Category Archives: SPOKEN WORD




My prophet rises from snow white sands. He is cut & bruised with bloody hands. His metamorphosis is marked by purple flowering feathered wings immaculately conceived. He reaches into the eye of the sky & fondles memories from before my time, back when this river flowed with twice its heart & the sky more volatile with twice its strike. When this desert land was twice as young, He walked along these very skies now dusk’d across my mind like a churning holy electrical explosion.

My prophet rises from the deep blue sea with gaping wounds for all to see. His metamorphosis is marked by the inhalation of deep & conscious breath. His yellow diamonds are draped upon his brawny chest strung side by side with cosmic thread. He is future, present & the past. He’s courage fed by fathers brave & mothers strong. They’ve taught him well, both right & wrong. This world unceasingly expands its view. With opened eyes & a child’s pride, He is my harness. I love this ride.

My Prophet rises. I am He. I’ve wept in pain but now I’m free. Upon this sand my heart is burned. There is so much I have to learn. My metamorphosis is marked by the song of my soul echoing through the cathedral of my mind. I know I am more than looks perceive. My well is full. I have no greed. Christ is here & surely bleeds. He is my lover. I am He.



I’m your lady in waiting. Your my man on the moon. I’m Magda. You’re Anjum. We’ve Indigo eyes. I’m Mosena. You’re Sallie. We’re two of a kind. You’re Marty. I’m Moses; We never chose love, it is love that chose us. We’re sisters & brothers, spiritual lovers … 

… I was an innocent in the time of the great plague. I survived while all of the giants raptured around me. I believe I was meant to live before and after the great deluge. I believe we were all meant to live before and after the rapture.

The most merciful and kind were the first to go. Only the good die young. We’re still alive. Only the strong survive. It is the meek who shall inherit the earth.

Life is short but terribly eternal. Regardless the seconds or decades we are gifted with, the remaining moments of our journey will be mercy and kindness incarnate. We are sisters and brothers. We’re opened windows without any walls. If one of us trips, all of us fall.



I am shocked to learn of the passing of a man who would be the only guy in my life who’d ever come close to being a role model to me. I may have pretended sometimes not to understand or even hear what he had to say, but I never missed his meaning or his message. I grieve his loss, along with my closest family members & so many other great people made greater for having known him. Dear Michael, a wonderful father and brilliant husband to my beautiful sister, Johanna.

Michael Spoljaric … his greatest gift, among many, was his ability to make us laugh. More than that for me. From early on in my life he taught me the most essential qualities of what is required to become a man; walk tall, hold my head up in pride, remember my name is my honor, be true to who I am, never forget where I come from, never forget who I am,  Know that a real man isn’t afraid to cry … and of course, when the going gets tough, protect that face at all costs and run like hell knowing he would always have my back.

I hold these truths to be self-evident to this very day ~ over half a century later. What more could a kid who was going his own way long before that notion became popular among rebellious youth ask for? He certainly didn’t have to, yet he did because he cared.

A rare breed is a man whose powerful inner bravado is made of the courage & faith of a ”man’s man”. He never lost sight of who he was; the real deal-a take no prisoners straight-shooting from the hip no-bull man when it came to telling it the way he saw it. He was a king of tough love. Only a prince with a gentle soul can become such a man. There is no irony here, one is the prerequisite of the other.

He found himself when he found the love of his life, everlasting love in the heart & soul of my remarkable sister, Johanna. With his guidance, we all watched in awe as Johanna stepped into her own power. With his patience and deep love, we also saw her bloom into the woman she is today, a woman who has the strength of character so finely etched unto the history of all our lives, who is loved so much by those who are also blessed to be brushed by her gentle heart.

It is a new world dawning, fast becoming a woman’s world. Thanks to the trailblazers. Such a one is Johanna. I wonder if Johanna knows this is how we feel about her? To marvel at the two of them together is fitting. There is no Michael as we know him without Johanna. The two are forever one fierce force & fiercely loved in the eyes & divine mind of our beloved creator.

Michael was the rock in our family. He held the demons at bay which at one time had tried their best to get the best of us kids and my beloved mother. How does anyone say thank you enough to a towering figure of such a profound impact? I love you? We all did, and not just for the reasons I say above. It bears repeating: Michael was a wonderful father to his children, my niece and nephew, Christina & Michael Jr., and his beautiful grandchildren. He was a brilliant husband to his equally brilliant wife decade after decade, my beautiful and compassionate sister, Johanna.

I am there alongside all of those who loved him for being a true human being. Life is short but terribly eternal. Some of us are mortal, while still others are gifted immortality. We do not choose one or the other.

Dear Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, the ball is in your court. Michael has achieved that which cannot be gained without you (dear loving creator), holding his hands from the moment he was born until now, as Michael is born once again. Some people are just lucky that way.






I tossed and turned throughout the night, something amiss, not quite right. Thunder rolled across black skies, lightning struck shut both my eyes. My bed lay shattered upon shards of glass. Clouds swirled by like comets, fast. I wondered if this night would pass? I prayed to God this would not last.

Take me away, my soul please spare this doubt, this pain, this noise I hear. This heavy night I cannot bare. What I can’t see is what I fear. When sunrise creeps into the day, what in God’s name will loved ones say?

Morning came, morning went, my body wracked, my spirit spent. The day turned into early eve while deep within my dreams did weave. Finally, my conscious broke into a world where flowers spoke. The life I’d known was all but gone. Rocks and trees sang sweet love songs.

I looked around for someone to share this miracle I swear I hear, someone to see the Robin’s egg jump up and dance upon the chair, someone to play that old guitar driving by in her yellow car. I realized then, it’s just me, alone again, just me who sees. I wiped the sweat clean from my brow. Who would believe me, anyhow?



In this dream, I am falling free without fear. Suddenly, my descent is intercepted by swift-moving clouds. Each one has a distinct face yet they all share the same radiant smile. They carry me along for thousands of miles, pointing out strange and wonderful lands. The spectacular sight below of fantastic creatures roaming free upon a paradise found makes my heart tremble like fine rice paper. In this super world unfolding, predators are never triumphant because predators are never born. Without warning, the cloud faces are gone. I continue gliding along the path of the rising sun in the company of a thousand golden eagles. I soar around our mother earth sailing effortlessly on a grand solar wind in the company of a thousand beautifully plumed golden eagles, and the sky goes on forever.




This life is wondrous, sometimes darkly treacherous. Most of the time I am a witness, just a piece of our minds eye, an illuminating fresca, easy as one, two, three. Being alive is like Rosemary’s  baby. Her head is spinning in circles in a movie called Psycho. She is screaming out 3D green vomit into your mind, already pretty darn fractured from being alive in the time of plague. Living turns into a wonderama of laughter and joy. It is when it shatter-cracks like blown glass murals on the day Pompeii died, that the price of it all comes madly exacting it’s ghastly due. Right?

Other times it doesn’t feel like that all. It is a glorious joy-ride through the heavens of a very beautiful sky of emeralds & diamond  eyes that are even more beautiful than that. That is what life really is, the rest is bullshit.


Life is amazing. It sucks too. It can be like Rosemary’s baby. Her head is spinning in circles in a movie called Psycho. She is screaming out 3D green vomit into your mind, which was already pretty darn fractured from being alive in the time of plague,  yet still it shatter-cracks like blown glass murals on the day Pompeii died.  I know. Life’s a bitch, then you die. Cynical, huh?. Who cares? Because at other times it doesn’t feel like that at all. It is a glorious trampoline joy-ride upon the heavens over a  beautiful sky of forest green emeralds and ruby-red diamond eyes …. even more beautiful than that. That is what life really is, the rest is bullshit.





Our queen is a day laborer. We are the lords of her kingdom. Blessed be our lovely queen, forever and ever. Amen. Our queen is between our eyes. She never calls herself a guiding light. We do. Her wisdom is priceless.  She gives it away for free. Not because she has to, because she wants to. Why do we call her holy when she passes us by? Why do we burst out joy wherever the sun touches her face? Our lover, the sun,  also touches her face, her grace. The sun, our lover, is reason we bloom. She is our perpetual blossom. She shares the same face, same heart, the same earth. We spin; we are double helix strands spiraling souls into one perfect utter bliss. Her Grace reminds us we were born to shine and light the sky. Her face? Shimmering jewels of wisdom gifted unto us by the lonely vagabonds of her heart & the holy swine who rule this place. You may if you wish. Go ahead and touch the sun. Don’t get burned. It is a diamond face with spinning nuclei. Buddha is in the middle … another face. That one is not human. Our Queen is a lonely piper of tones in shades of love. She is a continent on a lonely planet singing joyously with the universe, and the universe next door.


If you’re mystic, come this way

and play for me.

Tune your strings sharp & clear 

with all the  pressure I can bare.

If you’re mystic,  stroke my hair,

kiss my lips,

take me to your mother-ship. 

Rifle me with your tough grip.

Anchor me to your bright blue. 

Show  myself to me through you.

Your platinum strings ring clear and true.

Play your harp, this is your cue.

I know you’re mystic, I am too.

Let me play my harp for you.

sco kyf u tufy olyg

 Joshua Tree National Monument

This is where I go when God wants to speak with me in private.





I am standing naked. I’m drenched. My is head turned toward the sky. Cold rain pours into my eyes. The cobra skinned clouds and  the moon play tricks on my mind. After what seems like days of rain, the clouds part revealing a crystalised haloed moon. Blue dot-light stars splash across the night sky. My sister, Johanna, is preparing me and the world I know for the saddest moment of my life… lives really…hundreds… maybe more. Edith is my favorite mother of all time The first mother walked out of Africa. Edith was that mother. I am grateful she chose me for a son. I suppose she was looking for a challenge. Is Edith Failing? If so … will she return?



“Command thyself to be healed, to be loved, to love, to forgive, to be forgiven, command thyself.” A preacher man taught me that last night in a parking lot after the sunset … somewhere near Reseda on Magnolia Avenue in San Fernando Valley. Bingo howled at every passing dog from the rear window of my car. Joel & I ignored him until I finally commanded Bingo to stop that XXXX.

Let me tell you, there is something true and all-powerful in the words of that young man. I listened to him without effort. I knew what he was going to say before he even spoke. I heard it all before. I listened anyway with kindness. He held up a tattered Bible when he wanted to drive home a point.  I always thought I could rewrite that book. I’m certain I could have made it more accessible to youth (I was well on my way.), but I was young, just 14, and my SA sponsor said, “No, what are you, nuts?” It turns out that it was the other way around. It’s always like that, don’t you  agree?  

No, I was not nuts, not then, not ever, if you exclude the characters I have portrayed in my storied career as an illusional master of stealth. I am as sane as you are. He, the sponsor, on the other hand, was crazier than a bed bug and loaded all the time which was JUST NOT FAIR! All sponsors of anything are nuts by nature, or haven’t  you heard?

Although I can often quote the Bible. I have never read it. In case I ever do, don’t spoil the ending for me. Thank you in advance. Now, maybe you do not believe in God. Maybe God doesn’t care. Maybe, just maybe, God doesn’t believe in you. Think about that, why don’t you? Later.

It ‘s not like it makes a difference. How kind are you? Are you making every effort to be a better man or a better woman to our world. Are you a being who, when after you are gone, our planet will lovingly whisper to the western wind racing by, “I am happy they came. I am sad to see them go, but I am glad they stayed as long as they did.”  Now you know why clouds cry. The rains are tears of joy. Hmmm … how kind where you in your life? That will be the only question. That is all that will matter then. It is all that matters now. 

The upshot to this story is:  Trust your instincts & follow your heart. That is where God resides. Maybe you will rewrite the Bible or whatever other scriptures you hold close to your heart & by doing so, change our world for the better … or not … your worth as a living being was measured in full when you were born. Do nothing if that is your desire. That’s what I do. It may be your destiny. I hope it’s mine.