“Without music, life would be a mistake.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

Found among captives, caged by fear

The music longed for, no longer I hear

Turning within to find that dear song

Still, I search, and the time is long

My dead refrain laying deep in the ground

Searching the graves yet no notes are found

O God you bring to life the dead again

Resurrect the song that lies within



“So what do we do? Anything. Something. So long as we just don’t sit there. If we screw it up, start over. Try something else. If we wait until we’ve satisfied all the uncertainties, it may be too late. – Lee Iacocca”

Misty are the crossed paths that clutter my way

Chancing only the step that is in front of me

Tentative is not seemly to pursue

Should a path diverge from sight

Only braille faith will be my light

Companion naught

Dim the way



“He needed the warmth of the sun to take away the chill of foreboding that grew in him.”
― Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind

Foreboding: an omen, prediction, or presentiment especially of coming evil

I’m amazed at how I will cast off restraint to escape limits imposed on me by delayed gratification. Why the obsession with getting my desires filled with a haste? My experiences have led me to believe that there is no future of happiness for me, everything that is good and pleasurable, will soon, either by bad choices, contrary circumstances, or even brevity of life will take be taken from me. I slap the water of my foreboding trying to stay afloat and drink the saltwater of foolishness to obtain momentary relief for the thirst for joy. I’m being taught there is a way that will bring me into peace and relief, brought there by the shepherd of my soul, Jesus. The way is hard, but it is leading me out of my dark, into a misty sunrise of the realization that trying to keep myself satisfied is not my job, it is His. When I experience the enjoyments given to me by Him, there is a lasting and gradual ascent from foreboding.


“Lies require noise and misdirection to blend in, silence is the best way to draw the truth to the surface.”
― Anna Pitoniak, Necessary People

A common ploy in order to mislead, to deceive, and to take advantage is to misdirect the attention to something less productive than the goal. The misdirection forces a look away from the path ahead, and, like in driving, very soon the original course is corrupted, bringing additional hurdles to overcome before the attention was turned away. Worry is a misdirection of the mind, pulling the strength and resources away from the course. Anger, likewise, excites the director to such a degree that a wrong decision is likely. Money and the choices to get ahead without the hard work and patience necessary, obscure and mislead, occupying the resources in efforts likely to fail. These dangers call for a continued and unrelenting assessment of choices made on the path forward to the ultimate goal.


Cloud hidden dilemma depression bliss Free Photo

“Nothing is easier than self-deceit.
For what every man wishes,
that he also believes to be true.”
― Demosthenes

The deadliest trap is the one not seen. The one that took making several choices before it was sprung. Look carefully then, to the steps taken now, for the simplest decision can be a domino in a chain of events, sprung by choices, driven forward by angst, and ultimately hidden by blindness. Blindness, this is what is to be avoided. Everyman has a blind spot, that area where a thing can come up to take him and he will never see it until it is to late. Be truthful and look closely, where are you really going?

Back To Back

“You may not remember the time you let me go first.
Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn’t that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up.
You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you:

Today, no matter what it takes,
we ride home together.”
Brian Andreas, Traveling Light: Stories & Drawings for a Quiet Mind


Back to back that’s how we started,
fighting the whole world, we never parted.
Then came new life, shafts in the quiver.
We fired them off, our crops never withered.
Along came the wolf, death he swore.
He limped and lied to get through the door.
He consumed you with his intellectual abandon,
my back now unguarded, my heart saddened.
I tried for months to retake the hallowed ground,
but you were too far gone, never to be found.
Lost and spinning, exposing my nakedness,
I struggled grimacing, my life hard pressed
Then I saw her, evil disguised as purity.
Face of an angel, a heart that wasn’t free.
I came to her with my intentions pure,
she cast one glance, it was over for sure
All the passion I wished you to use,
now you found it, she was your muse
I drove on, looking at you secretly,
asking me to stay, your nakedness I see
To late, like fire spreading on water,
she flowed freely, around all your barter
Driving on into my own peril,
she would slay me with just one arrow
Entranced by her wiles, I followed her to hell,
but my back not guarded, I swiftly fell.
Barely I survived, held under the water of pain,
my lungs bursting to breath love again
Fire scorched and burned through all my nerves,
it never went out, smoldering in the curves
Struggling to gain ground, to get back to back again,
Back to back one day, I long for my friend.

Also published in Broowaha

Fears Rattle

“Fear was no longer thrilling—just scary and everywhere. ”
A Rattle With Death In Yosemite, Kyle Dickman

Fear Snake
Venus Aversa

“Fear. My constant companion through my youth, one whom I delighted in tormenting and teasing. Then, I encountered Fears progeny, through which it reigns over the emotions of men, Death. After being dealt a near death dealing, if not certainly life changing, experience of a Traumatic Brain Injury. The same Fear, now held a different power, a power given it by myself. My experience with life can now be explained by this quote “Fear was no longer thrilling—just scary and everywhere.”A Rattle With Death In Yosemite, Kyle Dickman.

My fight to regain self, intelligence, belief, and sense of safety became a daily if not hourly battle. Everything was magnified by my mind to be a “flight or fight”, “life or death” experience. This meant, hyper-vigilance, on guard for the next attack. Not patient with any perceived threat, I magnified the innocent comments of people, the common occurrences of life to the point where I railed against them and actively fought with anger and violence, whether verbal or physical, I would push back against all comers. I still fight, though a little calmer now, mainly through constant help from my God and my wonderful woman, and I find that I can relax, even if its just a little, and let what will happen, happen. I cannot control life, I must accept death (not just death but a possibility of dependence on others for support, a huge blow to my ego) and uncertainty. I must LIVE and find JOY from the now, where I do breathe and walk on my own. I have survived, and there will come a time I will die, or be incapacitated. But let it be, let it be.

Soul Burn

“Affliction comes to us, not to make us sad but sober;
not to make us sorry but wise.” –  H. G. Wells




Eternal sadness abounds, never giving an inch against the burning sun

Tears on the edge, never cease to torment this one

Emotions raw, callouses never to form on the soul



What do I lack that fights against the shade of desperation?


Endless suffering clouds, always preempting the dawn

which rises in without concern of this one

Even a feather, lighting on my mind brings pain



The First Rung

“The first step, my son, which one makes in the world, is the one on which depends the rest of our days.” – Voltaire

Reaching up from this muddy pit

My hands find the first rung
I’m not letting go of it, my feet still stuck
Screaming at the top of my lungs
From this first rung on the ladder
I will not be thrown
Everything in me yelling, you can’t do it
Everyone around me laughing at my attempts
No comfort, no friends when your down this low
The first rung is all you have
Yet I climb, slapping for the next rung, I will ascend
Out of this frothing mire
I will not let go, beaten down time by time
I find myself alone, beginning again
I shake myself from my own doubt
Now I find myself afraid to succeed
What will be required of me?
No more easy carefree existence
The struggle becomes necessary to stay on the ladder.
At the bottom, swimming aimlessly in the lost masses
Who cares what you do?
As you climb out, everyone looks at you, they are encouraged by your rebellion
To climb out of their own mess, to take the challenge of living again.
This first rung, the hardest, taking the most courage to live beyond
The lies spoken to you from those in your youth, and by your lovers
Who are no longer there.
Discomfort at having to leave your habits, your friends.
Not everyone will follow you up,
Most times, no one will.
You will have to meet those who are climbing on your way up.
You see they left the mire long ago,
Every now and then glancing back to see the despair
Which they escaped so narrowly.
So I cling, to this first rung, by tenacity, hard to define
This first rung is life, this first rung is mine.
Also published in:  Broowaha
Also published in:  Life As A Human