This poem was written when I laying in bed at the hospital. It had to be quick because the doctores were getting ready to wheel me into the operating room
The calm, too calm, too calm, too… Level banks level and waters pond, Soft cradles lull the wild beast t… Passion going down lost in the dee… Tempest rising with the call of th…
Aiming High And then I climbed upon the ladde… Of murmuring streams and golden su… Of anxious paradises outside my ho… Where easy fortunes grew from my g…
What a stupid poem this is. When I read it, you don’t have to listen to it. You can go to sleep or write something. Anything would be better than this stupid thing. When I wrote it, I t...
Braggart of the terrestrial world, the grand master of the theologian… the one whose eyes and ears collect all the drama of the earth and stuffs it in his big swollen h…
Oh sweet music, thou art sublime Thy melody and too thy gentle rhym… The way you’ve come to take me ove… Fired up my passion, my loins asti… I’m a dreamer alone with an empty…
somewhere between earth and sky, at the boundary of the real and the abstract where the giants draw the sun out of the earth and marvel at its glossiness. They gather the clouds to thei...
Adrenalin Rides Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh-sh-sh-sh Skies shifting, rivers splashing, Thunder clapping, volcanoes rantin… Bombs blasting, laughing, shaking
Suggestion Boxes Some are made of cardboard Some are made of steel Some are made of porcelain Some have fancy bows around them
Like a recipe that requires certain ingredients, so does life in its understanding. In order to feel the wholeness, one must be able to feel the sum of its parts. Sorrow has as much s...
From seed to melodic rhyme advanci… Into music upon white stallions pr… Songs from deep down inside the so… Brought to life from an ancient sc… Music awaits with an anxious heart…
He sat in the audience with a smile that lit up his face like the candles on his seventh birthday cake. His tears were flowing down his cheeks like a waterfall in early spring. A new ...
Carnal motors deep inside the mind… that pump words into the brain, scream for their proper placement… the poet prepares them for inserti… with each one desperate for the ne…
Old demands aspire to be refreshed… As worn out sounds need their oxyg… Before their expiration as the mus… A fresh new avenue to answer all t… Music is beauty that needs a new f…
Songs of the colors and the air th… the stories, the moods, the joy, t… music of the solace and music of t… music of the drought and of the fa… the color of heaven adorned in vir…
The lamb inside our secret depths retreating back to the womb, our mother of our world, our harbor in the stormy sea, our iron man turned to liquid,