looking back over the past year, as it slips into memory and history, I sit here pondering what has happened. whether it is because of age, insight, or too many trips around the merry-go-round, I am a bit depressed about the sad state of a part of the human race. some time while I was sleeping, someone totally brilliant decided that…

haircuts that look like a chain saw or beaver attacked the back of the neck are championed by some rural hairstylists 

the ladder of success is too often measured by how many birth fathers contributed to your immediate family

there is gaining devolutionary thought that the Earth is actually flatter than a 13 year old French runway model

pedophilia not only exists, but is practiced by sick politicians someone actually elected

I sit here lamenting because time is short on this Earth, and fewer and fewer wake from their own deluded fantasies. To wake one, even one, from falling off into the abyss, is worth it. But some, even those who we have held closest to us, have left us suddenly, in an instant gone.

So, it is with a sober heart I wish you a peaceful new year. and I pray that this year, you will come to know why you were created, and what God has in store for you this year.

Slan go foil…






Posted in Life | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

prelude to a promise


Though snow cover the whole world white

and death descend on the land like night

this season will pass ‘neath a coming storm

to wake us anew in a heavenly form…






Posted in Life, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Autumn answers


seeds waiting for new life in the coming cold


and leaves joining others in sleep


there are some who choose to color the dying landscape


and refuse to blend in with decay







Posted in Life, Nature | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

questions in the dark

when I was twenty-three, I thought life was chocolate cake…

yet so many sobering faces confronted me

from the crowd that lived the longest-

no sunshine in their veins,

nor smiles in the topo lines etched in flesh 

their passing like the scent of a faded gardenia

or an old musty beige house,

sadness lingered like a mist about them.


solace was my grandmother’s friend

but a clueless mystery to a boy of nine

clinging to the porcelain edge while taking a bath

as if the flood of memories would invade the bathroom

and I the drowning captain of a big white boat…

but solace slept with sadness

and I saw her sleeping at an instant

when the grey eyes drooped and the mouth dropped.


but it terrified me at six when I tried to remember the sobbing sound

that came when I closed my eyes and opened my ears in the

dead of night, the purple black.

listening to the snoring wheezing of an old one in the room beside me

and wondering if it was catching, this sobbing sound-

would I get it too when I became as crusty as the old woman?







Posted in Life, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

i would rather be a beautiful baguette than a moldy mouthful of beaten-down bread


going to church on Sunday…for the building up of your spirit…is like going to the day old bread store and buying a bag of moldy bread. sure, the product is still there, but you get a stale loaf with major rot going on inside…

wouldn’t you rather go to a good cook’s house, have a little baguette with kosher wine, and a nice supper with people who love God and want to live that out every day…every night?

wouldn’t you rather keep your money for someone who you know really needs it, instead of putting it in an offering plate or offering bag, and wondering if the typical 2% church outreach fund actually made it to someone in need?

wouldn’t you rather read the Word of God for yourself, guided by the Spirit of God, who shows you things that the pastor would never see because he or she is so focused on the Mosaic Law (which is history for us)?

if you actually think about what you read in the New Testament, without the voice of pastors and the five fold heresy blabbering on and on, surely the Lord will show you the truth…

and the truth will set you free, while the pastor is still stuck inside that cardboard box, unable to climb out of it…






Posted in Christianity, Life | 2 Comments

the word beyond words



how can I share what air cannot reveal,

what eyes cannot reach,

what words cannot contain?

though the wind whisper it,

my ears cannot translate for you,

only these lips that speak without thought

like a treasure crying out inside a padlocked chest,

the thoughts as a vapor rising from the soil.











Posted in glossilalia, Language, Life | Leave a comment



lunch time….


bamboo…for two…



unless you can carry it away with your teeth…


and “hide” in the trees….



Posted in animals, Photography | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Yer Random Stones


out in the forest…here in an out of the way part of America..

sure now there probably was a building here at one time, but what were they doing organizing these large stones in such a way. Were they fans of Stonehenge? Or, was there a barn here?

what do you think?

Posted in History, Photography | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

it was a nice day to lounge around…



for a tiger…


for a brown bear….



for a leopard…


and even for a bobcat…

but someone had to stay awake…to watch out for any monkey business…




Posted in Life, Photography | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The weaker week

In the course of human events, the ancient world was rife with conflicting schedules for the unit we call “the week,” from five days to ten days, with some societies choosing alternating numbers of days in the week to balance the year. In the so-called “West,” it was a Roman Emperor, Constantine, who endowed us with a much more reliable measurement, standardizing the week into seven days….which, of course, made him look like a super genius. Constantine, who appears to have been a wee bit of a super narcissist, stole the idea from the ancient Hebrews, Babylonians,  and other empires….and God.

The average man or woman in 322AD, in the area influenced by the Roman Empire, went to work on “A” and might go shopping on “H.” The Romans were less original with their days of the week than just about any other civilization ever to wake up from a bed in the morning. This might explain why there were so many murders among the imperial family, who must have taken the blame for not exciting workers into more production on “Day E,” and for the shopping day fiasco “Black F,” our predecessor to “Black Flag,” which is always a nasty surprise to insects, infidels, and 16 year old Snowflakes…

And while everyone- including the Hobbits, elves, unicorns, My Little Ponies, Democrats and Cybermen- could rationally argue which day Christ was born in Bethlehem, and which calendar should be consulted for that….and which day is the true seventh day…and which element should be used to calculate when a day is officially over…and which calendar is the most accurate for predicting the end of the world…there is  enough history revealing how corrupted and inaccurate ancient time-keeping was that it is simply a waste of time in the end.

What does not make sense is that the names used for the days of the week in much of the western world is still attached to long forgotten pagan mythology that makes little sense to use in the 21st century. And while there have been mostly forgotten attempts, like those by Pope Sylvester, to change the names to more reasonable and useful references, none has shaken, nor officially changed the days of the Western World.

Strangely enough, Sunday, the first day of the week now, is closest to some semblance of usefulness. Sunday, like Son-Day, the day celebrated as the day when Christ rose from the grave, at least makes a bit of sense. Monday, on the other hand, sounds like “Mun-day,” the Day of The Mundane.

Many of us have to get up early and go to work on this Monday, Mundane Day, not nearly as happy as Son-Day, because it is most likely to be the least exciting day of the week. Hence, it is more appropriate to rename it “Munday,” short for “Mundane Day.”

Tuesday…well, who knows what in the world that refers to, other than it is “Twos Day.” On Twos Days, we know that it is the second day of the standard Western workweek, still so far from the weekend. Twos Days are good days for Two For One specials because we…those of us who must take time to stop into a restaurant to eat our meals while working in our fields…are more likely to succumb to this two-for-one deal as it is early in the week, and we are still hungry from the terrible day we had on Munday (Mundane Day).

The third Day of the week, sometimes called Hump Day, which is not helpful for the chronically single, is Wednesday, which makes absolutely no sense. No one I know says “Wed-ness.” Can I get a Wed-ness that it is Wed-ness-day? Wind, yes. Winds-day- that I hear all the time. Of course, this Winds-Day is the day when it can go  either way- good or bad- being the third day of the work week, and the day when you do not know which way the wind blows, nor which way the week will blow…

The fourth day of the week is Thursday, or “Turzday.” I prefer those who pronounce it in the latter form, as it reminds me of just how frustrating the day can be. Turz is like Turds, and while it is not Friday, you can certainly smell it from here…

Back in the day, I remember the lads talking about “getting fried.” Well, if you have a really terrific job, you don’t have such pathetic days. But if your job is a pile of Turds, Fry-day is the day you either eat all the fried chicken, chickfry (deep fried breaded anything fried in the same grease as fried fish), or some other ghastly grease-enriched gastrointestinal adventure…or….because your brain is so “fried,”you need to go do something stupid like watch every season of Deep Space Nine until your eyeballs bug out, or you collapse like a three-toed sloth on the bedroom floor…

And then, there is Saturday. What can you say about Saturday? Nothing bad, surely. It is a good day to relax from all the hectic work days. Some of us do have to work on Saturdays, but even then, there is something uniquely pleasing about Saturday that says to us that it is a good day to sit at some time. So, Saturday is not too far off from Sat-ur-day, or sit down and do nothing so stressful as what was done the previous five days. But then again, some of us do not have this freedom.

And that is a shame. There should be some kind of freedom to call a day what you will, as long as somebody out there relates to the idea. So, Turds Day might be more popular in Ireland than in the USA, where it is more like to be The Day After Hump Day, or Humpless Day, which is not good for just about anyone.

While there is currently no mass movement to change the names of the days of the week…this post should inspire you to come up with your own ideas for new names for the days of the week. After all, how long is the western world going to be writing “Wednesday,” when practically nobody pronounces it that way?










Posted in Culture, Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment