Mood

Atomic Antics

A fork in the road Tensions mounting Worries echoed Which way to go? Seeking insights Help me take a decision Claim my birthright Taking the low road Sinking deep into darkness Sluggish movements Through the bitter blackness A nightmare ride Emergence into light The warming encouragement Of a hint of sunlight Landing on my skin Choices are irrelevant The future ordained Tomorrow is already ancient Observed and now collapsed The path I must take Is ordained by the watcher The decision I must make Chosen by an actor Quantum mechanics Parallel worlds Atomic antics Me

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Young Love

Pictures drifting on the ether Rising and falling Deeper and deeper Sensations remembered Laughter echoed in my mind Arms wrapped entwined Her eyes sparkled like jewels Reflecting the distant moon Her touch was like water Running and trickling All over my skin As we lay in a heated dune Out of the cooling breeze Hot breath as senses rose Depth of feelings rising Swirling, debilitating emotions Young loves’ sacred prose Together, forever in that moment Never to be repeated again The experience of another’s Warmth and passion Hermetically sealed in time Yet, easily revisited in mind Cherished, yet left behind Immortal – yet dead already.

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The Dream

Last night I was dreaming something though now I cannot recollect what it was. I know that it was a long and continuous dream and that I was in a remote and beautiful place. I was revisiting it with my partner and child. The place was familiar and yet not. I recall thinking it was the Island of Eigg but it was not – it was somewhere I have not been to in this reality. Anyway, I was walking down a rough lane between two flat fields of grass. My two companions were behind me a short distance. Up ahead, I could see two figures one an adult female and the other a child. As I saw them, it began to darken and to snow and I was thinking that

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Religions

Given some of the news headlines I see about ISIS (not the Goddess I hasten to add) and their actions which are utterly evil and satanic to the equally despotic and idiotic satanic christian right that wants to deny everyone everything, I dug this poem up for today. It is from my book Astral Messages and it says exactly what I want to say. There are too many MEN who think they speak for God but in reality they speak for THEMSELVES. To me, religion is the system that allows men to create a God in their own image so that they may control others and impose their own will upon them. In the name of religion, they persecute all who disagree as well as women, gays, and minorities. Religion

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In A Vacation Mood

So I am back from Barcelona just for a couple of days and then its off to Budapest on Sunday. Barcelona has put me in a holiday mood though! I had a couple of hours to spare yesterday afternoon and so I took a dip in the rooftop heated pool of the hotel and then hit the beach for an hour…. idyllic and I could feel the tensions beginning to slip away……… While I was gone, my publisher’s blog published an article by me called Are You Creating A Good Reality? and tomorrow an interview will be published in the #1 bestselling E-zine “Novel Reads By Novel Ideas.” Funny how when I go away and can’t communicate with anyone all sorts of things happen! So, I am now in a

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Painting with Words

Before me A blank piece of paper I paint with words Swirling deep vowel hues Pictures emerge With every word I choose It’s a thrill To slap those words around Messy fun with letters Alliterations Descriptive nouns Verbal variations Masterpiece Letters joined together Similar sounding sounds Discordant vibes A mixed vocal pallet used by Artistic scribes

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Try Looking Up!

If reality is so massive that our brain has to continually decide what parts of that reality to present to our consciousness (and it does!), then what are we missing? A lot it would seem. For a start, we look for what we recognize and have an interest in and we ignore what we do not recognize nor have an interest in. We walk our way through life barely seeing a thing apparently. We sleep. Most of us commute to work each day and we settle into our routines. Perhaps we catch the train and armed with our favorite newspaper we seek out our usual seat and then relax reading the paper. Perhaps we walk to work staring at the pavement ahead of us while all of the time thinking

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Conforming to Conformity

Patterns in thinking Growing up like I did Gave me food for thought A brainwashed kid? Taught to see your world The way you all did Adopting your reality from the Bottom of the pyramid And if I did break free Ah, God forbid Would you persecute me Until I am rid Of all those original thoughts? Simply splendid My mind under lock and key Forever hid.

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A Barren Day and My Roots

Its one of those days when I am uninspired and don’t seem to have anything to say that I haven’t said before. No poetry, no bursts of irked energy for a good old rant and certainly no spiritually uplifting thoughts or feelings. These sorts of days happen. Perhaps its because I have done nothing but write anyway – white papers, Analyst briefing notes, articles, presentations etc. etc. I really do write for a living it seems – if you are interested in those professional writings take a look here). So…. What then? Just recently I have been feeling a bit homesick for Houston. I mean, Houston was home for 17-years and after being away almost 8-years, I do miss it from time to time. I miss the heat would you

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Big Man

Clouds collide The Big Man Upstairs is moving again Packing his bags And stomping his feet Thunder rolls across the land Rain falls in sheer sheets Hanging heavy Pregnant steam Electricity in motion Sparking an arc Lightening issues forth Flashing an angry stab Vicious energetic force The Big Man is angry In fury, he spits The elements Fire and water Sound and fury Thundering flashes Of Godlike rage The fire of His anger Soon subsides Water falls more gently Washes away the ire And soon peace returns Radiant warmth in azure sky Free of all concerns

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