My hand holds my phone:/
Instrument of so much pain./
I can not call her.

When a cowgirl falls/
off her horse, the best advice/
is to “cowgirl up”.

We’re not yet connected spiritually.
We didn’t feel at first glance
that we’ve known each other eternally.
But that doesn’t mean there’s no chance.

We’ve felt no sudden connection,
No rush of pheromonal chemistry.
There’s no embodiment of soulmate perfection;
No neuronal or emotional telepathy.

Yet something in your voice, eyes and smile
Draws me to you and invites me to stay.
So we’ll just hang out together awhile;
and not push each other away.

We are comfortable together, like a pair of old shoes.
To those burned by chemistry before, that’s actually kinda good news.

Gentle caresses/
of blonde tresses/
may start/
2 melt/
what she’s long felt:/
Practical parts./
But can mere touch and poetry/
provide chemistry/
2 start/
her heart?

A hot, built lady
came dancing with me.
We gathered Achtung, Baby!
of all who could see.

Out in the center
of the gym’s dance floor,
they all starred at her,
wishing for more.

The women gazed
and wished they were she.
The men were amazed
at how beautiful beauty could be.

Yet when she left to pursue evening’s slumber,
she only gave me an email, not her number.

On Saturday morn,
she’ll listen passionately
for the sound of bells.

Before I went,
I gave you a present,
Because I knew,
You’d sometimes feel blue.

People would make you tired,
Uninspired,
feeling no good,
and misunderstood.

You’d feel frustrated,
Hated,
Disgusted,
Mistrusted.

It’s hard being lonely,
By yourself only,
Taken advantage of;
Unable to be loved;
Alone,
With no real home.

At times like these
I beg you please,
To not think it silly
To consider the Lily,
and think on the gift I gave;

Remember He who will save,
and think on who
Is the true I am.
You’ll always have the Lamb.

I recently recalled a life-changing event which happened when I first lived in Switzerland in the late 70s. As I wrote about it in an email and have thought about it since, it’s interesting to see how much it reflects my life and belief system.

I once was, with a group of friends, running down a steep mountain trail in the Alps above Luzern. It had started to mist slightly as the clouds rose up off the Vierwaldstaedtersee and slammed into the mountainside.
And then, while my friends ran onward, something caught my ears. In the distance I could hear cowbells (mind you, this was well before “More Cowbell” became popular!). They were the varied notes of dozens of Alpine cowbells, all ringing in uncomposed, yet somehow perfect, harmony, through the mist.
I stopped running, and thought to myself: “When will I ever again have this moment? When will nature and man-made music collide to play this for me?” Instead of running willy-nilly through the Alpine meadows — which, I noticed for the first time, were in early May bloom –, I strolled.
Sauntered.
Sometimes stopped and listened and reflected and learned.
I arrived at the village nearly two hours after my hurried, running friends.
“You missed dinner!” they exclaimed.
Instead, I feasted on cheese, slice apples, and yogurt, which seemed to fit the afternoon.
I could never bear to tell them:
“You missed a world premier performance.”

She stood on the verge
of greatness.
Something she’d never
experienced.

The tool was
in her hands;
placed to wield
and understand.

All she needed
was to pick up the phone
and be warmly greeted,
and experience not being alone.

But instead
she went to bed.

Can’t a woman just like me for my mind…
instead of the inevitable pleasure they will find
at my hand?
Can’t they understand
the mind’s more divine?