Category: Poetry & Prose

“Those of us who remain hidden from everyone else, however, know that this world is wondrous and filled with mysteries.  We possess no magical perception, no psychic insight.  I believe our recognition of reality’s complex dimensions is a consequence of our solitude…

– Dean Koontz

 

To live in the city of crowds and traffic and constant noise, to be always striving, to be in a ceaseless competition for money and status and power, perhaps distracted the mind until it could no longer see – and forgot – the all that is.  Or maybe, because of the pace and pressure of that life, sanity depended on binding oneself to the manifold miracles, astonishments, wonders, and enigmas that comprised the true world.”             

– Dean Koontz

A gentle soul, a victim’s lot

He though he’d give respect

To the brother who knew not his

And for his self, neglect

 

Christmas said to a gilded duck

I don’t obey the man

And it’s not I who’s discontent

With dying words or plan

 

But greed and lust more gullible

Than innocent will scream

When found guilty of the theft

Of what the dying dream

 

For in the land of treasures lost

False pity’s strewn as true

And even victim’s refuse gifts

Of what they never knew

 

Father Christmas tell me then

Please, how to gift men’s hearts

So that their eyes may open wide

Instead of shopping carts

 

First, they must reassess their words

For worry isn’t love

True charity’s designed to heal

False pity is a shove

 

And though the state will oft neglect

A will they haven’t read

Honest aid won’t compensate

Kin seated ’bout his bed

 

Nor the girl who suffered much

From same false charity

But silent, careful words ring loud

Until the blind can see

 

Second, sleep where beggars sleep

And dine where beggars dine

Before you dispense men’s slavery

And call it treasures fine

 

The living cry, the dead don’t sigh

The dead don’t even weep

But those disdain sweet justice call

Will toss and turn in sleep

 

As for me, I make my way

Deliver Golden Light

To hopeful hearts who dream of heaven

And Christmas in the night

 

For though we visit and chat they’re not

The ones I’ve come to see

Translation belongs to GOD alone

And understanding is on knee

 

Rejoice then child, come take my hand

On this fine Christmas ride

And I will entertain with ghosts

Transfer safely, by my side