Les Poetes Ont Ete Reduits Au Silence




A storm so profound it was felt cross the ocean



The prophet stared as the flames burnt his words

The poets ink running dry

A mother stood weary holding teardrops of blue

As the fathers wept to the sky


And the children screamed the name of the king

Who answered dressed as a mime

The laughter dried up and shriveled with age

It seems we have run out of time


An event so profound it challenged the bards

Who cried free of nary a word

The lion of treason roared out to the lambs

A evil growl that all the world heard



Have you heard the news

The president died

As people hung out their clothes

How could that happen

Who shot the king

Shrugging shoulders nobody knows



Turned our ears to the voice of the one who made sense

Of every bit of life’s drama small and immense


But Bobby stayed silent

Nothing more to be told

Fear grows much younger

And the world looks so old


So we turned to our prophet begging a sign

No oracle answered we’ve now crossed a line

What’s gonna happen

What where and when

When like the rising sun

The poet picked up his pen


No longer standing silent the tellers took back their stage

Told us all stand together wash away vengeful rage


With the power of love You write your own story

Fill you heart with belief for hate has no glory

Get back to your life

Don’t yield your power to a coward who preys on your strife





Hear the toll from the cloisters

And the laughter of children

Don’t let the world tremble and crack

Your just one in a million

Sing with the stars

And dance with the moon

The poets and prophets

Are singing your tune

I have words to share

I’m ready to show it

I’ll not let the terrorist

Silence this poet

Live free, love free, and stand tall and proud



Original Thought, The Prophet II (A Shady Sequel)



What? Another sequel? Sequels are never as good as the original. Then again what the Hell is ever as good as the original? But wait, is it original? Now there’s a thought. But is it an original thought? Some say there is no such thing as original thought because someone somewhere has more than likely had that same thought before. Come to think about it I think I heard that somewhere before. In a way I guess that’s true of course, Tommy Edison gets credit for the light bulb but others claim it was discovered either simultaneously or perhaps even slightly before by someone else. Either way that light bulb has not only spawned generations of ideas it has become the icon of an idea itself. Why one just went off in a thought cloud above my head. But was it original?

Scientists (or is it romantics?) tell us no two snowflakes are exactly alike but I personally find that impossible to believe. What possible kind of study could possibly encompass every snowflake ever? The friggen things melt before ever being checked and logged into the snowflake database. Or is it a snowflake genetic information storage cloud or frozen genome, its so hard to keep track of all this damn information! Some icy flakes haven’t even been created yet so it’s a bit premature to say no two snowflakes are alike. All things considered I’m confidant at least two of those snowflakes in that Alaskan snow drift must be clones. So I will attempt to put original thought into my warped and frivolous snowflake perspective by doing what any original artist would do. I’ll steal it. Or borrow it at least, so this perspective is brought to you in original conceptual form inspired (and ripped off) of a book by the brilliant Lebanese laureate Kahlil Gibran. The Prophet.

The Un-original But Still New Prophet

And then a musician came to him and said “speak to us of music, how is our music not original?” And he answered “Music invades our sensory organs through repetitive and sometimes annoying arrangements of sound. Because we have only 12 notes in every octave it is extremely difficult to create a melody that hasn’t yet been played either in ones mind or on an instrument. Combine that with the fact most of us have been listening to music since our first lullaby and have no doubt watched enough television to have jingles burned deeply into our psyches that its impossible not to be influenced by tunes we have heard before when we create music. One could pick up a guitar to start playing something perhaps having just heard that “Nationwide is on your side” commercial and unconscientiously letting the tune drift into what one was translating from mind through the guitar strings. That’s not to say that you can’t make an original song, but it must have come to you from somewhere in your past listening.” It’s called inspiration. Perhaps artists should be wondering where they came up with an original before accusing others of stealing their originals. Music is meant to be shared, and if you want to call yourself a musician do so without believing you invented sound itself. (Disclaimer: I do not take legal responsibly if the Nationwide jingle is bouncing around in your head right now)

And then a poet came to him and said “speak to us of poetry, are not poets original?” And he answered, “Poetry is a way of painting words into feelings and emotions. Poets help us to see ourselves in their flowing word canvas. We are all born poets, it’s just that far too many of us forget that once we grow up and allow our creative thoughts to integrate with the clutter of day to day bullshit. Poets observe and report through the eyes of creative pureness. Poems range in style and can be crystal clear to some while totally indiscernible to others. It is meant to be felt and understood not analyzed. Poetry is an expression of the soul often written while at our most naked and vulnerable selves, when we express our innermost thoughts in words. In that respect it is original, but are not words merely combinations of letters? We have only 26 letters from which to choose our order yet somehow we manage to confuse the usage of English language. But their there they’re, everything will be fine. You poets are indeed original human beings with fragile ego’s so for the sake of avoiding another few years of therapy then yes, poetry is indeed original. But remember it’s the receiver of the poet’s message who perceives the originality not the poet.” It’s called inspiration.o



Next a shady Politian came forward and said to him “Speak to us of politics. Are not all of my political ideas original?” And after regaining his composure from sarcastic laughing the prophet answered, “Politics and political opinions are like unwashed armpits. If you stay at home with them you can handle the stench of your own opinion but if you venture out in public best to deodorize your opinions if you value friendships. Its impossible for one to have their own original political opinion because every controversy known to humanity has been discussed, re-discussed, and-over-discussed a million times without an answer. Whatever stance you choose to take has already been taken. In addition, millions and millions of dollars have been spent to tell you what your opinion on various political topics are either through subliminal ads or motivational scam artists disguised as news agents with television shows who’s sole purpose is to anger you into an opinion based strictly on your religion and/or political party of choice. That is not to say you can’t have an original non political opinion of your own but to do that you would need to research the subject through trustworthy methods of information, then sit alone with only your thoughts and think it through. Devoid of outside influences if you concentrate long enough it is indeed possible to arrive at an original conclusion, but it is extremely difficult with all the information super highways and abundance of social media outlet trolls prowling around in the hopes of forcing their opinion upon you. Otherwise we simply verbally regurgitate someone else’s spoken thoughts.” That would be inspiring. In my opinion of course.

Next a scientist came to the Prophet and asked, “Why is there religion when we have science? Is not The Origin Of The Species truly original? I mean it‘s right there in the title” The prophet shook his head. Every species contains originalities specific to that species but humans have an option between science and religion. Both religion and science serve a purpose for humanity. Science it the study of the world around us and religion is the study of ourselves. Science helps us to understand how and why things work but it can’t explain everything. It is based on testing and re-testing data to prove hypothesis and formulate conclusions. Religion attempts to help teach us about who we are, how we should treat one another, and to love all creatures great and small. Science is like a pesky mosquito to religion that becomes more and more difficult to swat. It‘s a clash of philosophies, ideology vrs. Cause and effect”

“The main problem religion faces in this context is most times it’s not a choice, more of a birthright. Often ones religion is determined by their parents or by nature of where they are born and they become defined by their rituals and beliefs. So religion is given, not original beliefs that spontaneously combust. (not counting Moses flaming bush) Religion is philosophical set of tenets based on faith not experimentations as does science. One must have faith that the religion they are following has all the correct answers, and the leaders of that religion who give those answers are interpreting the holy texts correctly. One Bible or Torah or Koran can be interpreted in many different ways which give us a massive variety of religions. We have used religion to explain the unexplainable since the dawn of time, assigning gods to nearly everything in nature. So it is useful in explaining the unexplainable and in teaching people how to act correctly as it applies to living together on earth when done correctly. If your religion includes science and instructs you on how to interact with the world then you are indeed lucky, and may possibly have found a true religion. If on the other hand you have become enlightened and reached a state of living that excludes the need for a conglomerate of teachings and beliefs you are even more lucky, because you can appreciate others beliefs while not allowing them to infect yours.” So religion is helpful in adjusting your soul and science is helpful if adjusting your knowledge. You must strike your own balance, but do us all a favor. Don’t attempt to force either upon the rest of us, let us all find our own way. Since the dawn of organized religion they have been perverted into excuses to create wars. If you take a scientific approach and analyze history as it applies to wars you will find just about every war has a religious contention at it’s core. You can’t kill your way to peace.”

And then a child came to him and asked “Well then Prophet, if musicians, poets, scientists, and theologians all contend they deal in originality and may perhaps be wrong then what exactly is original thought and how do we achieve it? Do we learn it in school?” The profit thought cautiously before he answered “Let us start with what’s not original thought. Original thought is not learned in a school or institution. Education is a great thing and though it may seem empowering it can’t give you original thought it can only prepare you for it . Many of the young hipsters of the day believe that being able to quote famous philosphers or scientists makes them appear smarter than others because they possess the power of original thought but it doesn’t. It only makes them seem arrogant and out of touch. Education only gives us the foundations to develop original thought. The very second we enter the world we are being shaped by those around us. So to begin with we need to discard all the distractions of life. In order to achieve original thought you must put down the books, turn off all your electronic devices, and reach deep inside the self and get in touch with your soul, for it is the soul that is the one true original. Get educated then be your own inspiration. An open mind will show some ignorance but a closed mind will show all of it.” Meditate on that….. PEACE




The Soldier And The Poet


The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
Finding something worth dying for

Blind ambition
Its my duty
Flames of Hell
That’ll suit me
I’m a soldier
Gun in hand
Prepared to kill
Defend your land
Kill my enemy
Allies thrilled
May get maimed
May get killed
Never run
No thought of treason
Don’t want to die
For no reason

The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
Finding something worth living for

Blind ambition
Finding love
Rainbow sunrise
The sky above
I’m a poet
Pen in hand
Prepared to share
My special land
Share my stories
Abstract views
Write of beauty
Or write of blues
Beauty abounds
Every season
Don’t want to live
What’s the reason

The soldier stands on the brink
Smoke of destruction rising near
Facing death at every corner
Eyes closed while facing fear

The poet stands on the brink
Smoke of dreams rising high above
Facing life at every corner
Eyes closed while dreaming love

I’m a soldier
Fighting a war
I found something
Worth dying for
I carry a gun
My mind is numb
I’ll blow my enemy
To kingdom come
I fight for freedom
I fight for peace
Some have to die
Some have to cease
Its just the way
The new world works
Bombing for peace
Where evil lurks

I’m a poet
I protest war
I found something
Worth living for

I write for peace
I write my notions
I’m searching for
Beautiful emotions
Want you to feel
What life can bring
Every living beauty
Every living thing
I see the good side
To make you shout
Try and tell the world love
Love is what life’s about
I write of freedom
And the stars above
I want to live
In a world of love

The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
He found something worth dying for
The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
So we have something worth living for


Dark Pasenger


Stealthily crouched in the crevice of my mind
Growing confidently stronger time after time
Gorging itself on self hatred and doubt
Remains silent to others in an esoteric shout

His pursuit is to shape my existence to one of misery
Loading up dark thoughts to take away my liberty
Hitched a ride into my thoughts while I was driving blind
His hands across my ego as he choked it from behind

An evil manifestation of my disappointments and my fear
Enticing self effacement every day of every year
Constantly reminding the lowly failure I’ve become
I’m a counterfeit copy echo, a stinking lousy bum

When finally I reach the apex of a satisfied happy smile
I feel him growing anxious to convert my manner vile
Teasing me and taunting till I’m full of restless doubt
Planting dark suspicions letting paranoia sprout

“Why does she always strut about in such revealing attire
She’s probably already cheating boy you know that she’s a liar
Look at the two of them over there so happy and so gay
Maybe plotting a rendezvous at a motel far away”

“She smiles every time he’s near him, anywhere that’s close
Behind your back complains to him how you are so morose
She’ll surely be making love to him don’t know where or when
Every single one of your lovers cheated in the bed other men”

A haunting constant reminder of all my past day deeds
He teases and taunts me while planting wicked seeds
I’m gullible I’m stupid, I’m repugnant and so ugly
He convinces all too easy while smiling at me smugly

He never shuts up never stops keeps stabbing at my pride
Plunging deep his evil doubts till they’re deep down inside
Raising my self loathing while lowering all of my esteem
Convinces me how worthless is this loser slug supreme

The suspicions that he feeds me are all just in my head
But to me its real and its all too true everything he’s said
I’m a faker and a phony just an unproductive excuse
From all I’ve done from all I am I deserve his foul abuse

I want to be rid him from my head I need to thrown him out
I can’t live my lifelike this always drowning in self doubt
Need to form a strategy to silence the treacherous voice
When the passenger is finally dead is when I will rejoice

Because each day seems like torture, each day is a fight
I spend most my waking hours trying to get my head on right
I struggle hard to silence all his omnipresent pestering
Pray I don’t act on the puss of darkness that is festering

People joke about the voices in their head but those voices are quite often our own thoughts out of control and they can seem real and intimidating. It’s easy to tell someone “just ignore it and it will go away” but its not always that easy. Society sets so many high bars for us to live up, body image, athletic ability……… it can create a vortex of self doubt and low self esteem. We as parents or friends are also teachers, and one of the most important lessons we can teach is for our children to believe in themselves, but to do that we need to first believe in ourselves. Peace.

Empty Anointment


A bright shining halo of burnt orange light
I Turned my eye to escape its sharp glare
Entered the shrine of the illustrated windows
Looked around but found nobody there

Prayed for the light to shine and enlighten
Begged someone for a real show and tell
Just needed a message that I’m not by myself
Negotiate the stairways of heaven and hell

I sensed near a presence indignantly stern
Stood frozen after I felt the piercing glance
Felt a harrowing figure of my non redemption
With his deep voice pounding he broke my trance

“You shall wallow in shame and inferiority
I’ll strike you down just prove superiority
So stand here trembling amongst the minority
Or concede to my flock join the moral majority”

“Come forth to donate and cleanse your reputation
Return every Sunday and seek divine reparation
The cost of enrollment will pay for my vacation
Mercy and damnation harbor no discrimination”

I stood and stared with nothing to say
The false prophet had spewed out his lies
Promises made on the mist of the fog
Liturgical vestments were just a disguise

“It’s from your imitation I need to be saved
Integrity seems to have snuck out the door
You fill up my cup with deceitful betrayal
Discouragement burns from each little pore”

Undaunted he towered across the artificial alter
Confidence flowing rapid across the River Styx
With great condescension he laughed in my face
His sacrosanct words from a mere bag of tricks

“Kneel before me I’ll free you from despair and distain
Grant you enough individuality to clutter your brain
It may cause you to ponder you’re rational mind
If you seek redemption then join my campaign”

It wasn’t redemption that brought me inside
No need of sanctuary or someplace to hide
It was mere curiosity that brought me the question
Don’t need to anyone to validate my indiscretion
False ecclesiastics can grow like a cancer
I need only look in myself to search out my answer
On the shoulders of angels the devils they fought
Praise him or fear him the difference is naught
It isn’t the redemption you’ll find in the end
In communion of life we will finally transcend



Fear not old friend
The horizon is close
Discomfort at its ending

Fear not old friend
Soon you will see the light
There’s no more to be defending

Fear not old soul
You’ve passed the worst there is
The relief comes from the waiting

Fear not old soul
No answer is needed
You’re through with your contemplating

Fear not old man
You’ve completed your time
Once its over you’ll feel so warm

Fear not old man
The moment has arrived
What’s left is for you to conform

Fear not gentle soul
Close your eyes and relax
I’ll pick you up to let you fly

Fear not old friend
Allow me one last chance
One last moment to say goodbye