To Mom, Dad, and Jill.

To James “Robbie” Church, Randy Russell, and my cousin Amanda Weinland.

To my loving Grandma Sally Weinland and the memory of my Grandfather Donald Weinland.

Copy right 2014. ( I have the papers to prove it to.)

Sleep New Now and Old Relic

Sleep New now

on with another repetitive motion,

another due song.

Another on demand stage.

No home but the heart for the holidays.

No truth to the wasted patience

What deserves this deja vu?

This Brutal question

Forgotten lingo

with music’s new slang.

This word

It is nothing

It is everything

I say yes

I say No

I say there is no point to wasted questions.

Always questions,

but give trust its due,

faith means not blind,

in fact there is logic in faith.

An old talisman, 

and relic,

given its proper

just due stage.



Another short tangent for a very long point

Whatever happened?

The muses were singing

the juices were flowing,

whatever happened to the forward influence

and lust and drive of the mind

and so of the state of being

and its other.

It’s wrong and possesive

of the daily hour.

Annoyed at the simple; broken

into stanza and meditative powers

of the mind of the soul 

and the likeness

of its all and seat.