Sunday, June 7, 2009


Hey!!! Thought we might have some fun today....
Here's a couple of ....yup...poems....I have tried my hand with the artsy, creative stuff....but I've got to warn you...these are from way back there.... like late '60s + early '70s, even my pre-
Christian era. So take off your shoes and get out your flower-child glasses and take a trip with me down...

Metamorphosis Road (1973)

Forget your hope and lose your past
And soon you’ll find freedom at last;
Destroy your loss, defeat your fear,
Sorrow to drown needs only a tear.
But love….love continuously
As day meets night to become day again
So love…love through all
Brings the rainbow in rain.

Although some may say there’s no gold at the end
And following its course means a lifetime to spend
Look back from your twilight and clearly you’ll see
The means which you chose are now what you be.

And Love, our One Meaning
Shepherds His fold
To the end of life’s rainbow –
Metamorphosis Road.

(1972 - this is part of my North-African hitchhiking odyssey, when I had no clear sense
of identity, but kept on going anyway)


My name is Wubble Dubble
And I dwibble while I talk
But when I fell for you, my dear,
You scwibbled while you squawked.
My heart is weight of rubble
And my eye sees yesteryear
A Son so bright, yet lost in flight
He fell between a tear.
It’s time I picked me up now And flowed some soul through this ole ink..
But that’s not ole as in Spanish,
Nor Ole the big Swede
But it’s olethings I’ve got to tell
Of olethings I’ve seed.
Don’t ask me whom this pen holds
To mold as it may wish,
But look there through the ink more clear
And see the struggling fish –
No… my name is Wubble Dubble
And all I ask for me
Is a little air to breathe in
And at least a chance to be.

and then I continued on to Italy and did a Michelangelo thing; I got this in Florence 1973,
resting in front of his tomb, after a few days of seeing the wonders of his sculpture and Sistine Chapel & Last Judgment

If you only knew…
Would you wipe clean the slate,
Begin again,
Or let your spirits softly sleep
Unloosed within their silent serenity of stone?
As you now do.

You must have heard the cries of man…
Or were they flashes of some God
Who touched your hand as Adam’s once?
To spark new life in grey dormant forms:
Pushing, pulling, struggling, scraping,
Outwards, upwards and round about
Your noble soul sought freedom ‘mid life’s hidden secrets.

You must have felt the breath of Time…
Weigh harsh upon your heart
Both in your Night and in your Day
From Dawn till Dusk
Each morrow nearer drew that distant wall
Where finally mirrored, yourself remained
Exposed for all to see.

You must have tasted sweet joy which is creation…
Life’s elixir proffered lips of only some certain few,
A cup impatience hurls aside,
This treasure through ignorance so long denied
By man’s will or will not to glory.

You must have smelled them even then…
Their moral stench – this circus of dilettantes
Posing beneath your towering David,
Boasting as sportsmen vainglorious raise
Fresh blood-streaked trophies from carrion-strewn wastelands,
Reflecting their vacuous souls.
You must have seen our bondage – fear
As do your ‘Prisoners’ reaching forth their liberty
To we who misunder …stand about,
Pushing, pulling, struggling, scraping,
Stretching limbs to closer view those truths you’ve seen
But for us remain myriad light tears far removed.

You must have sensed and understood
Men are slaves to their misunderstanding;
With mouths agape and wonder agaze
They kneel in idle worship of your gift,
Yet press on in material servitude.

You must have known
What some are and still will be
And now ‘bove your marble eternal peace
Echo hollow empty footsteps…
The shuffled, muffled applause of
Parading humanity lost….
If they only knew.


  1. yup i think your hand did pretty good with the artsy creative stuff ... i sense a flexing of this same hand again ... for it is another hand that guided your hand did it not