Who are we? What did I become??
We become, whom we suppose to be.
Who are we? What did I become?
The poet wrote into a journal.
“Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed, & Sloth. Sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch”
He found a safe place in Austin, Texas. He concocted a plan to find the place he wanted to die. He loved the city of Austin. No-one care who you are. Where you came from. He knew he was destine to be waiting for a mystery. In realistic dreams, he was told. Go to Texas. He would find the answers to questions, that could not be answered.
Years ago. In a Belton, Texas dancehall. A lady with long black hair and the eyes of grey told him. Begin anew or death will come for you soon. You have sins greatly. Played the soldier with skill and accuracy. Swam in the seven deadly sins and you believed. No payment due. You must use the five senses to learn. What is right and what is wrong?
Now he wrote the lullaby about a man who exposed real skin and tried to create some good karma. He knew, heaven wasn’t his final place and he hope for the Purgatory Inn. Many had told him. No middle ground for us. Heaven or hell? He saw in dreams. The Purgatory Inn.
He was 1/4 Ojibwa. He held the Native American belief close. He believed in angels and devils. He was saved by both. Tonight would be the fourth time finding the ancient spirits. They are always near. If we listen. They whispered warning to us.
He remember in Monterey, during the Winter storm of 1993. He was seeking a good death. He left his friends and attempted to cross the dangerous rocks below the city. He danced on wet rocks and told the world to f-off. Instead he found a woman waiting for him. A serious lady with long brown hair and eyes of river blue. She told him to sit and talk. He sat down with her. He liked her eyes and her colorful Gypsy dress. She told him. You have been seeking death for two years. Joined wars, volunteered for dangerous places and you have challenge nature. You blame the suicide of two brothers. Death isn’t so sweet Johnnie. When you are dead, you are dead. Become part of the earth again. Death will come when death wants. You are buried in debt of regret. Gin, sin and women. You a real soldier. Payment due one day. Today, a free pass. You must reform or die knowing you did nothing. He asked her. Who are you? Angel or demons? She smiled and she told him. Just a accountance for the weight of good and bad. She reached over, kissed his cheek and she whispered. You must save people, to save yourself. I left her sitting by the wild dancing waves of the Pacific. I found my worried friend. They thought I was dead and washed away by the sea.
Tonight in Austin, I am here waiting. My dreams have brought me here. Whispers of a kind spirit told me in my dreams. Safe in Texas, the desert, free men cannot be tracked. I have tried to live a good life and I knew. Old age make us acceptable to the final dance. We cannot stop.