1994

In 1994, I thought I knew what it was all for.

The Flaming Lips were transcendent.

The summer was pregnant.

With possibilities and hope.

Labia in the sunlight.

Everything felt right.

The generation wasn't labelled.

Punk rock was fabled.

Music had aspirations.

I was filled with inspiration.

Pavement sitting pretty.

Stephen foxy and witty.

'Baby don't you cut your hair.'

'Baby don't you be no square.'

Now music is programmed.

It's all a sham.

Everyone makes their hundred grands.

But there's no future for those with talent.

And the world is off balance.

Only the beautiful sit on the throne.

Bereft of vision but their plans come to fruition.

The rich and famous just want another buck.

Baby they don't give a fuck!

Now it's twenty years gone by.

My how time flies.

I know more but understand less.

I'll bet you can guess

That there is no happy ending.

No one in power has integrity.

Baby it's plain to see

It's all me, me, me.

I wish I didn't care.

I wish I was unaware.

I wish I didn't have this feeling.

That we've already hit the ceiling.

In 1994, I thought I knew what it was all for.

Michigan Spring

She teases like a belle at the ball, declining to dance, even though her eyes say yes.
She is a coquette, hot then cold, inviting then forbidding.
She is the worst flirt, she lures us then spurns us.
But when she twirls her skirts and shows all her charms,
You know she was worth the wait.

There is nothing more beautiful than Michigan Spring.
Winter takes her sweet time, delighting in our suffering.
But when her radiant, lovely sister finally steps out on the dance floor,
We see her for the mirror image of her cold sibling.
The delightful splendor of Michigan Spring.
Michigan Spring is divine but she never comes on time.

There is nothing more majestic than her trees and her fauna.
There is nothing more soothing than her cool breezes.
How to describe the color of her sunsets.
How to explain the grandeur of her great lakes and streams.
The intoxicating song of her birds and her bees.
The grace and elegance of her deer.
Michigan Spring is the best-kept secret.
For some reason I just had to share it.

 Home is where the Heart is

The word love is over-used.

Love is an old sock, with  holes in it.

Love is worn and faded as an old pair of jeans.
Love is by rote. Love is predictable.
Love is saccharine.
Love is a Hallmark card.
Love is contrived and stale.
Love is archaic. 
Love is past its expiration date.

We need a new word for love.

Home is love.

Home is deep down inside you.

But home is also a sphere around you

That draws in what is good for you

(And some of what is bad for you).

From now on when we say we are in love,

We should say 'I'm finally home.'
Home is where the heart is.

New Church

I'm building a new church.
Its foundation is very strong.
But it's dogma hasn't been written yet.
There is only one person who practices my faith.
But he is a true believer.
He is just one man
But if he finds one more believer,
He will have a congregation.
He is a patient man.
He is a strong man.

The new church isn't about morality.
The new church isn't about sin.
Your sins are your own.
Sins don't make you evil.
Sins just prove you're alive.
Everybody sins but what does it matter?
It's ok that we're not perfect.
The new church doesn't judge.
The new church says live and let live.

The new church is radically different.
The new church doesn't care about history.
The new church isn't interested in preaching.
The new church doesn't discriminate.
The new church respects all humans.
(Did I mention it's radically different?)
The new church just wants you to feel good.
Are you ready to join?



 l

Breath

Such a simple thing.

Yet so profound.

Something every living creature shares.

Not everybody has blue eyes.

Not everybody has a perfect body.

Not everybody is Einstein.

But every living thing has breath.

Not just self-involved human beings.

But simple creatures too.

Even creatures in the sea have breath.

And we take it for granted.

Breath is amazing!

Breath is the miracle of life.

Breath is a gift from God.

We can argue about politics.

We can argue about organized religion. 

We can stress about the affairs of the world.

But do any of these things mean Anything 

Compared to breath?

It's not just for the privileged.

It's not just for the wealthy.

It's not for any class, race, creed, sexual orientation, belief.

It's for EVERYTHING that matters.

BREATH.

Breath

Abundance

There is a real problem with abundance in this world.

If you ask me there's too damn much of the stuff.

When you divide abundance, you still get abundance.

When you subtract from abundance, you're left with abundance.

There is enough abundance for everybody to share.

But some people have more abundance than others.

And they're the same motherfuckers who always want more.

There is a real problem with abundance in this world.

Late Bloomers

We don't have the most friends.

We don't have the best clothes.

We don't worry about timing.

We don't care about the rich and famous.

We don't care about Republicans and Democrats.

We just care about today. We just think about right now.

We just go from day to day, knowing we still got a shot.

We're a rare bunch.

We are not upwardly inclined.

But neither do we wish not to succeed.

We know we are smart.

We know we don't have anything to prove.

But still we know there's something more.

We have to believe there is something more.

If we stop believing, we will surely die.

We know we have time. We know it's not a race.

We know we will come out on top in the end.

We're just late bloomers.