The Beach Walker

I watched him walk along the shoreline as luminescent waves rolled under the blue moon. The surf broke the silence of the night as it lazily lapped the gleaming beach. He was moving with the brisk wind towards an unknown horizon and seemed to pay me no heed as his cloak and long hair majestically streamed behind him.

I took a long hit off my pipe packed with a ball of opium. When I finally opened my eyes, he was walking towards me and for a moment I thought he was an ancient god with his flowing beard and long shaggy hair catching the moon beams and glowing eerily. But as I watched in wide eyed wonder he stopped, shook his mighty mane from side-to-side and reversed his course. I felt a sense of remorse. Loss. Did I offend him somehow by not standing up?

I had the feeling that I missed an opportunity. That the Beach Walker was going to befriend me and share answers to mysteries that have long befuddled humanity.

I watched his shadow chase him as he moved like a wraith beneath the moonlight. His hair was flowing and glowing. The waves were receding, and sand dollars and other shells were exposed and gleaming under the strange lights emanating from the sky. A stray clap of thunder growled in the distance. My thoughts turned to the pipe in my hand. I lit it. Inhaled. Waited. Time had no meaning. I sought revelations. Visions. The meaning of life. I was lost.

Pulling out the pistol from my jacket pocket I held it up to my head and held it there for what seemed an eternity. My arm gave out and I dropped the .38 Special onto the shifting sand. I cursed my cowardice. I cursed my demons. As I ranted a fog slowly crept along the shoreline then shifted towards me. From its depth the Beach Walker emerged, his wild long hair hanging in tight curls and straddling his broad shoulders. The cloak was gone and all he wore was a dirty white tunic. Somehow his face glowed under the light of the blue moon, and he was wearing a frown. A look of concern. His dark brown eyes bored into my soul, warning me not to take my own life. A voice inside my head said it’s God’s choice when and how you leave this earthly plane.

Startled I jumped up in my narcotic haze and called out to him, who are you? It was too late, however. It seemed like he was floating as he turned around and disappeared in the thick gray mist that now enveloped the whole beach.

When I saw the headlights, I didn’t move despite the fact that they were pointed right at me. It appeared God chose this moment to take my life and I gladly opened my arms wide prepared to be propelled into eternity. The Land Rover roared right by me, spitting up sand and broken shells as it hurtled into the night on some mad mission. I stood there listening to my heartbeat for minutes. Then I could hear the waves again. I suddenly understood that life was a gift and I’d been granted a reprieve for my past misdeeds.

I watched the sunrise with a sense of awe. Picking up the pistol and the pipe I threw them as far as I could into the turbulent surf. As corny as it sounds, it was a new day full of promise.

the end

A Case For Mediocrity

fame, glory, and power motivate many

while others are content to be ordinary

the case for mediocrity

isn’t always easy to see

how living quietly

makes some happy

living without envy

and fame’s frenzy

can be

a friendly journey

without strife

the rest of your life

***

A Brief Look at Redemption

He rocks back-and-forth on the rickety wicker porch chair. He’s everyman, late in life with wrinkles distorting a once smooth face, and body. His life wasn’t spent seeking redemption in real time. His subconsciousness never gave a hint of being interested in the subject.

Memories did sometimes rudely intrude upon his daily routine and reality. As a combat veteran he was intimately acquainted with death. The sight. The smell. The moment he fired at a human being. The horror.

But he just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.

He isn’t plagued with regrets on not being “saved” by any religion, or by being led to redemption like a sheep on the way to being sheared.

Freedom is his redemption for being alive and having survived many perilous times in his long life. His arthritis a badge of honor. His physical scars medals earned during a long life of adventures. His silver hair a crown of achievement.

He makes no claims of having redeemed others from sins and stupid moves in their lives. He never wanted to lead others to the top of any proverbial mountain. He’s unaware of ever being anyone’s leading light in life.

He just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.

the end

A Dash of Irony

life is a three course meal

of baby food

steak and lobster

and mushed food

sprinkled with

a dash of irony

and a touch of salt

some good whiskey

and wine

while you dine

until it’s time

to pay your final bill

when you’ve had your fill

Good Morning

I hated getting up in the morning when I was in school

giving up delicious dreams to attend classes wasn’t cool

when I was on my own and working nearly every day

dragging my body out of bed in the morning wasn’t child’s play

but

now that I’m retired and have no place I have to go

I wake up early to watch the sunrise’s beautiful tableau

Echo and Ego

in the pantheon of gods there’s two you should know

Echo and Ego

they walk around our world every day

one praising herself and the other echoing away

one generally follows the other’s lead

praising the other’s every deed

they like sports stars and movie stars

and famous writer’s early memoirs

you might be surprised to know

that everyone has an ego

it’s the echo

that determines if fame is to be had

whether it’s good…or whether it’s bad

Gonzo Poem: Sign Your Name Right Here

if you believe in UFO’s and a magic mirror

sign your name right here

if you believe Bigfoot drinks beer

sign your name right here

if you think there’s no pollution in the atmosphere

sign your name right here

if you’re into kinky sex and like to domineer

sign your name right here

if your looking for a long career

sign your name right here

in order to make your wishes crystal clear

sign your name right here

if you enjoy getting attention with a Bronx cheer

sign your name right here

do you have days when things are unclear?

sign your name right here

have you ever thought about being a volunteer?

sign your name right here

In The Center

what’s in your center?

an enlightening epiphany

or more?

discovering your inner core?

a place to safely explore?

some say

the soul is your center

and gateway

to your spirit

that follows a pathway

up a celestial stairway

to heaven

but I wouldn’t know

I have a wayward soul

that wanders alone

seeking the center

of the universe

and it’s secrets

but

I still wonder why

I can never go home

no matter how hard I try

A Watchful Eye

I was always aware of someone watching me in the family

and it was oddly comforting but sometimes scary

like having The Eye of Horus or The Eye of Ra on me

no matter what I did or how dangerous the activity

That watchful eye followed me over the years

and helped me deal with my fears

sometimes, I look up at the sky

after all these years have gone by

and wonder why

I still believe in a watchful eye?

Rethinking Everything

an upheaval of the mind can be

a terrible thing to see

where beliefs are challenged

by realities

false histories

stripped away

ideologies

in disarray

falsehoods

exposed

in the light of day

the shock

almost too much

to bear

but wears away

when enlightenment

dawns

on the mind’s

new day

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