Self Portrait

Self Portrait - Taken in Blue Ridge Mountains above Arnold's Valley on a connecting trail (an old service road no longer used) between Balcony Falls Trail and the Appalachian Trail. It was about 100 degrees, no cell phone signal, very little water or Gatorade left, my body was cramping up to the point I could barely control walking, I was puking my guts out and nobody had any idea where to look for me, I honestly thought it was gonna be last picture ever taken.  I reasoned when they found me Dodie would have a last photo to remember me by. But the Lord carried me off the mountain that day, I still don't understand how, but He did. - Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

Grandma

On March 27, 2005 I received a call from my father. He called to tell me that his Mother (my Grandmother), Esther Cox, had passed away after a sudden illness. I told my father that I would be there as soon as possible. I then made travel arrangements to travel from my home in NJ to Niles, Michigan where my parents live. After a few phone calls I arranged to fly from Philadelphia, Pa. to Chicago, Ill., and then take a Hertz rental car from Chicago to Niles, which is a small town in the southwest corner of Michigan.


During the journey I began thinking of my Grandmother and started remembering memories of her and my childhood. It had been many years since I had lived in Niles. I had joined the Navy in 1977, and after spending 12 years in the Navy, had spent the last 16 years working and living in New Jersey, so I hadn’t had the opportunity to live around my Grandmother for a long time. There had been occasional visits over the years, but nothing of a sustained nature. I did have many fond memories however of my childhood, and spending time at her house as a child.

I remembered the times when our family would get together at her house for Christmas, Easter, and other occasions. I remembered how we would go to Grandmas’ prior to Christmas so she, my mother and aunts, could make Christmas cookies. Those sugar cookies were so big, round and thick, and were some of the best cookies I’ve ever had. I remembered going over to her house for home made noodles and chicken, and how great it tasted. I remembered spending Sunday evenings at her house while watching Ed Sullivan and eating bowls of vanilla ice cream (she always had a big 5-gallon tub of vanilla ice cream in her deep freezer on the porch). I remembered helping put red worms in Styrofoam cups for Grandpa Cox’s worm business, and I remembered the excitement of going to Bankston Lake with her and my Grandfather in the summer. The one thing I remembered the most about my Grandmother, during all those occasions, was her laugh. She had the most amazing laugh. I remembered as a child, when she laughed, how it seemed like the whole world was laughing. Thinking back, it seemed like the whole world was laughing a lot in those days.

I wasn’t sure if my Grandmother had any religious convictions or not. I wondered in my heart, as I traveled home for the funeral, if she had ever had the opportunity to receive the Lord and his forgiveness, but I didn’t know the answer, nor did I suspect, that I ever would.

When I arrived at my parents on Monday, March 28, 2005, I was asked to go with my father to my Grandmothers’ apartment to find a key for a security box, which had belonged to my Grandma. I felt a strong desire to go, although I wasn’t sure why. When we got to the apartment the key wasn’t where it was supposed to be, so I began helping my father look for it. The first place I looked was in a roll up desk, and my eye was immediately caught by an old key chain with a picture of Jesus on it holding a lamb. Next I found pictures of Grandma standing in front of a local monument called the Old Rugged Cross. Again I found myself wondering about my Grandmothers’ relationship with the Lord. I then started looking for the missing key in the bedroom and the first thing I noticed was a bible, on the nightstand next to her bed. When I opened the drawer in the nightstand I found a devotional book with daily scripture readings for study. Inside of this book was a yellow sticky note, with Romans Chapter 8 handwritten on it.

I thought surely this was evidence that Grandma had a relationship with the Lord, and as I thought this I looked up and found myself staring at a picture of Jesus on the wall above Grandmas’ bed. Meanwhile my father and I still had not found the missing key, but then he remembered that Grandmas’ purse was at his house, where they had taken it from the hospital. He called my mother and had her look in the purse, and sure enough, there was the missing security box key. It had been at their house all along, and there never was a reason to search Grandmas’ apartment. However I felt like I knew the reason.

When I awoke Tuesday morning I felt a strong need to open up a book that I had brought along with me. It was a devotional book, similar to the one that was in my Grandmothers’ night stand. I opened it to the page for Tuesday, March 29, 2005 and began reading the daily devotional message it contained. It was a message about God’s unconditional love and how he loves us, even if we don’t deserve that love. The bible verse that it referenced was found in Romans Chapter 8, the same chapter that was handwritten on the sticky in my Grandmothers’ devotional book. The verse was Romans, Chapter 8 Verse 39, which when combined with Verse 38 reads as follows:

“For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, not any creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord”

When I read this I no longer had any doubt in my mind. I was totally convinced that the Lord had provided the answers to the questions which I had concerning my Grandmothers’ relationship with him, and I was totally at peace knowing that Grandma was with him, and that she will be with him forever.

The next day at the cemetery, the pastor officiating over Grandmas’ funeral talked about the joy of knowing the Lord, and I was suddenly overcome by a vision of my Grandmother laughing. In my head I could hear her loud, boisterous laugh and I knew that the Lord was telling me not to fear, that my Grandmother was home with him and would never have to worry again. A couple months later my parents presented me with the picture of the Lord which had been above her bed and the devotional book that had contained the yellow sticky note with Romans 8 written on it. That picture now hangs above my bed and I have read the devotional book everyday.

A New Day

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
                                                                                                                                    II Corinthians 12:9

The sun rises on the distant horizon,
a new day dawns;
searching for so long,
running from masters served,
surrounded by these prison bars,
caught in unseen traps and chains,
a prisoner in this body of flesh and blood,
fighting a war I can never win;

do the battles ever end?

Then Your spirit quietly speaks,
the peace and joy return,
the fear and doubt fade,
the darkness retreats,
hope grows;

a slave no more.

The pain melts away;
falling like the evening stars,
Your light shines upon me
like a beacon in the night,
there is You,
and nothing else matters,
Your glory is all there is;

Your grace is enough.

Look down on me now Lord,
see the weakness hiding within,
forgive the compromise and betrayal,
remove the evil standing before me,
raise me above the destruction,
carry me through the growing storm,
protect me from the enemy waiting
just outside this door;

bring me home to You.
.
.

Workshop

Note: About 15 years ago I won a contest at a local college in which the grand prize was getting to attend a poetry workshop conducted by a rather well-known (Pulitzer prize winning) poet named Stephen Dunn. The day of the workshop I showed up rather inebriated (I guess maybe I thought this would impress Mr. Dunn, I don’t know) (it didn’t) with a cocky, superior, looking down my nose at you attitude and proceeded to read a spur of the moment poem about women at the DMV. I honestly didn’t expect much of a discussion after I read it but much to my surprise/amusement (and horror) it generated this big discussion about technical and political correctness, led primarily by another rather well-known poet named Diane (her real name shall forever remain unnamed). I remember looking over at Stephen Dunn during the discussion who gave me a ‘now you understand what I have to deal with’ look. Later the poem ‘Workshop’ came about as a result of that experience. Following are the original ‘A Day at the DMV’ that started the fiasco and ‘Workshop’.


                                                         A Day at the DMV

I like
strong and confident women,
with deep lusty voices
who call me ‘Hon’;
you usually find them
at service counters,
they always seem to know the answers
to everything,
I often wonder why
they’re not running a company somewhere,
or deciding the fate
of third world countries;

I’m sure they’d do a much better job
than the yahoos doing those kind of things now.

But I guess it’s just as well,
if they were tied up
solving all the world’s problems,
it would take forever
to renew my license
at the DMV.

                                                              Workshop

I thought about writing again,
but then I got a stomachache,
so I thought;

to hell with it,

besides,
what would it prove?

I really don’t care
to be psycho-analyzed
by some middle aged, mildly attractive,
poet wannabe named Diane,
searching for meaning
in a poem about women at the DMV,
scrutinizing every line
to find political and technical correctness;

I would buy her a drink however,
if I thought there wouldn’t be a test
afterwards.

It is rather amusing though
to find out
that there really are people out there
attempting to learn how to write this bullshit,
it makes me wonder
if it’s poetry they’re trying to master;

or life,

because I never saw any difference
between the two.
.
.

Tales From Cowboy Billy

Note: About 12 years ago I put together a small book called ‘Tales From Cowboy Billy’ which was published by Alpha Beat Press out of New Hope, Pa. If you never heard of it don’t worry, not too many folks have. Unfortunately it never became quite the cult classic that I had hoped for, but those things really didn’t matter much to me in those days. There were about 40 poems in the book, I still have some surviving copies in a storage locker in New Jersey (unless rodents have ate them by now). The following is the series of poems that made up the title (and heart) of the book. They were all put down on paper in a drunken haze before I had a chance to change my mind and that is the way they stayed. I’m not sure what if anything they mean but there is a nice flow to them that makes for good reading when they roll off the tongue so I hope you will not read too much into them. Enjoy.

                                                            Tales From Cowboy Billy

Let it begin today,
so many years spent waiting,
so many words left wasted
like road kill,
lying black and bloated
alongside forgotten highways.

The time is near,
can you not feel it?
running across these open plains,
calling out,
screaming to be free,
limitless,
boundless,
no more locked doors,
no more empty rooms.

Bright light urbane young pretenders,
searching for inside information
from which there is no shelter,
while the curtain goes up
revealing the hidden disease
that has haunted this town
from the beginning of time.

The dream walker enters,
back from a journey
which has no beginning
and for which there is no end,
carrying secrets long since gone,
where the innocent hide,
deep inside,
safe and warm,
free from mind boggling death
and other insidious pieces of shit;

meanwhile,
Cowboy Billy
rides on.

                                                             Cowboy Billy’s Still Riding

I sought you out
but you were nowhere to be found,
I cried out for your truth
but the darkness became my only friend,
so it was that I realized
this door had closed
forever,
there was no return
after passing this way;

there is only tomorrow.

Dreams do not die,
they remain as always,
with or without the underlying madness
of a new day,
it is here we meet once again,
for better or worse,
till death do us part
and all that jazz.

What road is this that we ride upon?
full of angelic mysteries
for which there is no answer,
no mission big enough,
twisted and turning,
going down one way streets
with the natives screaming to turn around
before it is too late,
stirring like hideous new creatures of the night,
lurking inside empty caves,
waiting for fresh new flesh fantasies;

meanwhile,
Cowboy Billy
still rides on.

                                                              Cowboy Billy to the Rescue
In the morning,
before these poisons build up,
I can still hear it,
talking away
as if I never stopped listening;
Sundays
always leave me wondering
if I can’t be a good christian
can I at least be a good catholic?

Calmness
always precedes the emptiness,
as good ole boys stand around
talking about the good ole days
while never mentioning the past,
so here we are,
alone and wandering
without a clue,
faces that smile back
inside this capital offense;

oh yes,

use me
like a lightning rod,
help me to absorb
this incredible energy
with no thought
of a better tomorrow,
no fear of a forgotten memory
or other sordid fairy tales;

just then,
Cowboy Billy
came crashing in
with six guns blazing.

                                                            Betwixt and Between (Fuck Cowboy Billy)

I have been to these edges,
I know the subtle differences
of the middle ground,
in this place somewhere
betwixt and between,
where eventually
everything is lost.

I watch
as others pass by,
on their way to
here or there,
never taking the time
to look around these
wide open spaces,
where so many things
lie wasted and abused,
hiding from the truth,
running from the final destination;

and it is getting harder
to get back to here,
when I know
that I will never reach
there;

fuck Cowboy Billy!!

                                                           Sacred Imposters

These things are not for everyone,
most cannot handle the imperfections or
misconceptions of it all;

still we must be kind.

In the cool autumn sky
the answers live,
this was never about truth;
this was never about right or wrong;
this was never about black or white;
this was never about anything at all;

it was only the sound
of a soft white light
on its silent journey
from a distant tower
in the middle of the
cold black night.

Down in fairey land
they are dancing still,
carrying on
drunken and out of control,
isn’t it grand?
see how they scatter
as the eighty foot pole
comes crashing to the ground;

aye boys
that was a close one for sure;

oh sacred imposters
do not strive to belong,
find that
for which there is no reply;

Cowboy Billy’s
not going to take this
lying down.

                                                            Cowboy Billy Has His Revenge

Into the crimson night
goes the dawn,
never to return or
be seen again,
this then is the day,
this then is the time
for which we have sold our lives,
however miserable they may be;
was there ever any doubt
it would come down to this,
so full of pompous desires and
bliss ridden fuck dreams;

it has only just begun.

Even now
the reality remains,
hard to accept
among these flame ridden ships,
sinking slowly out of sight
into the darkness
of silent ocean depths;
gasping for just one more breath;

Cowboy Billy
at last
has his revenge.

                                                            Goodbye Cowboy Billy

So it would be,
without a whimper or a whine,
asking no forgiveness,
facing the fury
with nary a thought of retreat,
going slowly and completely
into the unknown tempest,
guns blazing,
a fighter
till the very end;
taking a hundred, no
a thousand of the bastards
with him;

goodbye
Cowboy Billy;
you shall be missed.

.
.

The Way, The Truth, The Life

Jesus answered: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.” John 14:6-7

Truth;

when the last breath has been breathed,
when the fantasies and illusions are stripped away,
when the imposters and wannabes have all faded,
what else is there?

Truth does not come easy,
it lies hidden among the wreckage
and excess baggage,
simple and plain,
without motive or agenda,
without prejudice or conditions,
no compromise,
no faltering,
no respecter of persons,
truth is not dependent
on belief or faith,
it stands sparkling and clear,
shining like the sun
in the eyes of a child,

truth stands alone.

Many claim truth,
twisting and turning facts,
attempting to fit preconceived ideas,
creating vast empty empires complete with
testimonies of flesh and blood,
monuments of self-glorification,
exercises in futility,
deceiving themselves and others
with grand ideas and philosophical babble,
crumbling like dust into the morning mist,
but in the end truth remains,
in the end truth will be all there is,
in the end there is only
one way, one life,

one truth.
.
.

Shadows

We sit among these growing shadows,
standing on the brink of an unknown tomorrow,
hiding somewhere between the darkness and the light,
safe within this land of perpetual sorrow.

Moments come and moments go my dear one,
leaving only traces they were here at all,
this moment we hold alone,
free from a land full of killers and madness,
a world of defined boundaries and limits,
designed to imprison all that live
within these deadly gates;
and to you do I say:

that it is better to lie here among these shadows with you,
than to walk among the light with any other,
better to have tasted your love even for a moment,
than spend a lifetime without it.
.
.

Richard Houk

Note: After I graduated from high school I spent a summer in Birmingham, Alabama where I was introduced to quaaludes or 'ludes'. I really liked 'ludes' and when I came back to Niles all I could think about was getting my hands on some. I knew this guy named Dick Houk from school and  little league baseball, where we had played on the same team. I thought he was into drugs and might have some contacts so I looked him up. Much to my surprise Dick not only turned me down (very few people said no to me in those days), he actually tried to talk to me about the dangers of ludes and how he wouldn't get them for me because he cared about me. A short time after this he was killed in a car wreck. A few years later I was driving and I passed a dead black cat in the middle of the road and for some odd reason (I never know how these things work) the memories of that encounter filled me along with the realization of just how much someone cared about me to do what was right instead of what was 'cool'. This is what came out of those memories. Richard Houk will always be a hero to me. This is for him.

The morning sunshine
makes the black shadows
so crisp and clear,
old voices,
old memories,
whisper softly in my ear;
good days,
bad days,
days that come,
days that go,
dead black cats
lying in the middle of the road,
as the darkness waits
for the silence to grow.

He’s dead now;
he had a wife and young son,
her name was Phyllis,
he was the only one
who cared enough about me
to say no,
the only one
more worried about what was right,
than what was cool;

I remember hearing the news
the night he died,
smashing into a tree
at 100 miles an hour
on a dark and lonely highway,
now years later
I realize,
no one ever knew
what a hero he was,

except me.
.
.

Sitting in a Mall While Growing Old

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” Matthew 16:25-26


“The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” John 12:25


“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.” John 3:16-21

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

It’s not easy growing old,
but then again
it’s not so bad either,
there’s a calm sort of peace
sitting on a bench
in the middle of the mall,
drinking a cup of coffee,
watching people pass you by;
knowing that it will soon be
all over.

You start to see the egotistical agendas
in it all,
for the first time
you begin to understand
the futility;

and it’s just not so bad.

The curtain is pulled back,
the illusion disappears,
the Holy Spirit speaks
and you realize;
nothing of this world matters,
that everything is temporary,
everything changing,
yet everything remains the same,
all the selfishness, pride, ego, emotions,
feelings, lust, fear, anger, frustrations, greed,
are just self-absorbed hypocrisy,
coming and going,
growing and dying,
fading with each passing moment
of time;

that there is a truth much larger
than life or death.

We fail
because we choose to fail,
drowning in the madness,
running from the light,
blaming it on destiny,
making friends
with the prince of this world,
wallowing in our self-pity,
crying at the hopelessness,
preferring the darkness,
hiding from the truth;

we fail because we choose it.

Without Jesus there is nothing,
He is the vine,
we are the branches;
the beginning and the end,
the Alpha and the Omega,
the great I am,
the Truth, the Light,
the Way,
through Him do all things exist,
through Him are all things possible,
no man cometh to the Father
but through Him;

praise His holy name forever!

He is There

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.          Romans 8:38-39

The time draws near,
the journey almost at an end,
home is just beyond the distant horizon,
lying only a heartbeat away;

and I am ready.

He is there waiting,
ready to make all things new,
removing the darkness,
wiping away every tear.

The pain will pass,
the doubt will be removed,
the suffering will be no more,
the night will be turned to day,
the joy shall be forever.

And He is there waiting,
ready to make all things new,
removing the darkness,
wiping away every tear.

The words fade away,
time passes like a dream in the night,
these prison walls crumble into the dust,
all things will be as intended,
all things will be made right.

He is there waiting,
ready to make all things new,
removing the darkness,
wiping away every tear.
.
.

A Dark Day

Thus saith the LORD, thy redeemer, and he that formed thee from the womb, I am the LORD that maketh all things; that stretcheth forth the heavens alone; that spreadeth abroad the earth by myself; That frustrateth the tokens of the liars, and maketh diviners mad; that turneth wise men backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish;             Isaiah 44:24-25

Today was a dark day;
rainy and cloudy,
windy and cold;

gloomy and sinister.

It felt like there was
something I needed to do,
but I didn’t know what,
sometimes it feels
as though this is the
story of my life;

dark days and
not knowing what
to do.

I saw a specialist yesterday
about my herniated disk,
he suggested trying a nerve block
to relieve the pain,
he doesn’t know if it will work,
but it beats the alternatives
so I’m going to go with it.

I watched a show about Hitler
on the military channel,
it was about his rise to power
and the extraordinary events
that made it happen,
it almost seemed supernatural,
which is exactly what it was;

monsters like him
only exist because God allows it.

While watching the thought occurred
that perhaps his whole purpose
was to put the Jewish people
through a great refining trial,
a test,
before being allowed
to return to their ancient homeland,
it made me wonder if perhaps
the whole purpose of America
becoming a nation
almost 200 years earlier,
was to make it possible
for Hitler’s eventual defeat
and pave the way
for God’s chosen people
to return to their promised land,
just like perhaps
the purpose of the Roman Empire
was to create the circumstances
through which a 700 year old prophecy
that the Messiah would die on a tree
could be fulfilled,
and that the news of His resurrection
could be spread through the known world of the time,
by the technology of Roman roads
and transportation systems,

perhaps?

Of course, I’m sure
scholars and experts
much wiser than I,
would laugh at such a notion,
but then it wouldn’t be
the first time
God has used seemingly
unrelated and unimaginable plans
to confound the wise and knowledgeable;

would it?

Who would have thought
that a rag-tag band of uneducated
fishermen and peasants,
would confound and confuse
the educated and wise men of their day
by witnessing and testifying
to the greatest event
in the history of mankind?

Who could have imagined it?

freedom

                                                              freedom;

He left us on a warm, autumn day, just walked away from life like a man on a long journey home. What is my life? What is any man’s life? Flesh and blood, disappearing vapor; here today, gone tomorrow.

There is a toxicity in the air,
a shallow kind of pall,
a quiet mushrooming hush
as the clouds wait in witness;

I’ve started losing track of the days,
words no longer have meaning,
people and places become a blur,
my life fades like the night;

through it all You remain.

The myths are stripped away,
the moments silently await,
little boys stare at fastballs
floating lazily
down the middle of the plate,
the promise looms on the distant horizon
like some giant football scoreboard,
70 yards of open field
lie just ahead,

You were there in the beginning,
You are there in the end;

through it all You remain.

The edge does not hold the fear
it once did,
the darkness but a whisper,
the distance lessens
as You become one step closer;

just one beat;
just one breath;

freedom;

Testimony

   Imagine standing in a corridor so dark you can barely see your hand in front of your face. As you begin walking down this corridor, you bump into walls and bang into objects, with no idea what they are or where you are going. The darkness grows until eventually you are completely enveloped by a black veil, unable to see anything at all. Then off in the distance you see a light, just a spec at first, and you slowly begin to make your way towards it. As you get closer the light grows, until eventually it illuminates the passageway that you are standing in. In the light you can see the sad, pathetic state of your life. You can see all the imperfections and mistakes. For the first time you see yourself as you really are, all the things you could not see in the dark. Then out of the light comes a voice which tells you not to fear, just believe, that He can fix all the things you see wrong, if you only trust in Him. And it is a free gift, which He has already paid for.

   This is a poetic journey from darkness to light, a journey that has been a lifetime in the making. In addition to salvation and eternal life, everything that I have, everything that I am, everything that I ever will be, I owe to the Lord Jesus Christ. Without His love and grace this story would be meaningless, just as life (any life) is meaningless without Him. All mankind owes Him more than can ever be repaid.

   I can never remember a time when I did not believe in the Lord. I accepted Jesus into my life as a child, where I periodically attended church, but I never allowed Him to become Lord of my life. Around the time I was 20, I did ask the Lord to come back into my life, and I walked with Him for several months, but I was more interested in satisfying the desires of the flesh, as many are, and I fell away once more. There are many reasons for that but none of them are excuses, eventually we all have to make our own choices and be held accountable for them. Fortunately, as He says in the bible, He never leaves us, (we leave Him), and I am here to testify that He always stands knocking just outside the door of our hearts, waiting for us to hear His voice and open the door to Him.

   For the next 28 years I lived my life without the Lord. To make a long story short, I got drunk, got high, did drugs, used prostitutes, committed fornication, dabbled in the occult, joined the Navy, got married, had children (3 daughters), had grandchildren, committed adultery and ended up making a mess of my life, and hurting everyone in it. My marriage was basically over; I was making plans to move into a motel, and just a few days away from flying to be with a woman in Louisiana who I thought I had fallen in love with. I was about to lose everyone and everything in my life that had come to mean something, everything that God had blessed me with over the years, in spite of my continuous disobedience to Him and my refusal to allow Him to be the Lord of my life. Then I went to see Mel Gibson’s “Passion of the Christ” and for the first time in a long, long time I began thinking about the Lord. For the first time I came to the full realization of just what it was He did for me, and everyone like me.

   I began to realize just how selfish and self-serving I had become. I began to see myself as I really was, not the grandiose image I had created in my mind. The next day my wife (Dodie) said she had wanted to see the movie also. I told her I wouldn’t mind watching it again, if she wouldn’t mind going with me. I didn’t expect the movie to have much of an effect on Dodie. She had never expressed the slightest bit of interest in religion during our 24 years of marriage, and had never had any exposure to Christianity growing up as a child. However, much to my surprise, the movie had a very deep and visible effect on her, (as it did on me, for the second time). Afterwards we talked a long time about Jesus and what the bible had to say about him. For the first time in a long time we really opened up to each other. I went through with my plans to move into the motel, but within a few days of seeing the movie I moved back into our home and canceled my plans to fly to the other woman. The Lord moved in our lives in a very powerful and undeniable way. Dodie began reading the bible and asking questions, which made me start reading the bible to find the answers. He made us both come to the realization of just how badly we were in need of Him and His healing power. We both began praying to Him and asking for His guidance. We began studying the bible together and eventually were led to our local Nazarene Church, where Dodie accepted the Lord as her savior, and I asked Him to come back into my life and be the Lord and master of it forever. Since then our marriage has continued to grow stronger as we both realize how blessed we are to have each other. That God brought us together for a very real and definite purpose and that marriage is a very holy and serious commitment. Is everything perfect in our lives? Do we never have problems to face, or trials to overcome? No, but not a day goes by that the Lord does not teach us something. The most important of these lessons is that we need to trust in Him completely. Proverbs 3:5-8 have become the cornerstone of everything in my walk with the Lord. Every day I try to read them or recite them to myself:

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil
It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

   In His word He says that He chastises and admonishes those who He loves so I hope that He never stops correcting me when I am wrong, because then I will always know that He loves me, and that is the only thing which truly matters in this life. I hope and pray that if you do not know the Lord Jesus that you will ask Him into your life and begin the journey that leads to eternal life, and a relationship with God that you will never regret.

Someday “every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that Jesus is Lord” Isaiah 45:23, Philippians 2:10-11

Bukowski

A Chip Off the Old Block


He was not my father,
but he should have been;

he was the one who showed me
that words don’t have to be flowery and sweet,
that sometimes they can be rough and real;
that rules can be broken;
that life sucks and it’s ok to talk about it;
that shit happens and sometimes
there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it;
that dreams die,
but you keep on living;
that friends come and go,
but a good shot of whiskey
will never let you down;
that dogs may be loyal,
but women are really man’s best friend;
that you can sit on your ass all day
waiting for the end to come,
or you can run headlong to meet it,
sticking up your middle finger and
screaming profanities at the top of your lungs
the whole way;

that you can write poetry and
still be a man;

yeah he wasn’t my father,
but he taught me all the things
that a father should teach a son
so sometimes I feel like maybe he was,
and deep down inside I know
that every word I write is done
seeking his approval;

I only hope that someday
I can become as big a bastard
as he was;
a chip off the old block;

thanks dad.
___________________

Bad Asses

“I was glad I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.” (Henry Chinaski) ‘Women’ –Charles Bukowski

“I’ve reached the point
where I want to throw out
all the shit, all the things
which aren’t important,
I think for the first time
I want to try and
be happy” I told her.

She held my hand,
“It’s much easier
to be miserable in life
than to be happy,
to be happy requires
an effort, it requires
hard work” she said;

“it requires that you
take a risk.”

And I knew she was right,
all the things
she had been through
as a child
had taught her this
better than I,
or any teacher
ever could.

There are enough
bad asses in the world,
enough cruelty and darkness;

I am tired of
trying to be one.
_________________________

Not Bad Chinaski

My god,
they’re still making money
off his old buffalo ass of a hide,
he’s been dead for what now,
three, no four years?
Christ, he’s becoming a regular
Jimi Hendrix of the literature world.

They’ll be digging up his manuals
for the next thirty years,
there’ll be books coming out about:

the early years,
the final years,
the in between years,
the lost journals,
the never before published journals,
the secret diaries;

it’s almost enough
to make you want to puke,
especially when you know
the old bastard is
laughing his fat ass off somewhere
and thinking to himself;

not bad Chinaski,
not bad at all.
____________________________

Thanks Hank

The squirrels become playful in September,
running to and fro,
chasing each other up and down trees
and telephone poles,
it makes me wonder what they know
that I don’t.

They drive Petey, my Jack Russell terrier bonkers,
he whines and pulls at his leash,
dying to sink his sharp little teeth
into fresh killed squirrel hide;

life is easy in September.

I have been recovering from spinal surgery
for almost two months now,
I’ve learned if I sit very still
the pain running down my leg isn’t so bad,
I thought the pain would be gone by now
but I guess it is not to be,
sometimes I think it is for the best,
we need a little pain in life
to keep it all in perspective,
a gentle reminder,
a little thorn in the flesh
as the apostle Paul would say.

I picked up another Bukowski book the other day,
it was the first time in years,
I read one called ’35 seconds’ in the store
and it made me laugh out loud,
so I bought it,

“and that’s how
I hurt my
arm” – 35 Seconds, Charles Bukowski

I guess you had to be there
to really get it.

He truly was a literary genius,
despite what the main stream
poetry world might think,
you have to read him very closely
to understand the depth of his pain,
and you have to read him even closer
to grasp the inner humor
that carried him through it,
most never get that close.

For most it is more
than they can bear,
they want their poetry
just like they want their life,
clean and sterile,
full of fantasy and fluff,
fresh from the minds
of those who never venture
outside their keyboards,
with freshly printed MFA degrees
hanging on the ‘studio’ wall,
minimizing and dismissing
anything that is uncomfortable
or real, calling it sloppy,
searching for technical and grammatical
correctness within words that are
empty and dead,
of course they don’t see it this way,
they would tell you just the opposite,
but their words give them away;

thank goodness he lived it for us,
so we wouldn’t have to.

As I read him,
I wondered if he ever got the chance
to know the Lord,
not the one pushed by religion
or other man-made institutions,
but the real One,
the One who heals,
the One who saves,
the One who forgives,
the One who softly whispers
in the middle of the night:

“Don’t be afraid, just believe.”

the friend who sticks closer
than a brother,
my King,
my Everything.

I feel I know him well enough
(Bukowski that is),
that if he ever had the opportunity
like I did,
he would have seen the truth,
he would have understood the message,
his eyes would have been blind no more;

but I guess I’ll never know.

I think about how nice it would be
when I finally do enter the world
prepared for those who belong to the Lord
if I saw him there,
his dead pan, unassuming face,
quietly watching,
silently observing,
finally at peace,
completely healed.

How great it would be
if I could thank him
for exploring the parts
of the darkness I never could,
the parts that I would never
have survived,
the parts that would have destroyed me
forever,
then for writing it down
so I didn’t have to,
for helping me along this journey
when no one else could.

“Thanks Hank.”

For Jim

Tell Them (12/08/2003)


Feel me now,
that you might know
all is not without hope.

Tell them who I was so they may know,
tell them I was a lost and forgotten brother
of the eternal flame,
a dry empty flask of flesh,
a wandering vessel
filled with defiled innocent blood,
a quiet whisper on the wind
from which there is no rest,
a drifting soul of passion
with a hot burning thirst
for the sordid whores cum;

which can never be filled.

Tell them who I was so they may know,
that they may see there was more
than this cosmic shackled clown
into which I was turned,
this bright speckled feathered beast
upon which vultures feed;

tell them I was more;

that I was a sailor
sailing into the gentle setting sun
on eternal ships of blazing fire and steel,
adrift upon blue forgotten seas
where only few have been,
a lonely lonesome traveler
traveling down lost endless roads
ruled by the darkness of a thousand nights,
hidden in ancient temples
where children of belligerent gods play,
giving thanks to idols of leisure,
that they might be safe
in soft warm beds of gold;

yes,
tell them
that I was a lover,
a brother,
a son,
a man;

a poet.

_____________

Cool Blue Costa Rican Moon

Cool blue
costa rican
moon,
shining over
dark green
african shores.

Bright white
LA lights,
filling
hot asian
nights
with promises
of tender,
subtle
emissions.

Give back
the day,
make it a home
again,
make it something
sleek
and graceful,
defiant
till the end;

be not
sorrowful,
we have made
our own
illusions;

we have bought
our own
dinner;

it is for us
to deny
the wisdom;

it is for us
to accept
the payment;

it is for us.

Dogshit and Buddy (Then and Now)

Dog Shit and Other Saturday Morning Rituals

In the morning we awake to
dog shit on the kitchen floor,
Cody our family dog is getting old,
he can no longer control his bowels,
this is not the first time,

“That dog has got to go!!” cries my wife;

I suppose she’ll want to get rid of me too
when I start shitting on the kitchen floor.

Upstairs my grandson
watches Saturday morning cartoons,
Hercules or some other super hero, I think,
when it is over he and I will go to McDonalds
for out ritual hotcakes and sausage,
he usually eats all the sausage and
about a quarter of the hotcakes,
I eat the rest,
I think that is my role in life now,
to finish eating what he cannot,
someday he will grow up and eat
everything on his plate;

I suppose I will starve to death then.

Elsewhere my 15 year old
comes bursting through the kitchen door,
fresh from spending the night
at her best friend’s house,
“Watch the dog shit!” I cry out,
“Ooooooh! Gross!” she replies,
then bounds up the stairs to her room,
where she will sleep most of the day
after being up all night
talking to boys on the phone;

she thinks I don’t know about these things.

Meanwhile I get out the paper towels and lysol
to clean up Cody’s shit,
who looks at me with deeply apologetic eyes,
“It’s ok” I tell him;

“we’re all getting old.”
_________________________________

Pain In The Ass

My 4 year old grandson
is a little pain in the ass,
always looking for new ways
to get in trouble,
always wanting to do
exactly what you don’t want him to do.

He spent a week and a half with us
down at the shore,
the day his mom took him home
I bought him a Franklin doll
and a bag of candy,
he tore the hat off Franklin,
and when I tried to hug him goodbye
he hit me in the mouth with the bag of candy;

now it’s real peaceful and quiet;

I sure do miss that little pain in the ass.
__________________________________
 
Buddy

I look
at you now,
I see the years passing before my eyes,
I feel the changes taking place;
only yesterday you were the little boy
eating McDonalds hotcakes and sausage,
watching spongebob and rugrats,
screaming “yeckkk!!!”
the first time I took you fishing,
then throwing the worms into the lake.

Now you stand on the edge of manhood,
no longer the wide-eyed little boy holding my hand
on the boardwalk at the shore,
begging “please Pa!, please Pa!”
at every miniature golf or arcade passed,
a tiny bundle of energy,
never slowing down;

exasperating yet so endearing
at the same time.

I remember towing you around the pool
by my beard,
both of us laughing so hard
I thought my side would burst,
playing whiffle ball for hours on end,
never ready to quit,
always ready for a new adventure
whenever I could find the time;

of which there never seemed to be enough.

Now you hit baseballs over fences,
with a busy schedule and little time,
which is the way it should be,
as natural as the setting sun,
but no matter where you go,
or what this life has in store for you,
always remember one thing;

I love you buddy,
more than you can ever know.
.
.

Kathleen

The laughter rings in my ears,
the silence covers the night,
like a worn out lover
inviting everything into its domain,
like flies trapped
in the spider’s web,
echoes of the past
banging into the walls of my mind;

who am I,
and how did I get here?

I remember a road
on a dark starless night,
I remember your laughter,
I remember your scream,
I recall everything,
which means nothing.

Ah Kathleen,
your hair was like silk,
you smelled like the springtime flowers,
we were young,
we were lovers,
we were soul mates,
we traveled the road to Dublin,
then you were gone;
I searched for you in the meadow
but you were not there,
I screamed out your name
but received no reply;

oh my Kathleen,
where have you gone?

Time has no hold on our love,
our love was greater than time,
it was greater than life,
our love was endless,
timeless,
even death cannot keep me from you.

Remember the moon,
we watched it rise,
you saw the fairies
and called them out by name,
we danced till the new day sun came out;

oh my Kathleen,
where have you gone?

Rejoice

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4: 4-7


The cold black night quietly closes in,
the pain steadily intensifies,
blinding and overwhelming,
becoming more than I think
my spirit can possibly bear,
hope slowly fades,
rage fills my mind and heart,
bitterness and anger grow,
until it feels as though
I am about to burst,
the enemy silently waits,

ready for the final kill.

Then You reach out
across the long lonely miles,
using unsuspecting and unexpected messengers,
gently reminding me that You are near,
softly speaking words of encouragement,
renewing my faltering spirit,
providing new found courage,
making it possible to rise once again.

The pain begins to dissolve,
the darkness turns to light,
hope comes flooding in like a mighty river,
Your blessed peace surrounds me
like a well worn blanket,
the enemy retreats
back into the blackness
from which he came.

Once more You have delivered me
from unseen traps and snares,
once more You have brought hope
where there was none to be found,
once more You have saved me
through Your never ending mercy and grace,

I will rejoice in You,
I will declare Your wondrous love,
I will praise Your holy name,
forever.

Through You

I come before You O Lord
broken and corrupt,
a lowly lump of clay
ready to be shaped
by Your blessed and holy hand.

Teach me Your ways
that I may walk in them forever,
show me Your truth
that it might be engraved in my soul,
immerse me in Your love and grace
that I might find life more abundant,
shine Your light before my eyes
that they may be blind no more.

Through You are all things made new,
through You are all things possible,
through You do we find strength,
through You do we have hope.

More Poems

                           
                                                               For The First Time


I read their poems,
I feel their rage,
I see their sadness,
I understand the frustration,
I know the darkness,
I have been where they are,
I have been on that side
of the fence;
like a giant vacuum,
it sucks you into
the deep murky mire,
while echoes below
cry out from within;

visions of madmen
standing on the platform,
waiting for a train
that never comes;

I have been to their edge.

This body fades,
for the first time
words come to life,
for the first time
possibilities
far outweigh the
realities,

for the first time
I am clean.

The pain grows,
you hold it inside
like a deformed child;

locked away,
out of sight,
out of mind,

no one listens,
no one sees,
no one understands,

but You.
______________

                                                               An Uneasy Interruption

In the end
I will fade away
like the early morning dawn,
quietly changing from darkness
into light;

without a sound,
without a fight;

a quiet whisper
in the middle of the
dark, crisp night;

we all do,
we all will,
we simply have
little choice.

The worries of this world
will mean nothing
or very little,
possessions even less,
memories but a brief moment,
an uneasy interruption,
a passing vapor
in a world of swirling mist.

I have been to the mountaintop,
I have peered into eternal oblivion,
I have heard the still small voice,
I have known the touch
of His cool, calm hand.

Words will never be enough.
__________________

                                                                               Damaged

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
                                                                                                           II Corinthians 12:7-10

It’s not easy
accepting that you are
permanently damaged,
a cripple,
handicapped,
less than normal;

less than a man.

That you’ll never run again,
never move freely again,
never be fast and agile again,
never be without pain,
never be without suffering,
never be without hardship.

Yes it’s not easy
but you adjust,
you get by,
you take more pills
for the pain,
you learn to move slower,
you accept the inevitable,
you patiently wait for the
collapse,
all the time knowing,
it’s only flesh and blood,
only bone and nerve endings,
only a temporary illusion;

here today,
one tomorrow.

You think about old girlfriends,
you think about memories
from the past,
you remember 55 yard touchdown runs
and inside the park homeruns,
you remember doing things
others can only dream about,
and you come to the realization
that all-in-all, it’s been a pretty
fair deal,
nothing to cry over,
nothing to be bitter about,
just another speed bump
along the way,
one more trial,
one more test;

one more obstacle
to overcome.

You remember the words
of the apostle Paul,
you remember that he too
toiled and suffered,
you remember that there are things
much bigger in this life,
much more important
than the bodies in which
we are housed;

that power is made perfect
in weakness.

Thank you Jesus,
for Your magnificent
mercy and grace,
thank You for my life,
thank You for making me
a son of the living God,
thank You for the peace and joy
You have placed within my heart,
thank You for the suffering and sacrifice
endured for me,
thank You for being my Lord,
thank You for being my King;

thank You for being my Everything.
__________________________

                                                                   So Shall I

It gets harder everyday,
sometimes it feels as though
my bones are on fire,
half the time
I’m not sure if it’s physical, mental
or spiritual;

or maybe a combination
of all three.

I know it’s the diabetes,
it’s getting serious now,
no more fooling around,
no more slight inconvenience,
it has become the monster
all the experts said it would,
a crazed killer
without conscious,
a psychopathic beast
who knows neither mercy
or compassion,
devouring everything
in its path.

Sometimes I just want
to get a bottle of whiskey,
take a few percocettes
with some Billy Gibbons guitar
playing on the headphones;
make the pain melt away,
drift off into the fog,
never come back,
sometimes I just want to
make it stop,
physically, mentally
and spiritually;

so easy,
so final.

But that would be the easy way,
the path of least resistance,
the broad gate,
the road that leads to destruction,

He is worth more than that.

In the evening darkness
I search for His light,
in the morning silence
I listen for His voice,
He is there by my side,
He gives me strength
when there is none,
He picks me up
when I am down,
He will not let me fail,
He will not let me give up,
He has defeated this world,
and through Him,

so shall I.
________________

                                                                  Just One More Breath

I am tired of living a life
whose only function is self-satisfaction,
in a world where nothing really matters,
where goodness is measured
in terms of self-indulgence and self-glorification,
and success by total net worth;

I am tired of a life
without You.

I think about
how wonderful it will be
when I am where You are at,
no more worry,
no more fear,
no more disappointment,
no more turmoil,
no more struggle;

no more doubt.

I think about
how I long to leave this life behind,
step out of this fleshly prison
and walk into Your waiting arms,
but then I remember
how you lived Your life for me
without ever once thinking of Yourself,
struggling and sacrificing
through the agony and pain,
bearing the isolation and shame,
giving up Your life that I might live,
and I realize that You deserve
every minute of my life,
every thought, every action, every breath,
that You and You alone are my Lord and King,
that You have so much more for me to do,
so many things left unfinished,
so much wasted time to make up for,
so I ask for just one more breath
that I might serve You,
just one more breath
that Your name might be glorified;

just one more breath
that I might breathe it
for You.
________________________________________
Note to any of my family who might read these poems: I want (need) you to understand that poetry for me is like a snapshot. It is not the whole picture. The poems I am posting here are snapshots and nothing more. They do not necessarily reflect the reality of everything that makes up my life. They are the quiet, private moments that we all think or feel at one time or another. They are nothiing but snapshots and not the whole picture. Please do not be overly concerned about me. I have recorded thousands of 'moments' over the past 40 years. Most of them are kept quietly hidden away for the very reason that I do not want you to worry or feel like you need to help me in some way. Lately I have begun to share these 'moments' in the hope that people might appreciate them from a literary aspect and in a small way might derive some benefit or pleasure from them. The reading I did in Grand Rapids was part of that sharing. The one aspect of all these writings that is reality is the love, mercy and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. It is in that aspect that I hold the sincere hope that if one line of one poem can somehow stir something inside just one person and turn them in the direction of the Lord and His Holy Spirit where they can be saved then it will all have been worth it.

Darkness

And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?  Luke 18:7-8

Darkness,

all my life I have known darkness,
I have flirted with it,
I have danced with it,
I have felt its intoxicating touch,
I have watched it destroy
innocent, naive fools,
I have seen it claim victims
without mercy or remorse.

Darkness,

yes I know darkness,
I have seen its cruelty,
I have known its calculating coldness,
I have hid in the shadows
as it silently passed by,
I have stood at the edge
of its endless abyss
and stared into the eternal blackness,
I have been an unwitting
and unsuspecting witness to its
terrible and irreversible effects,

I have survived when so many others
did not.

Yes I have known darkness,
I have seen its writhing, invisible tentacles
slowly spreading across society,
quietly planting seeds of doubt,
secretly robbing the world of faith,
steadily dousing the light,
surely and confidently
waiting for the end.

Soon the darkness shall be no more,
evil shall no longer exist,
the world shall be free,
the light will shine once again,

every tear shall be wiped away,

He who testifies to these things says “Yes I am coming soon.”
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. Revelations 22:20
.
.

A Mountain Awaits

Somewhere a mountain awaits,
without worry,
without danger,
without fear,
only quiet simple living,
no lust,
no yearning,
no desire,

only fulfillment.

Somewhere there’s a mountain,
or a desert,
or an ocean beach,
it doesn’t really matter,
this flesh shall be no more,
all the baggage removed,
prison bars gone forever,
no more pain,
no more disappointment,
no more darkness,

only peace.

Somewhere there’s a home
that does not fade,
a life that is not illusion,
a body that does not decay,
a world that does not crumble,

somewhere there is You.