When the Angel Comes Upon Me


“When the Angel comes upon me”

Lonely boy takes an ice pick reaches in his shyness, so congeniality, soul is broken in a thousand pieces so tentatively. Every story told in virtual, every song played out of key, every psalm scribed for the kingdom, waits so far behind me. Now alone, and in wild spirit with a love in harmony, bring you now me to a high place, such an altar where eyes can see. For you swore me to a secret such a long time ago, entered wealth just like a wizard, blessed me, then said let it go. Said would you ask for better, said you might become a king, but you said I’d ask for nothing, for that’s where beggars find wings, and it is unto your arms, I know others do belong, and I’ll ask them all to join me, but just right now oh so inward, it is such a place. Better than free, better than home.

“When the Angel comes upon me”

I think how cool it is to play music, something magic in key’s sharp, David must have been like Jimmy, playing a guitar like a harp. All those minors everlasting scales of lost in me, fighting daemons, with a story, they lost the war inside of me. There it was in something different, scenes and parts, no treachery, lifted you and put me in prison, one that covers no lies in me, but brings me home. My Adonai, better than free, such a place, better than home.

“When the Angel comes upon me”

Charting stars, that show a passage, every word a path somewhere, intricate a web of glory, to the ends of this earth, great dreams that dare. Now you place me on a mountain, say stay still and speak your worth, for like so many who read this, your place is better than you’ve served. For this rhyme is for the broken, everyone whose knelt insane, rise and take a talon reaching, let it scratch embrace it’s pain, know it now, breath in his name, you are in such a place, better than home. Better than free, you are better than home.

“When the Angel comes upon me”

I have become a Beth Hart fan lately, funny how the whole world has heard of somebody, except me. I wrote this after listening to her song “Better Than Home”. What a miracle it speaks to inside of each of us, in our broken steps that we take each day. It’s kind of like Robert Frost wrote, and I quote, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference”. I thank Beth and Robert for such wisdom, it’s a blessing to be in such a place, better than home. Shalom – 01.27.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

7500 (The Property)

At 7500 hundred feet, you learn it’s okay to hunt out your neighbor, and understand their ways, and teach and learn from them what life has to say. To grow and make unto you the man you ought to be, to live together as Pappy said, and learn to love free. For some time soon the snow will fall and a bitter wind will fly, and together with your neighbor you will turn and face the great divide.

And I turn and see his clear liquid eyes, a pattern of deliverance handed down, and my heart says, oh my.

At 7500 hundred feet above, the old man he stops and throws down his glove, and just like a ghost from a different time, he turns around slowly, even that’s in rhyme. He laughs a belly full of a time that’s no more, a hard life of depression so far above an ocean floor, and in the deep crevices that lean to the sky, he turns with eyes blue and he sighs. “You could build on further for just your home you could leave these foothills, and go farther alone, but just here below where there’s timber and rock, you can still build mystery and learn a lot”. I think it’s just my Pappy from another time, the one who passed from life, and left me mountains to climb, and still a little bubbling brook on the property seems to say, “Nick’s got something further to say”.

A dream I always thought about in summertime, his spirit, seems to shimmer than it disappears in shine, was,” Danny boy when you build a home on mountain land, make sure you bring the world to you and help them understand”. “To live together is not truth unless it’s understood, that all must grow together in single-hood”. “For up here where the air begins to thin into clear, all your valleys turn to G_D as ever clear”.

And I turn and see his clear liquid eyes, a pattern of deliverance handed down, and my heart says, oh my.

At 7500 hundred feet, above my lessons are dear, a place to live together, to grow into a seer, to love and ask a hurting heart to join me and roam, upwards on a path, never to return to the valley below. The aspen without their leaves just lean in reply, and signal to a heaven which seems so much closer than the sky. It could be the old man has something more to say, but just this moment now he sleeps into the day, I think maybe he drifted away.  Pine and Rocky Mountain Juniper they bend and turn, into an ark, and tell me it’s a beautiful day.

And I turn and see his clear liquid eyes, a pattern of deliverance handed down, and my heart says, oh my.

At 7500 hundred feet, you learn it’s okay to hunt out your neighbor, and understand their ways, and teach and learn from them what life has to say. To grow and make unto you the man you ought to be, to live together as Pappy said, and learn to love free. For some time soon the snow will fall and a bitter wind will fly, and together with your neighbor you will turn and face the great divide.

And I turn and see his clear liquid eyes, a pattern of deliverance handed down, and my heart says, oh my.

Susan and I recently bought an acre and a half of land in Glacier View Meadows, Colorado exactly at 7500 feet up in elevation. There we intend to build a home; all who enter in, will be welcome. I think my Pappy who farmed the high country of Colorado would approve! Shalom – 11.15.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

The Train & the Bird (1989)


Hold your spirit, hold your noise, westward gliding toward the mountains ahoy, and on 36 just past Bird City, a need for breath, comes just like a breeze.  Kansas holds a boy where the wheat says don’t hurry. It could have been a train that went by, your heart was kind of blurry, for you’re just a guy, westward bound, the beginning of somewhere, there’s the bird.

Why legions fly, white raptor in the sky, racing that train, over my Cutlass 85. The thundering of my heart sings, going along with a freedom, I may never know again, does G_D ever pretend. So you see I tell excitedly, to those dull eyes, the ones deep inside, the ones who never understand a bird, in the sky, a great whale so high.

I pace my speed to become faster than the train, it could never be, that some locomotive could win out over me. The miles flash by, on 36 across Kansas, headed it seems for Saint Francis, and go and go, that white bird still flies, an airborne burden in the sky. My windows down, nothing ever better, it’s now or here forever, to catch that train, and reach that place, where I might be to see everything that white bird sees.

A place and a day, where trains are foundations, and birds are symbols, of spirit and grace, a run across Kansas, 36 bonanza, the best of what my heart believes. A change all over Eden, the westward train receding, and north towards Nebraska, a bird flies, a message left behind. Unto me, I know, that everyday has something special it shows, and just like that day in 1989, faster through Kansas with wildness in my eyes, came a train. A slow moving piece of life to race, and in quarter time. A big white monarch in the sky, said better with me boy, come fly with me boy, come fly with me.

And there is a time, that comes in all of us, where we think, and we think too much, we picture trains going home across Kansas, and birds flying north to setting seas. For me I will hold my spirit, and hold my noise, and I will choose that day, that day that is before a mentioned, and see what that white bird sees. – 09.07.2015 –
דָּנִיֵּאל