Fourth Entries – Utopia Rising

TIME WITH UTOPIA RISING

I crossed paths with a rock band in the early nineties. I liked their creativity and outrageous and rebellious way. I was a little older than they and believed I had important things to share with them. We played shows and had all night long jams on the weekends. We cooked meals, pots of stew or soup and pasta with homemade sauce. We had all night long ping pong tournaments, marathon parties, and fishing retreats up to the Adirondacks.  There was so much I wanted to share with them.

At the time I fell in with them, I was out one evening time on a walk. Lance and Justin were out that warm fall night on a walk, as well. We fell into a conversation. They invited me to a band practice the next night. This pleased me.  I felt in my heart that there were things I needed to share with them.

I got back to the house, and Mom and dad were watching TV, as they usually did in the evening. Mom asked if it was a good walk. My response was “yes”. I told them about the chance meeting and the conversation. I said that I felt that God wanted me to share my beliefs with this group of young adults. Mom and Dad flared up in an angry response. “Who are you to talk about the Lord?”

Soon after I fell in with them, I took a trip on the train to New York City to visit my sister. I had a notebook and pens. All the things I needed to share with them came flooding through my mind. This next collection was written as guidance to these young adults. This next section was written for Lance, and Justin, Brian, and Jon, and the circle of friends that practiced and partied with us.

This first poem in written in response to one of their songs;

 

 

 

 

The smallest piece

Whether truth is joy or pain,

And my crown is gold or thorn,

I would rather have lived and bled

Than never have been born.

 

 

 

 

Some will follow,

Some will lead,

Some will laugh,

Some will bleed.

 

The rain will fall,

And seed will grow.

There will be wheat and weed.

And we’ll break bread.

And show the way.

A sign, a song, a creed.

 

And sharing in life’s wonder,

whether chains or gems adorn,

I’d rather have the smallest piece,

than never have been born.

I’d rather play the lightest lead,

than never have been born.

 

Life’s burden is divided

and shared by those who pray

that light and life will conquer,

and guide us on our way.

 

 

This burden is our purpose,

and light is now our way.

I’m happy with the smallest piece,

in light and life today.

 

 

 

I Think I Can

I believe in miracles

And in wonders too.

And hopes and prayers and promises

That someday will come true.

 

I believe that I can soar

Above the clouds and rain.

And in gentle kisses

That take away the pain.

 

I believe in who I am,

And great things on their way.

That love and friendship’s treasures

Are here, and mine today.

 

 

I think I can, I know I can.

I can do all things.

I’ve set my face, and set my goals,

This joyful spirit sings.

 

I can climb the mountain.

I can swim the deep.

Drink from fortunes fountains.

And walk the forest keep.

 

I know that I can do it.

One step, one prayer each day.

My futures all but promised.

Great things are on their way.

 

 

 

Starship

Lightship, starship,

Halua, hello.

I’m calling you

from earth below.

 

 

 

Lightship, starship,

Are you there?

Thought and light.

Word and prayer.

 

Lightship, starship,

I want to go.

I’m calling you

from earth below.

 

My magic is balanced,

My power is true.

Lightship, starship,

Let me go with you.

 

My secrets are ready,

My techniques are true.

Lightship, starship,

Let me go with you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can I change?

The young adults that centered around the band were a rebellious lot. I didn’t do a lot of preaching, rather teaching by my example. The band disbanded decades ago, and most of those involved have found a place in the world, with vocations as responsible adults.

Man, we must get going.

There’s so very far to go.

I know I’m needing changes,

I need to work and grow.

 

Is there hope for us oh Lord?

Can you show us the way?

Is there just a chance, oh Lord,

that we will change today?

 

 

Now change is often painful,

but we must face the pain.

For roses will not blossom,

without both sun and rain.

 

What evolution means to me

is growing towards God’s light.

Is there just the smallest chance

That we will grow tonight?

 

Can we all just take one step?

One deed, one prayer I’ll say.

That together we will change,

and grow within each day.

 

 

Point of Light

      I think this is one of my better poems. The underlying point is that every soul is precious.

If one could be a point of light,

a tiny distant star,

one bright spot in the dark night,

and know now who you are.

 

 

 

To be a tiny point of light

is really a great thing.

For in the night, a point of light

may great goodness bring.

 

That distant twinkling flicker,

so tiny and so small,

may great meaning bear,

a sign of heaven’s call.

 

A distant twinkling diamond,

while in the heavens play,

countless souls be guided,

kept safe along the way.

 

Be that tiny point of light.

And know just who you are.

For the tiny, tiny point of light

is really a great star.

 

 

 

Same Spirit – Different Words

Truth is life and beauty.

Truth is God and love.

Truth is life eternal,

And goodness from above.

 

 

 

Truth has voice,

The voice of him,

By whom the world is made.

And truth may speak through you or me.

Deeds, words, or music played.

 

Know this is his calling.

That He may use your voice.

It’s good to let yourself be used,

To let all things rejoice.

 

 

 

Visit the Asylum

I know that if I need

To hear God’s word to me.

It would not be heard in a temple or church,

But in the house of insanity.

 

I say this in all sober truth.

And as God has a name,

If I need to hear the holy truth,

I’ll visit the insane.

 

 

As pain and passion purify,

And truth is of one name,

If I need to hear the voice of God,

I’ll visit the insane.

 

“ Touched” may mean

“Touched by God”.

I say this in His name.

That those who are called prophets

Are often called insane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m leaving a lot of material out of this section of the writing. It’s quite childish, pedantic. And some of the ideas I no longer hold as true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prejudice

Forgive my hateful thoughts oh Lord,

for that man is my brother.

He may be black,

his skin is dark,

but were like one another.

 

Your blood is red,

The same bright sun

shines my head as yours.

Your Mom loves you,

as mine does me.

Let’s end our useless wars.

 

We share the same green earth, my friend.

Let us learn to live as one.

Let us learn to share the earth,

as we know to share the sun.

 

 

 

Talking to an Old Man

      In this piece I am visualizing the person I am to become. That time will leave me both fit and full of light. Time will give one wisdom. In a way that nothing else can. We need to learn to respect the elders.

 

 

I see his eyes a twinkle.

There’s wisdom in his voice.

His skin is all a wrinkle.

He makes my heart rejoice.

 

His stories are so wonderful.

His ways are really cool.

The little old man knows everything.

He is a living jewel.

 

I love to listen to him.

So warm, and quick, and wise.

I love to hear his wisdom,

See the twinkle in his eyes.

 

Old man will you tell me?

Will I end up like you?

Will I be full of light and laughter,

when my years are but through?

 

I listen to the wise old man

Tell tales of years gone by.

I love to hear you talk old man,

And see your twinkling eye.

 

This spry, this wit, this wisdom,

is wonder to behold.

I know your only human sir,

But your heart is made of gold.

 

 

Let’s not get high today

The young adults I mentored all used hard drugs to excess. This poem is a plea to step away from drugs.

I want to not get high today.

It’s a sad, sad story.

Let’s not do drugs today,

It’s really kind of gory.

 

I know those hits are really cool,

They open up my mind.

They show me real magic,

It’s God they say, I’ll find.

 

So I did the LSD,

And almost lost my life,

While in death, I burned in hell.

That man with hood and scythe.

 

 

 

I’ve got to find a way there.

Without the grass and “A’.

There’s got to be a kinder road,

A kinder, gentler way.

 

I need a better magic,

A purer color light.

The acid is too tragic,

But is smoking grass alright?

 

I died and died, and died in hell,

Dissolved in screams and crying.

The horror and the pain of death,

Endless death and dying.

 

I’ve got to say drugs changed me.

Now I’m a better soul.

But they almost took my life,

And sent it down to hell.

 

So the way I’m now thinking,

This is what I have to say,

Let’s give the higher call a chance,

And not get high today.

 

      Alive Within a Star

What would it be like

To live within

A star, so bright?

If I were pure light through and through

Light living within light.

 

Could a spirit being live within

A shining star above.

Could every star in the blue black sky

Be a kingdom of light and love.

 

In Revelations twenty one

The new earth here is shown.

As a city and a star,

Where just truth and love are known.

 

Could a spirit pure

live within

a sphere of light and love?

Are heaven’s stars then kingdoms

In the blue black blanket above?

 

 

 

I’m breathing light and water

And flying through the air.

The ground is made of music,

There’s only joy, no care.

 

My being’s joyful colors.

There’s only day, no night.

I’m alive within a star,

This star is of pure light.

 

Eternal light, eternal love.

The limits have no bar.

Were made of light and laughter.

Alive within a star.

 

 

 

Can We Accept One Another

The gathering of young adults around the band had thoughts and ideas coming from many religions, philosophies, and sets of thoughts. As I initiated dialogue, I let them know that I was not there to judge. The doors of free thought, and open conversation were thrown open. We had a glimpse of revolution. Not near enough. Rock and Roll.

 

 

If you can accept me as I am,

With my fundamental rap,

 

I can accept you as you are,

Though you use a different map.

If you can accept my cross,

My preaching and my scripture,

I can accept you as you are,

Though you’re in a different picture.

 

If I can accept and respect you,

And you can accept me,

Then God himself is in our midst,

With truth and prophecy.

 

You say “respect our mother earth”,

“and seek to be humane”.

While I say ‘fall face down and pray”,

And “Jesus is God’s name.

 

You say that “God is nature’s plan”

Earth, water, air and light.

While I say “God Is Jesus, man”,

With spirits taking flight.

 

I do accept you as you are,

Can you, friend, accept me?

It’s seems we’ve both a guiding star,

In the same eternity.

 

You are more of water brother,

and I am more of light,

a beacon, and a dauntless ship,

on the endless sea of night.

 

Sister Air, and Mother Earth

Too have a role to play.

But we’ll discuss that later,

Or on another day.

 

The point is this, however, Brother,

A circle has no ends.

We’ve both a place in the endless flow,

In the endless chain of friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alive Within Star

What would it be like,

To live within a star so bright?

If I were pure light through and through,

Light living within light?

 

Could a spirit being live within

A shining star above?

Could every star in the in the sky above

Be a kingdom of light and love?

 

In Revelations twenty-one,

The New Earth is here shown.

As a city and a star,

Just truth and love are known.

 

Could a spirit pure live within

a sphere of light and love.

Are Heaven’s stars then kingdoms,

In the blue, black blanket above.

 

I’m breathing light and water,

And flying through the air.

The ground is made of music.

There is only joy, no care.

 

My being’s joyful colors.

There’s only day, no night.

I’m alive within a star,

This joy is of pure light .

 

Eternal life, eternal love.

The limits have no bar.

We’re made of light and laughter,

Alive within a star!

 

 

 

Hope

I believe, I believe, I believe I can.

Nothing, nothing matters more

to this walking, earthbound man.

 

“Yes, Yes” is my answer

When someone seeks my aid.

Let me lend a helping hand,

I’m strong and unafraid.

 

I’ve seen troubles more than plenty.

My share of grief and fear.

But I’ve somehow learned to smile,

And to lend a bit of cheer.

 

Dark and gloomy clouds once filled

The landscape of my life.

But wisdom whispered “chin-up, kid”,

There is an end to strife.

 

When I say “darkness once did reign”,

I mean really, really dark.

But I kept the prayers a turning,

And kept walking toward the mark.

 

One foot, then the other.

A glimpse of hope, no more.

And now let me tell you Brother,

I’m walking through that door.

 

So courage to you, Brother.

Reach out and catch this rope.

The game is never over,

As long as there is hope!

 

 

To a Beautiful Lady

After my graduation from college, I started working for one of my professors. Cleaning, gardening, house sitting, whatever.  I spent a lot of time helping her with various things. And I found myself loving her. I wrote this poem for her.

You’re a perfect sigh,

A lyric, song, my dear.

Truly such a lady,

‘tis so nice when you’re near.

 

A shot of something special,

So light, so fresh, so true.

A statue, song a painting.

Do I love you?

Yes I do!

 

A whisper secret to me.

A glassy little tear.

A quick embrace, a smile.

A voice so nice to hear.

 

I long to hear your gentle voice.

See the sparkle in your eyes.

To share a dream, a hope, a prayer,

With you my spirit flies.

 

 

 

Can I say I love you ,Dear?

And can I mean is true?

Winter, summer, spring and fall.

I love you, yes I do!

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Thousand year Old Man

The two thousand year old man

Still lives, the prophets say.

Is that man who walked so long ago

Still alive today?

 

 

 

I try to treat all people well,

Whether barefoot or well shod,

For the one I meet out walking,

May be the child of God.

 

Could that man from so long ago

Possibly still be?

Is there one still amongst us,

Who could walk upon the sea?

 

Could that soul that took a body,

Then healed and raised the dead,

Be walking where I’m walking,

Or sleeping in my bed?

 

That bright star from ages past,

The one who stilled the sea,

Could it be he lives amongst us,

Could it be he lives in me?

 

Two thousand years have then since passed,

That bright star and his band.

Yet I sense him still quite near me,

His love, his touch, his hand.

 

I believe that somehow

This ancient one lives still,

And that you’ll meet him one night walking,

For it is within his will.

 

 

 

Shiny Shoes

The point of this ditty is that I want to live in a state of grace and be in a state of cleanness when my time comes.

If I had the choice,

That’s if I could choose,

I would die wearing

Bright, shiny shoes.

 

If I had the choice,

At the moment I die,

I would die wearing

a suit and a tie.

 

If I had the choice,

At my moment to go,

I’d wear a fine hat,

I’d like you to know.

 

 

I guess the whole point

Of this silly rhyme,

Is I want to be ready,

When it is my time.

 

So please let me finish,

And be done with this news.

I want to die wearing

Bright shiny shoes.

 

 

 

Loneliness

This loneliness I feel,

even in a crowd.

Is it longing for a lady,

Or a need to be with God?

 

This emptiness I know,

Even in a crowded hall,

I ask is being lonesome

The price of our Lord’s call.?

 

 

 

No food can take away the pain,

No wool can warm the cold,

Talk lasts but a moment,

And there is no love in gold.

 

This prayer that’s only answered

With an emptiness so bleak,

A long, unending silent void,

Aching cold, and weak.

 

I pray and pray for friendship,

And then to be fulfilled.

But walls are built around me,

So this pain is never stilled.

 

Something never changes,

Even when one’s known.

“He that walks alone “it’s said,

“is he that walks alone”.

 

No way to crush the barriers.

I almost scream aloud.

Possessed by thoughts of God and love,

I’m alone within the crowd.

 

Afraid to Believe

Could it be that I’m a little scared

To give my life to Jesus.

That he would ask too much of me

In taking all that pleases.

 

First off, I’d lose all my friends,

Then have to quit that using.

I’d have to change my attitude,

It’s cool you know, this loosing.

 

Then probably I’d change my style,

The way I dress and speak.

My friends might laugh behind my back,

They’d say “a Jesus freak”.

 

My family all would wring their hands

‘till their fingers turn to blue.

And ask in quiet whispers,

“what now can we do?

 

They might decide to lean on me,

And add darkness to it all.

Then play the devils trump card

If in any way I fall.

And that is call the “white coats”

And then take me away.

This poem was to be funny,

But it’s not turned out that away.

 

And now you end up locked away,

In the house of the insane.

You gave your life to Jesus

And got back only pain.

 

Strait jackets and syringes,

You find are very real.

But you gave your lift to Jesus,

And to that the final seal.

 

It really makes no difference,

What the world will do to me.

Cause I gave my life to Jesus

For all eternity.

 

So if you say you don’t want God,

As you look me in the eye,

I’ll still love you brother,

Cause I see your reason why.

 

 

 

 

But if courage comes on strong within,

Then come and jump on board.

The way, the truth, the life,

With Christ the risen Lord.

 

And remember the friends you left behind?

They’ve changed their point of view.

Miracle of miracles,

They’re coming on board too!

 

 

 

 

The Railroad as One’s Conscience

It’s night-time in this land, now.

Quiet, dark, and still.

The sky is black and purple,

And each soul has a will.

 

The orange sunset is over,

Our minds begin to rest,

As we rethink the day gone by,

The sun sets in the west.

 

We recall each conversation,

And remember deed.

Is our mind a field of wheat,

Or is there chaff and weed?

 

Then I hear the distant whistle,

And the distant steel on steel.

I hope and pray the tracks are clear,

No log before the wheel.

 

Let the way be open,

And may the path be clear,

Trust the guiding spirit,

Be it God or engineer.

 

I hope the rails lay right and true,

Before I sleep I kneel.

I pray my sin’s forgiven,

As this day I seal.

 

Now listen as the whistle

Cuts through the night time black.

The train is safely speeding,

Down a clear and level track.

 

The railroad’s like one conscience,

Across the backlands of one’s mind.

The whistle blows, the steel wheels roll,

The tracks are clear I find

 

May these tracks stay always open.

The rails lay always true,

My conscience always clear of clouds,

And my mornings always new.

 

Yes, the railroad’s like one’s conscience,

And the spirit always knows.

What is the train a’saying,

As the distant whistle blows?

What is the train a’saying,

As the distant whistle blows?

 

 

 

 

Kid Stuff

Got to quit that kid stuff.

And stop acting like fools.

Life is just to important

To be messing with rules.

 

Got to learn that discipline

Got to learn to do it right.

Got to learn that respect too,

How to represent the light.

 

Can’t be messing ‘round anymore

With all these childish plays.

Can’t be cheating on myself

With these infantile ways.

 

There are things that one must do,

Even though it isn’t fun.

Life requires difficult tasks,

Needing to be done.

 

So there’s things to do that I don’t like.

And wants that just can’t be.

But I’ve got to kick the kid stuff,

If I’m truly to be free.

 

The quest for pure desires,

This life’s work just to be.

I’ve got to kick the kid stuff,

If I’m ever to be free.

 

 

 

Put Your House in order

This house may be dusty,

Dirty, musty, worn.

Smudgy walls, thread bare halls,

And curtains that are torn.

 

Dishes dirty, dirty laundry,

The basement dark and musty.

Kitchen crummy, looks so bummy.

The bookshelves and tables dusty.

 

Beds with dirty sheets unmade,

The floor is strewn with clothes.

The lawn is weedy, long and seedy,

Trashcan offends the rose.

 

But the master is soon coming home.

Though I’m not quite sure just when.

And this scrambly, shambly, messy home

Look like a barnyard pen.

 

We must put our house in order,

For the master’s coming soon.

Though no one knows the time exact.

Morning, night and noon.

 

Be open, free, and hopeful.

Full of faith and gentle love.

To be pure and sure and holy.

He shall return on wings of love.

 

Because the Master comes again,

We must make our houses right.

Let us put our homes in order,

For our master, Lord of Light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The White Horse

I looked and saw, “Behold”!

A stallion strong and white.

Riding on its strong broad back,

The Lord, the Son of Light.

 

The stallion and the glorious son

Went forth to conquer all.

Before this radiant Son of God

All evil has to fall.

 

Adorned with crown,

And armed with bow,

Upon majestic steed,

The son of God, the Son of Man

Has taken now the lead.

 

The day of honor’s victory

Grows closer with each hour,

The white horse, and the kingdom come,

With holy light and power.

 

 

 

 

Cometh now the stallion white,

For victory has drawn near,

The white horse proudly marches,

No time for tear or fear.

 

Behold the white horse cometh,

And cometh too the Son,

Take heart, take hope, and take courage,

For the day is won!

 

 

 

This Old Camp in the Mountains

This old camp in the mountains,

Where lumbermen used to live.

On a like so cold and pure, and full of fish.

 

Tall white pines and birches.

Cool summer, frigid winter.

Eerie nights under billions of stars.

 

I’d love to live on this moody lake with my friends.

And swim, fish, paint, make song and share.

The astounding quiet of the woods.

The haunting cry of the loon.

The river’s mystical beauty.

Virgin, desolate and fertile woods.

Where deer and bear and grouse reside.

 

I hear the mountains rumble,

Something no one else can hear.

Fresh rainfalls, beautiful sunshine.

Sunset of red and purple,

And love I cannot describe.

 

 

 

Deep Woods

Dark green canopy of leaves,

high above.

Spindly saplings grasping heaven.

 

Cool moist

brown blanket.

Last year’s leaves

breaking apart,

cover rooty earth,

 

 

 

Wet black and sandy soil,

Red mushrooms,

white mushrooms.

White lacy fungus,

suggestive Indian pipe.

Sign of deer.

Lace of sunlight lain on forest floor.

 

Whining buzz of locusts,

Rattling of cicadas

I see a forest meadow,

framed with silent trees.

Wildflowers joyful,

brighten us today.

 

Smoky smell, ashes of last night’s fire,

under a million stars.

 

 

The cabin is dimly lit, and damp.

Echoing quietude,

Cool, cool air.

Our guests have all gone home.

 

 

 

I Want a Godly Woman

I pray to find a godly woman.

Beautiful soul and spirit,

Pleasant body.

 

A maiden pure and willing,

Courageous.

Imaginative, creative, energetic.

Youthful spirit.

 

Lord, send to me a godly woman.

I don’t like to be alone.

To find a godly lover,

To help me to be strong.

 

To have someone to give my love to.

To help me to be holy.

Lord, send a godly woman,

Of course, thy will be done.

 

 

 

Mormon Gold

The year was 1985. I was on the run. Trying to evade the mental health workers attempting to capture me and bring me to the psych hospital in Buffalo. I found myself hiding in the woods, near Elmira, downstate. For me, it was a world of unending voices and forces. I was reading a Mormon text at the time.

        As I explored my woodland getaway, I found a stone box.  I read about the golden tablets found and then hidden again. I was sure I had found the priceless relics described in the Book of Mormon. But I could not open the stone box without digging tools.

      When I wrote this I was planning to get back down there with a pick and shovel, and recover my prize. I was soon to be wealthy and famous beyond measure. Several years had passed since finding the stone box. I had been captured, incarcerated, and set free

     When I got back down there the entire woods had been leveled with a bulldozer.

But I really believed in what I had thought. I got back there with one of the state’s top metal detector experts, and then, with the chairman of the State University’s archeology department.  To no avail. I had to put it all in God’s hands. THE ANGELS WERE IN CONTROL.

      Anyway, I’m typing this out in August 2022. I see as I write that this text that I was hopelessly positive, sure God’s kingdom of light was about to dawn upon us any day. But with our problems here in the states, and with Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea, we are in great danger. The shadow of a threatening war.

The golden tabs still hide, they say,

Though only God knows where.

Protected sure by angels,

In unknown forest shade.

 

The Mormon plates still read, they say,

Of mysteries unknown.

A measure of worth beyond,

What mortal world’s compare.

 

This whispers of great times to come.

And hidden secrets thrill.

There is a life of wonder great,

For the chosen to embrace.

His presence is quite near, I sense

As well may be his face.

 

Golden tablets, truth so sure,

And promise of life.

Hidden mystery dawn upon us now,

In this new day of grace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elijah

God-man, man-god.

Terrible power,

Elijah.

Killer of men, worker of miracles.

Soldier,

Terrible power.

Elijah.

Hold back the rain.

Bring down lightening,

Raise the dead.

Man-god.

Elijah.

Make food from nothing,

Slay the great lie.

Destroy the mocker.

Elijah.

Stronger than death,

Who comes again,

before the lord.

Chariot of Israel,

Take me home.

Elijah.

 

 

Choose Not Crime

It seems to me that the reckless and rebellious behaviors of my adolescence landed me in the psych. hospital. And my interpersonal conflicts while in the hospital landed me on high security. High security was prison. Perhaps I should retitle this poem, “Choose not rebellion, proud son”.

 Crime

Proud son,

Dangerous waters.

Treachery,

Prison,

Death.

No man’s road

Judgment day,

Hell.

Crime,

Locked away,

Dream of those you love.

Ina cage so small,

With stinking comrades.

Wasted life,

Think first,

Proud son.

Choose life,

Kneel and pray,

For your devourer stands ready.

 

 

The man will humble you,

Or drive you deeper yet.

Swallowed by the serpent,

Choose not crime,

Proud son.

 

Blood stains on the stone wall.

Others have suffered here before you.

Caged like an animal

Within the gates of hell.

Choose not crime, Proud son.

Be redeemed,

Find God

And right teachings.

Put your knees on the floor’

Slay your sin.

Choose not crime, proud son.

 

 

Star Crossed Friends

I meet you time and time again,

When walking out alone at night,

Under starry skies.

 

 

 

You’re a different kind of person,

Kind of strange.

So am I.

 

I see you’re a pure soul,

A seeking spirit.

Seeking God through nature.

I am a seeker too.

 

You’ve shared you have seen the wolf spirit,

Ready to return,

In the woods around our home.

 

Do I see a teacher?

( I have a visions too.)

I think we’re kindred spirits,

Star crossed friends.

 

You’re disillusioned

by man’s injustice and greed.

I was too, when I was you’re age.

But now I hold hope,

And that I need to share with you.

 

 

All true souls are healers.

You’re a healer too.

(Though you don’t know it yet).

 

Oh my friend who walks barefoot at night,

Under starry skies.

Striving for purity and justice

Is your purpose.

 

You’re path holds great dangers,

Of which you know little.

Pray child, pray hard child,

For the destroyer desires you’re soul.

 

I don’t want to see you suffer,

But to grow strong and happy.

 

And that is why our paths cross at night.

Why we share the shining moon,

Under the blanket of stars.

 

I can help you find the way,

Because we’re star crossed friends.

 

 

Christmas poem

This piece was written when I was on inpatient at Saint Lawrence. How did I, as a psych inpatient, ever compose a poem like this?

Blue black shimmering,

Distant white,

Guiding star,

Point of light.

 

Tremble deeply, quaking earth,

Innocent virgin,

Creator’s birth.

 

Shepherds on the hillside told.

Wise men, incense, myrrh, and gold.

 

Angel choirs now rejoice,

“Praise to you”,

All in one voice.

 

Eternal wisdom seeks it own,

As” Son of God”, the “Christ” he’s known.

 

 

 

Humble birth, the King of Kings.

Riches of new life he brings.

 

 

Before Him on our knees we pray

To be reborn, the truth, the way.

Quaking worlds, and shimmering light.

Creating then both day and night.

 

Good exalted, evil scorned,

Within me Son of Man be Born.

 

Jesus Lord, let us adore,

And let us praise you ever more.

 

Angel choirs in refrain,

“let all man be born again.

 

And the joyful Christmas choirs sing,

May goodness great this new year bring.

 

 

Love Poem

This poem actually came into being many years before Utopia Rising. It needed a home.  And found its way into this collection.

I had a dream of likenesses,

Sojourn by rail,

A rose,

A chain,

This somehow telling me

that I would love again.

 

And in this fleeting dream,

I never saw the woman,

Whom by fate and destiny,

My heart and soul were given.

 

I gave this girl a golden chain,

And gave to her a rose,

I sojourned away to see this girl,

On the wood and steel railroad,

On the wood and steel railroad.

 

The rose she took unto her heart,

Sojourned, we touched again.

But link broke from shining link,

Upon the golden chain.

 

And each golden link

Filled a certain void within her soul,

Replacing where was darkness

With a piece of shining gold.

 

The chain a sign of love unending,

The rose, love ever new.

The railroad of the endless quest.

The links unchanged,

Darling,

Is it you?

 

 

 

Be a Hero

Who is a healer?

He is the one who courageously fights evil.

It is the hero who fights darkness.

It is the hero fights the tyrant.

It is the hero who fights the scourge.

It is the hero who fights ignorance.

 

From where do strength and vision come, oh humble man?

From God.

How is power claimed, oh humble man?

In striving for purity.

 

Can I become a hero, a healer?

The answer is always yes.

 

In God’s mercy,

Put your knees on the floor.

And pray,

Every day.

 

Let your heart be cleansed.

For a hero is one who keeps his heart clean.

And often prays for courage,

Strength,

Purity,

In prayer, in God.

You, yes you!

 

 

 

Our First Coffee House

      At the time I was spending time with the band, I had another fellowship started, as well. This was a coffee house on Grant Street on the west Side of Buffalo. It sprang out of The Bridge Ministry, and was short lived. I was certain that great success was just around the corner, a belief that I’ve held since I blew my mind on acid in 1975.

Silent house of truth,

Incense, ice and flame.

The door is open here.

 

“I saw thee, oh Nathaniel”

“Let this cup pass”.

“You are a prophet”, said a psychic friend.

(I did pray down lightening,

And have my thoughts on TV.)

Truth speaking then?

 

Can you lead another to enlightenment?

Or bring down God’s healing?

 

I heard the counselors speaking of me,

As I passed their door.

“He speaks of his father with admiration,

And refers to him as his mentor.

 

“A mentality more like that of California”

Angels all about this place tonight.

This mystical writing is so hard to understand.

 

Rats, bats and spiders have no power here.

“lets go live in the woods, a commune” she suggests.

“I need to call home, and say goodnight to Mom”

(Were pushing midnight now).

 

A guitar to strum,

-all the Indians knew-

Asylums- psychic places.

 

Electricity and vitality.

Blessed actions by God’s will.

Hope.

A chance to do a miracle, now.

 

 

 

Purpose

To become a person of vision.

A mystic, a healer.

To be genuine, and willing to work hard.

To put God before man,

And man as myself.

 

To find courage, and compassion.

To let teaching flow naturally from your being.

To find God. (And when you go seeking, it’s best not to go alone).

 

To find your own incorruptible being,

For in this incorruptible being is God.

 

 

 

 

 

     Get High on God.

Breathing deeply,

My spirit soars.

As God receives my love.

 

A universe of peace and joy and healing love,

He sends back to me.

 

Wordlessly, I send my spirit heavenward.

Deep black void of light.

Silent, praying, breath,

Sphere of peace sublime.

 

I send my spirit heavenward,

God receives my life,

And sends to me his bliss.

 

Healing, nourishing, quiet love.

From deep within God.

 

I am made whole,

Full of peace, pure love, life.

 

 

 

To you oh God, I send my spirit.

Yea, the Kingdom is at hand.

And you send great peace to me.

 

 

 

Revolution

Revolution,

Light the holy fires.

Spread the flames of courage.

Burn away apathy.

Destroy complacence.

Annihilate evil.

In all its many forms.

 

Speak the truths of freedom.

Let man be free to pray.

Open the asylum’s door.

Set the captives free.

Revolution.

 

Blazing flames of freedom

Burn through all the land.

Breaking down the hearts doors.

Opening the windows of the soul.

Awaken, sleeping people!

Dawn has come.

And light sweeps dusty minds and floors.

 

Awaken sleeping people!

The tired are renewed.

The dead live again.

The air is made suddenly fresh.

Everywhere are joyful sounds.

And stars bright in virgin heavens.

 

All creation is born again.

Revolution sweeps the land!

 

 

 

Were friends

Inhale – exhale.

Day breaks.

Night time comes.

Flowers close.

Then follows dawn.

 

 

 

Sleep – awaken.

Speak –  listen.

Lead – follow.

Give – take.

Sorrow – joy.

Open – close.

 

Together – alone.

Winter – summer.

Spring – fall.

Sun – moon.

Birth – death.

 

Jesus retreats into the wildnerness to pray,

That he might more mightily serve.

 

 

 

Wedding Present Poem

I will always be here to pray for you,

To pray with you.

If your child falls ill,

And the physicians hold no hope,

I will come and kneel beside your child’s bed,

And there I will pray.

And your child will soon be well,

A deeper act of love I know not,

Forever.

 

 

 

I Can See it Coming

Can I see it coming?

Can I hear it round the bend?

The end of the beginning,

The beginning of the end.

 

Troubles getting deeper,

The darkness grows in power.

And dangers seem to worsen,

By the moment, by the hour.

 

I’m on my face a’prayin.

God send a trusted light.

To safely guide the faithful

Through the trials of the night.

 

 

 

 

Could the horsemen be a’marching,

Along that fiery, final way?

These earthly kingdoms passing

At the final judgment day.

 

Wild stallions are stampeding

Through the cloudy night time skies.

Lightning flashing, winds are raging,

From hells rise horrid cries.

 

The prisons are a’shaking.

A trembling earth does groan.

The grounds below a’quaking,

As cries rise from cold stone.

.

 

Dear Lord, send somebody

To guide us till you come.

Send to us a leader

To guide us safely home.

 

 

 

 

It’s as of were in a sailing ship,

Upon a heaving sea.

There is no certain passage,

There is no certainty.

 

Destruction’s never far away,

And ever greater evil.

The coming of a dark, dark day,

Confusion and upheaval.

 

Please God send a guiding light,

To lead us through the storm.

Take us to the distant shore,

Where the day is soft and warm.

 

I can see it coming,

As with gripping guts I pray.

It’s darkest just before the dawn.

On cold hard ground I’d lay.

 

Yes, I can see it coming,

The darkness and the morn.

The prophets speak, It comes to pass.

Through death, rebirth’s adorned.

 

 

 

And I tremble as I look within,

With timid certainty,

The leader sent to guide us

Might possibly be me.

 

I can see it coming,

The night this verse is penned.

I can see it coming,

I can hear it round the bend.   Penned 11/20/94  11:14pm.

 

 

 

The Master           

As a young man,

He sat down at the piano to play.

He considered himself a good musician,

And crashed boldly upon the keys.

Some of his audience walked out.

Some said “not so loud”.

And some looked as if he hurt their ears.

 

 

 

 

He grew older, and years of hard practice later,

He played wrong notes, and hesitant rhythms.

He caught the ear of a few listeners.

“interesting” they said.

 

Still years later,

he resigned himself to endless practice.

Learning simple songs,

And struggling with difficult pieces.

“I like your music”, his friends began to say.

“It makes me feel good”.

 

Years later, in much humility,

he sat before an audience.

And played the piano,

Resigned to accept his limitations.

“Wonderful”, they all exclaimed.

 

Still many more years later,

He sat before a great, great audience.

He knew then that his twisted, aching fingers

would never again perform.

 

 

There was only quiet, and a great and wondrous peace.

And there the audience broke into a thunderous applause.

Finally, the master had arrived.

 

 

      Step into the Water.

Come down unto the water,

To the river’s shore.

Fresh spring of forever,

New unto the Lord.

 

Down into the water,

Refresh, reborn, renew.

Clean unto forever,

Crystal, sparkling blue.

 

Come under the water,

Wisdom, be thy guide.

Friend, helper and baptizer,

Be close unto my side.

 

Down unto the waters,

Immersed in faith and light.

Come be cleansed of sin’s dark stain,

Purified and bright.

 

Step into the waters.

Thy brother at thy side.

New life, and new beginning.

For this our savior died.

 

Come down to the river,

Be washed and be made whole.

Clean in God’s pure spirit.

For Jesus saved my soul.

 

Step into the waters,

Waters bright and blue.

Be cleansed and be made holy.

Come now, be made new.

 

Come down unto the water,

To the rivers shore.

Fresh spring of the spirit.

My Lord’s forever more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lay Your Shoulder to the Wheel

Lay your shoulder to the wheel,

Steel and stone and clay.

Loose it from the frozen mire,

Start it on it’s way.

 

This huge old wheel, heavy and cold,

Let us break it free.

Lay your strength against it,

As you pray on bended knee.

 

Push with all your life now,

Slowly rolling, gaining speed.

Bright light be cast across the land,

And captives to be freed.

 

Cold stone wheel now turning,

Now strain with all your might.

This wheel’s named revolution,

The breaking forth of light

 

Let light break forth across the earth,

And life be new today.

Lay your shoulder to the wheel,

Let’s break it loose today.

Lay your shoulder to the wheel,

Lets break it loose today.

 

 

 

Same Water – Different Containers.

      The following poem is on the slippery slope. Its’ not what I believe. It’s not what I believed when I wrote it. I was negotiating a compromise. I had to level the playing field, as our dialogue began. For the sake of discussion and debate let us postulate that all religions and philosophies are the same. However, in the heart of my heart I am prostrate before Jesus.

One man may be a water glass,

Another a china cup.

A third might be a pitcher.

The fourth a glass bowl.

A fifth, a cooking kettle.

 

Imagine all filled with pure water.

The water is God’s light.

The water glass is Catholic.

The china cup is Christian.

The pitcher is Hindu.

The glass bowl is Muslim.

The cooking kettle is the Buddhist.

The ceramic bottle is the Jew.

 

 

 

Does not every religion consider itself to be the one true way?

This is something to consider.

God’s light, the water of life, is truth.

Only the containers are different.

 

 

 

Meditation.           Jan. 22.

Lifting paint,

Rosary,

Soul and spirit.

Bone and marrow.

Lift.

Holy oil.

Miracle,

Joe.

 

Come Oh Holy Spirit,

Knees.

Wait.

Sunset.

Halo.

Me.

 

 

             Walking through walls.

 

8:39 pm.

2017 AD.

Underground railroad.

Mother’s salvation.

 

Freedom’s fire.

Howling bulldog.

Twin engine airplane.

Smoothly flies,

Engines humming,

Like our refrigerator,

On the green breezes of faith.

 

 

 

Meditation

A woman,

A friend who was in need,

Great need.

A soul to whom I’d  lent strength,

Her life I’ve restored,

Giving from eternal, breathing depths within

 

 

 

I’d wanted nothing in return,

But to see her well,

And to share the goodness of life.

 

Sick, in danger, upon stormy seas,

In her time of need I guarded her life.

To which she responded, unexpectedly,

“it is you I pray to serve”.

 

I’d only hoped perhaps for help,

In serving man and God on earth.

 

I’ve accepted the prospect

Of being forever in solitude.

In chaste aloneness here.

 

And still for holiness I pray.

 

But in mystical insight,

I see God’s will.

This woman’s love.

My medicine,

My prayer.

To live this life well,

And to fufill our purpose here.

 

 

 

 

  As is My Lord Before Me

As is my Lord before me,

I see him as I pray,

Again, I ask forgiveness.

This soul sins every day.

 

Things I do that I’d ought not.

And not doing things I should.

This earth bound soul perfection lacks.

Even though this spirit would.

 

“Lord forgive and pardon me”

My spirit calls on high.

As I plead my master’s pardon,

I see his tear filled eye.

 

 

 

 

Lord, I call, I lack the strength,

The right to always do.

Lord, Lord! again I cry,

Please cleanse me and renew.

 

Beyond the veils of mortal flow,

For love my savior cries.

A man can’t near imagine,

Passioned teardrops fill his eyes.

And then the still small voice within,

Whispers “all be well with thee”.

And assures me every crystal tear,

Will cleanse and set me free.

 

Now when time no longer marches,

And forever all is well.

I’ll remember this forgiveness,

Each time a teardrop fell.

 

 

 

We Have our Star

      At the time this was written, on one hand the band was together and rocking. On the other hand we had the coffee house going at the Bridge Ministry. It seemed to me that the great outpouring of the Holy Spirit was imminent. The revolution was going to happen. The revolution was happening.

      When the band broke up I was saddened. I should have worked harder to keep them together.

     I was, and still am a humble servant of the Lord. When I read through these poems written from such modest circumstances, I am amazed at how happy and positive I was. Money meant nothing to me. Only the manifestation of the Holy Spirit, and art, music and writing. A simple life of work and prayer. I had taken my monastic vow.

The band’s already playing,

Tea and coffee going round.

We’re a rocking and a swaying

Take us Lord to higher ground.

 

 

The music takes us higher,

And melodies of praise.

Holy Ghost and fire.

A growing, glowing blaze.

 

The rhythms of the evening

Stir a power deep within.

Fears and worries are a’leaving,

As strength and joy we win.

 

Another pot of coffee.

Another round of song.

Another cup of hot, hot tea.

I brew it dark and strong.

 

The lights are low, candles glow.

Now a time for prayer.

Friends to know, and friendships grow.

Kind excitement in the air.

 

A table spread, and now break bread.

A time to talk and share.

And then a poem or story read.

Tell someone you care.

 

 

Then the music starts again.

Clapping, waving hands.

Hands then joined, unbroken chain.

Pray rebirth on our band.

 

 

These friendships and these joys we know.

From darkness take us far.

Praise God on high from earth below.

HE’S GIVEN US OUR STAR!!

 

 

 

Peanut Butter Jesus

I had accepted the challenge of doing a mural for the Bridge Ministry based on the West Side of Buffalo. It took several months to complete. I was in college at the time, and would work on the project whenever I had time. Sometimes for many hours at a time. One night I got really hungry, and peeked into the freezer looking for a bite to eat. And there was the candy Jesus from the Christmas party sake. This poem may be slightly irreverent. Forgive me.

Last Wednesday I worked hard all day,

And didn’t eat much food.

So I went hungry to the kitchen hungry

To look for something good.

 

 

 

 

I peeked into the freezer

To find a bite to eat.

And frozen there to my surprise,

I found the perfect treat.

 

I peeked into the freezer,

And found a little snack.

A frozen baby Jesus,

Ina manger, on his back.

 

Oh, by gosh, by golly.

Oh for goodness sake.

I found the Baby Jesus

From the Christmas party cake.

 

A peanut butter Jesus

does in the freezer hide.

I’m tempted him to gobble down.

For the freezer’s cold inside.

 

Dear Jesus would you be upset

If I made lunch of you?

Could I eat the candy Jesus

And the candy manger too?

 

Would I be saved forever,

If I did partake,

of the peanut butter Jesus,

On the Christmas party cake?

 

Tell me dear Lord Jesus,

And don’t be mad, I sighed.

But wouldn’t it be warmer

In my tummy deep inside?

 

A peanut butter Jesus

might be just what I need,

to keep me strong in thought and prayer,

and strong and deed.

 

Oh by gosh, by golly.

Oh for goodness sake.

I ate the candy Jesus

From the Christmas party cake.

 

Now I’ll be saved forever,

My gosh and golly gee.

Cause the peanut butter Jesus

Is now inside of me.

 

 

 

An Uncles Passing and a Cousin’s Eternal Life

My mother’s brother died last Sunday.

After years of weakness and discomfort.

He’d been unconscious for almost a month,

Kept alive on life support systems.

 

I’ve been blessed,

in not having lost anyone immediate,

Except maybe Dad’s mom,

Who was ninety-six.

 

 

 

 

But with Mom and Dad aging,

And so their siblings and friends,

I fear their dying like shad flies,

Blanketing the floors and doorways

As in a Saint Lawrence May.

All passing into close a succession.

 

Perhaps I should rather focus on the swallows.

That too return to Saint Lawrence in the spring.

To live and sing and fly,

And bear their young.

Not this specter of death.

 

Last night I created a vibrant collage.

From waste paper and scraps,

And left over stock.

As I write, it is shouting a message to me.

Resurrection, resurrection, resurrection, resurrection.

From death shall your spirit rise.

 

Resonation,

Vibration,

To be more out there.

Courageous in word and deed.

And overcome all doubts.

To speak to doubting friends,

And to death itself,

“No, not here, not now”.

 

His call is on my life,

This I know.

And all lives must have a beginning,

All journeys a first step.

 

If he tells me to ascend the lofty peak,

He will put wings on my soul.

If he tells me to move the mountain,

He will show me the way to get it done.

 

At the funeral, Cousin Kent said of his son Jeromy,

“He is a better person than I ever was”.

“He cannot be destroyed”,

“He will not be destroyed”

“He cannot be destroyed”

And again, “he cannot be destroyed”.

To know death exists no more.

 

 

 

 

He has given me a lofty peak,

And said “ascend”.

And shown me a great mountain,

And said “climb”.

 

Then can I say

It seems that dying is the first step of a journey?

And death, again, a lofty peak to climb,

And a mountain to ascend?

 

And with that, let it be done.

 

 

And with this, my writings for the musicians of Utopia Rising ends. Lance and Justin, Jon and Brian and the friends that gathered around, inspired this writing. They made a sound and a song, through music, art, and a circle of friends, that resonates in the great halls of eternity.