My Stories & Photos

All of these writings are a function of my travels.  I have almost never gone on a “TOUR” instead seeking out distant places that are in conflict or where the conflict just ended.  As an example in Afghanistan I saw: bombed out buildings and a Hazara executed  by a group of Pathans because they thought he was a spy.  I visited Darjeeling India (free Gurkha Movement and north central Nepal ( Maoist Movement) and witnessed blown-up homes, burned out buildings and military posts under full alert. I had a personal visit with Afridi (heroin Warlords Afghanistan) and tried to meet Ku Sha Burmeese Warlord. I saw a man bleed out before my eyes that stepped on a mine  in Cambodia and volunteered in a hospital in Nepal and Missouri in Northern India.  I met with the head of the (COUNTER INSURGENCY) Sendero Luminoso in Peru -now that was very cool.  And I traveled with opium smugglers in India and stayed in opium smuggling tiny villages in Thailand – Burma and got busted there.  So–
So These writings are stories that relate to those experiences and they are meant to be controversial, shocking and make people think about things that are uncomfortable or not used to.  Items like suicide, euthanasia, killing, war, drug use, War Lords and so on are what many of these stories are about.  God, infinity and love are also what these stories are about.  I hope you enjoy them and think about some of the things that come to you mind. PLEASE DO NOT READ THE SECTION “KILL WAR DEATH” as it is brutally demented as war is ugly and filled with pain, sadness, sorrow and death.  Some of the Kill war and death stories are written in the first person meaning it may sound like I have killed humans and I have not.  It is a story of what I saw and what happened in the places I have visited and so I wrote the stories in the first person – I do not kill,  even animals I do not kill.


Written in Rajistani desert: We lay in a sea of cool desert sand whose serpentine dunes snaked its way to eternity. There was nothing but emptiness. At night looking at the heavens above, we saw silver horses plant down radiant moonbeams all around us and they exploded in a kaleidoscopic array of blinding light. Later in the emptiness of darkness, we saw 10,000 shooting stars racing across the universe and we wondered where did they all go? I thought, if we rode to the other end of the desert, we would find them. We have been riding in the desert ever sense!!!


Love: Written for Arden:

Let’s roam the world as free as the wind just you and I. Let’s set sail for a course unknown and let the billowing sails carry us across the oceans of time. We will wander around alone and come and go without a trace, just you and I. I will take you where the real flowers grow! In a playful wind, just you and I and our love to keep us going! We will be free spirits like the wind and will always be moving. You have been in my mind every single moment and I want you to be mine forever. I want to tell you with my last breath that I have loved you forever, for I would rather be a ghost drifting by your side as a condemned soul than enter Heaven without you! Because of your love, I will never be a lonely spirit, it will always keep me going.  Let’s go away together and roam the world together as free as the wind, just you and I across time forever.


I see them on the other side waiting patiently for me. Rather than run I must watch it all unfold.  I head across the empty field. The wheat stubble crackles under my foot and the swift wind sends the thin cover of snow swirling into the air like ghost dancers.  The wind whistles across the hard land of winter  and I look up at the roiling clouds and keenly feel the sharp bite of the frigid wind that is blowing and I wish to feel it as deeply as possible. The snow is coming harder and enormous flakes fill the air, exciting it, making it tremble with life.   They all rise now and I watch them approach, they are near enough now for me to see snowflakes on their eyelashes, near enough for accuracy.  With good discipline, all kneel, I look above them at the pewter sky, the eagles sail overhead in silent grace on the wind, like ghost ships sailing away into the horizon. Below them, the wolves are quarreling, waiting for the spoils.


It is not a social dinner or literary event, nor is it a drawing or embroidery. It cannot be done in elegance or courtesy. The REVOLUTION is an act of VIOLENCE.


I felt the presence of God out there. We spun through a field of shoulder high ferns dancing in the soft wind whose yellow flowers reached to the heavens in prayer like grace-   As we peddled through the deepness of the forest, home of locust and crickets  we listened to their symphonic harmonies drift on the wind to their forest god that reigns over this kingdom and it filled our minds and spirits with joy and happiness.  The light from the orb – the giver of all life- raced through the firmament towards us.  The golden rays were filter through the canopy that formed the roof of this world – the ominous trees – the keepers of the forest. The filtered rays streamed through the humid dense air and bathed the forest floor in a display of mathematical formulas and impressionist paintings that no human could reproduce and took our breath away.  A beautiful fawn watched us come and go from the protection of the brush in the depths of the forest that covered this sacred land and we passed in silent grace.  I found a turtle slogging it through the ground cover on his way to the labyrinth of time immortal. I heard the squelch of a raptor,  a hawk as it sailed by on the wind and he sailed away to the horizon and there he found another. We saw a black snake weave its way across the spindly dirt trail and vanish into the safety of the grasses of the forest floor looking for its prey.   From the shoreline, we passed ducks and geese joyously paddling around on the mirrored glassine waters while terrapins sunned themselves on trees that had fallen into the waters of life.  A fox, like a ghost shape dancer,  disappeared into the depths of the forest.  His reflective eyes followed us from the safety of the hidden nooks that he called his home. The wind brought us pleasant aromas from the depths of the forest and it filled our beings with happiness. From our embedded tiny trail we rode on and came across a flock of turkey buzzards, that had perched in the upper limbs of the tall ominous trees waiting for the spoils, the spoils of war.  We saw Spider webs and they glistened in the sun’s rays that penetrated the forest canopy and tiny insects flew around creating a painting that  floated in the thickness of heavy forest air.  The sounds of human life left us – thank God- for the sounds of silence in this world are beautiful.  We were invisible and God allowed us to have visions of ecstasy and infinity today –  wow 

Ta-Yen my friend?

Anything is possible now that Ta-yen has taken me back.  I lie contentedly in the semidarkness of a musty, smoke filled room, waiting to greet my old friend and landlord and ponder how I will pay the rent.  Many call Ta-yen a demon but I think Ta-yen has the sweet disposition of Kuan Yin.  Ta-yen is like a mystic, that merely clarifies the mind and provides a world of vision.

The rudimentary hut is dark on the inside and a smoldering fire dimly illuminates it, casting ghostly shadows about.  The earthen floor is covered by a old bamboo mat worn and haggard and the room is musty and somewhat damp.  I sit down next to Noi on the old worn bamboo map and dream of meeting my old friend Ta-Yen before Noi hands me the yellow parchment.  I rent apart that old yellow parchment and two dark brown balls of sap emerge.  I fondle them, rolling the small round sticky pellets in my hand, thinking about the clarity of vision and dreams awaiting me.  I place one of the visionaries on the tiny hole on a smooth elegantly carved ivory pipe worn by the many years of use, dreaming of the dragon I will be chasing and I light it with the orange ember form the smoldering fire in the dank room.

I tug deeply to fill my lungs- two pipes , and watch the smoke rise  upward swirling like a ghost dancer before disappearing in the dark expanse of the musty room and then stretch out on the wooden bench that smells to the core of burnt cinnamon while resting my head peacefully on the wooden head rest before I drift into a sea of sweat dreams.  I am transported home into a thick verdant forest in a grove of trembling pines.  Overhead a few golden eagles are circling in broad-winged silent grace and their squelch carries across the wilderness.  Huge cobwebs of lichens trail  from tree to tree in the vast forest. The roots are deeply embedded in the black-green moss, in a a sea of fungus.  A muggy vegetable air hangs under the countless firs.  It is good to be alive again

 A haiku:

The blue sky above the earth, White clouds rising towards the heavens, Life is only the butterflies dream, Death is the only way to eternal Life

The war has saddened me so I can not sleep. If not me, who has the strength to bring order to heaven and earth.  And I wait,  waiting for the one thing that will infinitely enhance my life:

I will bring the Violence

I can say I heard a trumpet cry and its voice said  “come up here and I will show you what must take place in the time to come”  The vision, It was a vision of ecstasy.  In the throne of Heaven was a gem, like a sparkle and a rainbow as brilliant as an emerald. From that throne came thrashes of thunder and lightening and there were many creatures surrounding the throne.  

So I awoke and was called to the supper and crowned to bring the justice of the lord upon the wicked. I was called to jihad and was proclaimed the Angle of death and my authority was so great that all of the earth was lighted before me, woe to those that that fell out of favor for they shall burn forever.  

My eyes blazed like fire and my cloak was covered in the blood of the wicked. I came to administer justice and my sword was swift and sharp.  It glowed in the night sky and silver moonbeams rained down from the sky and lighted my way as I rode on my fire snorting steed to do battle on the hard land of winter.  From my mouth came a sharp sword to take out the chaff.

At my side rode the woman clothed in the sun. She appeared in the sky and the moon was under her foot.  On my other side was the dragon and his tail swept the bright stars from the dark sky (all was lost) and judgment was upon all of those that opposed Gods way.
Our swords were swift and we brought the plagues that took out many (causing boils and vast suffering) and the sun scorched the rest and burned the men with fire.  For those left, the golden eagles which soared with us, rent their bodies apart and devoured their flesh with the sharpened talons that glowed bright in the night sky.

So, when we held the beast’s head high for all to see, those left alive pledged allegiance to us and then we left for a new land.

I awoke up to a new way and a new day with eyes to see the sun and took to the sky like a bird in flight and was lifted from the burdens of repression and set sail on wooden boat for a land across the sea. For the first time I felt my own needs just beginning and my dreams filled my billowing sails. I rode across the sea of tranquility on a white horse and listened to the wind whistle in the firmament above and like a flash of white light we chosen few passed through the window behind the stars to walk up upon a new land with a new way, one with white sandy beaches a dark country and a swift sunrise to walk where no mortals dare.  We caught life on the fly to live in eternity’s sunrise.