Storm The Fortress

Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!
Set the flames
Destroy it all
Let the battle rage
Fight! Fight!!
Thru the day
Into the night
Til victory is yours
Or til you fall
Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!


Fear Is Fire’s Cousin

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a master only,
given fuel.

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant only,
given rule.

fear is fire’s cousin;
an opportunity,
for renewal.


Heaven’s Dawn

is it selfish of us to mourn
the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn
eternal day follows mortal night
freed from fear by loving light
i will rejoice this blessed morn
with the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn


To Be A Bird

The Eagle soars, then comes to rest,
atop an impossible tower.
The Eagle soars from the seat of Power.

The Owl watches, patiently perched,
atop a moonlit roof.
The Owl watches from the seat of Truth.

The Lark sings, a melody made,
atop the clouds above.
The Lark sings from the seat of Love.

To be a bird!
To be all three!!!
With enough Love,
to find the Truth and Power in me.


The Silent Stone

On this grim day
As I walked alone,
Through the graveyard,
Stone by stone
I read the epitaph
Of a name unknown;

“You with life, go live! go love!
For you’ll join us here soon enough.”

So inspired by
The silent stone
I shall live and love
In the time I’m loaned
Until one grim day,
I’ll have those words
Inscribed upon my own.


Wear A Hat

It is my opinion that
All bald men should wear a hat
Lest the sun should catch their head
Sunburn, melanoma, dead.


Live A Poem

Live a poem, it’s yours to write
Born to a page of empty white
Upon which, first words are penned
Shaped not, by what others intend
But by the newborn’s sheer delight.
Then, as the sparks of life ignite
Remember them in words each night
To this task attend
Live a poem.

Simply do what you feel is right
Reaching for ever higher heights
Live well, then to the light transcend
Knowing always, that in the end
Together, you and God recite
Live a poem.


The Healing Bowl

the healing bowl rang
and my heart leaped and cried
I feared without fear
that perhaps I had died.

the sound of an other world
brought unto this
divine caress
spirit’s kiss.

a pristine gift
from source to soul
the magnificent call
of the healing bowl.


Upon This Youthful Chin

i determined that i should grow a stubble
upon this youthful chin
to lance my boy-ish bubble
and reveal the man within

then hubris slowly turned to doubt
with barely a whisker to detect
it seems my glorious “coming out”
had quite the opposite effect

so if you ever, lack not endeavour
but simply testosterone, remember this:
‘tween he of bearded chin and supple skin
whom would a lady rather kiss?


The Singer

there you were
with your flabby arms
and your floral dress
with your hair in a mess
and your funny fringe
but,
you sang beautiful things
until i melted in your mouth
and i felt my age
with your youth on display
spilling over the stage
til the taxi came
and i went on my way