Hidey Hole


We are all looking for our own paradise:

  • Heaven
  • Money
  • Love
  • Success 
  • Beauty 
  • Fame
  • Security 
  • Happiness 

    Maybe though, it’s really just hidden away in some hidey hole within us. 

    Maybe paradise is very small and very quiet. 

    Maybe we’ve been carrying it the whole time.

    And maybe it’s time to whisper hello to it so it can creep out and whisper back. 

    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