Posted in Artwork, Observations, poetry, Uncategorized

Summer Farewell


Leaves In Pink.png

Summer bids farewell,

with pastel petals falling

toward dry khaki grass parched with thirst,

hanging on for life in powdery dust

yearning for the blessing

hidden in a cloud above about to burst.

Shining leaves of bronze and gold,

breaking free of twisted oaken ancients,

aided by a blast of cold,

rival bolts of flashing sunlight

darting through low hanging clouds.

Down they tumble,

mingling with the pastel petals,

destined soon to dry and die,

ground to powdery dust,

beneath the countless footsteps,

of the bustling passersby.

Posted in Artwork, poetry, Uncategorized

Imaginary Lighthouse

What goes on inside that lighthouse tower,

standing tall against the waves and wind?

Ever vigilant, the lighthouse keeper, marking every hour,

Waits at his post before the storms begin.

Imaginary Lighthouse 2.jpg

Well he knows that something’s brewing

As faintest breezes rouse the grass and sand;

Ever vigilant he watches in his brightly lighted tower,

as night stretches out across both sea and land.


This is an old drawing of mine, made purely from imagination. I’d like to get these pre-internet pieces out for view before working on too many new ones. I hope you enjoy seeing them. Thanks for stopping by.



Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

Crumbled Stone

Reminiscing, through the moaning winds
within my restless mind,
on crumbled stone and toppled throne
of those who thought themselves divine,
whose bones lie drying in the desert sands,
who made demands
of human sacrifice of body, blood, and sweat,
And yet…

Somehow such spirits rise up once again,
with calculated cunning terrorizing souls of men,
within top secret boardroom offering
deals, appeals, favors, bribes, or threat,
And yet…

See how they charm with view to trap or harm,
to satisfy rapacious eye, control, possess, alarm!

The ancient story like a dirge is sung,
memorialized in crumbled stone across the earth –
As if the bloodshed has some honor or intrinsic worth.
The one who sees himself divine
mouths – as if by hand of unseen puppeteers –
“We thank you for your sacrifice,”
then has his lackeys pour for him
another glass of wine.

The bride cries out in darkness
who shall no more embrace her sailor groom;
A tiny child pines, crying for his soldier mother
in some far off land, gun in the hand –
by which she used to rock the cradle,
used to rule the world,
as midnight specters swirl in nightmares
‘round his lonely room…

Whose causes claim this right
to human suffering, harm, and blood?
What ancient contract sealed and prisoned us
within this paltry state?
What sleight of hand has caused our minds to see
this endless war and sacrifice as good?

Whence comes the Holy Hand
that shall redeem us from this fate?

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

The Time Has Come

Nowhere to run –
that which must be has begun,
tares from wheat,
bitter from sweet,
chaff from grain,
sound of mind from all insane,
dross from gold,
It shall unfold –
wickedness from all that’s good,
stripped away like bark from wood,
dark from light, left from right , manifest,
north from south and east from west,
what is cursed from what is blessed.
Murky gray begone from day!
You shall see – so it must be.
Lukewarm from hot, lukewarm from cold;
that long hidden must unfold,
coward false from true and bold
So it has been long foretold.
Don’t you know? Nowhere to go.