Posted in Musings

Ads Nauseum

a mausoleum
ads nauseum
the consumer
being consumed
chewed up
spit out
like name brand
chewing gum

ads nauseum
the buyer’s
been bought
things add up
to a negative

crem de la crumbs
ads nauseum
soul sold
for fools gold
the golden rule
to a heart gone

Posted in Musings

Awake, O Sleeper

I arise from another nightmare
to gray skies and rain,
struggling to understand
the strange synapses
in my brain.

What a relief it is to awaken
and find that what was taken
still remains.

Though perhaps I am mistaken
and that which I thought I lost
needs to be forsaken
to make room for a
different refrain.

Have I become so encumbered
to certain things
that they are now numbered
in my dreams?

I know not
only that the difference
between waking and slumber
is often not as clear
as it seems.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Heiwa Haiku 104

ad inundations ~
creators of discontent ~
one cannot buy peace

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Prisoner of Pavlov

I know for whom the bell tolls
for it often tolls for me
yet it is a different daily death it brings.

I go towards the chime
when the chime calls to me.
My saliva runs every time it rings.

I have relinquished so much power.
The power once inside of me
is diminished beneath the weight of so many things.

The million tiny deaths I die
each day must be dead to me
til deaf I become to their subtle sting.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Shook While Blogging (Upon Further Reflection)

reading posts
pondering the stuff of life
i am startled by a bang
a bird hitting the window
for the real sky

i quickly put my glasses back on
to see it fly away
for which i am
that it did not die
it and i
both shaken

knowing that i
too often
am content
to window shop
when i could be
in flight

(upon further

Posted in Musings

Ad Nauseum – Servant and the Ad Man

In the beginning, before Christian music degenerated into fluffy worship and praise, songs actually addressed various social issues and the Christian’s relationship to society.


Growing up in the 70s and 80s, I was fortunate to hear and be influenced by the music coming out of the Jesus Movement, music that lifted up nonconformity and presented Jesus as the greatest nonconformist of them all.

(I laugh at the so-called rebellious mainstream music of today which is really all about conformity).


Petra’s “Not of this World” album (1983) states quite clearly where our ultimate allegiance should lie and is a warning of the dangers of cozying up too closely to the world. Looking around today, I wonder if people can tell Christians and unbelievers apart.

“We are strangers. We are aliens. We are not of this world.”


Servant released a song in 1981 called Ad Man. As a young Christian teenager, this song had a powerful effect on me. I still find myself singing the lyrics 35 years later!

“The ad man is the prophet of the century,
making all his profit off of you and me.”

Take a listen. Smile at the wordplay. But also ask yourself if you really need that latest gadget.

The purpose of advertising is to create needs where they may or may not exist, to open a hole inside of us that can only be filled by what is being advertised.

You and I are more than just consumers, and no product will provide us with ultimate satisfaction.

Jesus is also not a product to be sold from the pulpit like some preachers do on Sundays.

But He is the only source of true satisfaction, the only One who can fill up that void within.

Thank you, Servant, for the reminder.

Posted in Poems

A Society of Discontents

Their purpose is to create a hole within you that never gets filled up.

The latest version of the newest model of the most recent rendition of the smart phone, TV, tablet, computer, gadget is one that you cannot live without.

That is what they tell you.

The snap crackle pop of the latest pop music crackles with the static of love without commitment, fame without responsibility, an endless party while the world burns, shadow puppets on the stage.

Buy what I am selling, they say.

My house is bigger than yours. My tummy and butt are tighter. My penis is larger. My breasts are perfect. I have the face of a goddess. I am the perfect lover. I do not have ED or PE. My children are prodigies. My car is shiny. My vacations are dreamy. My investments are sound. I am more than financially secure. I am the Jones times a million.

You can keep up, they say.

How dare anyone threaten this lifestyle. Missiles, drones, ships, jets, weapons of mass destruction, bombs smart and dumb, they can always come up with a reason, something or someone to fear, to launch destruction.

Aren’t you a patriot? they ask.

Fill it up. Take a long swig. Stuff your face, your pockets, your house, your shopping cart and grocery bags, with as much as it, they, you can hold.

Funny how it is never enough.

Posted in Poems

CONTEMPLATIVE POETRY: Today’s Obstructions 2

today’s obstructions include:
the grocery carts of fellow shoppers
(i dodge them but not the product)
only to face the backhoe blocking the road through the cemetery again
(another death digging)

then while walking dogs i turn a familiar corner to find a tree service company in place of the 20 or so trees that used to stand here
and i stumble across stump corpses

the task of resisting the false identity of the unmindful consumer and embracing my mortality is a disjointed often contentious endeavor
one turns around and finds the once well-known landscape has changed

yet the hopeful trees remain
if only in the mind