Wednesday, March 30, 2011

silver glimmer dust

What shall it profit a man…to spend all his days at home…feeding the young? 

Living in a silver gilded castle.

Days of rest long gone.

Weary, tired, loss of youth.

Never listening to the heart’s cry

To break out into the beyond.

Where is it?

Does it exist?

Is it found somewhere between the torn pages of withered books?

Is it purely fantasy?

The sound of piano keys and flutes from a distance.

A shofar…calling out into the wilderness.

Will the dreams die?  To pursue the lost.

To feed the hungry.  To welcome a weary traveler.

A mission lies out there somewhere.  Where is somewhere?

Does it lay beyond the non-existent mountains?...of flat land and valleys.

Is it heard in the voice of a baby’s cry, awakening one in the midst of the dawn?

Has it gone before us with all the saints? 

The roll call being taken.  Their very names piercing our soul of long forgotten memories. 

The contours of the face.  The touch of the skin. The sound of laughter.

Must we take the road of the labyrinth only to find ourselves trapped in the spirituality of all that ever was?

And yet reality faces us each day. 

Whether we want to admit it or not. 

The feel of the autumn winds.

The sounds of children playing in the streets.

A vacuum humming not one of an empty soul but the grit the dust, the very being of what makes life.

What brings life.


Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

From dust we emerged into this planet of nothingness which became something within the very first rays of the morn…until the setting of the glimmer of the moon.

Silver abyss.

(I have decided to repost my original blog writing...especially for my newer followers...hence this was the piece which gave me inspiration for the name of my blog)

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


Is there gold which lies beyond the guilt?
Or is this another fallible misconception?

Shall I be ashamed and hide in the disillusionment of hibernation?
Or plunge my feet into the crystal clear smooth waters of depth?

In my fury of mental deliberation
A sliver of light begins to refract and emerge.

Improper sacrifices are rebuked
Shouldering the burden of linear thinking.

A shepherd and image bearer
Obligated to save truth
That is hidden

Rectifying rivals,
Finding refuge in the inadequacies

A reminder
Of dead weight

A cracked cistern
Holding no water

This unflinching hidden agenda
Requires risk to seek the mineral,

Perspective against  humility
And weakness

A providence of failings
And motives
Laced with intent

Enthralled by mercy
Triumphing over judgment. 

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Retorts and Refrains

Let justice flow as water
And kindness fall as rain
Here in the ordinary
Skirmishes and burnishes
Of life.
The melodrama continues
Will truth prevail?

The prophets of old echo
Voices of reason
And spirituality.
Pernicious evil
Noisy clangs of songs
Empty inter-faith
Veils the righteousness
Which can be heard
In the psyche.

As one hears the music
Before it starts
And unscrambles
Lyrics and notes,

The taste of the sour tongue
Drones on
Drowning out
The sweet sorrow
Of yester-years.

In tune shall the itching ears
Only hear
What they blusteringly choose
Or will another muse
Awaken their senses?

I shall whittle
Out the night
The fright
Of the frenzied

Will not be
But will
Stave off the pride

And unwillingly
The answers
May not


The littered carcasses of aluminum cans
And nubile breasts
Padlocked behind wanton's door
So inviting to just come in
To drink of the fountain
Of poisoned lips and letters

Weary and wandering
Upon lost alleys
And cold wet cement
The truth lies dormant on the tiles
Of wet delusions and forgotten promises.

Snatch them before they are gone
Their merry way
A deluded trellis

How to reach a fools heart
Of whispered promises
And rough calluses
The innocence
Lighting their irises
In frivolity and splendor

This time the clock struck one
Rescued by the blink of the sirens.
Next fate might not shine the fair morn card

All is not lost
That which remains shall stand pure.
The embers of the fire will not snuff.
Or the bellowing waves overcome
Never shall she never give up
On the wings of a skirmished prayer

Smolten, lost, quivering, weary
But taken not by the storm
Of dance

Perchance the lullaby rings on... 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Devil's Lair

Succumbing to the dark side of anger
This two-headed dragon-rat raises his head once again.
The Phoenix burning on the ashes of the crumbling boulders

Shall I be hyper-religious or reluctant
When wrath requires a certain sophistication
To wield its mane?

Learning to walk in the heinous minefields of grain
The annihilation of desire and treacherous faith
Will not obliterate verbally
Or hurt the one intended to save.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Blank and Mumbling Matter

It's easy to be brave when the stakes remain low
The guts and the glory come when there is a price to be paid.
To lay down the crimson of man's wisdom and ever increasing fortitude.

A soft shimmer is awakened and I sense the call to bear arms.
Against the wind.  Against the tides of the moon.

My unawareness brings me to the keys.
The unknown which waits right outside the door.
Shall I quake for more, or shall I lie down in the dust?
And let the remaining feathers fly.

The quiet, the nonsense,  the media glares and stares.
If I fill my mind with this bumble and let the masses crumble
Maybe just maybe I won't have to deal with the aftermath.

Sometimes it's just much easier to sit on the chair.
So I'll just listen to the plucking of the strings,

And let the brain sludge crevices drill...
"Do not put off tomorrow what you can do today."

But just for this once I'll shun...

To embrace this moment of sheer unadulterated nothingness
And mindless bliss.

Dissolution of the Pizza Parlor

Melting mozzarella, dripping in grease.

Wet slimy floors.

A carnival in the background.

Taunting those who can no longer be.  A part of what was.

As the embassy reigns forth.  Feigning territory.

A cold hamburger.  A crying child. 

Expecting the pace of existence to quicken.  To be convenient.  Exception.  Undertaken by another flourish. 

The pennies fly crashing into a place of future solicitations.

Dollar bills crisp now waning into another yester year as global economies fall. 

Quicken the dimensional sky.  Cloudy gray creeping into the morrow. 

Yet a place to meander by when all else fails.  To spend a moment in a nondescript room.  Cornered walls.  Melding into one another.  No one notices.  Except a few who still remain. 

Monday, March 21, 2011

The Author's Voice March 2011

Looking out my kitchen window I saw a blue jay.  My heart was delighted to see this gentle reminder.  Alas it's spring!  It has been a pleasure blogging with all of you.  I am thrilled that persons of different countries and of different faith journeys are following me!  I want to give a shout-out to all of you in the United States, United Kingdom, India, Canada, Spain, Malaysia, Poland and Turkey.  Keep following I am gleaning so much wealth from each of you!
Some of my writings have been a bit more intense or dark lately.  This has been a season of much growth coupled with pain.  Personally I am dealing with some strong teenage angst from one I dearly love.  That being said, I wouldn't trade any of it for the world!  My character continues to be strengthened, and it has given me great fodder for writing.
My blue jay friend has flitted off to another tree, but he'll be back once again, reminding me tis a new season.
Peace to all, and especially to our dear friends in Japan,

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Morning

She walks
as the glistening waves beckon
transparent, crystal clear
smashing current upon current
No time to breathe, to mourn.

Determined, a different woman.
One who has tasted of the coldness of life.
A seething mystery
unknown and unexpected.

Crashing into the bellows
Raging violence.
No time for anger, to cry.
Transfixed into numbness.
A state of being.

Unknowing, not expecting
seeking serenity
peace of mind.

As the gulls encircle
crying out to one another
a gentle breeze
trying to soothe, to remain.
Another dawn approaches…

Mourning subsides for another day.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Reverberation Backlash

The sputtering forth
Of malice and hatred
Resentment her worst enemy
Her greatest friend

She has embraced this foe
Clinging forth unencumbered
While it spews forth
In shallow malformation

The grotesque and the obscure
Lies bending
Never knowing
When or what to believe
To whom you are
And whose you are

The transparent withered bough
This limbed-arm prong
Is beginning to break

Its tines shall not wait upon the morrow
And shall address this curse

To Boomerang the starry nebulae
Of declarations
Till they pierce
The fork -shaped tongue
And slither
Back to reality.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


The mean spirited spittle
Cannot have a conversation
With the virgin ears.
The Good Goody versus
The Queen Bee
Never the "twain" shall meet.

Rather cross viciously and collide
Two engines falling apart at the seams.

How does one take rails of iron
And bend them to converge and merge?

Rather spill salt on the wound
Turn the shoulder
And walk out of sight

Not Glancing back
As Lot's wife
To watch the body burn. 

Sunday, March 13, 2011


The mark of the beast swept in
With a crimson spray vessel
A lonely widow, a young couple
The blackness  swept
While we slept
A  ghostly finger came sweeping
Across the brick yards.
Agnostic, Acrostic, shameful ways.

Now the dusk owl is perched
Upon his lamb
Seeking to consider whom he might find
A boy scout flashlight in hand.
Gangs, graffiti, munchkins all
Nary a fear
As he trembles.
Not to be jittery  
Of the red smears
Or the jeers
As the night prey

Thursday, March 10, 2011

In The Quagmire

Time is of the essence
The firing squad with eyes darted
No floundering rather a secure testament
Of frivolities and truths.
Steadily traipsing across the bog of
Saturated soft  green tomorrows.
A look of knowing, of familiarity

The pace quickens
The questions commence
To Be or not to Be...
That is the stance

When one is under fire
From the glimpses,
Steadiness shall remain.

Fortunes were told
Lullabies sung
All is at rest

Now leave it to the one who holds the Fortress Silver Master Lock
The grand wizardry of shadow and moss  awaits...

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


In Honor of International Women's day...I'm reposting this... 
I speak as to the vulnerability of woman                     
A gentle embracing fragrance
Encapsulating the parts of mankind
And antiquity.
Wisdom finds itself among the captured, the hurt, the priceless.
Encircling universal
Her gentle touch
A whisper in the wind brings her to her knees,
And she finds herself among common people, the babies,  the toddlers, the forlorn.
Wind-swept and kept
She struggles to  maintain, to keep up the pace, to fight noises of the night
Which awaken.
If she could only learn to embrace the bellowing, the howling and speak
Find the voice within which calls her to these palaces and shanties.
The walls of gentle and crumbling brick
Yet a fortress withstands, withholds and welcomes
All who are willing.
To  take their place among the peoples
Realizing that she is not only woman, she is part of mankind
Which goes beyond gender
The rulings, the manifestos
Creeds of the ages
Each has heard the cries that concern.
Reaching out to touch those who no longer want to be touched.
But rather want to listen to the soft mellow beckoning of the wind
Embrace its folds and retreat into a surrender
Not to listen, to ignore, not ponder
There must be something more...

Hope Springs Life Eternal

Sunday, March 6, 2011


A hurting world crying out

of calamity and good.

Life’s lamentations.

Struggling to find breadcrumbs along the way.

Seeking signs thought once miraculous…

now mere morsels.

Something to chew on for fodder

to absorb the elements

to yet believe.

Finding amongst us the myriad of the colors of life.

No longer ashen.

Attempting to reflect our Maker’s light,

a splash of prism rainbows.

Seeking hard to understand what may never be…

this side of eternity.

Knowing the all consuming Love of the Father

will restore what has been broken.

Standing strong.

Fighting the fight.

Warrior aching, yet choosing to trust in the battle’s cry.

Friday, March 4, 2011


As the full moon arises and the 3 D inverted lense strikes
The world becomes a wretched wobbly habitat.
Unable to stand, the legs are spindly
Water sploshing  about in the body
Words sicken.
The cutting edge
"How dare you!" begins
Another throttle and battle of will
The tunnel conundrum of hormones and fears
Reverberates and pulsates.
A spindly string of knots in the gut.
Throbbing disgrace.

She will stand bitter and wedged between the blows
Not to waver.
Bless those who persecute... ringing in her ears.
Furrowed brow a slim grin
Knowing she has done all she could
Not her turn
Waiting on the departure
And when it will return
Arms open to the prodigal lies.


A  soft embrace
A fluttering of the winds of change
A rustling whisper
"Well Done"...


Wednesday, March 2, 2011


Why is it we like to watch a man when he is down?...
Dripping tiger's blood
Sweating the dry palate
A man's glories lie down in the dust before him
And we pass by our sallow selves  to stare
To ruminate
Mocking his downfall
The bottom of a rock
Shall cry out or go plunging forth
To another destination
The yearlings snatched from his wretched hands
Unable to grasp his forlorn
Instead housed in a realm of bathing beauties
To the demise of his fruit
Spouting arrogance and narcissistic stature
Crashing wildly and profanely
Blinded by his own shadow and light

Where is the support?
Press falling in for each bitter word
Each denial
The loved ones captured from afar

To "What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet lose his own soul?"
Calling forth angels before another tread.
Not to let him gash his foot upon the rocks.
Rescue him from his spiral
The genius craving  mind... his worst enemy.