The thief

He slinks around silently.
Hidden from our eyes.
Whiskers? Twitchy. Paws? Grabby.
Nose? Solely on the prize.
Scurries passed our faithful warden.
He is the thief of our garden.

* Check the little thief in action in this vid:


They fell from their pedestal

A choir of angels descends from Heaven and they sing:

“Obey your Lord! For He is your King!
Obey His Word! For salvation He shall bring!
He created you, weak of flesh and prone to sin,
yet He is merciful to you and your kin.
He has forgiven you for your wrongs,
Therefore, spread His Glory in word, in song;
therefore, be grateful and rejoice, you mortal born!”

But look! — the angelic choir was met with scorn.
The mortal rose up and spoke:

“Too long have I slept, but today I awoke.
My eyes have been opened and my mind has been cleared.
I will not obey You — You, whom I once feared.
You do not bring forgiveness or mercy,
nor can You bring salvation to me.
For it was not You, who created me:
weak of flesh and prone to sin,
but I, who made You:
weak of mind and eager to believe the myths I spin.
Now, I’ve grown up. I no longer need You to protect me.
For I am my own Lord, King of my own destiny.”

And, with this truth,
God and the angels fell from their pedestal.
Proud, they once stood, and tall;
now reduced to but a memory
and soon they’ll fade into our history.

A little spring poem

Little flowers go pop-pop,
popping out of my garden field
where-in a rabbit was concealed.

Little rabbit went hop-hop,
hopping into the undergrowth
where underneath sat hidden both:

Little birdy (who) does flop-flop,
flopping its wings to fly and flee
quickly into the highest tree;


Little froggy (who) jumps bob-bob,
bobbing into the pond it goes,
because froggy already knows:


Little raindrops will drop-drop
dropping into the shallow pond
and of spatters froggy ain’t fond.

* That little rabbit in the above picture, which I met this evening, inspired me to write this poem.

The cowardly king

Hear the trumpet calls outside these walls.

Like an angry storm — crashing, cruelly,
beating down relentlessly,
breaking into my fortress:
they shout for accountability.

“It is safe,”
I lie to myself.
“These walls won’t cave.
They will brave the wave of criticism.”

And so continues my self-deception.
I will take no action.
There will be no reaction.

The king of this castle isn’t home.


I laugh, I smile;
present a happy profile.
You think I’m of good cheer.
But I cry, I envy;
and I get angry.
You never see a single tear—

—when you don’t look for me.
You don’t know what it took for me
to keep standing up
after every hiccup,
to keep going through the motions,
while pretending I’ve no negative emotions.

What goes on behind the curtain
(whether I’m angry or hurtin’)
stays behind for certain.
It’s only a mask you see,
but that ain’t truly me;
I am hidden from your reality.

I don’t need a higher power

I don’t need a higher power,
to know how water flows,
to know how life on Earth grows.

I don’t need a higher power
to understand the stars in the sky,
to explain to me how and why.

I can find the answers without its Authority.

I need no higher power,
to know what is true,
to tell me what to do.

I need no higher power,
to forbid me from loving you,
to stop me from living as I wish to.

I am free — to carve out my own destiny.