Thursday, June 23, 2011



I want to take the Night Sky
And pull it down to me,
Wrapping myself in a blanket of Stars.
I will be taken -
I can go -

Taken up at the speed of a Musical Note
Played on a Celestial Keyboard.
Up into the Cold and Windy,
Into the Blanket of Blankness,
Where the Small Blue Jewel
Floats in the Black Soup.

Up where the Inside becomes the Outside,
And the Outside becomes the Inside.
Where the Silence is so loud
That Pain cannot be heard.
Where my Hair and Soul are blown
By Solar Winds.

With Sol on my Right,
And Luna on my Left,
I will become so large that -
I will Disappear . . . .

© 1984 Philip G. DeLoach

Sunday, June 19, 2011



The parade of deaths and dying people
litter my past.
My life  and the lives of most of my whole generation
are mostly gone now.

They are like bookmarks in my own personal
Book of Life.
The good times, the bad times were all a quest.
A quest for something to believe in.

Something to hold on to.

I feel as if everything is slipping from my grasp
And I am at the mercy of Time and people
that I really do not trust.

People see me in different places.
They always ask "How are you?"
But they really don't want to know.
They don't have time for it.

Besides they have their own troubles.

So do you fall back on Faith?
Faith in the unseen?
Or do you look for tangible evidence that
something exists outside the realm of this lifetime?

What is considered tangible? All life is nothing but energy.
Vibrating at different frequencies.
Everything that has ever been or ever will be is already here.
Is there a doorway to these other worlds?

Is there an Earth where only Peace and Harmony exists?
Is there a doorway somewhere so you can go to where there is no war
and no crime and people help each other?

Who will save my bookmarks after I'm gone?

© 2011 Philip G. DeLoach

Friday, June 10, 2011



The fat Corporate Maggot
plays the ribs of the starving children
like a Xylophone.

He whistles while he works.
He's happy in his job.
We got too many kids anyway.

He gently lifts the pennies off the
dead man's eyes.
"He can't spend 'em anyway."
"Not where he's going."

Don't these Maggots have children of their own
who will eventually come in contact with the very poisons
their fathers produce?

Maybe they are so far from any dirty place or they are born
with a natural immunity?
I wonder what it's like inside those Gated Communities
With their armed guards?

They never see anybody who is not like themselves.
They never know the creatures that slink and skulk outside their gate.
Those "untouchables" that are just lazy.
They like being dirty and smelly.

The Maggots have no souls.
How could they?
A person with a soul and a heart
Could not cause such suffering and pain.

And not miss a wink of sleep at night.

They learn early on to pass the buck.
So that when the damage is done and the people and animals
are dying they can say "It wasn't me!" And they actually believe it!

The eye of a needle is very small.
And liars and thieves who these Maggots are
will have a hard time passing through.

I hope if there is a God that these Maggots will
get what they deserve.
Sooner rather than later.

© 2011 Philip G. DeLoach