Ranch Poem – “Life is rich”

“Life is rich” 

(an imitation of a 1960 Jack Kerouac poem

Life is rich
Buds pop
Winds change
Owls sit
Ducks stare
Men show
Books glow
Worms sow
Ants tow
Cats Know
Subs blow




Ranch Poem – “No Longer Torn”


No Longer Torn

This has all been foreseen
the eternal arms race
the fields of financial volcanoes
the Devil’s industry
waterboarding our Mother’s green

It wasn’t magic or prophet
but human reason that called it
It wasn’t formula or metaphysics
but reality created from our nature

Temples rebuilt, Messiah’s reborn
our minds play tricks our hearts throw bricks
until our beliefs align – no longer torn

I had a dream that I was split in two
one part was alone stranded at home
the other waiting to enter salvation with you

What is it we are destined to be?
a race too accurate for it’s own good
a race that knows more than it should
a race where they feed us liberty
but the mind’s ain’t free

Towers rebuilt, Conflicts reborn
our hearts fear ourselves our minds fear the world
until our beliefs align, no longer torn

I had a dream that I was split in two
one part was alone stranded at home
the other waiting to enter salvation with you


Ranch Poem – “Roar”



Midday sun rays drop through the open window
onto uneven bursts and streams of water.
Opalescent rainbow mist is created
by a chance combination of elements.
Nature meets petty human agency,
the juxtaposed joy of a mystic vision!
To exhibit this fleeting masterpiece
and have patrons join me in the shower…naked!
We are meant to serve art, serve creation
and EXPLODE from it and EXPLODE as it.
Like the mist, art is not always so thoughtful.
True beauty exists in community.
Talking with Dizzy I notice a change,
our fellows breaking habits to be brave.
Going alone. Always accident prone.
Escape irrevocable decisions,
discover real life in death of derision.
Find love instead of money, power and trouble.
We welp out loud in our sleep, our dog dreams.
A darkened desired for a light unseen.
We fear this blinding reality of ours.
How do we choose from this bag of tricks?
How do we know which news is good and bad?
They think day to day as we wait for tomorrow.
Soon our technology may create us.
But only a soul can experience depression,
feel the Blues and write “Sophisticated Lady.”
Where is Twain and Ginsburg when we read them?
They scream at us from Kindles and touch screens.
Sure is hard to watch raw, old ways fade.
Traditionalists make the best progress,
don’t be so quick to not grow from yesterday.
Gödel’s theorems exist throughout nature
in swirling survival matter and soul growth.
Do not be afraid of your own art.
Roar and make a sad world a paradise.