Ride to Nowhere

Welcome to the ride nowhere, somewhere around the corner,

Bound for some new world of fantasy as the whistle sounds,

Eerie looking ahead to make your bed in the nether lands,

Or with bands of nomads on desert plain to sustain living,

Believing there is more uptrack, but little in your haversack,

As the journey into eternity is a neverending bending reality,

What you see thru the glass as it all passes by in banality,

A totality of new abnormality in an endless dimensionality

As I Cross This Ocean Deep

As I cross this ocean deep where secrets keep,
My fair soul sends forth its prayer so very bare,
And naked I stand before the band of angels,
Aware of weakness of flesh, with fresh songs
So melodious and filled with love from above;
Ah! But can I sing with them and bring peace
To my spirit so troubled within me in serenity,
While the waves come higher quenching fire
In my heart, taking the better part of my self
Into watery caverns buried beneath the water?
And when shall I reach the coastline of glory?
When shall I sit in peace to tell my paltry story?
When shall I walk the distant shore in peace
With new lease on life – new, abundant life –
Given to me as gift as I lift my hands to heaven?
Ah! I cross this ocean deep where secrets keep,
And in this journey grow into brand new birth
For all that I might be worth on the other side;
So, dear Lord, help me on board this regal ship
Not to slip in despair, knowing you will repair
As you lay this my heart bare without one tear,
And so I shall yet be all that is meant for me . . .

High Into the Sky

You take me high into the sky
To say ‘goodbye’ to this world
In some timeless space in pace
With the wind round the bend
Of clouds in our proud defiance
Of reliance upon materialism
Of any kind now with my mind
Being freed to feed upon peace
Freely given by you to enliven
Along with your love above all
As I answer the call to sail high
And say ‘goodbye’ to the world
For some timeless time where
Clocks no longer chime in life
Lived now in serene eternity
Within the stream of dreams
Drinking the cream of heaven
With you as my only Beloved
As we fly high up into the sky
Oh so high up in the sky to fly

On the Night Train

What cargo do you carry as you come barreling through?
Is it good or ill to seal my destiny desperately or in ecstasy?
What passengers ride along and do they belong to the night
Or to the light? Are they kind enough to mind themselves?
And do you bring grain for the hungry soul or only pain?
Nothing is plain to see in such numinous rain; it’s insane!
But, then, what should one expect . . .? It is the night train

You’ve Taken the Hand of a Homeless Man

You wonder as you wander the streets
Where to go as you hear the hard beats
Of your heart like some roadside band
And you find some stranger in this land

He says he knows every twist and turn
And so his words make your heart burn
Because you’re lost and tempest-tossed
So you trust him and gladly thrust ahead

You’ve taken the hand of a homeless man
Hoping this vagabond has the right plan
Praying this vagabond has the right plan

He takes you over hills and thru valleys
Down alleys and onto great sea galleys
And you begin to question if he knows
As the wind blows through all he shows

You’ve taken the hand of a homeless man
Hoping this vagabond has the right plan
Praying this vagabond has the right plan

He leads you to the mountains so high
And never leaves, never says ‘goodbye’
And he promises streets made of gold
Are in store for you if you remain bold

This man without any home . . .

You’ve taken the hand of a homeless man
(Yeah, taken the hand of a homeless man)
Hoping this vagabond has the right plan
Praying this vagabond has the right plan

And he promises streets made of gold
Are in store for you if you remain bold

But you’ve taken the hand of a homeless man
Yeah, taken the hand of this homeless man . . .
Taken the hand . . . of the homeless man


Note: Once a man came to Jesus of Nazareth and said, “I will follow you.” And Jesus replied, “Foxes have their holes, and birds their nests, but the Son of Man (speaking of himself) has nowhere to lay his head.” He was the homeless man. First published in January of this year. Illustration by Leonard Franckowiak.

Step by Step: A Pilgrimage

Step by step, day by day he makes his way
And does not stay in one place as he paces
Forward along the path of life to his home
Far away yet so near and dear to his heart
And every part of his being is seeing home
That one day he’ll reach across the breach
Of time and space in a rhythm with chime
Of hopeful faith he carries along a journey
He began long ago when decided to forgo
All of the calls of this world and its glamor
And the clamor of earth, place of his birth
So . . .
Step by step, day by day he makes his way

A Different Journey

No more the same game played in vanity,
To expect some different result in insanity,
For we have now been freed from that need
And the nefarious seed that grows in the soul
Punching a hole in the heart and every part
Of our being, now seeing such better ways
On much brighter days in an array of love
From above that flows as freely
As the winds of the Spirit blow,
And we know that we’re better with a cross
Upon our back than a loss of life sensibility,
For we now have the ability to live our life
No longer so empty for we now have plenty
Of love, joy, peace and truth better than any
Of the scarred pennies the world has to offer
So . . .
No more the same game played in vanity,
To expect some different result in insanity . . .
We are on an authentically different journey!

Journey Back to Eden

A gentle, refreshing breeze sweeps over the land
As the band of pilgrims continue their journey
With satchels in hand and their sandals on sand
To a known destination on a well-known course
By force of hope, faith and wide scope of desire
Without tiring after hiring themselves
Out to the world for the very last time;
Though the journey has sometimes been murky
And their vision blurry they continue steadfast
Step by step, day by day, never to stay in place,
With slow but determined pace and hard faces
Facing toward an ancient place known as Eden,
Resting only to eat their bread instead of meat
And to drink fine, blood-red wine as they dine
As these are sufficient to make them proficient
In their ongoing pilgrimage . . . onward to Eden