A Work of Art

I am an artist, but not with a brush

My body my canvas, until it is mush

I am an artist, but not with a pen

Open a vein, my ink flows within

I am artist, but not one of stone

I use a blade and cut to the bone

When it is over and my heart does cease

I will have finished my masterpiece


A savior or the first illusionist?

My Facebook feed is flooded with pictures and posts about Jesus this morning. About how he rose from the dead and all the miracles he performed. This got me thinking (as everything seems to do)  and now I want to pose this question to the masses. 

What if Jesus wasn’t really dead? We are talking about a time when medical care was less than crude. A time when people were often entombed or buried alive because they were mistaken for dead. Even as recent as the late 1800’s coffins were fitted with bells that rang above ground should someone wake up to find themselves buried. 

What of the miracles that were mentioned in the bible, and witnessed by groups of people?  I will concede that there is a certain amount of historical accuracy found in the bible. I would like to point out that I have seen Criss Angel (an illusionist) walk on water and turn water into wine. The haul if fishes sounds a lot like running of salmon (before you point out the location difference, salmon are not the only fish to migrate in large schools during breeding season.)  The majority of his other miracals was curing illnesses. Well if I were an illusionist wanting to create a following I would plant people I’m the group to “heal” to convince others it was real. Illusionists and psychic hacks do this to this very day still. 
Just a few things that were on my mind this morning. 



Silence shattered 

In the dead of night

External peace

Internal fright

Ripped from sleep 

By a piercing scream

It is my own

And not a dream 

Try to hold on

To tattered pieces

As I wake 

Memory decreases 

Unsure why 

I’m shedding tears

Or what has stirred

My darkest fears

I’m all alone 

In the dead of night 

Drowning in sorrow

Buried in fright


Hero’s and Pillars of Strength

“I only did what anyone else would have done.”

“I just did what needed to be done”

“I was only doing my job”
These are sayings you hear from hero’s and people of great strength. These people amaze me, maybe they pulled someone from a burning building. They could have saved a life, or faced a tragidy head on, endured pain and heartache like nothing anyone should ever have to endure. It doesn’t matter what it was they are talking about, they do not see the strength and bravery in their actions. The sincere modesty about their actions make them that much more admirable and amazing to me. 

I am fortunate enough to know a few of these special people. One of which I love deeply, she gives me strength everyday and she is unaware of it. 


The Hearse Song

Never laugh

As a hearse drives by

Fore you may be

The next to die 

They will put you in

A big black box

Cover you 

With dirt and rocks

All goes well

For about a week

Then your coffin

Starts to leak

The worms crawl in

The worms crawl out

They play pinochle 

On your snout

The puss it flows 

Like whipping cream

You’re praying this

Is all a dream

Put it on

A slice of bread

Because that’s what you eat

When you’re dead

This limerick dates back to WWI, but the author is unknown. There are many variations of this song. This just happens to be the variation of it that I heard as a child.  Please share your versions. 



Time is infinite

As the clock 

Marks the hour

Feel myself falling

Into an abyss

That will surly devour 

Darkness lives 

And darkness breathes

Consuming all it can

I arrived

To this place

A weak and broken man

Though I screamed

Though I cried

Many times along the way

The demons

Turned me into

The man I am today

I carry them

Inside my head

Everywhere I roam

The demons are 

My only friends 

The darkness is my home