me. I just need to claim it.

I look around and I see beauty in everywhere in this place. I see depth and purpose, and I realize that in this place I see myself. The vision ahead of me is a glorious one – full of life, vitality, diversity, and mystery. It is wild and relatively untouched by the predictable, linear, boxy forms imposed by man on our existence.

The whole scene is an analogy to my life. It is built upon a sea of yellow grass swaying in the breeze… a swaying that marks the passage of time and the continued presence of old life, representing dreams, ideas, and ways of being or thinking whose times have passed, but whose presence is still felt. Their presence still adds a valuable contribution to the whole picture. Empty seed pods speak for, and bear witness to the dreams and aspirations that were brought into existence at an earlier phase in life. Some of those went to produce new, short-lived grasses of their own. Others did not mature into anything but seeds.

The yellow grasses of the old paradigms are just as important to understanding my depth and future direction as the new life springing up from the ground, the strong trees reaching their arms towards heaven, and the hawks who soar above it all, free from the grounding influences that some would call reality. Gravity is our master, but it is a master that the hawks and the eagles have tamed and taught to perform tricks for their pleasure. Our reality is their playground.

The grasses of past paradigms vibrate with the winds of time passing over them. Like cilia or a sort of natural seismograph needle, they vibrate and sway in a frenzied dance carried out by personifications of the old memories they represent. The vibrations create a chord of voices which sing to me. They sing of different things, and if I listen closely, I can hear each individual voice. The whole makes up a high-pitched chorus.

Some sing of happy days filled with golden sunshine, lush green fields, June bugs, river banks, ocean tides, gardens, forest clearings. They reminisce about the days when their younger, grassy shadows fell on the waters of a pond in the evening as the water-striders danced on the surface of an underwater world, appearing to the inhabitants of that space to be soaring beyond the restrictions and limitations imposed upon them by their reality… just as the hawks and the eagles appear to us to be doing in our microcosm of land, sky, and gravitational forces.

Whether the barrier is the surface tension of the water, the means of attaining the oxygen needed for existence, or the means of using gravity to go where we want or need to go… what actually constitutes a barrier is all a matter of perspective. Our barriers are nothing to other forms of life. Their barriers may be invisible and meaningless to us. We all occupy the same universe, and yet we all live in different worlds.

I want to fly, but surely I don't need to fly in order to exist. I might die someday because I wasn't able to fly at a moment when that ability could have saved my life. Nobody will call me a failure because I wasn't able to fly at that moment. That doesn't change the fact that I want to fly. Wanting to fly doesn't make me more able to fly. Depending on what my definition of flying is and how willing I am to adjust that definition – that desire might just lead me to something which, while not the flight of the hawks and eagles, is the equivalent experience for my wingless form to achieve.

Maybe the hawks and eagles wish that they could swim and are jealous of humans, who can both walk and swim. Maybe they're perfectly content just being hawks and eagles, doing what they're meant to do, and living in harmony with their purpose. Maybe they're blessed by not having the power to destroy the nature that they are a part of.  Maybe we can learn to be as human as the eagles are eagles. Maybe we can learn to be happy within our role which has been defined for us by nature. Maybe we can take our perceived limitations and turn them into our playgrounds. Maybe I can learn from the hawks and the eagles.

There are old truths that beg not to be forgotten. The grasses form the shallow sea in which I'm walking, a sea in which I'm grounded at the moment, a sea that is constantly reminding me of where I've been, what I've done, as well as what I have not.

Amidst all of this yellow, swaying, vibrating chorus there are trees, bushes and shrubs. Ideas, plans and dreams that have grown and found what they needed to take root, flourish and form over time into healthy, green, sturdy, more resistant, more permanent members of this area. These represent the consistent ideals that I have held true to over time and the areas of my life that I have given proper attention, and have provided with the consistent nutrients needed to ensure their survival. Some might not be as vibrant as others, but they are more hearty. They are also likely to be around for a longer period of time, and to play a more influential part in the overall scheme of what is to come in the future than the parts of my life that are just a memory, whose time has come and gone.

At my feet is a newly sprouted seedling. It sways in the wind. Amongst the memory grasses of the past, it stands firm and proud. It demands to be differentiated from the ghosts of the past. It speaks to me.

It says: "I can be anything. I can become one of these grasses, something that you'll look back on and learn from. Maybe you'll be happy you found me, and maybe I'll become yellow with time… just a reminder of what once was, swaying in the wind with all of the other reminders. I could become a perennial flower, or an annual flower, or a bush with thorns. I am a stem cell in the world that you are creating. I have the potential to become whatever you make me.

Treat me with respect and honor and I may just become a strong, tall, sturdy tree – reaching my branches to heaven in exaltation of the glorious reality that we will create together. A tree that is a resting place and a departure point for eagles and hawks – and a tree which shades the waters of the pond where the water striders defy the barriers of the world beneath them.

Time, patience, love, nurture, boldness and courage are needed in order to nurture me if you ask this of me, but when that time has passed, when that effort has been spent, when that nurture has been given, when that honor and respect have manifested themselves into the final majestic form that I have the power within me to become, you can rest in the shade of my branches, on the banks of the still waters of the pond, watching the whirligigs, the minnows, and the reflection of the leaves swirling down slowly until they land gently to float on the surface of the water like the clouds which float above you now. I can show you what it is for you to be as human as the eagles are eagles. I can help you to fly in your own way.

So I say to the seedling that this sounds like a grand idea. I say that I want to fly. I say that I am tired of my limitations and my reality. I ask what I must do to fulfill my part of our pact.

The seedling leans towards the sun, over the mountains ahead… It speaks:

"Look behind you. Behind you there are a few tall trees and a lot of yellow grass. Look ahead of you. Ahead of you there are hills. Daunting hills… but in them there are waterfalls, shaded pathways and mysteries to uncover and marvel in. Every plant on those hills is green. Everything is playing its part, working together in harmony. It's a challenging climb – but the journey is worth the effort.

Take me with you on your journey to the top. I'll be with you as you struggle. I will be an inspiration to you when you tire. I'll stand firm when you lose your footing, and will help you to stand and walk again. I'll grow and you'll grow as we go on our way together towards that summit. We can give each other that impetus that we each need to become what we know that we can be. When we've reached the top of that summit, I'll be ready to make roots and become what I was meant to be. A pillar of strength in your life, a reminder of all of your efforts and hard work, and a place of comfort and rest."

I ask the seedling: "Why have you come to me now?" The seedling responds: "I've been right here all along… you came to me."

There is a fence, a wooden structure, a man-made invention between the grasses and trees that are behind me and the hills and lush, green expanse ahead of me. It is a false barrier. I am taking the seedling and climbing over the fence. The next time that I see the yellow grass will be from the summit of the hills, where the eagles and hawks are flying.