Ghosts of Wars




The ghosts of war don’t only lie dead on the battlefield, they live in the hearts and minds of those we lead into war and send back home wounded mentally, emotionally and physically, and the destruction of families and towns we leave behind. The young children and fatherless families whose homes are in ruins, the ones we claimed to liberate but actually left orphaned by war. The women and men we send to fight the wars then forget about once they‘re home. Is it truly a victory when we see towns, cities, and families left in a world of bombed out destruction then ease our conscience saying we liberated them? They aren’t free, they’re devastated by monumental loss. You can’t bomb and kill for someone else’s freedom if your not willing to acknowledge and become accountable for the horror left in the wake. War is easy, costly but easy. Peace takes far more work but the outcome is far more rewarding. Don’t be anti-war, be pro-peace…..





Haunting blackness creeps amidst the home of the brave

Umbra’s of guilt and remorse obscuring many a lost heart

Bodies and appendages in blood-soaked jigsaw explosions

Troubled back at home worlds of survivors fall torn apart

Sent back whence they came like last weeks bad news

Shoved into halls of healing or lost attics to gather dust

Damaged oxide soldiers left to battle out in the street

Out so long in the rain their like the Tin Man they rust



Raison d’etre drowns in murky waters of battle

Perhaps the fortunate never return to burning scorn

Of the people they promised to lay life on the line

Who scoff while memories and souls are morbidly forlorn

The deaths of men and women sent into paths of destruction

Commune as the phantom civilians called collateral damage

War has no preference of whom shall own their sorrow

Nor who shall suffer from it’s murderous mismanage




Over the devastated fields of meaningless victories

The generals fragile smile glistened in the sunlight

But whenever the sun shines over innocence lost

Shadows of darkness are cast beyond the light

The defiant officer could sense his oncoming penance

Knowing one day his hollow smile destined nevermore

Chimeras and wraiths will gather in a punishing storm

Then he’ll lay beseeched amongst the ghosts of his war





Sorrow fills the cracks of the Generals once armored conscience

The strategic leader questioning his role of insanity

His legacy will be written in the blood of his martyrs

His guilt etched into his crimes of war and humanity

Then faceless apparitions will stand shoulder to shoulder

Held up by their loved ones grief both intense and internal

Past the homeless and misplaced wraiths of his mongering

The general alone to face his amassing guilt eternal



And the dark shadow from the caves and fields of his horrors

Fell across the floor and the walls of his now lonely room

A silhouette dangling from the rope of a misplaced destiny

A fitting end to the machines in which he created such doom

And the people will shake their heads and stare at the floor

When one takes their own life for the ghosts of their war





Missed Connection

©Jérôme Gorin/AltoPress/Maxppp ; Little boy on swing, rear view



I missed them

The signs

How could I not see

When he meant so much to me

The ray of sunshine he could be

The best friend I ever had

Sir Galahad

A man so full of life

Until he wasn’t

And I never saw


Why couldn’t I see

His torture and his shame

Driving him insane

The laughter and the pain

As people giggled at his name

From far away

But loud enough to hurt

They shred him with a claw

But I never saw

I loved the man despite every flaw

I missed the signs


I’ve cheated death three times over

Now his death is cheating me still

Of the days that never came

The days that never will

Times we rode together

No place to call a home

We were gonna search the country

Together always roam

Until you wrote your final chapter

Left me all alone

Standing in empty lines

I saw all you in all your beauty

But I never saw the signs










Sorrows Never Drown (FML)



Life at the local tavern

A bar built for the glum

Where my troubles hide in a tall spotted glass

Been hurt here before

Yet still I come back for more

A shot of fuck it and a stool for my ass



Oceans of tequila and sin

Rivers of forgotten dreams

Breathing stale smoke that helps numb my brain

But its me who is drowning

Three times down I go under

As I keep guzzling worlds are circling the drain



I keep pounding them down

Yet my sorrows won’t drown

When my hangover starts they come back to appear

Still I drink just the same

It’s an unending game

Because when I’m drunk I just don’t fucking care



Why do we come back to this vacuum

Chained to mundane desperations

While trapped in a labyrinth built on the life of a lie

Come pour us liquid relief

Our lives are tragically brief

But the rum is why we come here in handcuffs to die


Weeks morph into mornings

Can’t even tell day from night

The lost time fills me with anger confusion and strife

One more lonely night

No one to console me

Sorrows never drown so I cry Fuck My Life



Perceptions of a Desert trip



Homage to Alan Ginsberg, poet laureate for the pioneers of meaningful enlightenment and Jim Morrison, The Lizard King. May they both forever Rock In Peace.)



A Yaqui medicine man by the sands of an arid graveyard treated Jim and friends for underdeveloped perception. He opened his bag of dreams and together they traveled through the eaves of perceptions in search of meaning. Like any mind bending trip created in the dark it’s truth would soon come to light…….




The desert horizon smiled broad at suns close

Atomic tangerine beams bouncing in chaos

Sanguine dreams scratched sensory trails

Across the hot steamy orange hazed sky

A mural of living poisons formed in a cloud

Painted by the brush of the cannabis queen

From a palette of peyote and mescaline hues

Hallucination dust was rising up in Mr. Mojo

Speeding shadows dash across the desert floor

Like amphetamine eating arachnids and….


Oh my God the cacti, the fucking cacti

Spiked emerald armies of angiosperms

Arms raised in communion with the Agave God

Stand in glory waiting the mushroom lords command

The shiny green skin oozed psilocybin fungus

Instant Zen

An obscured coyote pants curiously at Lizard King

Who slithers cautiously across the sun burnt sand

Mr. Mojo alight in a psychedelic rain of prisms

The coyote retreat to its den

Time for some more hashish

In agreement the with Lupine Prince they go

Another hit of acid will do the trick for us all

The seller of wares appears in a green convertible

Tambourine vials of moods happy and numb

I have songs I play so you can hear the vision

Notes to make your fantasies dance

But here in the once ocean floor palace

Some apparitions and a mirage I think

Lysergic Acid Diethylamide mixed with THC

The moodman put them On The Road with Dean

Cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus

Kerouakesque travels along surreal highways

More hallucinogenic dust


An unscheduled stop for a roadside attraction

Chemical larvae hitching along Rt 66

Looking for the map to the doors of perception

The Lizard Monarch offered a sugar cube caterpillar

Whose cocoon blossomed into a strange but beautiful creature

The sun knelt and prayed then bid then adieu

An experience of great spiritual importance

Outside the lair of the coyote Mojo bows in homage

Gave blessing to the terra statue of Buddha in drag

The Lizard King salivates licking his eye

His vision blurred but never clearly obscured

And They all saw things they’d never saw before

The moment they stepped over the border

Past the chaos and disorder





Before I sink

Into the

Big sleep

I want to hear

I want to hear


Of the butterfly

When the music’s over, turn out the light-J.M.-





anecdote I


Here in the silence

Mysteries deeply hidden revealed

Of the heart and soul metaphoric

Secrets that glow with the shine of moon

Secrets illuminate bright in the radiant sun

With all of their passing’s accumulated

As the spirit of Id merge with Ego

Words unspoken in deep thought


Yet still my eyes parch dry from thirst

For the echoes of knowledge struggling

My mind to understand the changing tides

My tongue to taste the salt less sea at dawn

And comprehend they have their meanings

The touch of my fingertips the answer appears

Perceptions profoundly pondered in reflection



Here in my silence

Like an oracle revealed unto my very eyes

Theories puncture at the rind of my essence

Uncover obstacles from the way of path

Shedding the fears the clutter unburdened

Self awareness clears the passage to come

That will become my Yellow Brick Road

Less traveled

Here when my silence abates

A murmur of autonomous nature heard

Seek not every single truth as yet untold

But seek one single truism and exhilarate

Raise but one reality from the well of peace

Let its rose petals bloom in glory internal

Bring a joyous vision in my lane of life

That peace and love will guide this nothingness

This meditation


Live and Love in Peace


This Way To Egress 2016



Come on suckers gather around

Listen to the loudest snake charmer in town

I build people up so I can beat them down

I make a lot of noise but it’s nothing but sound

I’ve got no real plan and I couldn’t care less

Throw your vote down my hallway this way to egress


Jump on my bandwagon please donate

All by myself I’ll make America great

If you wanna know how you just hafta wait

Cause there ain’t a single plan here on my plate

I screw the people in my way but I couldn’t care less

Let me deal and steal your right to vote, this way to egress


No foundatrion my words are purely baseless

Screw the elder victims to me their faceless

Some say my eminent domain is a little abrasive

Bit what can you expect from a misogynist racist

All the things I do will leave our country a mess

Making me the Prez the quickest way to egress



Put me in charge so I need to feel the power

I got a million insults to make every race cower

My White House will become a giant golden shower

I really don’t care if I make this world a big mess

As long as I’m in power, this way to egress



Egress, The action of going out or leaving, direct means of departure

This way to egress was one of P.T. Barnum’s most infamous scams. While in his Barnum’s American Museum signs were strategically placed that read “This way to egress”, egress being a word many people did not understand. Mr. Barnum realized people spent too much time there and needed more revenue so he placed the signs strategically knowing people would follow the signs out of curiosity only to find they had exited the show and would have to pay a second admission if they wanted to return. Don’t throw your vote out the egress, educate yourself about the issues and formulate informed opinions based on fact or reasonable speculations no matter which party you support. Don’t make knee jerk reactions or be a slave to a political party, choose which candidate you truly believe will do right by We The People.