In the late summer months of 2000, on a cool dark night in the foothills of Boulder, Colorado, a seventeen year old boy was murdered by a young man he once considered his best friend. The calamity nearly crippled the boy's parents, especially the father who struggled mightily with grief, anger, and guilt. With the help of a very special elderly sage, the father of the boy struggled to survive the tragedy and recover from the heartbreaking ordeal. The story begins with the funeral of...
Whether it's the big-hearted hooker, the henchman priest, the fate of poor Bobby Fischer, tripping with Tom O'Leary, or the last thoughts of a dying man, we are told their secrets by the only one who knows them all, The Storyteller. Yet what haunts the mind still lingers. What is his secret, or dare we ask? Well, here's what I think it is: I believe that each of the stories the aged one offers up contains one morsel of his mystery. When they are all ingested by the mind and the...
Gold has always symbolized material riches. It is a simple element that somehow exceeds its intrinsic value. Its pursuit has become, for many, the primary goal of life. What is it that attracts us so about money and the material things it can buy? Is our fear assuaged by the perceived safety from a rainy day or do we believe that enough things will somehow fill the emptiness inside? I would hazard to guess that no amount of money has ever made anyone happy, ever. True happiness comes from...
The poet's quest is one of wide magnitude. He or she must explore the untapped regions of mind and spirit and then proceed to paint a picture in words of that strange and mysterious landscape. The book before you is such a picture, depicting a new yet ancient province of the soul. By middle age, it starts to become obvious to most of us that we operate with a split mind; the lesser mind that focuses on the acquisition and defense of things and the higher mind that impels us to a more...
This is not your grandfather's poetry. It is spun for the everyman and woman. It is bred of a spiritual nature, yet it smiles and laughs and screams. Some are funny, some are sad. Some spit in the face of conformity, amused at the absurdity of the world whilst seeking a better way. These odes defy conventional structure and content. They rhyme without embarrassment yet experiment unapologetically with such. They convey messages of hope and love and clearer sight. And they challenge the...
The Fly in My Eye is a reflection of an illusion. It is the mirror of my creature self declaring itself as real to the eye of the beholder. Yet the human self would fade away into its parent nothingness but for the trance of the image it beholds. Enamored of its own appearance, regardless the truth of the echo, the affair with the dream continues. Narcissus sees himself time after time in the clouded pond and falls for it; hook, line and sinker. He is king in his own mind only. They say...
