Poem: So Real


Walking imagined 

in paradise lands

of well dreamed corridors 

where truths are revealed 

and grandiose bed fellows 

are ready to woo

with long wished word songs 

given as tender 

Where do they lead

these grasped at beauties

created and carved 

from the stone cold wanting 

The touch of their colors 

and scent through the soul

is so real

so real 

Living in drifts 

floating beyond 

It is Paradise 

Paradise 

and it is so real

The Pot Of Gold 


Any time seeing a rainbow it’s easy to understand why there are so many stories, songs and symbolism surrounding them. They are one of nature’s magical gifts. 

Created from juxtaposed light and the moisture after a storm, they seem to be the perfect example of yin and yang. One of those beautiful moments in time where it takes two almost opposing situations to produce utter perfection. 

Humans would be hard pressed to make this miracle. So instead we are in awe. Rainbows hold an almost mystical power over us. Appearing suddenly out of nowhere; gracing the sky with a blaze of color, then disappearing like a ghost. 

What did cave men think upon seeing this strange ribbon in the sky? Was it like an eclipse–the stuff of nightmares? Or were they too mesmerized by the apparition ? Maybe this is where the stirring of something greater than us began…

A rainbow can change a mood, bring joy when sadness was lurking. A rainy day will grab a slip of light and give birth to this arc of colors. If you catch it, are lucky enough as those molecules become prisms of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet…then you really have found the pot of gold. 

Poem: Out There 


Subdued and subtle 

Lonely floating dreams 

In the graying hues of mystery 

On the in between 

Of times endless possibilities 

That shifting cosmic universe

Here and there

Nowhere at all

Endings remain different 

The beginning may not be real

Reflection an illusion 

The power of brilliance spilled 

Hitting upon that moment 

Caught 

Slowly it sways 

Turning in only itself 

There is freedom 

And the ever spinning sphere 

Blows out into space 

To be swallowed 

By the cosmic constellations 

Poem: True Colors 


How do we define ourselves?

Is it by the outer costume we wear,

The leading lady 

Or hallowed hobo 

Hopping from train to train…

Do we disguise our true self

Show only parts

And hide the real stuff

When do we come free

Do we ever?

Really?

And fly openly

In the raw dust of the heaven

It falls upon the real you

And bursts you wide

Cutting out the false parts 

Leaving only 

Your true colors