Harmonious Parasites

*an older poem [from around 2006-2007) about exploitation.


Eternal melodies
swell from spirit places,
future and far away places
where no blood turns
to stone.

Singing does not belong only
to those conceived on stage
with applause filled lungs,
neon lights dying
them green.

Bastard performances
given by star makers
unleash two-headed rabbits,
which hop over life,

diverting aim,

with muted colors
that miss targets
and abort genius,
giving birth to gray men

and hollow women.

Early Morning Existential Thoughts

It’s 5a.m.

I’ve been up an hour already…just thinking.

I do that sometimes, just wake up with a head full of noisy thoughts that scream so loudly that I can no longer sleep.

Thoughts of family, and friends, and of eternal things.

Lately, I’ve been feeling kind of invisible and to some, I suppose I am. But in the long run, we all become invisible to the frivolous nature of this present world system which places value only on the external things. However, I am not, nor shall I ever be invisible to those who truly see through spirit eyes, who do not look at the house but at the being inside it.

My daddy used to tell me that it doesn’t matter what people say about us, it only matters what God says. I think he’s right except I would add one thing. It also matters what I think about me, what you think about you. In Proverbs, Solomon said that as man thinks in his heart, so is he. That, of course, is referring to a human being of either gender. I hate it when people ask me how old I am or how much I weigh or how tall I am or what size clothes I wear, because none of those things have anything at all to do with ME! They are just devises to color another’s perception of me. I love it when people ask me things like, “What are you passionate about?” About poetry and writing, about music and martial arts, about teaching. I love these questions because then I feel that someone actually cares about seeing me, instead of basing my value on some frivolous and temporal concept.

I have news for those who haven’t discovered it yet. Age is nothing more than the amount of years you’ve been on this earth. Whether you are 19 or 99, you’re still the same spirit you’ve always been. Height, weight, and genetics are equivalent to wether you live in a brick house or a mobile home as far as spirit things go. Meaning they don’t matter. Spirits know spirits by kinship, not temporal illusions. I have met people of various physical descriptions, both in real life and online with whom I had an immediate connection that defied all the physical factors. When I look at another person I don’t know them so much by how they appear but by their “nature” or “turn” as my dad would say. My mom used to say, “pretty is as pretty does.” She meant that physical beauty had no value to her in a person, but rather character. So, I could much more easily be with a person this world has deemed “ugly” yet is compassionate than be with one the world labels beautiful who is shallow, self-centered and vain.

Having said all those things, I will say, however, that the more time I spend in this Shadow Land, the less value I place on what others think of me. We each have our own journey and while those who have been here longer may have ¬†picked up some valuable advice, I believe it’s important to remember that we each must walk our own road. Perhaps, it is a great tragedy that so many spend so much of their lives looking for that person who “completes” them. I don’t believe there “is” a perfect person for each of us, because I believe that the only person who can make me happy, is me, and no matter how close I become to another person, when that day comes for me to leave this mortal house, I will go out of this world taking with me nothing but the love I gave away and the lessons I’ve learned.

So, as Solomon said once again, everything that is of this world is vanity. It is passing away. And, as Jesus once advised, I want to lay my treasures up in eternity. These treasures are stored up by being compassionate, forgiving, merciful, full of integrity, by treating others with the same respect we long to receive ourselves.


Bamboo clatters.

Wind shoves at windows

already assaulted by old rain

drops still clinging

refusing to be blown away.

Fifteen after midnight,

tomorrow out here,

a humble farmer once

told me and my Daddy said,

“Unless you’ve made no mistakes,

be careful of the stones you throw.”

Dirt diggers like me

have no business,


rocks in the night.