Saturday, April 07, 2007


In every town there is at least
one obstinate persistent beast
that claims to be the "voice of the nation"
and promotes itself as a "publication"

This beast, it seems, gets all it's fun
from publishing columns and writing none
so that all may cry with exclamation
"What an unbiased publication!"

Yet articles that spill the ink
refrain from content that makes us think
and only with great effort represent
the truth, the Right, or the government

We would have joined this noble group
and left ourselves, and you, "out of the loop"
but we, never having been taught the trade
cannot condone such a masquerade

Instead, we've found that we belong
merely writing the truth and righting wrong
it's not as alluring as lies and lust
but perhaps with it we'll win your trust

That leaves us short some blandishments
and desirable sorts of supplements
like comfort, fame, and fortune for starters
and also avoiding the fate of martyrs

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

With the curtains drawn, I'm all alone again.
With the curtains drawn, I'm left within,
forced to begin again.

In the ashes
of a burnt-out life
I lie
Nothing moves
but the wind
kicking up
the dust into my eyes
It kills me
'cause it's dark
and I couldn't see anyway.

The rain falls
It starts out soft at first
but then
it pours down
turning dust
to mud beneath my feet
A great mire
it seems still
but I am the one not moving.

The pane sits
on the floor in pieces
they mirror
that made me come out here
That mistake
that cost me
my heart, my mind, and my spirit.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Herein lies a hollow note
composed of all those spoken words
that never will be wrote
and even as the soul cries out
for life to start
and grace impart
herein lies those spoken words
and a broken heart

Gathered in the empty hands
to give to someone endlessly
someone truly grand
and even as the hands reach out
to give the gift
toward her lift
gathered in the empty hands
sands run through the rift

Where am I when I need strength?
the angry cynic drags me down
'long hell's steep banks' full length
and even as I'm breaking free
I think of you
all I can do
where was I at yesterday
when all of this was through?

Saturday, January 27, 2007


When in the silent wake is heard
the sound of blessed anthems sung
and steadily death's death toll knolls
for grace the sinners soul bestirred

When clear the light of knowledge gleams
through ages of uncertainty
and warms the hearts of all mankind
so they see the truth as in it streams

When infants laugh and dance joyfilled
and join the Lord of Dance to bring
the coming fruit of His creation
their rounded faces alight and thrilled

Then lamb and lion and ruddy calf
old Noah's unicorn, perhaps
and life for the dead, and other things
that our parents told us we would have


Thursday, January 18, 2007


En Español...

Mosca a mí, Paloma dulce. Cánteme.
Tráigame la felicidad. Tráigame el amor.

¿Por qué la paloma no vuela?
¿Por qué la las alas sostienen tranquila?
¡Mosca, Paloma! Mosca a mí, otra vez, tan podemos ser felices.

¿Donde téngale estado, Paloma?
¿Donde ahora estrá usted?
¿Donde usted estará, Paloma, cuándo le busco mañana?

¿Por qué la paloma no canta?
¿Por qué su voz sigue siendo silenciosa?
¡Canta, Paloma! Cánteme, otra vez, la canción de su amor.

Mosca a mí, Paloma dulce. Cánteme.
Tráigame la felicidad. Tráigame el amor.

In English...

Fly to me, sweet Dove. Sing to me.
Bring me happiness. Bring me love.

Why does the dove not fly?
Why do her wings remain calm?
Fly, Dove! Fly to me, again, so we can be happy.

Where have you been, sweet Dove?
Where are you now?
Where will you be, Dove, when I seek you tomorrow?

Why does the dove not sing?
Why does her voice remain silent?
Sing, Dove! Sing to me, again, the song of your love.

Fly to me, sweet Dove. Sing to me.
Bring me happiness. Bring me love.