Baker, Warrior, or Saint

I hate to write in Numbers
Always counting
Finding clever ways to label
Each passing year
Today The Bakers Dozen
Seems Fitting enough.

Unseen Eternal battles
Being waged across the Universe
Fighting the Good fight
Our Warrior fights on
As days turn into Months
And Months yield to Years

Saint Michael’s Soldier
Guiding his flock
Protecting the rest of us
From Evil,
From Our own Darkness
Offering Safe passage to the Light

Baker, Warrior, or Saint
Your spirit burns
Through us
Connected and Still Alive.
We All still Live for You
Tonight, and Forever

3 Days

Yeah, 3 days maybe more
3 days, and I will knock on heaven’s door
3 days, my vision will darken
3 days, death’s call will hearken
A wearied soul must wait
for its healthy body to cooperate
Prayers to God and pleas to heaven
Unheard! Ignored? Forgotten?
I will take my case to God
And hope he tells me I am not so rotten
I lived my life the way I thought I should
Made tragic mistakes; outrun them I thought I could
He gave me life, it is not mine to take away
I will give Him 3 days to have his say

Love,
Michael

Last night Mike rode in on a meteor

Tuesday, August 13th, 2002
2:42 am Last night Mike rode in on a meteor. I seen him as the sky lit up, lighting the match of our last joint together. It's silly to explain the feeling I have about Mike when I know he's with me. It's not a feeling like God is with you, that at all times around type of thing. It's a feeling that when I close my eyes I'd be passing to the left, where he'd be if I just reach over. A feeling that his presence is Meant to be known. Letting me know that the thoughts in my head is really the dialog we'd be having in person- but it is his.

Tonight I sat on my roof staring Northwest waiting for the next shooting star. The flash is orange fire, through the sky, dying to get TO the Earth. It's a contest I'd imagine, of which ones can survive the atmosphere. Only the toughest outlast and touchdown on the Earths soil most that make it only are lost to the ocean. . Who knows where that Extra Terrestrial visitor started off, and how old he is. I've been in awe of the Redwoods of California thinking of all the life they've seen, sightless, it's a number I can understand enough to respect. The equation to figure out the meteors age alludes the bounds of what my mind can distinguish in time. At 100,000 years or 1 million or 1 billion it really all means the same to me. Where that little chunk of rock fits in a time line of my 5th grade science project, I'm not sure.

When you catch a shooting star- and yes the word is "catch", it's a gift. It connects itself to the viewer, usually one in a group of people, that shouts skyward, 'Did you guys see that!' Its fire creates a karmic bond with the lucky viewer, and by way of the viewers soul gives them a piece of energy that it brought to Earth with them. Some call this the part where you get your wish. But I know it as something different. As that energy fills your spirit, it's not a wish exactly. It's an understanding, a greater sense to oneself in the universe. For a second it all makes sense.

The year after Mike passed I made good on my promise to make it across the country. As I am not one for arguing with the supernatural, I found myself in the desert of Arizona during the same Meteor show as tonight. The sky there looks like a planetarium without the big star wars machine in the middle. The sky is black and there must be 20 stars for every one we can see here, because there's no ground lighting like the NY bluish night sky has. Arizona's sky was lit up with thousands of stars that night, the weather was beautiful and a coyote howled yards away from us for effect. There was a shooting star every minute or so. It's places of Power mixed with incidents like this that fills me with energy. Makes me admit I'm an extension of the Earth which is alive all around us. I've felt the touch of this natural energy in many places, like San Diego, Baja Mexico, Niagara Falls, Virginia Beach, and there, in the under the desert's meteor strewn sky that night. Each of those places have more than their location that makes them an energy antenna. Times and occurrence play a big factor. But each of those stories is for another day.

On an occasion where you share a sighting I think it's important not to only wish something, but to give a karmic nod to the other knowing you're sharing that meteors energy together.

As I watched the orange streak of fire through the night my amber ember of a remaining joint I brought for the two of us, quickly lights then fades. The two lights at the same moment talking to me in a cosmic language that let me know- Mike is next to me waving his hand and throwing a star through the sky for me. His way of joining me on the rooftop tonight.

Six years is a meteor flash, and the time it takes for a tear to fall from my eye to the ground.

2920 Windows

On August 11, 1996 I lost one of my best friends. He touched me and the world in more than a million ways.
Only the Good Die Young. Everyday of my LIFE
I wonder where he is and what he is discovering. I hope that when I finally pass that threshold into heaven it is he who is waiting with open arms for me. I know you are smiling down on us, but I wish you were smiling next to us.
So Where Ever You Are MY Friend, We miss you dearly, and not a day goes by without a memory of you passing through my thoughts.

2920 Windows
A Dark hallway with no walls
On each side that isn’t there
Hang rows of windows, Floating
All with a view
Each unique all though familiar
Showing scenes of happiness, sadness, joy and pain
Only one window stays open
Until the next one is hung.
Window number 2 and Window 2920
And all spanning between
Have one common trait
That’s been missing since the first was hung
Missing the laughter, the thoughts
Missing the happiness and sadness, together
Missing the light that the first window brings
That keeps this hallway dimly lit
Sadness washes over me
Each time I visit the first window
To catch up on a thought
Or just a feeling not often remembered
Calling out to you- I hoped you’d hear me
Pleading for you to please come inside-
But alas my words are only muffled by the cold window pane
That’s has been closed since it was hung.
I don’t like to visit the second
A portrait of pain
It’s the darkest in the hallway
With coldness that touches the soul
I hope that when this job has come to a close
And I hang my last window
That I’m giving the choice
Which window I would like to go through on my exit
2920 windows and counting
the hallway grows
but until the job is done
each window is closed as the next is hung

The Good Fight

I’ve lived a lot in my 21 years
Seen a lot and cried many tears
Bound by fortune, beholden to fate
Rescued by love, thwarted by hate
I walk my path, on the Earth I tread
At the end of the journey I will be dead
In between I must figure it out
Truth, Strength and Love I can’t live without
Fight the good fight as the warriors say
Die the good death on its appointed day

The Touched

Wise Prometheus who dared to give man the flame
Praised Jesus who sought to cure the lame
Noble Alexander who closed the world in his palm
Gentle Gandhi who cultivated respect, love, and calm
Great Sages and tragic heroes fill the catacombs of legends
Our cries, our pain, our salvation we beg the creator of heaven

Lucky Shirt

Michael has become my Saint Michael… and with his powerful wings I can sometimes feel myself lifted from the ground. With his sword I feel protected from everything. But in the picture in my mind- to picture Saint Michael is also to see him smiting the Devil to Hell. And following this analogy I guess Michael is obviously Saint Mike- and I guess I’m the world that he’s saving from the evil… and the Devil represents the negative things I have to deal with- like hating work, being annoyed about money, wanting to be in a different place and the various other negative things swallowing my life force whole on a daily basis.
Or maybe I’m the Devil and it’s Mike saving me from myself (trying?)… his sword representing what happens if I don’t follow the right way… it’s not quite worthy of a Samuel Jackson soliloquy- but when I figure it out It will be…
Back to Mike. I was thinking of him on Friday before I was about to play some cards after a horrible week of work… I starting searching all my closets and dresser for the shirt he left me… a not so stylish brown flannel with a weird collar… after a frantic search when I thought it was gone – I found it in the back of the closet… I wore the shirt he “gave” me the last day we spent together. I haven’t taken it off since Friday night. The streak of good cards I’ve had has been phenomenal and I know I have him to thank for it… and I’ll willing to bet a few others are helping him- well helping me, as well. And this weekend I had one of my greatest winning sessions- of which i owe all to the shirt.
I can feel him especially at times like when I’m sitting at a poker table- talking to myself? No- I’m asking Mike what cards they have… And he’s telling me.
Crazy because at this very second – Pictures the Matchstick Man comes on… I was writing this to the third in our trinity of friendship, Angelo... and you'd think the song came on as a sign...
I offered up the magic shirt for his upcoming Vegas Trip...
It's what great stories are made out of.

*** Luck Update... Gino won $24,000 wearing Mike's shirt check me out on www.thepokerdb.com (it's free) look me up I'm EchoMed

The Forever forward sun

Want so close, seems not far
The Forever forward sun
elusive, running
Catch up, grabhold; the star.

Slip the pure heart's embrace
Hunted down, a prize
Pray to God, beg for grace
Thou shalt not lose the race

Always yearning for the touch
felt, tasted
Wanting so much
It seems like walking distance
always so near
almost have it
thinking, running from afar