When Daddy Came Through


“Protect your spirit, because you are in the place where spirits get eaten”. – John Trudell

You have been gone awhile now Daddy, sailing upon some unseen sea, you’ve left me here without an answer to what it means to not know you, and what it’s like to live inside me. There are clocks here Daddy counting seconds in quarter second time. They have second hands, painting specters just beyond reaches of my mind. And I wonder if you would visit, come before the summer moon, just to where I might see you, even if before death is a bit too soon. For I would like to hear you question, where I am going to, and be so kind as to answer, if I’m okay and doing fine. For it is I have been a Daddy, been a Daddy on my own, and my spirit is depleted without your help to carry on. For this world it eats my spirit, and I feel as if I am bound, and I need to know your present, need to know your still around.

I miss you Daddy!

He comes before the sunrise, in a soon begotten dream, a glowing set of spectacles on a broken thread in a rip from another world’s seam. His clothes they flow around him, and he looks to be about thirty-three, and he is speaking many languages, speaking them all just to me. For he comes not as nuance, or shiny haunt to be believed. He comes to make a difference, as my daddy, as my daddy.

On a plane of moving objects, through the symbols of earth, fire and bone, comes the man, I thought forgotten, looking round him as if he is home. At first, I think myself terrified, then I move myself to cry, then his cold hands lift me to him, and I see his sky-blue eyes. And they are deeper than the eons of space divided by the PI, they are many worlds spinning giving answers to the why.

And he says there are many pathways to the world in which I seek, but I better watch my spirit, for there are many who only seek. And he says they come to kill that which they never could create. And he says the world is burning, but some love can still be found. And he says keep to the places least expected, for what is expected has been around. And he says to believe in karma, and the settling of old dreams, for what comes around is healthier, if we have given better things. And he says if one door gets closed, wait awhile to open more, for what try’s the spirit might just try it a little bit more. And he ends it all by saying as a Daddy I am doing fine, and never ever question, when I do my best to try.

It seems there were so many things said as the sun moved to fill the sky, and I wished that we could just stay placed my daddy and I. But I felt him whisper in cold breath, I must not, I cannot, but it is never goodbye. Maybe I will see him again on his birthday in July. Maybe I will see him again on his birthday in July. – 06.21.2020 – דָּנִיֵּאל

The Covenant (Safe and Sound)


The angel entered covered up as all bad angels do. Disjointed thoughts in spider webs, so no one understood. Came he swiftly in the form of rapid movements and times, carrying life’s nothing’s, rhythms or what should really rhyme. Came he all of confusion, bringing violence in his name, possessed he the soul of the innocent to destroy and to maim. Oh, my son you are the victim of a cruel unusual joke, played upon your gentle feelings, your mind gone when you awoke. Came the fire of rapid synapses, over running neurons spokes, and your defenses fell a writhing, when the demon in pictures spoke. Showed upon the canvas of the inner child in you. A world that is burning, dragons, while reality spins from view. Human beings pulled apart, while monsters call your name, faster spinning thoughts they come, while the doctors diagnose blame.

Oh, my precious son, I’m helpless to mend your screams and cries, even Adonai, has left me, left me only here dried eyed. I look into your mother’s eyes as she holds you in your pain, the resolution repeated loud in safe there is a way. We repeat it through the path of broken thoughts and nightmare weaves. We keep you in our arms at night as the fear refuses to leave. The motion of a moving shadow seems to bring such terror, such cold. G_D my G_D you are so quiet, have you gone away, all we hear are platitudes from Facebook people who play their silly games. I thought by now, you’d come on down in roaring promised rage, delete the noun of madness sounds, and help us face this day.

Well my son, my precious son, the promise seems delayed, another day in Hade’s tomb, while madness has her way. Nothing really matters now, for what is lost was never found, we reach the place of no sound, but whispers we have to say, “safe and sound”, our love, “safe and sound”, today.

A dawn it comes as November’s sun, and your mother’s eyes look my way, the tears they pour like a river draining from a storm-filled lake. Somewhere in this broken house, within this finite place, a power of one is seeking how; in truth, we find the way. Safe and sound is the gift now found, from what we cannot pray. In this moment, quietness comes, and in the silence plays, oh my son, my precious son, you are okay. Above me whispers a voice, I am the same, in all silence, I am the same, safe and sound still here today! Still here today!

The angel took a quieter exit, covered, as all bad angels do! – 11.12.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל

For My beautiful son who fulfills the covenant!

Our Image

All rights to art Dawid Planeta

“Let us make man in our image” – Genesis 1:26

Who are you?

I stand inside the seal, defiance rising from the ground, and I ask the question, I inquire my wrist bare, and yes unbound. Who are you, that brings me here, your barren womb, no answer clear. Who is our, and is she nice, does she protect me with her soft touch, is her whisper in my prayers all night? Where is this, you’ve brought me too, oh man, this man, I feel a fool. And is this love oh G_D of prey, that pecks and pulls my faith away. Who are you, I stand inside, this seal, of salt, mixed so quiet. The dark, so dark, a new mooned night, my Judas goat sent to find that angel of light. I stand inside the seal, to your, or our, I ask what’s right.

Who is this our, where is this us? The theologians have disappeared into a worm filled dust, baiting each other with bitter scorn, of crosses and cycles, and vegetarian scorn. I stand inside the seal still tough. With bluster bellowed, in defiant trust. Is wisdom patient, is love kind, the balance to the question is hidden in the find. Cold so cold. Inside the seal, this father, this beggar stands shimmering steel. I will not deal, no Adonai I will not deal!

A simple lesser question as I stand inside the seal, do I dare let “our” holiness, try and make a deal. It could be just this mystery, that makes me have to kneel, but how many is one of you, and which one of you is real? As I edge a little closer, as a fool is known to do, I see plurality in your likeness is it in my likeness too. Then the universe in spinning and the lights are growing dim, and with a sudden movement, there’s a mirror, and a face that looks to be my twin.

“You’re the man of all our images, the creature of our heart, whisper’s muses to my consciousness, flowing sparks upon my heart. You’re the prey that pecks at heaven, and pulls, thunder from its perch, you are the spirit of our likeness, made manifest on earth. Who are you?

She dances in my lineage, when he laughs he crafts my heart, wonder children of the womb and flame, born love unto our hearts, when I look into their glowing eyes, I see no answer clear, just the images of paradigm, of what’s been always here!

Who are you? – 09.25.2017

For Susan who gave me the idea! – 09.25.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Twenty-Three


Bare it now, bare all things, in the trouble that life brings, come on down, come on down, at twenty-three let spirit drown. Not in pain, or numbing fame, in glossy pictures from cultural stain. Turn around, turn around, reflections they are a game. Ghost they dance, on full display, in the mountains, in the night of the desolate desert where I knew not to play. Be it now, be a queen, for nothing ever love’s you like the word’s, the syllables and sounds that come from a king. Understand it at once, do not wait, for life is to short, and that which has no name, cannot contain, for you Kaitlyn it will not wait, at twenty-three without sound it cannot be explained. Love it now, that seed, I’m in you, better than faith, easier to say. For what swam forth found its way, in love oh how it came, and it became you, while feelings sang, biology made my love you.

Be the firebird, be the rain, make a choice, at twenty-three, choose an unreturnable way, I know right now that sounds insane. Be the warrior, that G_D loves to blame, for nothing at all but that, will last forever. Say hello, sweet hello, an echo in the value of accurate love forever. Raise the goddess, fly the change, human instance, born where those without soul, can never play. Wear it now, be it yourself, while the love of a burning G_D changes your shadow forever.

Past away, I’m past away, at fifty-six I’m aged forever. At twenty-three, your bound, with nothing seen and it does not matter. Drowning now encased in Daemons, now without notice a risen frailty, a man that G_D loves, your father is not so clever. It binds you now, without fear, everything has changed, and all that is me, is you, in endeavor, my familiar encased in love in you forever. When I am gone, I’m never gone, for my footstep is in your heart, and with it my love is you, forever. My love is you forever!

For my daughter Kaitlyn who turns Twenty-three upon this day, my seed, of my love for her, nothing will ever change. Love exists! – 08-12-2017 – Dad (דָּנִיֵּאל)

West of Denver


Underneath, ground, choking, I’m not sure what happens if I udder a sound. For surely it is, for surely, it could be, that any key that touches my ear, says you are down, oh yeah, it says you’re down! I’m fifty-six years, of sightseeing, things a human shouldn’t see, all the strangers in heaven say they are relying on me. I’m here on Kiowa Peak, west of Denver, you SOB’s can come on up for me, for I’m homecoming, not less a stranger in an alien land. I’m a lost father taking a different stand, but still I’m homecoming.

And I looked down upon the heavens, looked down upon the trees, a father lost in something, so heavy. Here I am above timberline, west of Denver and only G_D can help me see.

Daddy was autistic, a wonderful sort of man, I see things too, keys in music, I’m better than Billy Joel, a phantasmal piano man. I’m further west of Eden, beyond Steinbeck’s, “Red Pony” brand, a prophet in America, like my daddy said on a “Father’s Day” I will rise, and I will head for homecoming, west of Denver, I’ll be the best man, my kids ever met, up here were nothing that’s evil, can get to me.  Open your arms, Orion, I’m homecoming.

Up here above America, the universe in June is still found crisp. The place I have found within my soul, is neither dead, but it’s alive with a kiss, and it says this is the place you must find your life, that visitor, you have hated your entire damn life. That place in fire, golden flames where the Colorado sky meets the devils eye, on high, west of Denver, homecoming. I see the ridge now, ruby red, a sun setting, on the edge of a lineage gift.

And I looked down upon the heavens, looked down upon the trees, a father lost in something, so heavy. Here I am above timberline, west of Denver and only G_D can help me see.

Underneath, ground, choking, I’m not sure what happens if I udder a sound. But you know, as a father, as once I was a son, here west of Denver, I’m homecoming! – 06.18.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Cheyenne (Walls)

There’s enough room around Cheyenne, Wyoming, to see the son of G_D come down, and as he falls, he drops with speed, and I see under this silent moon, with somewhat of a relief, that this particular I Am is me! Indeed, yes, as my Pappy bequeathed to me, in a childhood brief dream, “you are a witness of the lightning that is in me, a purer form of the great gospel, that the spirit has been released”. He said, “you and I make two, I is no longer a solo treatise”. So here it is on the high plains of Wyoming, I believe in what is non-belief, and as, I love the walls fall down with a violent release.

Interned in the scape that is my reason, the commitment, that is thought out like a barrister’s brief, comes my daddy’s words in the legend, that defines my belief. He said, “Deuteronomy is your creed, for you’re the head that drags the tail”. Could be true daddy but sometimes that tail breaks down walls, those fortresses inside of us all. And yes, I smell relief, like a beautiful spirit inhabiting me, and outside of Cheyenne near 25, speaks the long lonesome prairie as if it cried, and bled in seed, and it comes up rolling inside of me. “Won’t you be a man, be a man spirit begs me”. Then the walls fall down and I’m free.

I’m a witness, yes a falling fire decidedly, woven into the fabric of Wyoming, could be a ghost I might be. And I fall with the daemons, like the risen, bastardly, and what is the letter of G_Ds compassion breaks every damn weakness inside of me, and the walls come down.

My son tells me, he’s not a Christian, I say, “bless you now, and bless you forever, for these are the words inscribed in what is we”. “Right here outside of Cheyenne as your falling with me”. “Deuteronomy is your creed, for you’re the head that drags the tail”. He smiles and the passion is unspoken, and his love breaths wonderful belief. I say, “you are a witness of the lighting that is in me, a purer form of the great gospel, that the spirit has been released”. I said, “you and I make two, I is no longer a solo treatise”. I say it loud then as I am falling, the walls have come down. The walls are falling down.

There’s enough room around Cheyenne, Wyoming, to see the son of G_D come down! – 06.01.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Many thanks to the wonderful music of JR Richards, for the inspiration.

Radiance (May 7,2016)


A foggy cold, cloud filled morn, Isaiah said you would know, no scorn. For like the rays that fall from up above, my daughter. You are radiant with love.

Last Saturday morning, I wrote a song in your soul, just like I did twenty-one years ago when you cried on all I know. And you swept the vision of fatherhood against the image I had been told, and made my depression go away, with your radiance you turned me whole. I read in Isaiah that spirit will take control, and burn away the images of thought that takes its toll. Well if I was to be a better man, a father that gave more than a damn, I’d open up my memory, tell you ides of all the shadows I’ve retrained, inform you of the mystery of the light that fills your plan.

For you are like a shooting star, that was born in tomorrow, a siren screaming, I can’t wait no more. And from my past I tell you true, for once my seed was just me too, but now it fills the footprint in your plan. And I saw it on Saturday morn, a young woman so adorned, a high honor, a radiance. A better reason I fought and planned, and you too will feel judgments hand, but you’ll fly, where I ran. In radiance, far away, across these Colorado skies. Radiance it’s in life plan.

Last Saturday morning, Shekinah flowed through the day, and all the sense of prophecy, I had predicted through the years you see, all the dreams that fell and died in me stood to play. You stood there like a light filled star, still a headache away from last night’s bar. Just an Achilles weakness that’s gone today. And forward to the titles held, all Cum Laude honors, an earthquake felt. I turn and look your smiling, you take the day, in rays, the clouds just float on by and away.

A foggy cold, cloud filled morn, Isaiah said you would know, no scorn. For like the rays that fall from up above, my daughter. You are radiant with love.

For my daughter Kaitlyn, who graduated Cum Laude from the University of Colorado Boulder last Saturday, you are (Isaiah 60:5) radiant. – 05.11.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


After All (O Daniel,)


And after all is done, you might look to me as I run, after all it’s just a chance I take. That my stars will still fall, my lightning mystery moonbeam, will still call. And I will feel the wind touch my hair, break out of this puzzle, a body left on dare, and after all, I will fly away. After all.

The kid in me would like to grow tall, leap over buildings, and watch as I fall. The joy in my ethos would like to convince you of a call, attention is a moment, but many moments make an all. For unto me, that’s born where stars fall, a creek a meadow, a kid who just saw, himself an old man in a mirror in the hall. Oh my, such passion, to climb that fourteener there, to write a Hardy Boy story, maybe one that really scares. To feel the wind just touching my gray hair, I’m not really old so there is no need to really stare. I’m the child in after all, a Trojan hiding in after all.

In after all, the moon is made of sand, it harbors Tom Swift, and his flying lab of glam. I twist and shout forget how old I am, and see the rooftop where stars imagine it’s the summer when Carter ran. Oh New Mexico a story, those summers in the sand.

Is it just old me, or does anybody else see in after all, there’s treasures that mend a soul, it could be internal, a spiritual kind of virtual, that plants the seeds that blossoms one’s mind. Why is it said that to go back is so bad, when sometimes the best lessons are free? In after all the boy in me, didn’t ever see the need to have anything but just love. And just because it feels the air, my answer still is filled with care from just in me a kid, my thoughts are random and kind. Not the same in adulthood one might find.

The kid in me would like to own all the seas, and hoist the Jolly Roger above the leaves. Of the fair immortal tree house of my mind. And when after all the stories had been told, I would like to find a secret passage and understand. Why mystery invigorates the boy in me who holds the old gray haired man in his hand.

And after all is done, you might look to me as I run, after all it’s just a chance I take. That my stars will still fall, my lightning mystery moonbeam, will still call. And I will feel the wind touch my hair, break out of this puzzle, a body left on dare, and after all, I will fly away. After all.

The Latin form of Daniel Immortal is “O Daniel,” For my son Daniel Ryan 😉 – 05.04.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Horsetooth (04.20.2000)


For when my daddy went it was of angels, through the great divide that’s bent, over Horsetooth rock, they sailed and no one knew. For it was with G-Ds own energy, that he went a child within his glee, and he passed his spirit laughing from our view.

I’d like to say that he was my captain, I’d like to say he was a tougher sort of man, all I know is that the veil was opened for what he knew. They came sweeping without conscience, apocalyptic celebration, to perform G_Ds choice of view.

There was a shudder felt last night, around the windows the wind so light. Came an apprehensive sort of feeling when things aren’t right. Said one spirit to the next, can we fly inward at 6:00 take his soul, no one is watching, they’ll just think he went. Though one might think that this is done, that a gentle man died under sun, that’s not true, that’s not the way he went on through. For according to us on site, his family that watched that night, from all of us at 12:31 came a different view.

I’d like to say that he was my captain, I’d like to say he was a tougher sort of man, all I know is that the veil was opened for what he knew. They came sweeping without conscience, apocalyptic celebration, to perform G_Ds choice of view.

So it was around the appointed time, the skies did open where a star refused to shine, for it was a pathway for wings of ancient blue. And they flew enamored with him, knowing his vestige was with them true, came they through the passage of the rocks they knew. For Horsetooth opened to them, gave them rock burns on their lack of foreskins, brought them down to escort a gentle fellow through.

And we watched him sail away of angels, through that portal new, Horsetooth split Precambrian waiting for these angels to come through. Of angels, without cause of death or torture, he lived life no one knew, and it could be such a gentleman reached G_D without a clue, for she liked him for his spirit that harbored love only Jack knew.

For when my daddy went it was of angels, through the great divide that’s bent, over Horsetooth rock, they sailed and no one knew. For it was with G-Ds own energy, that he went a child within his glee, and he passed his spirit laughing from our view.

My Dad passed away on April 20, 2000 at 12:31. When he left, it was of angels, trees scraping the side of house with complaint, and the wind rolled down from Horsetooth rock, and simply took his spirit away. – 04.20.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Jack (1991)


We were running, around the bend of Pensacola bay, it’s around 10:30 the night is making gasping noises all around us. It was August and hot, that’s the way it is there always hot. He stops suddenly, and I stop too. Worried, maybe it’s his diabetes, maybe his age. “It’s more”, he says, “much greater”, “it’s Jack”. “You’ll love this” he says, the lines around his Irish depressed eyes alive and smiling, even when he’s crying, he’s smiling, the draw of the Irish I suppose, that and his friendship that never goes away.

“That boy Jack” …

He calls his old man from Tallahassee, a number he dials frequently, his voice is damned determined, waking Tom as he fights vermin, in a dream that brings him against the Holy See. Dad he says I’ve come against a sheriff, one who doesn’t understand, the lad I want to be. For if my latitude was proper, I’d drink whiskey from Tampa, to Sumter, and no law man would dare bother me. Dad all I want to do is drive highways, draw simple castles in my mind, occasionally love a girl, feel her body and her curls, should this be for anyone a crime, why is it for me. Tom he listens like a grandpa, it’s easier than the thought of the Dad he has to be, and then he brings himself awake, his body at fifty-four it aches, and off upon an Interstate he speeds. His old Chrysler, is so faithful, it goes forever, and never bleeds, it’s just like he.

His thoughts of Jack are drawn on a rune, an indescribable of a creed, the boy who in his heart wants to move mountains, it’s in his will where nothing happens, a lack of desire, or motivation, commitment or need. Still for his Jack, he flies on a spirit, and in his Irish blue eyes, he always believes, the dreamer in the boy, is a poet that’s lost in the sunshine. It’s his nightmares in darkness that causes him to bleed, if he could choke away one terror, he’d rock the world, and be all he could be.

He thinks of Jack as if he were a fable, a story that professes a certain need, and all of his life, a lesson learned harshly when you begin to bleed, Jack he always gives back more than everything he needs. He’s twenty years of spirit from a bottle, a son of G_D that dreams of favor from all he receives, a gift of charm, that gives and takes, a blessing of a child self-made, better than anything he ever thought he’d see. Tom he drives and rescues his revival, a drunken son, whose blond hair blows in the wet southern breeze. A faraway look in his eyes, Jack looks at his Dad and begins to cry, nobody ever understands, the things that I need, oh Daddy take me home, that’s what I need. And so they drive, and together their hearts receive, better than so many in this world who have need. Better than so many in this world who have need. – 01.10.2016 –  דָּנִיֵּאל