Travel deeply, test the roads and waters.
Pick a perfect scene in your mind,
then go and hunt it down.
Explore the turns and cliffs and peaks.
Excite the spirit in the land,
and let yours soar along.
Bright lights hang radiantly in the night,
a shining sea of stars.
Crisp, clean air circles the
canyons and pastures at sundown.
Morning brings the butterflies and light,
who take turns gleaming up and down
the red rock mountains.
The day brings stillness and adventure
and pushing forward into the unknown.
Be at peace with the unknown.
Pilgrim’s steps we often meet
with rain and snow and heat.
We are the mountains, sky, and streams.
Alone, together, slowly waiting
we will test and bring the best
of man’s holy, cleansing breath.
In humble effort we abide
and prescribe the tonics of success.
Praise the rain and growth in life
Praise the sunrise and the night.
Praise the scales of nature’s way
that measure out each certain day.
We stand alone but work in team,
without ego, thoughts, or dreams.
To simply be, and purely conscious,
given rights by His own Hand.
Be the land, live life clean
We are the mountains, sky, and streams.
She came down riding moonbeams, speaking Spanish
Smile so outlandish it looked like the sunrise over a diamond mountain peak
Hearts skipped a beat and hope was brought to the masses
Colors reach the morning mist
of waters spirit fractured clean
Reaching from the golden soil
touching heavens peak.
Delicately hanging, barely breathing air
like the whitely shrouded angel in the sand.
Soaring tinted sky believing
separating water on the evening of the second day.
Beauty rising from the Earth
has given birth to love and kind
Dust to dust to spin the mind
somewhere lacking space and time.
My sweet little smokester likes to get stoned
Bring along your own celebration
Sing a song to those you love, serenade the sky
Desert diving asteroid princess
Sitting in a dark room alone
naked in body and mind
with spirits sweetly swirling
looking for a home
to rest on the earth and in the sky
Spirits wreaking havoc in the mind
Flies buzzing baited by the corpses of the living
In the eyes and other faces
choking tears and plastic fears
look at me, but will you see
the me that really isn't
In my mind and on the screen
not in between it's too obscene
Suds in a glass perfection last
Breeze blows down the laughing lawn
Castles break the tree tops
Grimy gents persuade the beat
of rhythms repeat like history
In a dream or nightmare scene
or maybe somewhere in between
Give to me the Holy Three
but I will wait and hesitate.
Take the blame to ease the pain
of guilt and hate and lust.
Disgust comes clean through filter screens
Compromise, be seen as strong
Fear not the scorn and be reborn.
Disrobe the fear, your life will clear
To simple times and thrilling chimes
Of music by angel horde
Forgive yourself, be near the Lord.
Super-cells of thunder races
Through the concrete streets
Searching for the weak of mind.
And they will seek to leave the gutter
Head uphill and bring the others
Altogether they will run
Exhausted till they feel the sun
Upon their backs, so they relax
And look up high to see the sky
Open up and split the clouds
Move the earth, turn upside down.
The rich are poor, the poor are clean
Nature speaks and people sing.
Praise together all anew
Laugh and cry and love and true.
He was a ship lost at sea.
In a storm in the thick cloak of night.
Tossed overboard by his own selfish demands.
The salty waves stung his eyes and choked his nostrils.
He was blind in an ocean full of savagery and hate.
But far, far off he saw a beacon of light.
A gleam of hope in the mist and fog and cresting waves.
And then he had faith. Faith that he could survive.
The waves were severe but the current was gently guiding him towards the light.
He tried to swim but was haggard by the knocking waves.
He relinquished his will and floated with the current, now towards the light.
The light that was on land.
He obeyed the current and denied the waves.
Weed, whiskey and Townes make for a lovely and brutal afternoon.
Sitting in Brooklyn and thinkin of Texas.
Texas is Austin, the Hill Country, creeks and trees and deer, cowboys and Mexicans, no more Indians. My girl in the desert. Texas is big.
Brooklyn is crowded. Brooklyn is the subway, Prospect Park, smell of jerk chicken, worldly people, blocks and streets and brownstones and no more trees.
Confusion comes then high alert
through fuzzy bone-in suffering
Marrow melted and poured on the fat
to satisfy aristocrats.
Hunting for the tool-belt in a jungle
of screws and blades and knives.
We all play a different version of the thieving man, a knight
Slavery, a facist state run by terrorists
America, don’t let that be among us.
The rhythm sound explodes the heart
Best part, laying in bed curled up with you
Listening to French tunes on summer nights
Prepping for the trip of life.
And even after sweet gifts it gave
The humming buz of ‘La Vie en Rose’
take us back to French country roads.
Tipping tapping demon fleas
Swiftly painting bourbon breeze
Wither away unfazing brood
Frothing cries destroy the mood
Tangled in bureaucratic demise
See the smoke blow in your eyes
To the Sky so merry, bright
taking in the suns delight
In urbanscapes and meadows too
They plan a show for me and you
So take a seat, sway to the beat
Display won’t last past autumns grasp
