Today’s Youth Counts

The fingers were used to show this little, undeveloped mind of mine how to count. I remember, “One, two, three…” as someone would point to the fingers on my hand. Over time, I could count to one hundred, or two hundred, or three hundred! You can probably remember how excited you were being able to show the grown-ups how you had learned to count higher … Continue reading Today’s Youth Counts

Front and Center

You count the sins you see the death that they bring It makes you look down upon yourself and others as you ‘joyously’ sing You punish yourself you throw yourself down at the altar begging and pleading You are prayed over babbling and believing then, told to catch up on your reading It’s time to feel terrible again time for the preacher to condemn Pass … Continue reading Front and Center

Dilapidated

I sometimes wonder why I am still standing. There is a word I had written on a familiar wall many years ago. The word, “Why” was running through my mind as I stood in a stairwell, staring into the void of my heart. In between a break-up with a woman I had been engaged to and a girl I had nothing in common with, I … Continue reading Dilapidated

We Are Stardust

I think it is just fascinating that we are made up of the things the cosmos contain. It’s intriguing to observe the true contents of our flesh and bone structure. Almost 99% of our bodies, according to the Wikipedia website, are constructed of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorous – the same elements found throughout the entire universe. Awesome! What’s even more intriguing, even … Continue reading We Are Stardust

Writers Cramp

No words to express the feeling No wisdom to share No junk cluttering the mind waiting to escape waiting to be typed out Nothing to bring others the encouragement the entertainment the inspiration A break from the normal is welcomed The roadblock is embraced Lifted fingers blank glowing page No glory in this collection of thoughts No desire to speak No battles within to project … Continue reading Writers Cramp

Ashes To Ashes

Saturday night alone Just me and the thoughts at hand Reading the writings of my father His pen, his marks, scribbled firmly onto his yellow sheet I sit and stare into the fire The mysteries pass before its light My dad: no longer like the wood that fuels the flame like the thoughts that passed away with him like the pen that scribbled his voice … Continue reading Ashes To Ashes