Poetry is in the eye of the beholder.  Have a blast with the material and then share it with others for the mutual benefit of society.   

 C          Am
As we come today before you.
 F    G
As we walk into you house.
 C         Am
We will sing with open hearts,
    Dm
We want to love you,
        F
To love you…
   G                      C
Jesus Our Holy Lord.

 C
We worship you,
        Am                          Dm                                  G
We raise our eyes and receive your most Holy, tender care.
  C
We worship you,
  Am                                Dm
You love us, and we’re most down, you say:
                   G
“Don’t be afraid.”
         Am                  F
We love you, you love us. 3x
  F              G          C
You Love us, We love you.
 

All that I need is in you.
From the grapes and fruits and the simple vines.
All that I  need is in you.
You make my rest overflowing with new  wine.
May I come, and come.

You dress me in the finest.
Clothes of simple cost.
I live in mercy as you have found me.
It is good for you to take away the dross.

And when I am alone and so afraid.
You enter in my room and take away my pain.
Unlike the phantom, you last for eternity.
Not as the sparrow:  You never fly away.
And when I run away, in flight to another city.
You comfort me and bring me home.

I think that I am going to the evil,
But You assure me never to be afraid.
And when I need to be beaten,
You temper  me with a quiet spirit.

My son, listen to me.
My daughter, not just by words.
Feel the breath and vitality of my being.
When I come into your heart and reflect upon your soul.
 I will always answer your cries.
I will always care for your sighs.
I will never let the right go unannounced.
You will never be ashamed in the face of my presence.
As I give you the life that I deserve.

Because of me  I love you and give you the life that I say you deserve.
(Must believe, otherwise dark makes us think otherwise and tells us to give up)
Old thought.
Only believe, Only Believe.
All things are possible, only believe
Only believe, Only Believe.
All things are possible, only believe

Two
Dedicated to Richard and Marilyn Patterson

Sitting in my room.
Staying at the house of my sister.
The window is open and she is gone.
The warm spring air breeze,
Filters into my refuge and reminds me of times,
Of little girl’s toys and peppermints, mixing
With rich scents of elixirs and spices.

The sunshine lights and,
the brass orange stands in my world, where
Agatha held my hand as we walked in the open air market.
She cried at the excitable birds that chirped and sang at,
The open tops of the tents.
The world was new and exciting for her.  She
Drank the potion as it was stirred and poured.

Beggars asked and moaned for alms.
We were warned by the guards to avoid the lecherous thiefs that,
Masqueraded as humble patriarchs in a hard world.
Algeria had grown turbulent these days.
The great teacher had persuaded the religious elect to,
Sponsor a great contest that would choose the new leader,
Of the desert--The government did not welcome this news.

Arresting the great teacher caused riots and
Threats.  President Amman, eventually, proclaimed the
Contest  would,
Begin on June 1st and end on July 25th.
The throne of the Ancient Pearl would be established on July 26th.
The contest proved to be an exciting event.

Men came from all over the world,  performing
High feats of strength and wisdom;
Daring acrobatics of the first degree.
Magicians flew,  Lions and bears were tamed.
Bombs shot through and decimated target buildings--just for the
Sake of the entertainment and recognition needed for the prize.

My associate,
Hakeem came from a small town on the edge of the desert.
If I would have been close to him,
I would have seen his great anger:
A bitterness that burned with such  fury,
It could not be quenched.
As I later learned,
It was not beneficial for Hakeem, Agatha, or I.

The military ten years ago attacked the small desert village,
Of Akbar (Hakeem’s ancestral home)  and,
Killed his wife, child and parents.
Hakeem’s family lived in that town for a thousand years,
But the unjust leaders in that region forced all persons,
Including his older uncles and aunts to vacate the premises,
As the city was given to a religious leader:
One known as the Great Teacher.

I came to this land to develop project teams  for,
Telecommunications installations throughout the country.
I was requested as the French Utilities Board,
Mandated all national and international business,
To upgrade communication devices and security due to,
Regional instability.
Most French and Algerian firms refused to assist,
These local businesses.

After being in the country nine months,
My wife passed away.
She was on her way to work,
And a semi-truck lost control of its,
Brakes, while on a large hill in San Franciso.
My daughter stayed with my parents for another six months,
But that was too long--
She needed a daddy and missed her and my wife terribly.

 Our family and I decided that she would,
Stay  with me for a month every three months.
I sent Hakeem and His new wife, Janece to,
San Franciso for a two week vacation and,
A return trip with my daughter.
We all decided that my daughter would be safe,
As she had the look of an Algerian national.

Her dark brown hair and brown,
Olive skin fit in well with the rest of children,
Of nationals at the American school.
You see, my wife was an Algerian student at San Francisco State,
University for three years, and we graduated together.

I learned over the last ten years,
A version of Algerian-French and, also, of
Much of the culture.
That is one of the reasons why,
I was selected to come,
And try to save a nation.
Hakeem and Janece arrived with,
The only jewel of my life, Agatha, on June 26th.

Little did I know that while in my hometown,
Hakeem met with several exiled leaders of his,
Former community and political persuasion.
These comrades made a pact that they would end the contest,
And settle the old accounts with the Great Teacher.
I greeted my friends with hugs and kisses,

And Agatha with gifts and love, my deepest love.
Little did I know that this friendly couple,
Held my life in their hands.
I did not even have any control over the life of my daughter.

Hakeem was in charge of hiring,
A team of electronic and telecommunications professionals,
In the first year of the project we had completed ninety-percent,
Of the task.

My wife had always mentioned in our early years,
That any industrial undertaking in Algeria would,
Take three times longer to finish,
Than in the United States.
I was surprised that progress of the project was three years ahead,
Of my conservative budget and time estimates.

I was amazed at Hakeem’s skill at directing,
And managing several different operations all over the country.
It seemed that he always knew when trouble,
Occurred--He stopped any interruption of the work,
Within minutes.

He was limited in his foresight in the design process,
Of the new national communications links.
For months Hakeem tried to convince me that,
One central location trigger was necessary for control,
Of the nation.

I always came back to logic and taught him,
That centralized systems would be a disaster.
We designed forty-two COMM centers in the country,
And then three Satellites with the main trigger functions,
In Paris, Brussels and San Francisco.

The systems were not designed for the foreign offices to be able,
To shut down communications;
But to override any kind of national breakdown,
Or terrorist attacks on the main,
Communications networks in Algeria.

 On July 4th, all of our teams gathered,
At local sites througout the nation for a great celebration.
The project was finished:
Years earlier than planned.

For the last few days, I conferenced
With all of our site managers to confirm that,
All was completed.

On July 3, I authorized the party,
And planned to personally to tour every new facility,
Over the next two weeks.
I just did not understand what had happened:
Was my wife’s insight incorrect?

The French Board asked me to stay until August 1st,
To review the final adjustments needed for the new,
Communications network.
Some of the work sights were in dangerous parts of the country:

Hakeem accompanied me with several assistants,
While Janece taught Agatha her lessons.
Whenever I returned from my trips, I found Agatha dressed,
 In Algerian childrens’ styles.
She ran to me and jumped into my arms and kissed,
Her daddy.
I was reminded of a better time with her mother.

On July 24th,  Hakeem traveled with me to a far,
Outpost in the Sahara Desert.
When we arrived at the COMM center, I noticed
Most of the workers to be gone.
“The crowning of the new ruler has almost forced a shutdown.”
Hakeem almost seemed excited; yet, very calm.

Hakeem gave me a tape recorder when I did some test work,
Underground, near an electrical transformer.
The tape played some traditional music for about a half-hour,
Then the music stopped and the words and began to hit me--
“My friend, thank you for assisting me in becoming,
The new leader and friend of all in this country.

Under the guise of additional Telecommunications,
Installations, I have put together a network of people,
Committed to a new form of government in this country--
A benevolent dictatorship--

You have been my friend and have taught me much,
And now I repay you with temporary evil for your kindness.
Do not worry...your daughter is safe.
Matter of fact, we have arranged for her,
To become our daughter.

There are plenty of supplies where you are and we will,
Come for you in five days.
At that point, you will be flown to England.
Goodbye, ny friend we will probably,
Never see each other again.

Agatha will remain in out care for the next,
Two years until we can safely transport her,
To be with you.   Goodbye”

My heart stopped...I cried aloud and ran to,
The phone center...Nothing, everything was dead.
The next 24 hours were a blur--

A camel was left a mile from the COMM station;
I rode to a nearby town and hired,
An old World War I byplane for travel.
I fought bandits who later told me that,
Hakeem was trying to stop me from finding him.

I swam across a four mile river,
Only to awake covered with sweat  and shivering as,
A young Algerian woman told me how Hakeem,
Had his knife by my throat; yet,
Let me live for some unknown reason.

I arrived in Akbar on the afternoon of the 26th of July.
The city was overcrowded in anticipation of the crowning,
Of the throne of the Ancient Pearl.
I assumed that where the Great Teacher was staying--
Is where I would find Hakeem.

Two hours later, just before dusk,
I found the Great One.
He was seated in an old 1950’s version,
Of a Lazy-Boy chair from the Levitz’s,
Furniture chain.

Then I saw Hakeem as he approached the Great Person.
Hakeem bowed and seemed to be speaking,
To the Great Personage.
A minute later, Hakeem yelled to the crowd,
“The contest is complete,

To the victor goes the spoils,
The Great Empire of the Ancient Pearl has risen again.
We live in the era of the sun.
The sun.  The sun.  The sun.  The sun.
I now present you the victor...

In the crowd is Mr. Justin...
Please come forward.
I was shocked, why had Hakeem called me up,
To the front of the crowd?

Akimba Natalie, one of my assistants pointed me out to the crowd,
(Akimba  is a hardworker, I really like, originally from Nigeria).
Several young men in long beards rushed and came and bowed,
Before me...They set me on an ancient chair and ran me up to meet
The, the, the...
The Great Personfication,
The Great Alliteration,
The Great One,
The Great Oxymoron.

I walked and shook hands...he bowed and,
Shared with the crowd,
“My children, this man is my equal...
He is a Great Man,  The Great One.
He is the only one deserving the Ancient Throne of the Pearl.
While the whole nation sought war, or
Politics, or terrorism...

He sought peace.
While we reveled and awaited a leader,
He built a network of communication.
He lost his wife and his child while,
Trying to save our land.

President Amman, come here and assist me with,
The crowning of the King of the desert.”
I interrupted the ceremony by saying,
“You have selected me to be King,
But I am a broken man, my only skill is managing,
Multi-national projects without a hitch.”

The great one replied,
“It is time for you to manage this nation under God.”
President Amman added,  “It is time for us to reveal the truth, now.
Hakeem is now coming with your daughter and,
two other woman.  One is Janece,
The other woman is...”
I yelled between tears and ran, “ Jatene, my Jatene, my wife.

I thought you were gone...Thank God!”
We then embraced.

The Great One sang with Hakeem, Janece, and President Amman,
As the crowd listened and then sang,

“Our God in Heaven gives us one life.
He allows our feet to roam, searching for anchors.
When we are ready, He gives us the ability to work and love.
We kiss our children and build for today and tomorrow.
We can share with our Family, the fruit of the,
Heavens and peace on earth through the heart.

Sing to the Creator and the Ancient One.
He has brought to us a Pearl of Great Price
The Leader we will present to all the nations,
Has proven himself because of his love for his wife,
Daughter, Father and Nation.

We will see a future,
That will not be pure, perfect;
However, it is time to make the law, Love.
Deep within our natures.

Cheer for your friend, Mr  Justin.
The Crowd left happy that evening.
Mr Justin restored the Communication Networks that night,
And shared of his good fortune.

The announcement brought hope to the world as Mr Justin,
Announced that elections for Parliamentary seats would be,
Held in a year and,
Peace needed to rain for the country to become healthy again.

President Amman was sent with The Great One to,
Washington D.C., to negotiate with President Clinton,
For the Algerian Infrastructure Act of 1997.
This bill, as you are aware,  brought jobs,

To most of the unemployed workers in the region.
President Amman stayed New York as the United,
Nations represenntative, as The Great One,
Became the Paris Ambassador who,
Discussed better ways that French relations could improve.

Hakeem became the chancellor and Prime Minister of the Algerian,
Government-- His strength was his ability to organize,
And make decisive decisions for positive results.

Akimba Natalie remained chief advisor to Mr Justin
(The people always called the King, Mr Justin),
The King used his expertise to modernize a nation and,
Instruct the people how to grow and maxmize their daily,
Lives...in working, sharing, caring, and laughing.

Mr Justin brought his sister over from.
San Francisco and found her a house,
That was peaceful and quiet.
Where birds could chirp and sing beautiful,
Bird songs.

Mr Justin would go and spend non-working days at the house and,
Wait for his sister to return from the American School,
Where she taught History.
Mr. Justin would sit and be thankful,
And ask for help.

Then he would think a thought,
Similar to...
“Sitting in my room.
Staying at the house of my sister.
The window is open and she is gone.
The warm spring air breeze,
Filters into my refuge and reminds me of times,
Of little girl’s toys and peppermints, mixing
With rich scents of elixirs and spices.”

I will speak of the quiet moments, quiet moments, quiet moments.
In the of my tears, quiet moments--of my tears.
I will sing of my private feelings, private feelings, private feelings,
Quiet moments of my tears, of my tears, of my tears.

I am not a common man,
Who lives in a hole with a cot.
I do not try to kill myself, or try to drink myself.
To death, with a lot of rot;
Yet, early on in my advancing youth,
I began to read and write and see the visions through my eyes,
A developing kind of sight.
I began to look for the quiet moment, moment,
And feel for the private feeling s, feelings and see,
And long, and See and long,
Untile even dreams began rich with their Metaphors,
And Similes.

And still I look for the quiet moment, moment, moment--
And sing to the lanterns of heaven in the sky.
Singing for the ultimate founding, founding...
A rose who never pass by,
But live and be free to grow in rich soil and thrive.
Well meaning lives--
Purposes the new feeling, feeling, feeling,
As I look for the quiet moment, moment;
Seeking the wren I find and hearing the wondrous songs,
Of a beautiful age gone by, gone by.

The Immaculate is of our concren and not of our concern;
Yet, I look for the quiet, quiet, quiet,
And sing for the robin-bird.

The victorian Poet Christina Rossetti sang a wondrous,
Music of piety and other-wordliness:
From another time.
Her dear words warm the cold heart of mine as the literature draws me,
To the “Hound of Heaven,”
My God.
The Lady rejected the marriage offers of suitors,
Due to issues, supposedly of Theology...
The “Crowning of all the Sciences.”
The Lady, ill and alone,
Warms my heart as hope soared and she is at rest, this century, at last.

But, say I..., is there anyone whom warms my heart as Ms--
A pritzl here and a Pritzl causes the burning to never cease;
Yet, all is from the Angelic Lion with the golden hair.
I am the Dragon and the Claws tear deep into my soul,
And the priggish little boy is released to a better state.
And yet, a flower blooms in this time and century;
When I thought all was a loss and an orchid was led into sin and,
Humiliation on a cheap Hawaiian Sunday through Thursday vacation.

“But, O heart, heart, heart where on the deck,
Lies the cold body of my Captain,”
Sang the dirge of the late Walt Whitman.
My deck seemed cold;
Yet, on the deck where my Captain slept,
I wept and He arose again and flew, not fled.
Bled, red, from the head;
Yet, on the deck where Mein Kapitan listens to his favorite Waltzes,
From the Tijuana Brass.
Herb Alpert releasing the sweet sensations of the cool flavor of pop 60’s Ballad Jazz--
Yes. Yes. YES! YES!!! YES!!!!!!!!!
The dream does live, live on, live on immensely, overflowing.
Do you hear overflowing..., Overflowing..., OVERFLOWING!!!
Running out of the sink all over the floors causing the Ants to go down under,
Ground to get out of the rain.
Dum, Dum, Dum,
“The ants go marching one by one, Hurrah!”
Although one part of my family came from Memphis, Tennessee,
Do I care to watch the separation that still occurs today?
I cannot stand it, I would rather not losae an arm for the change--
I am weak; yet, I do wish I was in the land of Cotton,
But I do not want to whistle “Dixie,” but cry out a silent prayer of healing to a,
Little mommy, irreparably damaged by the ravages of time, and lost fragrances of Youth.

The world is renewed in the Almighty’s eye.
The storm passes by those Unattached.
A heritage of Christina Rossetti lives on to inspire a new generation,
In far lands, like Puerto Rico, Vallarta, Chicago, Tanzania, Rockville.
“Never forget your humble beginnings, my daughter.”
The wreath around your head is clean and majestic.
A shame is like second hand smoke, artificial contamination.

When all is said and done,
Do not forget you are loved.
When the battle is at its greatest pitch,
Remember the stranger who hugged and helped you to stand.
When you are sick and ill, be not ill, at ease--
You are my dearest comrade and I love you.
In a official and unofficial way.
We all feel afraid to open wide the floodgate in our hearts.
The soft touch of the Eternal will come us down,
And free us to be the loving, touching, feeling, playing person when I was five.

Lilac water brings back fond memories,
Water is pure, and allows me to thrive.
I would, rather, not die--Seek and be alive.
Not astray.
Come with me and we will walk to Heaven and see our loved ones.
In a lightning flash it will all be over.
Then I will be Happy.
To walk hand in hand with you,
And we, with are Father.
We do not walk into the sunset as the sun,
Shines from the  Bard’s impeccable brow.
 

Four
 

What can do you to stop a young man’s fire?
Abuse him, refuse him.
Tell him he could be listening to,
The Liar.
Emasculate him, confuse him,
Send him to a place of many thoughts,
Leading to a quagmire.

What can you do to fuel a young man’s fire?
Include him, Let him live,
Let him figuratively, die.
Always care, always share.
Never let him hike alone.
Allow solitary moments for a higher joy.
Help him gradually face his fears,
Make him feel comfortable so that his dry tears,
Will turn into a full cry.
Show him the Father’s Heart,
By bleeding a little bit of your own body.

Which would you prefer?
To kill a little gosling and gobble him for dinner,
Or, to restore a great cathedral in the midst of a youthful restoration.
May God have mercy on us.
  

Spitting plasma and pouring out blood all over my hands and face and, 
Matted on my hair and eyes.
Blindness rips civility out of my hate, and
Crowns the thorns into my side.
I cannot see the fresh winds of angels that come to comfort the beleaguered,
family that I decimated and brought trouble upon.

The archangel speaks from heaven and pronounces a curse.
“You will be chained in the pit and fear torment, violence and torture,
In the spirit of your darkness...
The Titans will rule over the last of your breath, until the crows feed upon your nostrils.
Stench will be your surname and dog will be your Christian designation.
Stains of disorder and tubercolosis will infect your mind and soul forever.”

My maladies are oppressive and will never be overcame.  I was mad and destructive.
Turquoise never flowed around the fair  Mary and my love for her was but a deception from,
Hell.  I have been assaulted and assailed.
Panic propels me into an crazed state of infirmity.
Animalistic tendencies force me into horrors.
Is there any end?

The black man visited me in the can.
“Son, I know what you have done!  You have rendered wrong, horrible acts,
to fair minded children like Mary.”

I growled like The Dragon and slithered on the dirty floor like a snake.
“I curse the growl and remove the damage by lordy, lordy.  NOW!!!”

I thought and saw for the first time in years and my hope broke through.
I remember mother and sewing,
New clothes for
me.
“Son, It is time for you to ask forgiveness from the family and your Maker, up above.
You will never see free light in this earth;
Someday, Mary will welcome you herself home.
I will help you to know right for the next three months until death begins, a new day
for you.
Sonny, come!”

I am eating my last meal and I feel at peace
I have repented to thousands in the public and regret,
Mary’s family will not forgive.
I do not blame them...only hope HE  will help. 

Lucy Fernandez walking alone down the street.
She is lost and cannot find her way.
“Old Lady, Old Lady with the Big Cross on your bag.  I am
Lost, Lost and need to find a way home?”
The old lady threatened her and motioned for her to go away.

 “Mr. Man, Mr. Man with the Big Dove on your jacket.  I am
Lost, Lost and need to find a way home?”
The man threatened her and motioned for her to go away.
“Kind Pastor, Kind Pastor with the Big Smile on your face.  I am
Lost, Lost and need to find a way home?”
The kind Pastor chastised her and motioned for her to go away.

“Gang Friend, Gang friend with the gun in your hand.  I am
Lost, Lost and need to find a way home?”
Gang friend led her to an alley and bloodied her face and stole her purse.
Gang friend ran.
Lucy Fernandez ran.
“I am lost, I am lost and cannot find my way home.”
“I am lost, I am lost and cannot find my way home.”
“I am lost, I am lost and cannot find my way home.”

The news crew led the story on the five o’clock,
news...
“Little Lucy Fernandez left the safety of her home for the supposed safety of the streets.
Several witnesses have shared with us the despicable life that she led.
A pastor called her rebellious.
An old lady called her threatening.
A man called her dangerous.
A gang member called her a thief.
It seems Lucy Fernandez deserved the brutal treatment and murder that she received.
All of these fine people are representatives of our great kingdom.
No is one at fault for not saving her.
It is good to feel justified in our goodness...
Polly Nagiwa signing off for WD Television.

Sergio, the retarded custodian wept.
She gave him her last dollar for a pack of cigarettes the day before she died..

How did we get stretched out of shape?

Seven

Let’s just spin.
Just spin, spin,
Float free in the air and...
Spin, Spin, Spin,
And we sing a new song.
We sing a new song.
Spin, spin, spin, spin, spin, spin, spin,
Spin--Dance a new dance.
Sing a new song, spin, spin, spin, spin...
Feel the rubber on your feet.
Spin.

Done!

Eight
 

Dancing around the campfire,
Singing songs of my heart to my friend.

It reminded me of a time,
When I was not always happy,
But now the light glows,
I can see clear skies
Around the island.
My ship is safe in the harbour,
And I am not alone.

Dancing around the campfire,
Singing songs of my heart to my friend.
Always leading,
But never alone.

Boise City, Oklahoma     Apr 11, 1998

The little town in the Prairie,
Closes down when it becomes dark.
The travelers and the truckers either,
Check-in to local motels, or travel down the one-lane state highway.

I settle in at my little room at the Longhorn Motel.
The night is calm, the sky is clear.
An Oklahoman moon looks down at the friendly folks,
And their bountiful farms.

Kathy brings my Chicken Pasta dish to my table at the Pizza Hut.
She wears a big smile after laughing with two guys at another table.
She is still young, happy, and filled with promise.
Supper in Boise City satisfies my hunger.

The East Indian innkeepers wish me a pleasant night,
In the quiet plains turned purple.
Farmers sleep near to their crops and soil.
It, truly, is well.

I love your power as it brings me to this hour,

And releases great joy, while
Magnifying my pain until it is one day,
Healed.
Spoken languid zeal, free
Hearts to sing and sing and sing.
Free.   To Sing, Sing, Sing:
Seeing the face of the king, king, king.
He holds me a rose of friendship.
Though I puncture my body with poison and,
Sing, Sing, Sing;
To the King, King, Jing,
Jing-a-Sing King.

The nails in my hands I release to the cross and
The fear in my body and eyes full of death,
and the passions and perversions and sickness and loss.
With pithy hysteria that eats into our raw flesh until we are consumed...
Why don’t we Sing, Sing, Sing, To our laudable King, King.
He comes down into our center and dispenses airiness.
 

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