The Storm

30 Oct



25 Oct



You’re always reaching for more joy, more hope, more patience, strength
Your parents and your teachers taught it’s all just past arm’s length
They took the innocent child and did indoctrinate
A constant sense of desire in order to feel great
They taught that child to want more nice things, experience
They taught you have to be elsewhere for your life to make sense
They taught that the word “fools” was harsh and mean, not very nice
So anyone that dared to question their foolish advice
Would be dismissed as radical and should be scorned and feared
They taught you how to be soulless and that “soulful” was weird
Some taught you to reach for God, or Jesus or Allah
But those who claim to make contact are met with a guffaw
“Insane,” they’re called, “not right in head” because they claimed to reach
That which was designed to not be grasped, those things they preach
Awareness of what is was not instilled because your teachers
Are not aware of what they have, they’re wanters and they’re reachers
They dress it up with fancy words like “enterprise,” “ambition”
They teach you to not trust your instincts and your intuition
“Hold on just a sec, that’s not what the experts did teach!”
The sheep with no faith in themselves do warn as they all reach
Always “working on it,” “getting there,” never content
Always reaching for something which was always present
Reaching for their scripture or their toys or drugs or booze
Reaching for a hero or a savior or a muse
Here’s the part of the poem where I won’t seem so nice
Because I call your parents and your teachers “fools” and “mice”
“Cowards,” “spineless” and all “sheep” because they have no trust
Within themselves which would have put an end to all their lust
Here’s where the term “Warrior” becomes very off-putting
Because a Warrior is one who has earned secure footing
By reaching deep within and being oddly satisfied
With who they are and what they’ve done without having a guide
Here’s where all the reachers cast their stones at those who walk
With confidence and do not need to brag or boast or squawk
“Desire,” a great Warrior once said, “is the dark root
Of suffering” but his wisdom is always in dispute
With those who reach for who they want to be to find their peace
Ironic that it’s your reaching that makes what’s inside cease
Reaching for that job or car or home or weight or Lord
Unaware, unaware of where your peace is stored


So Be It

5 Oct

So Be It

There was a farmer named Nintai who grew corn for his town
Nintai was an even sort, he did not smile or frown
No matter if the sun did shine or if hard rains did fall
The farmer went about his work and never did he stall

While others danced and sang because the sun shined and birds sung
Nintai simply said, “So be it,” and his sythe he flung
When storms would rage and all would cry, Nintai would leave his house
“So be it,” he would say and work while the torrents did douse

When skies were grey with overcast and sapped the will of most
Nintai put on gloves and boots, “So be it” he would boast
In time, the farmer would marry and she would bear two boys
Amid the cheering, Nintai said, “So be it” with calm poise

Five years later, one son caught a fever and he died
The mother, brother, grandparents and aunts and uncles cried
Everyone except Nintai, “So be it,” he did say
As he grabbed shovel and buried his youngest son that day

A few years later, overcome with grief, his wife died too
The people came and sobbed and said, “Nintai, let us help you!”
“So be it,” Nintai simply said, then buried her beside
His youngest son, and then they asked, “How do you take in stride?”

“How do you not show any heart? How can you be so cold?”
The townspeople admonished him, but Nintai stayed controlled
“So be it,” he said and returned to work with his young son
That is when the people tried to warn the little one

They grew irate and told him how his father had no soul
“Never smiles! Never cries! His heart is made of coal!”
The young boy pondered as he watched his father plough their land
“So be it,” the young boy replied, “but coal is not his brand”

“Iron flows through father’s veins, it forms his bones and will
It keeps him strong and sturdy and provides focus and skill
The iron gives him clarity to see what is and know
Acceptance and action are more effective than just woe”

The boy walked to his father and the two worked ‘till the night
While others sat and talked about poor farmer Nintai’s plight
Every time they saw the two, they’d shake their heads and jeer
“So be it,” both Nintai and his son said year after year

In time the boy grew to a man and married a young bride
They had three boys and two girls, but old Nintai showed no pride
“So be it,” he said as he held each child and did admit
“Beautiful,” he whispered to each one, “Yes, so be it”

Not long after, Nintai grew quite tired, weak and frail
The town’s doctor tried remedies but were to no avail
“So be it,” Nintai said and gave his eyes their final blink
“So be it,” he repeated as he gave his son a wink

“So be it,” the son did reply, no tears welled in his eyes
Because he had been taught too well to be controlled and wise
All the children wailed because their grandpa went away
But one of the young girls chose to not her iron betray

“So be it,” the young girl said calmly and held daddy’s hand
“Yes,” her father said and then returned to work the land
Sunshine warmed and storms ravaged but always she did see
That nothing lasts forever, good or bad, “And so it be”


Hero Worship

13 Sep


Hero Worship

Strange days these are, my friends, in which the “nerds” proudly proclaim
To worship costumed heroes without timidness or shame
“I love the Batman! Spider-Man! The Hulk and Man of Steel!”
And countless other heroes with such zest, vigor and zeal
They buy t-shirts adorned with the visage of all these greats
Some go so far as to “cosplay” but many of the traits
Like courage, selflessness and confidence, self-mastery
Sense of honor, duty, understanding, empathy
Are nowhere to be found within their elaborate suits
Empty, selfish people with fancy masks, capes and boots
I’m speaking from experience because a year ago
I started doing charity events for kids with woe
I donned a superhero costume, covered toe to head
And learned that real world superheroes are not that widespread
Many of the “cosplayers” in town did not come out
Seems when there is no reward we have a hero drought
They only go out to conventions to try to win prizes
And get their ego stroked while wearing their detailed disguises
Many will take off their mask or helmet so all see
It’s not the hero that you think, instead, “IT’S ME! IT’S ME!”
There was one who did come out to a few children’s events
He too mugged maskless for the camera and tried to make cents
On a visit to the hospital’s sick children’s wing
Instead of focusing on kids, this selfish man did sing
About the “cosplay” things he could sell me to help fight crime
Shilling wares while kids around were dying ‘fore their time
It’s so bizarre how all these heroes with muscles and abs
With steel resolve and iron will who throw punches and jabs
Whenever challenges arise don’t do much to inspire
Seems their fashion sense is what fanboys and girls admire
The t-shirts, hats and tattoos all proclaim, “I’m on their team!”
But when their feelings do get hurt, “You bullied me!” they scream
“You bullied me,” is not a phrase a true hero would speak
“You bullied me,” are words spoken by egoic and weak
“You can bully me but there’s a price you’ll have to pay”
Is what a TRUE hero would calmly, strongly, fiercely say
The sacrifice of heroes has been lost amid the suit
Unfortunate that it’s the fashion that most “nerds” salute
And fail to mimic how these heroes respond with great grace
It takes more than a costume change and mask upon your face
To genuinely feel the traits that make heroes adored
It’s gained through service, sacrifice, not applause and award


Let’s Roll

11 Sep


Let’s Roll

It’s been some years since terrorists
Hijacked the planes and crashed
Two of them into buildings
And left our spirits dashed

I’m not going to focus there
The news is sure to dwell
On the sorrow and heartache
Of that pure living hell

Instead I want to talk about
A Warrior that day
Named Todd Beamer who kept his cool
Amid all the dismay

A husband and a father of
Two boys, David and Drew
And Morgan Kay, the little girl
That Beamer never knew

On 9-11, Todd was on
United 93
The fourth plane that was taken by
The terroristic spree

He made a call on his cell phone
And somehow he got through
To someone and informed them of
What he was going to do

He spoke with Lisa Jefferson
Recited the Lord’s Prayer
And then spoke of Psalm 23
To make us all aware

That he was not afraid to die
His faith gave him the strength
And the courage to fight back
To go to any length

To walk through the valley of death
To endure through its shadow
To let go of the fear of what
Awaited him below

He rallied other passengers
To stand up and reclaim
The aircraft from the terrorists
When he did exclaim:

“Are you guys ready?” he asked them
And then he said “Let’s roll”
Leading them up to the cabin
To rush the console

I wonder how many there were
Just paralyzed with fear
Who stayed there in their seats and wished
That they could disappear

Beamer and the ones who rushed
The cabin showed to me
That every single one of us
In life is a trainee

They showed that we do not rise to
What expectations are
Instead we fall to level of
All our training so far

The ones who stood up with courage
Were Warriors before
They set foot on that plane that day
And it took off to soar

They didn’t have a sudden transformation
And become
Heroes, the reason that they
Did not to fear succumb

Is simply ‘cause they didn’t fall
To fear before that day
They dealt with problems with courage
Which is the Warrior’s Way

They trained to deal with turmoil
And that’s why Todd kept calm
We’re told that he sounded at peace
As he recited Pslam

Every single thing you do
In your life greatly matters
It decides if your resolve
Will hold or if it shatters

We must remember not just that
He was a hero there
We should recall what made him that
What gave him strength to bare

It should inspire all of us
To try harder, to train
To bring along that courage as
We set foot on that plane

Todd’s words inspired soldiers who
Were sent to fight the foe
“Let’s roll” became their battle cry
To let the rivals know

That they had trained to have courage
They trained their strength and calm
They’ll keep their cool with whizzing bullets
Or a ticking bomb

Do not dwell just on the death
And two buildings destroyed
Although so tragic, this story
Of hope is not devoid

Focus on the hero who
Stood up to take control
The courage to fear no evil
And calmly said “Let’s roll”

                              for Todd Beamer and the heroes
                             of United Airlines Flight 93

The Egotist

10 Sep

The Egotist

There once was a person who took
Themselves too seriously
Their uptight behaviour was wrought
In the name of being artsy

Their work focused all on themselves
On their torment and strife and their woes
A message of darkness and dread
Is what all of their work did propose

Hours and hours of thought
Put into the things that offended
But missing a final redemption
No mention of things that were splendid

No mission of nourishing hope
Through color or sculpture or prose
No mention of beautiful coda
Only the difficult throes

Spreading their ache to whoever
Would bother to listen to them
Maybe those few hoped to find
An inspirational gem

But all that they found were the cries
Of a tortured and tormented soul
Nothing to invigorate
Or empower, stir or console

A few may have felt just the same
And wallowed along with the scribe
Creating a miserable horde
Of people who only subscribe

To the idea that everything’s hopeless
The practice of self-pitying
Never wanting to move forward
To the past is to what they’d all cling

And then there are those who will say
“This kind of thing isn’t for me”
They balk at the darkness and dread
And from then on whenever they see

Some kind of artistic endeavor
They think back to how that last piece
Did nothing to make their enjoyment
Of life on this planet increase

Egotists just want reaction
“You can’t only have joyful views!”
But if it’s destruction you want
I’d recommend watching the news

It’s there every night on TV
Right there in your own living room
Murders and wars and disasters
The everyday six o’clock gloom

Artists do have the rare privilege
Of controlling moods they incite
Why would an artist depress
When instead they could help ignite?

The spirit of hope within someone
To give them the strength to push on
To be a supportive companion
When they feel that all hope is gone

Artists, take heed of this warning
Be mindful what message you send
Within your artwork or your writings
You may be creating a trend

Of work that does no good for others
Or you may be creating a stigma
That art is depressing and weird
In your journey to be an enigma

I hear so many folks say
They’re surprised that my writing has soul
That there’s wisdom and courage within
And that inspiration’s my goal

Surprised, because of how much
Negative work they’ve all seen
So don’t be a part of the problem
Be a part of the vaccine

Don’t be an Egotist
And focus just on your own plight
Be an Artist and use
Your talents to awaken might


Normals Poet Wisdom

6 Sep

Normals Poet Wisdom

The following is not a poem
By a Warrior
Instead, to change things up a bit
This poem’s from a cur

A spineless, frightened jellyfish
A cowardly, sad welp
A “Normal” as I label them
I hope these weak words help

All the ‘normals’ who cannot
Digest the regular
Words of strength and sacrifice
Which offend and deter

Here you go, you ‘normal’ bunch
A poem just for you
May these lyrics encourage your
Pathetic, feeble view:


Don’t be bold, don’t be unique
Don’t stand out, just blend in
Don’t speak up and disagree
To do so is a sin

Don’t offend and make them mad
‘Cause God up in the sky
Will punish you by sending you
To hell where you will cry

Just be nice and do not judge
Who should receive your grace
Even selfish scumbags should
Receive your warm embrace!

Speak the words, “Forgive! Forget!”
But you don’t have to act
It’s more important to be fake
And pretend to have tact

Than actually possess a peaceful
Heart and placid soul
Remember to get mad at others
Who tempt and cajole

Be a victim and complain
‘Cause it’s out of your hands
Pray to the creator
There are oh so many brands!

Christian, Muslim, Buddhist or
A thousand other Gods
Just pick one but with all the rest
Be at embittered odds

‘Cause any God you pick is the
God that is on your side
And also don’t forget to show
Too much pleasure and pride

Within yourself, remember to
Smile real big and feel great
Whenever someone compliments
Mmmm…tasty ego bait!

Do not think of enlightenment
Until you’re almost dead
THEN practice an open-mind
While fighting sense of dread

Cry yourself to sleep because
You know you’ve wasted time
Then shrug and say you “Did your best!”
To pardon every crime

There there, tap tap, you’ll be honored
By your family and mates
They’ll say a bunch bullshit as
The funeral awaits

They’ll speak of how fearless you were
And luckily ignore
All the selfishness and cowardice
That you lived for

Ahhh, the fulfilled life of a
Normal who was so “nice”
Never fought, just knelt and cried
An easy, ‘normal’ price



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