I Encountered An Angel On My Walk

I walk to the future I see no ease,
There is no promise there is no pleasure,
I know I must live I know I must be,
What joy is mine when I know no treasure.

She tapped me on my bowed burdened shoulder,
Radiant smile and the light of Her love,
My soul cried in joy, my heart soared to Her,
Life from Her breath, O beauty, my heart She was.

A brief glimpse of heaven, opening eyes,
This Angels laugh did fill my soul with light,
Hearts beat in sympathy, two hearts, no lies,
Now I scream for Angel this lonely night.

The universe did tease with Her essence,
My heart was healed by Her loving presence.




It took me over 39 years to write my first Sonnet.

The person who inspired it is a special friend of mine who will never be closer than that but who will still always have a piece of me!

Absentee Mercy

Resting my head on your soft firm shoulder,
My cheek against your breast,
Strong delicate fingers,
Stroking my temple,
Holding my face.

I thought that I had met you and you were mine,
How bitter to find out I was wrong,
Rending of my hearts beats,
Screaming inside,
Where are you?

An explosion of confusion, rampant in angst,
Sudden separation of the senses,
Adrift and cast upon life,
All alone in the crowd,
Crying with the flies.

Hold me and laugh with me and tease me,
Gaze into my eyes with twinkle and shine,
Soft, moist lips closing on mine,
Shared heart beats,
Shared nights.

The road is lonely and dust gets in my eyes,
I know that life has destined us,
I can hear your heart beating,
Patience, hope, faith,
Where are you?


Knowing that there is still someone out there to share my life with, this poem was written after Sue and I separated. IT was written months after fact, actually. I had let go, was well into healing and had great hope, faith and belief in the future. I also knew that the universe had another great love in store for me, someone who I was going to make and share magik with. Still, at the time I was VERY lonely and VERY much missing soft, intimate, passionate touches. I�m a touch person, I love to touch and I love to be touched. Not having someone in my life to share physical contact with is something that while I deal with it, is still hard. This was my siren song to the one who is yet to come. I can feel her, I can hear her heart beating. I�m just waiting now for the universe to bring us together.

Masquerade

Painted faces, crying in their love,
Torn together,
Joined apart,
Masquerade, Masquerade.

Pious reflections, revocation of honesty,
All lies,
No truth,
Masquerade, Masquerade.

Dreams of lies, hopes glistened with sorrow,
Be honest,
Don't hide,
Masquerade, Masquerade.

Fear, sometimes, masquerades as love,
I love them so much,
I can never leave,
Masquerade, Masquerade.

Painted faces, shattered in the light,
See your truth,
Respect yourself,
Masquerade, Masquerade.


Written shortly after Sue and I separated, I looked back at past relationships and things I had learned about relationships in general. Sue was a relationship of pure love. I thought about past relationships based on love (Linda,,Cathy,Judi) and relationships based on fear (Sophie,Corinne,Audrey). I thought about all the things I was learning about myself and about being honest with myself. I thought about howmany people are in relationships based on love and how many, many more are in relationship based in fear (of being alone, of being unable to cope alone, of being financially dependant, etc.). This poem is a tribute to the first stage of the abandonement process, shattering.

Reconstruction

Crashing tides of despair debilitate my mind,
So completely lost, so completely alien,
Torn apart from the inside out,
I have completely lost all sense and faculty,
I am one with nothing, I am nothing, nothing.

So sudden and sweeping is the swath of destruction,
Leaving no vestiges of my former perceptions intact,
This Dark Night descended with a crashing silence,
The stillness of it�s arrival terrified me,
St. John, be good to me.

I look around at the bitter pieces of my former self,
Molecular deconstruction of my heart, soul and ego,
Completely bereft of cover, there is nothing to hide behind,
My Id shines raw demanding it�s gratification,
Reconstruction of the truth and not the lies, not the lies.

Reconstruction one molecule, one heartbeat at a time,
The true me scares me, my darkness comes to light,
The Old Gentleman of Gehenna walks in my garden,
Selfish, self-centred, self-aggrandizement,
Trying to be more than he, more than I.

A lifetime of disappointments,
Feelings of unworthiness and want,
Bad little boy, you don�t love mommy,
Prostitution of the true self for acceptance,
I stand at the bakery window with no change.

To be rather than to seem,
Find the child inside me,
Embrace the child�s tears,
Recognizing childish power,
I give him power no more.

One belief at a time,
Finding who I am,
Rescuing me,
Resurrecting me,
Reconstructing me.

I am not who I thought I should be, I am me,
Halting the worry of other peoples perceptions,
Their vision is theirs and will only detriment me,
I am not they, they are not I,
I am I, I am I, I am I.

Look beyond the ego�s domination, balancing act,
So strong the instant appeasement lies to me,
How quickly it builds sand castles below the high tide line,
So pretty, so beautiful, so complimentary, so real,
High tide leaves me wanting, castles washed away.

Look at me, all selfish and free,
The honesty of my hedonism liberates me,
Life is not just about the journey,
Life is about journeying well,
I demand a smile for each moment of me.

Finally I emerge, my cocoon is my new found love of me,
My wings spread as I finally see that all I was, I am,
My spirit soars as I see I have become the gestalt of me,
Miraculously, by being less than I perceived I need to be,
I am just me, honest me, jubilee!


Written after some look back and reflection on the time of my very own Dark Night of the Soul. From the time of the crash and descent into nothingness, it took me almost two years to finally put me back together again, to finally reconstruct myself. How did I know I was there? I fell one night, I fell into the darkness and despair as though it were saying to me, �Look bonehead, this is where you were, look at where you are now?�. By the next day I finally realized that after two years, my Dark Night was completed and I had been reborn a child of life, intent on journeying and intent on journeying well.

Breathe

My senses awaken to the flow of the universe,
Suddenly, I�m sitting across from you,
Then realizing that it was I, really I,
Who made the steps to be there.

Wafting memories, my days clouded in fantasy,
Emotional jetsam, dreams blended with reality,
Quiet yearning, a return to a lovers embrace,
Shattered beliefs, new found faith.

I watch your lips move with fluid feminine grace,
Dancing the tango of words that reveal you,
The true you comes forth in unexpected honesty,
So well acquainted with yourself.

Hungrily listening, seeking my breadths,
Consuming quiet, measuring my depths,
Intense gaze, your eyes explore my soul,
Open acceptance, true desire to know my all.

Base representations of materialism don�t arrive,
Sharing your faults and pains astounds me,
You are human and you hurt and you bleed,
So uncommon is this raw display of truth.

Hopeful gazes, a future not empty,
Faith restored, a vision of what could be,
Be brave, life and laughter and love are worth it,
Maybe you, maybe not.

My breath slows and my heart quickens,
We seem to blend as one without touching,
Union of fantasy, reality, hope and faith,
Breathe....


A poem about no one in particular. I have an ideal of the perfect first date. Having a picnic with a person worth the effort, near the water. A blanket, transistor radio, home made food (I love to cook!), a sunny day. Two people seemingly so mismatched but through the bravery of the heart and soul to know and learn about and from others, they take the time to openly and honestly communicate. To get to know the real person before them, un-fettered by the trappings of public restaurants and with the ease and grace of two people who cast off all pretensions, all masquerades and desire to get to know the real person in front of them to find out if they have what it takes to be with each other. A tribute, if you will, to faith and belief in the future.

White Knuckle Rider

The future lies before me enticing and scary,
Uncertain honesty and high hopes I carry,
I close my eyes and brace for the ride,
Screaming inside, screaming inside.

Winds of change blow fearfully across my face,
Setting a high bar - I tighten my laces,
Goddess give me strength to seek what I seek,
Do not let me surrender at a time I am weak.

Perfection is an elusive property to quest,
Found it once but now I have to weed the rest,
I cry inside for I know not where this life goes,
Destiny and mission will bring smiles or woes.

Karma is the great leveller of playing fields,
Contracts abound, nothing to use as a shield,
I�m scared in my bravery, happy in my fear,
I quest smiles and laughter but what if I find tears?

I demand the perfect life, does it exist?
Must I adjust and concede, give up on my list?
Do I hold on tight, petulant and demanding?
Do I let go and accept, take what I�m not asking?

The fear wells inside me as I ponder myself,
Do I have the heart for this journey, this hell?
Is it all my own making, am I just afraid?
These questions, damn questions, enough I say.

My life is my life and no one else�s,
I am in control and can not relax it,
I must brace the mainsail and tighten the sheets,
Coil up the lines, then tack and beat.

I must face the aloneness over the settling,
I can only be true to the one I�m protecting,
Maybe I�m selfish, maybe I�ll falter,
I guess I am - the white knuckle rider.


Dig in folks. This one, if you've been there, can be kind of scary. That fear of the unknown and what is going to happen to us. The internalization stage of the abandonment recovery process is when all the downward spiral starts to turn around and move upwards. However, we are conflicted and torn further because part of us is still stuck in the shattering and withdrawal while part of us is starting to open an eye and look towards the future (not always in a favourable light). Therefore, for those of you are are living the above (and I have lived it as well), take my hand and squeeze tightly. Show me the strength and tenacious grip of your very own white knuckles. Let me see your white knuckles as you ride with me. Look me in the eye and promise to continue the journey but also promise me that you will journey well.

Raindrops

The sun sets on the purple horizon,
Cast adrift, the water lilly sails,
Withers,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

A great rushing of air fills my lungs,
Held and hoarded it nourishes my corpse,
Pointlessly,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

Shrieks of laughter and love are memories,
The compass bears south-south-east,
Reckoning,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

Fury and madness tear me quietly,
Impotent futility steals my dreams,
Mercilessly,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

Too much as too little,
Unmercifully I am Damocles,
Late,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

A supplication offered to the Raven,
Bargaining with the rule of three,
Insanity,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks,

The hand of inspiration and eternity,
Goes silently from mine,
Gifting,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

The bitter rot in my soul permeates my mind,
The bitter root tastes ... bitter,
Agony,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.

How let go of my lifes bounty,
How scream for my hearts Sunshine,
Painfully,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks,

My perfect passion and my perfect grace,
This one word can never pass my lips,
Goodbye,
Raindrops splash upon my cheeks.


June, 2004

Dustbunnies

Dustbunnies, dustbunnies,
Vacuum, sweep, wipe and pluck,
Company is coming,
My house is not in order.

The lamp was extinguished,
I saw the walls need repairing,
Filled the cracks with polyfil but
Can see they need replacing.

A fresh coat of paint,
Would make my home bright and airy,
The foundation, however,
Needs prep, plaster and working.

Dusbunnies, dustbunnies,
Making a mess of my space,
Luking in corners just out of sight,
Always hiding, waiting and lying in wait.

Cute little whisps of days gone by,
The dustbunnies now just mess my space,
Once they were cute and kept me entertained,
Now they obscure and rend my peace.

It's time to do some spring cleaning,
Release the dustbunnies I hold,
Let go of the clutter,
Let go of the mess.

Say good bye to the dustbunnies,
Say goodbye to the past,
Say good bye to the mess,
Say hello to the next.


July, 2004

Demon Toy

My emotions are but a toy,
Oh, how those demons love to fondle them,
Play till their hearts content,
With tears that are not theirs.

I anguish as I watch them pass,
To know that, that was once my lass,
I hear their conscience say, "I�m sorry my dear",
I see their soul say, "I don�t care".

I know I am a fool to write,
What else should I do on this lonely night,
Oh, how I wish my arms could hold,
A bonnie lass, from memories old.


Written when I was a teenager.

Consumption

The blackness covered me like a blanket,
It was cold and musty,
I turned and ran,
I could not see where I was going,
I heard something,
It was behind me,
I could not see it,
It was too dark,
The echoing footsteps,
Behind me again,
I could not make it,
I was tiring,
The blackness covered me like a blanket.


Written when I was a teenager. This was a teenagers fear, manifest. Fear of being rejected, fear of being laughed at, fear of always being alone because he would never "fit in" with the people he so badly wanted to fit in with. Now, twenty-five years later, I embrace that young fellow who still lives inside me. His angst and fears are now a tool that I use in myself. That teenage fear is my watchdog, he let's me know when I am slipping into old habits and old patterns so I can break them. If you are a teenager, reading this and understanding and maybe feeling the same fears, let me tell you what is most important. What is most important is taking the chance. Don't sit back, don't let the fear control you. Accept the fear, embrace it because it is a raw emotion and USE it as a tool for yourself. Yes, some people are going to reject you, some people are not going to find you interesting. As that geeky, fear disabled child I can tell you that I have learned in life that for every one person who rejected me or didn't find me "good enough" for their "crowd", there at least TEN other people who will accept you and welcome you with open arms, open hearts and without conditions.

His Presence

O, my Christian soul,
Mentor and friend, through
Love and tribulations,
Darkened to no presence,
Wary of all.

Harken my regressions, O
Carrier of my soul,
Enlighten my presence,
Make me not salt.

Eden of my life,
Cain of my sin,
Crutch thee my life,
Make haste to my den.


Written when I was a teenager. I bounced around between religions back then, trying to find a source of enlightenment, love, safety, faith, etc. Funny that it took me thirty-eight years to realize that the source of all of those things with within the person that was looking for them all along. The last stanza of this I find particularly powerful. While at the time it was written to represent a young, lost, boys search for salvation from the hardships of life; in retrospect it is nothing more than a damnation of all organized dogma which seeks to capture offering-givers by removing their self will/self sufficiance by preaching to them that "they" are the only way a person will find happiness, peace and contentment. If you want faith, love, enlightenment, peace, contentment...then look inside yourself. It has been there all along. Sometimes I�m absolutely gobsmacked at how my writings of twenty-plus years ago reflect more where I am right now than where I was back then!

Memories Of You

As the twilight hours nighly approach,
And darkness is my veil,
I crawl down deep into my sleep,
And await my thoughts to prevail.

As the hours are born,
Of early morn�,
I turn away to see,
Those memories old,
Come take hold,
And reveal my life � to me.

They dig down deep,
And bring to me,
The memories I wish to suppress,
The torment I know,
That will take hold,
As I slowly cause their unrest.

They lay before me � so innocent,
And then they begin to unfold,
And as I was told,
By a young man of old,
They feel like a knife in my chest.

I see the people I know,
Though their time has come to pass,
But, oh, how I long,
For them to return,
To touch,
To hold,
To caress.

I say to myself, "You fool!",
Don�t incarnate those old wounds,
They hurt too much,
You subconscious slut,
My life,Holds for them,
No more room.

But alas I lose,
The battle is won,
I long for a tender touch,
I look to you,
And I feel you move,
So I know that we are still one.

My memories grow fogged,
My alarm awakes,
I feel your love in my heart,
I look forward to my sleep,
Cause I know what keeps,
In the silent memories of the dark.


This one is my favourite of everything that I have written.

Written when I was a teenager. I wrote this one after my first girlfriend, my first true love, dumped me. Linda Scott, still my good friend after a 15 year absence, we have known each other for almost 25 years and are just like we were as friends back then. Only better, we know have a lifetime of experience and hopes to share.

It really hurt me losing Linda. It was my first experience at losing a love that I chose to have. Funny, I read this for the first time in years when Sue and I separated and headed down the path of divorce. I found it ironic that this poem, written twenty two years earlier, was exactly bang on target with what I was going through in losing Sue.

The Love I Never Had

I scream a silent scream,
I feel no fear,
I feel no love,
My heart begs for a gentle touch,
A crimson moment of passion,
A mutual amour.

"Why?" I appeal to my creator,
Why must I suffer alone with myself,
Why do I fear love.

I have none to lose,
I have all to gain,
I love those I love,
I love those I hate,
Yet, I love no one!


Written when I was a teenager. Well, this one is just chock full o� stuff. On the first glance it�s about a teenager who can�t get a girlfriend. Digging deeper we see the silent screaming rage of a child who never knew real, honest, unconditional love from his mother. Someone who did not know how to love, who knew he did not know how to love, didn�t really know what love was and was terrified he was never going to learn what it was. He was horrified at the prosepct that he would forever be left wanting, at the bakery window, with no change in his pocket.

The Grim Reaper

You aged grapes of Rome,
Fermented since the Ides of March,
How bitter thou nectar tastes,
How sweet thou nectar lies...

I curse thy lonely presence and
How stealthily you visit at night,
Your harvest is a single term,
Thou catholic sithe is honed to life.

The pity of harvest is memories,
The scent of ages gone by,
We curse your legal intrusion,
Yet welcome your hasty good-bye.


Written when I was a teenager. It was inspired by Shakespeare�s Julius Caesar (for the imagery), however, it was written after my fathers death. This poem is about the bitter irony of death. Bitter in how it leave those behind in pain but sweet in that it will end suffering and allow a person to be reborn as a renewed spirit in Summerland. In this poem the word "catholic" (small 'c') refers to the universal and blind nature of deaths swinging sithe. The reference to the Ides of March (Et To Brute?) brings about the feeling that death, on the surface, is the highest form of betrayal by life itself, or, so it would seem to be a betrayal "How sweet thou nectar lies...".

In truth, with my spiritual growth and progression, I no longer see death this way. Now I know that death is merely a state of transition (that's why I say people have transitioned instead of people have died), allowing our spirits to cross the River Elbe and join our ancestors in Summerland. Death is simply the release from material existence and the return to our true ennergetic form of light. It is the start of a new cycle where we will re-asses, learn, plan and eventually return to this beautiful experience called life and learn new lessons.

Phil

Gentle creature, natures delight.
Newborn spirit to the world.
Promise and adventure lie in wait.

Mother, hug me, comfort me.
Feed me, mommy. Stroke my fur.
My eyes are unopened, I�m eager to see.

A fall, a jolt, how it hurt!
Where is mommy? I�m all alone!
Someone wrapping me tenderly in a shirt.

What is this strange place?
So warm, so soft, so quiet.
Where has my mommy gone?

It hurts. So I sleep. What�s wrong with me?
I struggle to be brave, the food is good.
These people, these strangers, I think they love me.

I�m so very tired. I don�t know what�s wrong.
I think that I will go to sleep now.
It�s hard, it�s hard, it hurts to be strong.

Is that you mommy? This place is so beautiful!
Wait, I can see! Stroke me and hold me mommy.
What is the place so warm and sunny with larders full?

Wait, I can see you . My caregiver. The one who loved me.
Please, don�t cry. Don�t weep anymore. I�m in heaven with mommy.
Fall asleep gentle man. Let me comfort you with my angel wings.


It's been two years since I wrote this poem and to this day I can not read it without burning tears coming to my eyes.

Phil is a baby Black Squirrel. He came to us after someone found him laying on the ground. He was about four weeks old and his eyes were not opened yet. Phil made excellent progress. He was gaining weight and eating robustly. On the morning of April 25th, 2002, I woke up and found him lying still and cold. Still alive, Suzie and I tried to warm him and make him better. A half hour later, his tiny 79 gram body shook gently as he struggled to draw in a breath.

Then he stopped struggling.

Then he went to sleep.

On The Roadside

O, ye world so harsh and cruel,
How it hurts to see you fool,
How can you take a life so sweet,
O, why must it lie upon the street,
I ask you world so vicious and cuning,
Why do you think it�s so damn funny,
Why do you prey on the innocent one,
Is there a reason for all this destruction?


Written when I was a teenager. This was about a small dog lying dead on the side of the road, having been struck by a car. When I saw the dog, I couldn�t shake the vision of a little girl sitting at home crying and wondering why her doggie didn�t come home last night and if he ran away because he didn�t love her any more. This poem was my frustration at opportunities lost due to, what appears to be, the whimsical hand of karma/fate and the breathless sense of unfairness when we miss a lesson and only see the hurt, rather than the opportunity to grow from it. I wish more people would stop and actually think about the things they are going through rather than just react emotionally to them. Easy to say, hard to do. If you are going through something bitter and feeling unfairly shit on by the universe, I want you to know that as being of light, like you, sharing this existence, I love you.

A Penny

A penny for your thoughts,
My true love did say.
But I could give naught;
For the past kept his guarded heart at bay.

A mere penny, I thought,
Was more than I was willing to share.
How could I give anything?
Did he truly care?

Looking deep into his eyes,
I knew how real this was for me.
But past hurts and betrayal,
Blinded him to all that this could be.

And as I slowly walked away,
My heart filled with pain.
Never would I underestimate
A penny�s worth again.


This poem ROCKS! It is one of my favourites of all of Sue's work.

Soul Contract

Sudden Nature

Brought down to that sudden nature
Where your inner shallowness
Demands to be depthened
Take away those shackles of control
And let the power of the soul be released
A primal scream echoing around the world

Walk With Me

Walk with me, my friend.
Believe in love and light.
Look not at where you've come from;
But a future clear in sight.

Far above the clouds,
Walk with me and soar.
Beyond the pain and fear,
Lies love forever more.

Walk with me, my love.
Let go of the past.
Open you heart to laughter and joy.
You may find peace at last.

Deep inside your soul.
Walk with me and shine.
Though the future is uncertain,
Life is but a moment in time.

The Gift

Some of it is beautiful, some of it is just plain weird. Most of it is dark because it was written during the dark times (we all have dark times now and then). The "dark time" poems are actually a celebration of growth, change and becoming.

It is when we have reached the darkest and most humbling points in our life that we are finally able to strip away the fluff, bare our souls to ourselves and really, truly look at who we are. It is that shocking and sometimes terrifying insight to our own self that is the catalyst for the true growth and change we need to become all that we can be.

Select from the titles below or the list above...

Enjoy!

• Everything I Need To Know About Life, I Learned From Star Trek
  Just read it, okay? If you liked even one of my poems above, just read this one, for me.