Build me up, rebuild from the rubble
- the wasteland that I’d wallowed in. (hmm—)
Found myself down in the gutter.
Woke to a face I didn’t recognize. (hmm—)

Something deep inside of me
pulled me up from the mire and mud
and the spirit warned, “Don’t give ‘em your blood…
…and never give them the power over your emotions.
Never compromise your self-respect.
Never let them walk on your pride…”
(And) then pulled me up, up from the dark
to overcome, un-destroy, decide…

I had a resurrection…
- brought back from the bleakest hour.
And on the downward spiral,
(I was) blessed with the chance to try again.
I had a resurrection…

Gotta swim straight through the water.
Swim to the edge of the dark blue sea. (hmm—)
Made it through the pools of sorrow
and I’ll make it through tomorrow. (hmm—)


In the last of my release, I opened up the core,
and tapped in to its boundlessness.
My soul stepped through the door and spoke to the invisible
as it reached for Higher Ground.

Ecstasy— Ecstasy— I’m in ecstasy.

Energies that filled me, distant and mysterious,
moved from wild to sober.
Revelations forced me upon a new-lit path,
to open up a new door.

Like a Divine seizure,
in its intoxication,
I ate the god; I drank it in
broke from the prison-house of sin.

Soaring well above a timeless, blue abyss…
in speechless communion, I spoke in tongues.
Driven to ecstasy and passing through the secret gate

beyond my consciousness.

The Haunting

My thoughts were swimming in the sensual heat of the room.
The rains came heavy, like the fertile flow in the womb…
and the sweet scents in abundance, came.

And he told me stories to push me near the edge.
Afraid to fall too deeply, he pulled me from the ledge.
He’d play his crushing mind games -
his roulette-wheel-take-a-chance games.
We’d go a little further than before…

Kiss without kissing, touch without touching
Drawing me into his fold.
Dress me up and punish me, I’d been swallowed up in him, til
I’d left me out in the cold.

And the ghosts around us swirled about the fire.
The voices from the hollow heightened our desire.
Adonis, glowing silv’ry sweat, towered above me, I can’t forget.
We’d go a little further than before.

Writhing, slithering daemonic presence, took my reason from me.
Possessed my soul, I’m weakening,
yet I screamed ’til I broke free.

And then the violet curtains flowed. I remember well:
the sounds in the air, the mist, the fresh thick winds that knell…
and the heat of our bodies, the whispered breeze.
It was the elegance of a morning in hell!

Heaven’s Flames

One day I said to God, “Why do you give me so much
when all I do is fail you, though I know wrong from right?”
He consoled me, saying, “You, my child, are learning;
through your pain, you’re growing. It’s darkest before the Light.”

Sail the magic waters…to the wide awakening
from the deepest sleep…from the deepest sleep
into heaven’s flames…washed by heaven’s rains.

And by these lessons, the knowledge is forever there
to teach us all tolerance so we may learn to share.
I love to be touched by the universal ghost
who, when I least expect it, brings its guiding host.

I become a medium and I know the unknown
And the spirit wrestlers lead me through a new zone.
I recall a memory in the experience of my soul.
And all the answers come to me, when my heart is whole.


Merciless light, magnified, exposing my emotions.
Uncover me for what I am – a drop in an ocean.

I break the clouds, stand and walk,
and take a step toward him.
Then walk the line, release and cry,
scream and let go from within.

(When I cleanse and let the dove go free,
I’m moving close to me.)

I sat by the silent lake
where sudden, shifting winds
raced through my hair (through my hair).
And purged the unseen, drenching,
gut-wrenching blackness
- torn from earth and air (from earth and air).

And my confession’s told -
outpouring of the soul.
Part the wounds to open air.
To heal the anguish and despair.
And filled with urgent prayers,
the ministers redeem.
A flood of insights rushing forth,
- coming in a dream.

The shadows are awash
like a watery fog filtering the pain
through starving clouds of memory.
I sense the sad refrain.

Water Wash Over Me

A clear bell chimes in the echo-less seas of waves.
The water’s familiar and warm like a womb.
And nearer to God I grow.

Traveling through the ocean
lucid dreaming, half-awake,
the shadow of sleep parts the veil.
It’s time for the wiser side
to make its connection to the soul.
Fade to the unseen.

Water wash over me.
Echo the timeless wave.
And when my soul is free,
I’ll fade in the flow.

A regeneration will bring out the best in me.
Bathe in the choral light, tossed in the thund’rous sea.
Swimming in harmony.

Traveling through life’s streams,
I’m moving ever close to me.
The journey’s log I’ll keep.
I’m traveling past my dreams.
I’m swimming in an ancient sea.
Fade to the unseen.

I can see the light at the end.
I can hear the voice of a friend.
I can heal, I can amend.
I can see.

Connecting to the higher force, moving closer to the Source.
It’s a dream, I’m falling, the Master is calling.
The water washed my sins away, I’m forgiven on this day.
It’s love, not hating, my father is waiting
in the Light.

Scent of Things to Come

A song is buried deep inside,
wishing badly to be freed.
When I’m not listening, I can hear
the sprouting of its timeless seed.

Haunted by the music,
from its source it’s torn.
The labour of its birth is strong
when I allow it to be borne.

And my song
through my pen
heard its past
of future’s presence
all at once
as my mission
and gravity
resound in rhythm with the universe.

I sense it waiting to be borne.
The scent of things to come.

We have the power to hear
things not present to the ear -
not wholly real, but ever near.
There is no sign of fear.

(Gauguin) Wrestling with the Angel

Wrestling with the Angel in a crimson field;
Jacob’s in a stranglehold. His heart was never healed.
And the spirit of the dead keeps watch.

Oh, Olympia… just throw caution to the wind!
Manao Tupapau, you’re defenseless.
Oh, Olympia… you’re the gilded masterpiece.
And the envy of all the world.

Visions of the Sermon – Day of God is near.
The Yellow Christ is crucified and Vincent’s lost his ear.
And the spirit of the dead keeps watch.

He struggled to be recognized, failing to achieve,
He left to find his passions, to live what he believed.
His paintings are alive, his soul wrestles to be freed.
He battles with his demons, but can’t unplant the seed.

Where do we come from?
What are we?
Where are we going?
How are we gonna get there?

On a Journey to the End

I was always running
- running away from who I am.
Felt so invisible
- not part of anybody’s plan.

Now I know Daddy’s not coming home.
So I can get on with my life.
His ghost, I know, will show me the way,
past the horrors and through the fray.
The voices are a friend
on a journey to the end.

I was always wanting,
- longing for him to notice me.
Felt so rejected
- tried so hard to make him see.

No! Death has shut the open door.
Oh! I can’t see him any more.
Now he’s my guardian spirit, my guide.
We’re a lot closer; there’s nothing to hide.

We’re on a journey to the end.
Nothing can steal us away.