After the Tides Roll In

Lovely womanly ocean.

Of the deep blue sea.

I ask for love.

As the tide.

Swipes the sand.

From the beach.

Embrace me.

In your arms.

Caress me.

With a kiss.

Wash me clean.

Make me pure.

Cleanse my soul.

I ask for nothing less.

I wish for nothing more.

As we float off.

Into the sunset.

For soon.

We will find shore.


Living by the Ocean

Verse 1

In the mourning.

When the oceans blue.

Such a pretty view.

Then I look over.

And nothing compares to you.



Because I love You.

I love you.


Verse 2

In the evening.

When the skies are red.

And I need a friend.

I look at you.

And I smile big.



Because I love you.

I love you.


The Bridge, Part 1

I’ve seen you when you wake up.

I’ve seen you when you’re sad.

I’ve seen you without makeup.

And seen you when you’re mad.


The Bridge, Part 2

I’ll be there when our kids are born.

Be there when you die.

Even when you put your guard down.

I’ll stand by your side.



Because I love you.

I love you.


Verse 3

In the dead of the night.

When the stars are white.

I watch you sleeping.

And think about how happy I am.

For having you in my life.



Because I love you.

I love you.

Now days I look at myself in the mirror, smile, wink, shoot my thumb-pointer finger pistol into the mirror, pull the trigger; and remind myself that I am a complete waste of human garbage. It keeps me grounded. Than I tell myself I’m going to be a less pitiful waste of organic life matter everyday. It’s a reminder that this world is full of Feces Pieces; and its my responsibility to plant a useful seed like corn maybe into life’s grand manure pile and hope to get something beautiful out of it like a tulip for example”.

Hunters Prayer

Days repeat
its endless cycles
spent bow hunting
in the woods
where mankind
still finds solace
in the wilderness
with hours spent
in concentration
for that primal connection
so, the hunter waits
for that perfect moment
to slay the alpha male
crowned with many thorns
with his entrails spread out
across stout tan grasses
the coyotes will howl
in pleasure
at the sweet smell of offal
Ah-woo! Ah. Ah. Ah-woo!
The pack devours,
licking the still fresh blood
upon the grasses in Haste,
so not to let a drop go to waste,
the carcass tanned
the rack mounted
the antlers carved
into various objects
man finds away his way
to reconnect to nature
and, when the time has come
the tradition shall pass
from father to son
as it has
since the dawn of time.
For this, let us pray.

Saint Hubertus,
Fine patron of the hunt
I pray that your children
will fair well in the woods
may our game be tender
nore tainted
so that they may feed
our children with its flesh

But those
Who kill for mere sport,
let good meat go to waste
shall suffer the fate of Actaeon,
for the hunt is not for the thrill
of the kill,
a good Hunter fights
for life not violence
bound forever
with the Souls of all animals.

What is Open the Vox?

The OPEN THE: is a reference to Pandora’s Box which can’t be closed once it’s been open. It refers to the chaotic aspect of my blog. I write all over the place.

The word Vox is Latin. It means: to sing, to recite, to speak, to vote, to hear your calling, to vote, etc. It refers to my interest in the Metaphysical aspects of language, Music, and Acoustics.

Thank You

Ocean of Emotion

Our minds are deep,

tidal waves of emotion.

Finding it hard to navigate,

this vast and turbulent ocean.
In little canoes we float,

becoming one with the flow.

Sometimes we put our guards down,

while we head into the perfect storm.
Where we’re tossed into the ebb,

while the boat begins sinking.

Left now in the shallows,

of the vast violent ocean.


Unable now to drift,

sinking into the caverns of the abyss.

Where live the fiendish Kraken,

always lurking around the corner.
So hurry quickly to the skies,

before your swallowed alive.

Reaching for the horizon,

floating now on your emotions.
Keeping your head above the water,

slowly picking up the drift wood.

Craft yourself a new canoe,

to paddle off anew.
While remembering

to take a deep breath,

as you drift off

into the sunset.

Heart Sinks at Sea

For the timeless limited experiences.

Of a life at sea.

My cold icy heart melted.

When you stood beside me.
Oh! How our love was like the mighty sea.

A vast and clamming ocean.

As life seemed to stand still.

Our hearts floating on our emotions.
But now that those moments are lost.

My heart sinks like a sunken ship.

A treasure lost to the abyss.

But as this hearts nautical captain.
I travel the high tides and strong winds.

Alone with my crew and my sexton.

Where we travel the great unknown.

Oh! How the days turn into darkness.
Sunless days spent in deep depression.

From the heartache of long lost love.

Oh! How I’ve never felt so alone.

As my sadness leads to madness.
My tears forever imbued to the waters.

The pain becomes the perfect storm.

Oh! How I’ve lost my soul to this hurricane.

As the memories still remain.

Tortoise Shell Lyre

Eons Ago,

A cosmic string echoed.

From it came a soul.

The cosmic soul.

Was all alone.

it struck.

The cosmic string.
From it,

came a flash.

Followed by a bang.

the striking of the string.

Awoken the Abyss.

wished to break the string.

Ending all existence.
That’s when,

The great soul.

Took the Cosmic String.

he gave to Hermes.

Too craft an instrument.



on the day of his birth.

Hermes built the Tortoise Shell Lyre.
Who then,

gave it to his Brother.

The Mighty Apollo.

on a trip to Earth.

It was dropped by Apollo.

to be discovered.

By Homer.
Who used it,

to teach his Bards

And recite his poems.

it fell into the grasp.

Of Pythagoras.
Who used it,

to understand the universe.

Through the magic of mathematics.

of how this story goes.

The words within this poem.
It has,

this story.

Some wisdom.

I would be a liar.

When it comes to the Lyre.
To say,

it has not been sought.

For generations by Musicians.

I know something.

They know not.
That the Tortoise Shell Lyre,

is not just found anywhere.

It is located in the heart.

The Bard

Hear, Thee!

Hear, Thee!

Come one, come all!

Sit downith betwixt thy neighbors.

Listen now intently.

With eyes closed and ears wide open.

To thy stories of ancient old.

To the tale of brave Ulysses.

On his weary travels home.

Or, to the fable of Achilles.

The fall of mighty Troy.

So, cometh!

All is welcome.

To hear the stories.

Of past glories.

As I pluck away contently.

On my tortoise shell lyre.

Oh, praise thee gods of Mount Olympus!

For helping us overcome impossible tasks.

We thank you.

Beginning now we must with a prayer.

To that of almighty Apollo and the muses.