The Sea

My dearest God
may you let this crashing ocean come to peace
for I am at a loss
at how I will ever survive on this crooked boat at sea.

My, had I known sooner
may I have never left my peace
for my Mrs. waits patiently
at home with our lovely kids of three.

My prayer to the moon and stars
may I fight for life in these stormy seas abroad
for the day I return home
at dawn

That I may tell her tales
of how I weathered past a God.


There she stood in the rain,
quietly murmuring words that no one else could hear but herself.

It was her bubble,
the quiet roads gently pattering with the fall of rain,
the motion and smell of the wind brushing her face
and carrying small twigs along the ground.

This was her home,
near and dear.

She looked up into the darkening sky,
droplets now encasing her face and absorbing into her hair.

This was bliss.
This was joy.
This was what it felt to be truly alone yet in love.


I don’t wish to be happy!

She shouted to the world,
and only tomorrow,
does an understanding emerge.

She weeps for defiance and love,
and it’s this that troubles her,
nothing above.

She knows where she will end,
in heaven and then.

But it brings no comfort,
for what ails her today.

There remains a discord in her appearance,
an uncanniness in the eyes,
the sight of a beast,
captured inside.

There she is forced to stay,
civil and nice,
but let it out slowly,
and you’ll see what’s left behind.

In the cage lies a golden chain,
wrapped in a napkin to hide,
and to the one who next enters this cage,
for them to keep for all of time.

It is insanity,
wrapped up inside,
but for each their own she says,
and for you to decide.

She’ll never return,
she’d rather not lie.

She’d rather be unhappy,
than live a life of lies.

Naked in the Streets

Does your brain explode and wonder about the idea of helping educate others?
Does it wander and look for something else in the meantime?

Like easy sex or delicious berries?
Like singing songs or doing what’s easy?

It’s careless and carefree and open and wee!
It’s everything that wonders why he continues in glee.
Look at the man! He’s dancing naked in the streets,
But happy as can be
He continues to see

The world, the world, the world!
In all its bashful glory,
The cold, the cold, the cold!
As he wonders where he was.

He looks back at the track he’s covered, the people left dazed in the street of awe,
the expectant glances and contriving whispers
the people have turned away from his deeds
they sneer and prod and place
the idea that he has no fate
that soon he’ll fall and die and tumble
to the gates of hell that say: you’re welcome.

But why oh why do people fret?
Can they not see twas simply in jest?
And yes, he knows he’s bare at his chest,
but what difference, he’s left to his own distress.

So maybe if he sits and contemplates wisdom,
something quite strange and bizarre and extravagant would take place.

And then he could surely answer,
that he is wise enough to educate others.

Do not dance in the streets naked!
Do not wander and find the joy I once had!
Do not for people will simply laugh!
Follow me, I know the path!

And still the other minds will wander,
they’ll like easy sex and delicious berries,
they’ll like singing songs and doing what’s easy.

And lo behold and lo behold
there comes another man
who’s dancing
naked in the streets.


The hordes and lords they know not anything
They dare not ask a slave what experience declares
And should they ask they’ll surely see
The blood crazed eyes and haunting lies of eternal deeds,
Of rape and murder of lies and hope
Of being told, that such of life is your lot to hold
There is no redemption, there is no connection,
There is no unholy, wayward heaven.