by Larry Bowers

I lost my watch,

And it’s an embarrassing situation,

To go around looking at the back of my bare wrist,

And talk like I’m doing some weird incantation:

“Two hairs past a freckle.”

I murmur to no-one in particular.

It’s like the time I lost my glasses,

And went around poking my finger at the bridge of my nose.

People thought I was crazy.

At least they thought I was close.

So don’t lose anything,

Lest you go round showing other humans

what a creature of habit is man.

When we started measuring time, our eyesight got worse,

From concentrating on the “our” hand.

Love’s Pledge


by Larry Bowers

What would I give to you?

I would give all that I have and hope to have,

Every beat this heart could beat.

I would give a healing hand, like a medicine to your soul.

Or a gentle gaze, like a soft summer wind.

What would I give to you?

I would give all the joys of a joyful life.

All of the encouragement you need,

Built up like a protective wall around your heart,

To keep it warm when days are dark.

What would I give to you?

Nothing that some other might not give.

Only more willingly because I wish to,

And eternally, because I love you.

When the Old People are Dead

….but yet there are ones so young that they believe they can overcome the darkness and build a place of light for all of us to dwell. A future of hope wrapped up in their innocence, without futility in their nature. No cynicism walling up their ideas of a new paradigm for humanity.

And if the world is turned over to them, we will have fewer worries. The dreams they dream will be of tomorrows in space exploring the universe, and problems here on Earth boiled down to mathematical formulas and solved.

There will be no violence and no war. There will be no racial hatred and religious killing. Police officers will again become peace officers.

There will be paper made of hemp for all of us to write upon….and the soft, sweet smell of ganja drifting on the breeze from the joints of the old people in pain, who will be smoking them to relieve the pain in their joints….

Can you dig it?

Olaf the Black, or the White Horse

In the Mormon “White Horse Prophecy” the United States Constitution is “hanging by a thread” (Republican Senators refusing Obama his Constitutional right to name a Supreme Court justice, Trump threatening the First amendment..and much more) and a member of the Mormon priesthood rides in on a metaphorical White horse to save the Constitution and our country.

Four years ago, the extreme constitutional issues that exist today, did not exist. It was not time for the White Horse. This election cycle…perhaps, probably…especially if you believe in those types of things.

I could see, if Rubio wins Florida, and Kasich wins Ohio, that there would be a contested convention. After the first vote, delegates can vote for whoever they want, including Mitt Romney. And he will be there, ready to accept, because I believe that HE believes in this prophecy. He took aim at Hillary Clinton today, just as if he were running against her already…right after he decimated Donald Trump.

Romney is thinking of the momentum he would have coming out of the Republican convention as the Republican party’s savior. He thinks it would be almost insurmountable especially considering Hillary Clintons continued problems.

Of course Donald Trump considers himself to be a “prophetic” candidate also, being a descendant of Clan McCleod, through his mother Mary Anne McCleod.

The Macleod Clan descended from the bloodline of Olaf the Black. Olaf was a mid 13th century sea king who ruled the Isle of Man (Mann) and parts of the Hebrides. Basically, Olaf was a Viking King who spanned both the pagan and Christianization of the Vikings. Olaf the Black was not just a Viking, he was Scottish, native Celtic, and the last of the Norse kings.

As a descendent of Olaf, Trump considers himself a Norse/Celtic “king” entitled to greatness. Why keep up the blonde hair, the tanned skin, and of course the Aryan view of everyone else in the world who is not like him?

So…which prophecy wins out, the White horse, or the second coming of Olaf the Black?

Footnote: since I first wrote this, the White Horse has made a comeback. Maybe his time is still to come.

The Spark of Us

I can’t get the thought out of my mind that we are all the same. We are sparks of life embedded in many different flesh and blood houses, and when the spark goes out in the house, it will never reassume a place in the “physical” world again. Perhaps I’m wrong, but that’s what I believe.

“We are neither Jew nor Greek, bonded nor free, there is neither male nor female…..” so begins Galations 3:28 “for you are all one in Jesus Christ”

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” says Buddha…

So that when that one light from the single candle is extinguised, it lives on in others…but only in shared happiness, not hatred, never in hatred, because that which is darkness cannot become light.

I guess I could say: “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

…and in our human experience we should try to make lives better for those around us taking that same journey, even those human beings whose spirit is evidentally not of a good nature. And there are many. I don’t understand the purpose behind the existence of those two opposing natures but I know there is a purpose.

I feel that in the nature of the existence of the Universe, no matter what your individual belief, good will endure in some way over evil.

On a Mountaintop

On a Mountaintop

I wish I lived on a mountain top, so I could see the stars more clearly,
I wouldn’t mind the cold wind, or the thin air.
It would be well worth an extra cloak to be closer
..to their persistent and lasting beauty.
It would be worth an extra breath of steamy warm air
…in the cold, still night
..to be able to almost reach out and tickle the moon.
Somewhere on a mountain top. There’s a million stars waiting.

Larry Bowers.