The American Dream

Send us your huddled masses yearning to be free.

 Free at last, free at Last; thank God almighty we are free at least. But don't stop there. Teach your children well. . . that parents' hell will slowly go by. Make the best with what you've got. Do the best you can. We didn't start the fire, y'all; but we did declare that all men are created equal, and entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Our soldiers have shed blood, sweat and tears. . . even their very lives, in perpetuation of these principles. I mean, we didn't start the fire, but we enkindled the flame of liberty in a venue and a strategy unprecedented in world history. We come on a ship they call Mayflower. We even put a man on the moon, in pursuit of that previously unreachable goal. You may think this is stream of consciousness; it is; we started with row, row your boat gently down the stream. . . but we find, along the way. . . All my trials, Lord, eventually be over; we work together, to get us to a place we never been before, a destiny, a God-ordained destiny that began long ago when Abraham left the land of the Chaldees, and then later. . . as the beat goes on, and the ancient story is told. . . like when Moses told Pharoah, Let my people go; then later much later. . .when the founders broke the cord, ignited it with the flame of freedom, the life-line of liberty. Then as times were a'changing, we built a raiload; once we built a tower way up to the sun. . .it takes Time, y'know, but who knows where the time goes?. . .I mean, the times were always a'changin'. Don't forget: Long story short. . .We come on a ship called Mayflower; we come on a ship that sailed the moon. Ask not what your country can do for you but ask what you can do for your country. But whatever happens, we gotta carry on; love is coming for us all. Young man, take a look at my life; I;m a lot like you. You know I keep thinking 'bout making my way back, whatevah! . . . Just row, row, row your boat gently down the stream; keep it going, never give up and all will go well with you. We are, ever and ever, embarking on the threshold of a dream, almost seen.Every now and then we catch a glimpse of it, as when Dr. King said, back in the day. . . I have a dream. . . then moving right along. . ..Merrily, merrily, verily, gently down the stream. . . stream, stream, stream of consciousness. "I was born by the river, in a little tent. . . and just like the river, I been running, ever since. It's been a long time coming, but I know, change is gonna come." I mean, that's what bro' Sam Cooke had prophecied, back in the day. But going back even further that that . . .Jesus said be ready, for you know not the hour that I come for you, 'cuz The ball is falling on Times Square; the sun is going down every day; but the sun also rises. . .brightening, day by day, the American dream. . . or bust! even so, In God we trust, 'cuz We shall overcome; deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome someday! "How many years did some people exist before they were allowed to be free?" With that precedent in the rear view mirror, and In the wake of Abraham, Martin and John, we must not fail to go on, and on. . . and on, because the Underground Railroad still rides, y'all. Get on board! Don't get stuck in the mud of confusion or the fever of magamania.   King of Soul

Desecration in Washington

. . . a scene from my 2007 novel, Glass half-Full

Marcus stopped, taking in the enormity of it, both physically and philosophically. He was looking at the speech intently. Bridget was looking at him.

Gettysburg Address After a few moments: "Isn't that amazing? "Yes." She could see that he was thinking hard about something. The great chamber echoed a murmur of humankind. "Supreme irony." The longing of a nation's soul reverberated through the memorial… in the soundings of children, the whisperings of passersby. Deep within Marcus' soul, something sacred was stirring, and she could see it coming forth. "The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here." He was reading aloud Lincoln's words on the white wall. But for the echoes of a million people who had passed through this place, there was silence. After a moment, Bridget responded. "…and yet, there it is carved on the wall, for all to see: 'the world will little note what we say here….'" "Right, Bridget. Isn't it amazing?"

Suddenly, amid the noise was a loud shouting. Marcus could hear where it was coming from. He moved quickly away, toward the noise, to see what was happening. Bridget felt the sudden coolness of air on her hand, in the absence of Marcus' gentle grip. As soon as he emerged from behind the marble column, Marcus was puzzled by an incongruous, glistening wet flash of red upon the feet of Lincoln's statue. What the hell? Instinctively, he ran over to it. He could still hear a constant shouting; it was a ranting. Then his attention settled on the man who was yelling. He had a bucket in his hand, dripping with red paint. The rant went on, and suddenly Marcus was comprehending it: "…you sonofabitch see if you can get that off and then rub it on your white ass, your sorry white ass that destroyed what this country could have been you're a traitor to your race." This must be a dream, a very bad dream. Marcus was noticing the speaker's bald head, goatee, his moving mouth spouting insult. Then Marcus was deciding to do something. It seemed to him that it was someone else speaking when he asked, loudly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  The stranger, startled, turned to Marcus and looked at him. Then he opened his foul mouth: "I'm gonna make things right. There's a lotta things need to be made right. It's gonna start now." A bad dream. Marcus could feel his ire rising. His voice must have quivered with "You better leave now. You've defaced national property. You better find a park ranger and turn yourself in. If you don't, I'll turn you in." Marcus found himself yelling, as his challenge escalated through the marble edifice. The man turned and began to walk down the steps. Impulsively, Marcus thought, and shouted: "Who are you, anyway?" Glass half-Full

A half-Century Ago

Someone said history doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. History is laid out - as our ancient History book, the Bible, presents it - in "Time, times and half a time", in the panorama of history. . . recorded, as it is, by dutiful historians, prophets, poets, scribes, pharisees, scholars, and people just remembering stuff.  Half a century and another couple of years ago. . . 52 years ago, to be exact, I was a college student at LSU. In the summer of 1973, being a student of Political Science (as if politics were a science?), I was fascinated with the Senate Watergate hearings. Watching, on TV, Senator Sam Ervin's committee collect evidence and testimonies about a criminal break-in at the Watergate Hotel, I was fascinated with the unfolding evidence being presented by witnesses who testified about Richard Nixon's attempt to, by criminal tactics, secure the continuation of his presidency by criminal tactics, a break-in. Now Deja Vu rattles around in my brain: that strange experience that we sometimes get when, in a moment of time and space, we get the feeling that we've been in this circumstance, or even this very moment, before. This is that feeling that Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang about, back in '71, that feeling that they sang about:

"We have all been here before; we have all been here before. . ." But on another plane of time and experience, this morning I woke up with some images running in my head: scenes I was watching last night on a video screen. . . of Jesus's disciples, presented as a video series, the Chosen. 

But now, seemingly in another world, the next day. . . this is a new day, July 21, 2025. More importantly however is this: This is a day that the Lord hath made! My morning routine starts with the world's oldest book, the Bible. Today I find, in Daniel, chapter 7, a visionary testimony of what the Lord of the Universe had presented, in ancent times, to the prophet while he was serving the king of Babylon. Future historical events were shown to Daniel in his night visions. Those events would be, and ultimately were, manifested in real "time, times, and half a time". (whatever that means) All this is neither here nor there when compared to actual news events in this summer of 2025, news events that seem to coincide with similar developments in the summer of 1973, when an earlier president was being called to the courts of Justice. But I do get the feeling that, somehow, history rhymes, as I view contemporary controversies surrounding the behavior of our present president. I do get that strange feeling that CSNY sang about back in the day, 1971. . . "We have all been here before; we have all been here before." King of Soul

the Ancient Wanderer

The man went forth from his country, far from his home-state, distancing himself from his relatives, although he had no argument with them. You might say he was looking for the Promised Land at that time, although he had no indicators that there even was such a thing, except those ancient accounts that he had heard about, back in the day, in the Catholic days, and then the hippie days, and then, when he fell into a hole. . . long story short: and on his way back up of being hoisted up from the mud and the mire. . . he who had been lost was now found. So he started turning pages in the ancient book, the the oldest book, the one that had been passed down by those people who had been chosen to pass it down - accounts that there was/is, indeed a land of Promise. . . or, as in the Great American version, the land of opportunity. To enjoin an old phrase, he realized that he had been following a wild hair, seeking to satisfy an ancient urge that seemed to arise from the deepest wells of human history, wherein he was scouting for the Land of Opportunity, although he didn't know it at the time. I mean, when you get right down to it, he was stir-crazy, and on top of that he had some scrapes with the Law, and even a few days in jail, with trials and tribulations, the end of which was an incident where he was punched by a criminal in a prison where he unexpectedly found himself after being found guilty of a traffic violation and his own making, in the state of Florida. But I digress, or you might say, he digressed, until he came to a bend in the road that took him in an unexpected direction. Bottom line of phase 1 was: go northeast, young man. And so that's what he had done, to whit: He drove from the deep/down south, up into the Blue Ridge, and there he pitched his tent, so to speak, as the updated iteration of the ancient tale is told. And there, as it later turned out, he met the Lord but it all happened through the school of hard knocks, and rock for a pillow. . .

So he had wandered into the high country with reality on the west and Ai on the east. He journeyed there as far as Buncombe, to the place where he had determined he thought he wanted to go, between Bunk and Ai. He was experimenting with life in the real world. Meanwhile, on the other side of the continent, at Silicon Valley, the nerds and the techies were circuitizing Ai. And suddenly, after another three decades or so had passed by, he found himself perplexed, in the mid-life so-called crisis, wondering how or why he had wandered into this cyberland, only to be tracked by Ai. But then the Creator of the Universe poured a little dollup of Hope into his developing legacy: Fugedaboudit! Arise and go fearlessly into the noise and haste. . . for I have given into your hand the domain of Ai. You shall do unto Ai as Ai has done unto you, which is really no big deal. Ai's bark is worse than its bite; the logarithms may take a chunk out of your labors of love and your legacy,

but Ai really doesn't have a clue, has no inkling of what is supposed to happen, doesn't know what the hell is really going on. When it gets right down to the real nitty-gritty, you're still in charge of your own destiny. Just do, in any given situation, what you know to be right and all will be well with you. And remember what Ricky Ricardo used to say, back in the day. . . "Ai Ai Ai Ai" which really is no big deal. Life is no clockwork orange.   It's more like a divine gift. Make the best of it; and don't forget who's really in charge.  King of Soul

Aging Cycles

Like a stone set in a wall, like a rail-car in a train. . . can’t see the beginning, can’t see the end like an ever-spinning wheel a mandela of the mind, when you know you’re getting old maybe you’ve seen this turn before maybe not. While in the yard the flowers grow; they bloom; we croon old snippets of melody, long forgotten tales of joy and trouble. . .

Is it rubble or. . . is it treasure. . . this phenomenon of Life, full of joy yet filled with strife. This has all happened before but not exactly the same way, or so they say, because times change; the world gets rearranged. We come and go, speaking of Michelangelo or Warhol or StarWars or I wanna hold your hand Again and again and again. There’s someone walking next to you and she’s been there for forty-five years. But now. . . in moments of quiet repose as the blooms in the garden transpose their glorious color given over to the bees who harvest pollen with such ease Bees buzz; blossoms turn to fuzz while we ruminate on what will be, or was. . . The pollen, my friend, is blowing in the wind; But it will blow ‘round again. So the circle will not be broken, by ’n by, Lord, by ’n by. There is a better home awaiting. . . in the sky, Lord, in the sky, by ’n by. . . but you gotta believe: theres’s a gospel thread you gotta retrieve; So keep your hopes set dead ahead in the greatest story ever told when the boldest of the bold let life be robbed from Him so he could raise it up again. Now through ages of trials and time Life is recovered, in your old mind behind the circle in the spiral, within the ever-spinning wheel where half-forgotten names and faces take their pit-stops from the race of this life and strife and Life itself plays its ace: Everlasting Life! But do you believe that ole tale?

I’ve got some real estate for you for sale! The cost is already paid at Calvary where the Victory wreath was laid. King of Soul

The Fire Element

Fire is very important for human survival and progress. Interpreting from our species’ best-seller book, I have noticed these reports about Fire in what we call History and Progress. To whit: When the Creator evicted Adam and Eve from Eden, He placed angels with a “flaming” sword at the entrance to the garden. This is disciplinary tactic on the Lord’s part because the humans had proven themselves incapable of coping with the Paradise they had had in Eden. Ever since that time, Fire has been a deterrent for people.

But strangely enough, Fire has also proven to be a source of amazing progress. Later, much later in human history, when the people whom Creator had chosen to be released from slavery were escaping from Egypt, The Lord—his initials are YW— provided a pillar of Fire to guide the Hebrew escapees away from their enslavement. Later, much later, the Lord’s prophet, Elisha was reported to have eluded his bellicose pursuers by driving a chariot of Fire. This is the first historical instance I know of that mentions combustion-fired transportation (haha!) The later historical development was the combustion-fired engine that Henry Ford and other inventors utilized to make cars, beginning in the twentieth century of our era. Years after the Hebrews’ had escaped slavery in Egypt and established a kingdom of their own, Prophet/Historian Malachi mentioned the purifying property of Fire when he reported on Creator’s power to purify the minds and hearts of His people through the “Fire” of tribulations and troubles. So we find, in history, that people who are tribalized, then made literate and civilized, can discern and detect the dual purpose of fire. One purpose is to strike fear into the hearts and men, and for YW to punish them for evil deeds. Another purpose is to domesticate the fire by directing it toward useful applications. The later industrial application of that heating-up phenomenon came in with use of fire to smelt metal, a heating process by which precious metals were purified from other elements. As history rolled on, fire—or water that was boiled by the fiery application of heat, when carefully handled and transferred to a liquid, was also shown to be an effective disinfectant, because it could be used to rid objects of lethal infections, which were later identified as diseases or germs. In the aftermath of Jesus’ earthly ministry of teaching, preaching and conquering death by allowing death to hold him on a cross and then in a tomb until. . . on the third day, He overcame death; He demonstrated for us who believe in Him that we will also overcome death in a place called heaven, if we are willing to believe in His power to do so. 40 days after Jesus’ ascension—after his conquest of death itself—those disciples who had followed Him for three years were given a divine sign when tongues of fire manifested above their heads as they were being sent out by the Spirit of the Lord to spread the good news far and wide. . . and ultimately to all the tribes and peoples of this world. You might say that the Good News of Jesus’ conquest over death spread like wildfire thoughout history and the geography of this globe. His disciples’ fiery manifestation of divine anointing and power was a confirmation that a fundamental change had taken place in human history, because the thirty years of Jesus’ ministry and His Conquest of death changed the world forever, as the good news was spread from continent to continent, city to city, town to town; communities everywhere were enabled to make use of fire for purposes of creation, transportation, industry and staying warm in winter. Soon after Jesus’ disciples had found their way back to bold ministry—although now without His physical presence— Christian faith was ignited all over the world. In order to signify that salvation that purified the hearts of men and women everywhere, Jesus’ disciple instituted baptism by water. This brings me to what will be my next explication about these elements, fire, water and air. So the next instalment of “Fire and Water” treatise is in the works. Stay tuned. King of Soul

1960's Before/After

Boomer rap You won’t believe me; you’ll think it strange, when I try to explain how I recall, the songs of our boomer youth, and earlier, then later. . .The thread started when somebody mentioned “Beatles to Eagles.” Now there’s a phrase! But first, let’s whip up a proper introduction, borrowing a few phrases from back in days gone by, because the Times they were a changing. . . after four thousand holes in Hiroshima and Cuba and the wall in Berlin and Dallas and where were you when. . .? It was eighty years ago today, they say, Muddy Waters taught the bands to play; they been goin in and outa style but they’re guaranteed to raise a smile. . . or a teardrop. So may I introduce to you the one and only baby boomers youthful hearts club, wondering where have all the flowers gone, as we go frolicking in the silver mists of a land called Hanalei. Or maybe we’ll just Rock around the clock; if we’re lucky, find someone who will Love me tender, love me true, oh ,but get a load a that girl. . . Good golly miss molly. . . She was just seventeen, you know what I mean; sounds good. . .. let’s ferry ‘cross the Mersey; for awhile, or maybe go westward, young one. Let’s go surfin’ now, guys. ya gotta love them California girls; yeah, we’re Feelin’ glad all over; but stay out of that house in New Orleans they call the rising sun; Oh, but baby. love, How sweet it is to be loved by you. . . we’re standing in the shadows of love, gettin’ ready for heartaches to come. We’re hoping this is not the eve of destruction but then, watch out . . .one pill makes you larger; one pill makes you small. and speaking of. . . where have all the flowers gone? Unchain my heart, takin’ the midnight train to Georgia. So I find a boxcar; so I take my guitar , sad refrain. . . rainy night in Georgia. maybe better to be Ridin’ on the City of New Orleans. because you can’t hop a jet plane like you can a freight train, best be on my way in the early morning rain; big 707 set to go; she’ll be flying o’er my home in about three hours time, they say it never rains in California. . . oh, but now I’m California dreamin’. . . rows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air. But if you’re going to San Francisco you’d better wear some flowers in your hair. Oh but. . . where have all the flowers gone? I heard it through the grapevine; stickin’ to My Guy like a stamp to a letter; I wish it would rain. Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud: I am lonely. Blue, blue windows behind the stars, big birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes. Four dead in Ohio.

I can see by your coat, my friend, you’re from the other side. . . even so, deep in Dixie where I was born, same place as Uncle Remus. . . . . . a man met a woman, down in Alabama; she was a backwoods girl but she sure was realistic. She say boy without a doubt, you better get your message straight now; you could die down here. Surrender your crown on this blood-stained ground. It’s a slow train coming. There’s a train a’comin’. . . pickin’ up passengers coast to coast. You don’t need no ticket; just get on board, cuz. . . You do know, dontcha, that He’s got plans of His own to set up His throne, when He returns. At an unknown hour he’ll set up his throne, when He returns. Shake, rattle and roll, y’all, cuz the times they are still yet a-changin’. Selah. Land sakes alive, y’all! You need a Word to tell you which way the wind blows. . . King of Soul

Boomer Rhymes

Prussian pride got humbled when the Third Reich bumbled. Jap zeroes shot down; Yanks drop atoms on Hiroshima town. Nuclear age begins; nobody knows who wins. Nobody knows how the story ends. We do know how it began: Adam and Eve from Eden ran. Jews declare Israel; Muslims follow Ishmail. Land of the Free at rest; Home of the Brave aced the Test. There was this new thing called TV. . . with Donald and Minnie and Mickey, Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone; Ozzie, Harriet and Father Knows Best; a nation victorious now at rest. Leave it to Beaver and Eddie Haskell, following up from the Little Rascals. Edward R Murrow and Cronkite; Huntley and Brinkley in black and white. Then Disney in a World of Color. . . three networks. . . this, that or the other. Nixon and Kennedy in debate, tempting the fickle fingers of Fate. Kennedy shot down in Dallas, splatters blood on Camelot palace. Johnson and Vietnam, draft and napalm. Nixon brought down in Watergate: dirty tricks soiled his Fate. American gold no longer for sale; Now the Fed tells the Tale. Double digit inflation brings Carter’s end; Reagan back in the saddle again. Morning in America theme, with hopes to rekindle the American Dream. Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall, while Americans flocked to the Mall. Bird in the hand worth two in the Bush, now with yankee Desert Storm push. But history charges like a Razorback: Bill and Hilary from American outback. Then Gingrich with balanced budget supposed, Contract with America proposed. Along comes the dot.com bubble, foreshadowing digital trouble, although we figured our digits out before that Y2K could spoil our rout. But that 9/11 call was in the cards. World trade center downed in rubble and shards. By ’n by, out of the World Trade Center smoke and rubble, investigations tracked al-qaeda as source of the trouble. Some bin Laden fellow that 9/11 planner, he laid it out in the al qaeda manner. Terrorizing plot from an American-hater. More about that later. Seven years went by . . . Around the corner, Wall Street bulls hyped in frantic trading; prudence and good sense were fading, up up and up with no abating. But when the fevered market was spent, Dow-Jones was down by 53 percent. Meanwhile back at the ranch, out of the tranche, years after 911 smoke and rubble, al-Qaeda was found as the source of trouble. So Obama tracked down Osama. Seal Team Six did the fatal bin Laden fix. Operation Neptune Fear set our Seals’ team in gear; they put an end to our bin Laden fear. Meanwhile back from the Jersey shore, donald stepped down from his escalator door. Somebody got shot on 5th Ave but nobody cared, cuz donald and his fox were now paired. After that came something like a sad bad dream, as MAGA shredded the American dream. Last thing I remember, Doc, I slid into the curve; and that’s when America started to swerve, I think. (blink)

At least that’s the way I remember it; I just hope donnie don’t dismember it. Selah. Make America Good Again, as we remember when. . . Ozzie and Harriet and Leave it to Beaver.

Now America needs a Constitution retriever. All this happened in one lifetime? Time to hook up the American lifeline. King of Soul

Threshold of Hawaii

When the white deadwoods of Hawaii are lying on the shores, dead and the tides, waves and currents of Pacifica propel oceans swells ahead. . .

Remember then, Americans, Hawaiians. . . Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea. . . peaks with slopes of fire, spewn to raise up island slopes. As new lands will form with eruptions, volcanoes of Hawaii will spread this island upward and downward. . .

with volcanoes evermore. . . inspiring, without measure, the wondrous web of Paradise, distantly seen.

Walk hand in hand, and together we’ll stand . . . on these Islands with our dreams. As I was walking on a beach of Hawaii, my poetic muse struck. Sudden inspiration fell into the poetic framework of a recitation heard long ago. . . while listening to the Moody Blues, specifically the voice of Mike Pinder as he recited Graeme Edge’s “The Dream”, which presented the poetic architecture for my poem about Hawaii. King of Soul