Sewersongs

Many years ago, we used to travel down below. Inside a subterranean world, like a wormhole where a mole would go. From within a dank and lengthy cave, the light that silhouetted our friends was faint. They would wave and yell, but we could barely tell from within our musky grave, if their banter was that of concern or not. From their view, they may not have been able to see us, down in that watery well.

We slapped our hands on our bellies, as the mouth-harp twanged away. The reverberations echoed wall-to-wall, light shone as the darkness began to fall. If bats were down there, they would lose their way; because the sonic thrusts and thumps would overload their tiny ears. Even now, so much later in life, I can still remember those adventures we took…so many years ago. We threw caution to the torrents and looked for life’s more memorable moments.

The sewer-lid, as it closed, eclipsed the sunlight from above…and those sewersongs we used to play, would serenade you, if you were to come along. We played for you…

Growing Younger As Days Go By

This place should be a place where you feel safe. This home should be a home where you feel warm. The end should be an end where we can meet as friends. The start should be a pillow for your restless heart.

I see the innocence in your tired eyes, and sense you’re growing younger as the days go by. The cheer we as children so playfully embraced, seems to escape us on our grown-up faces. Sometimes, it’s hard to smile after we’ve been grinding drearily for a while. Tonight though, as you sleep I wish you well, and tomorrow you’ll be young again, I can tell.

With a dream in your mind as you rise and start your day, you’ll have that hope and happiness in everything you say. You won’t quite remember exactly what the dream was about…but you’ll know it’s happy ending and maybe how it started out. No longer will the middle of the dream monopolize your thoughts, with its chaotic tumultuosity tying you up in knots. This new day is about stepping forward inside your new cathartic existence, no longer a lowly serf, but now a prince or princess!

Requiem For a Joyful Journey

What a joy it is, this wonderful place! To get away alone for a day, only a faint trace of the human race. To live in Utah, in this mountainous wonderland…I hear the sounds of a distant stream, the subtle crackles from firewood, the flicker of light in the distance…

Sitting in the back of the Cherokee, writing down simple thoughts, thanking God for who I am, and forgetting about what I am not. The bright future lies ahead, and I remember the river…flowing as it did and I followed it. She cleansed my life, once in shambles–yet now there is a glimmer, a reflection of light on the other end of a long tunnel…

The Sophistication of Modern Medicine

written in January of 2001

I transcribe some of my earlier writing to illustrate a brief image of how I felt and still feel about the commercial drug market…

Sophisticated drug dealers, from the other side, wearing white jackets, labcoats…they get you in their clutches, and you’re more addicted than a junkie.

of course…their needles are all sterile

of course…their drugs are much more powerful

of course…their test tubes make the drugs that are pure, and they kill the pain– but never eradicate the root of the problem

No matter which side you’re on, the system is going to get you. We’re a nation, a people, a planet– all addicted. We’re born into it and life is about breaking out of it…

We do not have to allow this, this is not our fate, we will overcome this. Don’t let the doctors win, the white-jackets, the pill-pushers, just because their scheme dresses as a legal market aiming to heal the planet…this guise, this ruse, we must refuse…

The answer to beating this is in organic self-initiated attacks on the disease.