Gold lined pockets,
White hood in the closet.
Bible in one hand,
A noose in the other.
Knuckle-white grip on the book,
Veins popping, spittle flying,
“Jesus said you can’t judge me!”

But the Nazarene
Said no such thing.

People can judge others
So long as they’re willing
To be judged by others
By the same standards
By which they judge others.

A sin is a sin
Even if nobody names it.

And no amount of wealth
Can buy you a needle-eye big enough
To get your gold plated camel into heaven.


Beyond Belief

Beyond belief,
Above opinion,
Supporting true knowledge,
Composed of indisputable facts,
Informing wisdom,
Is the Truth.


Snowy Woods (Haiku)

Justine-winter Forrest

A path in the woods
Soft snow lays on frozen trees
Warm winter sun sets


This haiku was inspired by the painting pictured above, which was painted by my wife, Justine.




Đwerȝar Föðr, Twergar Fater, Dvergar Föðr,
Craftsman, smith; miner,
Born of Alβiz Alfar Föðr,
Apprentice to his great smith uncle,
βanðr Døkkálfar,
Called Svartálf, Black Elf,
Preferring the blackness of the mines
To the brightness of the day.

Dug out the labrynth underground
Mine city of Twerias,
Under the misty plains of Niðavellir,
Within sight of the spot
Where moonbeams shone
On the surface of the Rhun,
Where Móðsognir dug
And Durinn forged treasures
For elves, men, and gods:
Swords and spears,
Cups and cauldrens,
War hammers and wigs.

Four treasures for Alfheim,
Destined for Éire.
Thirteen treasures for Albion,
Isle of Alfar.
Six treasures for Asgard,
Forged in mischief,
Powerless to save them from thier doom.


Pronunciation Guide:
Đwerȝaz = Thwer-yaz (“th” as in father)
Đwerȝaz = Thwer-yar (“th” as in father)
Föðr = Fa-ther
Twergar = Twer-gar
Fater = Fah-ter
Dvergar = D-verg-ar (Old Norse, Dwarves, Plural of Dvergr)
Alβiz = Al-viz
Alfar = Al-far (old Norse, Elf)
βanðr =Van-thur (“th” as in father)
Døkkálfar = Dock-Al-Far
Twerias = Twer-ee-ahs
Niðavellir = Nith-a-vel-ear (“th” as in father)
Móðsognir = Moeth-sog-near (“th” as in father)
Alfheim = Alf-haym
Éire = Air-eh

Image:An illustration of two dwarves for Völuspá by Lorenz Frølich. Published in 1895 in Karl Gjellerup’s Den ældre Eddas Gudesange. Found on Wikimedia Commons.

Isolated and Alone

Isolated: Alone.
Solitary confinement
In a crowded room.
Avoiding eye contact,
Yearning for a touch.
Afraid of contact,
Of judgment
When they realize
What you really are.


Answering the Call

Brush the moss off your shoulders,
Take flight, old nomad,
Though your feet have taken root.

They call to you,
And you must go.
They call you
Out of retirement from the road.
They need your help,
And you cannot refuse.
They call to you,
And you will go.

Hesitation, Self-doubt,
Its been so long, a lifetime ago.

Take up your staff,
Dust off your shoes.
They believe in you,
Even if you don’t.
They need a hero,
To lead them from the darkness,
To navigate he wilderness,
To lead them home.
Take to the road
As if you never left it.

They call to you,
And you must answer.


Petitions (a Collaborative Poem)

I’m a little behind in reblogging this, but a few weeks ago I was honored to be included in a group of poets that produced this wonderful collaborative poem. A big thank you to all who were involved, I feel lucky to have been included amongst such talented writers.

I am so pleased to present this work of art and I am lucky to have been a part of this collaborative effort. To be in the presence of such wonderful poets is a true honor. I encourage you to follow the links attached to their names and visit their own pages. Wonderful wonders […]

via Petitions (A Collaborative Piece)… — My Sword and Shield….

Shitholes and Assholes

Shitholes, assholes,
Misinformation, and lies.
Fascism, racism,
This is how democracy dies.

Demagogues, lapdogs,
Spineless senators falling in line.
Patriotism, nationalism,
White sheets at the scene of the crime.

Patriarchs, oligarchs,
Power, and greed,
Drawing strength from the blood
Of the poor on which they feed.

Imperialism, colonialism,
Conquest, and gain.
Materialism, Consumerism,
Neither will salve the existential pain.

Monarchy, anarchy,
Where does authority lie?
Dictators, traitors,
Watch democracy die.


Butterflies and Hummingbirds

Random thoughts flutter
In and out
Like butterflies in summer time,
Or hyperactive hummingbirds
With no sense of direction.

Facts and quotes,
Ideas and innovations,
Sand sliding through
Aching stiff
Sun-dried fingers.


Six Against an Army

Six swords held aloft ,
Blades of obsidian, ivory
Gold and granite,
With two of sharpened steel.
Forged by men, elves, and demons.
Wielded by heroes, every one.
Pledged to fight the oncoming
Hordes of chaos.
Weapons of last resort,
Hidden away until this dire day.
Fighting not for gain nor glory,
But for freedom,
Which no same man surrenders,
but with his very life.