SAL Poems
The Guy in the Glass
When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf
And the world makes you King for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.
For it isn't your Father, or Mother, or Wife,
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.
He's the feller to please, never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear up to the end,
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
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You may be like Jack Horner and "chisel" a plumb
And think you're a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass thinks you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the guy in the glass.
By: Dale Wimbrow
(1895-1954)
 |
| Death of Polonius at the hand of Hamlet |
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, nor gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;...
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,—to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
By: William Shakespeare
From The Present Crisis
 |
| 1819-1891 |
aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to
west,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within
him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within
him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy
sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of
Time. ...
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of
Time. ...
For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears
along,
Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right
or wrong;
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's vast
along,
Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right
or wrong;
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's vast
frame
Through its ocean-sundered fibres feels the gush of joy or
shame;—
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal
claim. ...
Through its ocean-sundered fibres feels the gush of joy or
shame;—
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal
claim. ...
 |
Drafted after the Battle of Antietem in 1862, Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, freeing all slaves in Union-held territory. |
great,
Slow of faith how weak an arm may turn the iron helm
of fate,
But the soul is still oracular amid the market's din,
List the ominous stern whispers from the Delphic cave
within,—
"They enslave their children's children who make com
promise with sin." ...
But the soul is still oracular amid the market's din,
List the ominous stern whispers from the Delphic cave
within,—
"They enslave their children's children who make com
promise with sin." ...
New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good
uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward, who would keep
abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pil-
grims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the des-
perate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted
key.
uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward, who would keep
abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pil-
grims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the des-
perate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted
key.
By: James Russell Lowell
Abraham Lincoln's Letter to Mrs. Bixby
That if I would secure reasonable happiness for myself, I must give out good-
will to others;
That to better my own condition I must practice mutuality;
That bodily health is necessary to continued and effective work;
That I am ruled largely by habit;
That habit is a form of exercise;
That up to a certain point, exercise means increased strength or ease in effort;
That all life is the expression of the spirit;
That my spirit influences my body,
And my body influences my spirit; ...
And that to eliminate fear my life must be dedicated to useful work—work in
which I forget myself;
That fresh air in abundance, and moderate, systematic exercise in the open air
are the part of wisdom;
That I can not afford, for my own sake, to be resentful nor quick to take offense;
That happiness is a great power for good,
And that happiness is not possible without moderation and equanimity;
That time turns all discords into harmony if [people] will but be kind and
patient,
And that the reward which life holds out for work is not idleness nor rest, nor
immunity from work, but increased capacity, GREATER
 |
| Abraham Lincoln Statue inside the Lincoln Memorial; Washington, D.C. |
Executive Mansion
Washington, Nov 21, 1864
To Mrs. Bixby, Boston, Mass.
Dear Madam.
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.
Yours very sincerely and respectfully.
A. Lincoln.
"On the walls of Brasenose College, Oxford University, England, this letter of the 'rail-splitter' President hangs as a model of purest English, rarely, if ever, surpassed."
From An American Bible
I KNOW: ... |
| Elbert Hubbard 1857-1915 Killed with his wife aboard the RMS Lusitania during the Great War |
will to others;
That to better my own condition I must practice mutuality;
That bodily health is necessary to continued and effective work;
That I am ruled largely by habit;
That habit is a form of exercise;
That up to a certain point, exercise means increased strength or ease in effort;
That all life is the expression of the spirit;
That my spirit influences my body,
And my body influences my spirit; ...
And that to eliminate fear my life must be dedicated to useful work—work in
which I forget myself;
That fresh air in abundance, and moderate, systematic exercise in the open air
are the part of wisdom;
That I can not afford, for my own sake, to be resentful nor quick to take offense;
That happiness is a great power for good,
And that happiness is not possible without moderation and equanimity;
That time turns all discords into harmony if [people] will but be kind and
patient,
And that the reward which life holds out for work is not idleness nor rest, nor
immunity from work, but increased capacity, GREATER
DIFFICULTIES, MORE WORK.
"This is our hope. ... With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together ... to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. ...
"But not only that. Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi, from every mountain side. Let freedom ring. ...
By: Elbert Hubbard
I Have a Dream
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. ...
 |
| Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 1929-1968 |
"So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
"When we allow freedom to ring—when we let it ring from every city and every hamlet, and every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last, Free at last, Great God a-mighty, We are free at last."
By: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
MLK delivered this speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., USA, on August 28, 1963.
The Power of the Present
 |
Dr. JJ, before he was a doctor, leads the pack 600 meters into an 800 meter race at Weber State University in the spring of 2003. Running and racing has been an important part of his life and identity. |
Our grand business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance,
but to do what lies clearly at hand.
~ Thomas Carlyle
Beyond the haze of what we face,
There lies the track on which we'll race;
But what we often soon forget:
It's also 'neath our current pace.
We always look beyond the mists,
Squint through the fog toward future lists,
And rarely opt to seize the day:
The here, the now—so often missed!
 |
| In the best shape of my life while running track in college. Spring 2003. |
The present's where we carve our fate,
And future's bliss' only secured,
By mastering what's now on our plate.
But if we grasp on to what's ours,
That's how we'll break our prison bars,
And rise in ways we'd never thought,
To mighty deeds and distant stars!
O man, no longer cast your view,
On things that aren't in front of you,
Do your best now, and trust in faith
That all things in their time shall find you.
—Dr. JJ
In Flanders FieldsIn Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce head amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce head amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Who Am I?
I am your constant companion.
I am your greatest helper or your heaviest burden.
I will push you onward or drag you down to failure.
I am completely at your command.
Half the things you do you might as well turn over to me,
And I will do them quickly and correctly.
I am easily managed, you must merely be firm with me.
Show me exactly how you want something done,
And after a few lessons I will do it automatically.
I am the servant of all great people,
And alas, of all failures as well.
Those who are great, I have made great!
Those who are failures, I have made failures!
I am not a machine;
Though I work with all the precision of a machine,
Plus the intelligence of a person.
You may run me for profit or run me for ruin;
It makes no difference to me.
Take me, train me, be firm with me,
And I will lay the world at your feet.
Be easy with me and I will destroy you.
Who am I?
I AM HABIT!
~ Anonymous
You Tell on Yourself
Out of the night that covers me,
Anyone who'll work and wait
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Lost, yet I, not really through,
Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy
Coarsely Crossed
The Passage of Time
The World is Not Enough With Me
OCD:
And avoiding
Ignoring derision,
Alas, my inmost heart breaks free,
for fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
If you strike a thorn or rose,
When it looks like all is up,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
I am very special,
I am here today because
I want to learn something that I did not know.
I promise I will not cause problems for my teachers, classmates, school, friends, or myself.
my thoughts, my words, my decisions, my grade, and ultimately, my future.
HEAVEN is not reached at a single bound;
TRUE worth is in being, not seeming—
And so prepared,
DREAMS
You tell on yourself by the friends you seek,
By the very manner in which you speak,
By the way you employ your leisure time,
By the use you make of dollar and dime,
You tell what you are by the things you wear,
By the spirit in which your burdens you bear,
By the kinds of things at which you laugh,
By the records you play on the phonograph,
You show what you are by the way you walk,
By the things of which you delight to talk,
By the manner in which you bear defeat,
By so simple a thing as how you eat,
By the books you choose from the well-filled shelf:
In these ways and more, you tell on yourself.
So, there really is no particle of sense,
In an effort to keep up false pretense.
—Anonymous
(Sometimes attributed to Marie Losavio)
MORTALITY
OH, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together by laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.
THE infant a mother attended and loved;
The mother that infant's affection who proved;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.THE maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure,—her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
THE hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne;
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn;
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave.
THE peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep;
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.THE saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
FOR we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen,—
We drink the same stream and view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;
To the life we are clinging they also would cling;
But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.
THEY loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
They died, ay! they died: and we things that are now,
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
Who make in their dwelling a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.YEA! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain;
And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,—
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"
—William Knox
A PSALM of LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.Tell me not, in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dream!For the soul is dead that slumbers,And things are not what they seem.Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not its goal;Dust thou art, to dust returnest,Was not spoken of the soul.Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,Is our destined end or way;But to act, that each to-morrowFind us farther than to-day.Art is long, and Time is fleeting,And our heart, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the grave.In the world's broad field of battle,In the bivouac of Life,Be not like dumb, driven cattle!Be a hero in the strife!Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!Let the dead Past bury its dead!Act,—act in the living Present!Heart within, and God o'erhead!Lives of great [ones] all remind usWe can make our lives sublime,And, departing, leave behind usFootprints on the sands of time;—Footprints, that perhaps another,Sailing o'er life's solemn main,A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart again.Let us, then, be up and doing,With a heart for any fate;Still achieving, still pursuing,Learn to labour and to wait.
Change Yourself
Try not, my friend, to change what's life,
For life cannot be changed.
And trying only brings you strife
And leaves you nigh deranged.
Instead, work hard to change YOURSELF,
And as you do you'll find,
Growth, happiness, and wond'rous wealth,
Including peace of mind.
And neither try to change another,
That e'er ends in a mess;
Try instead to serve your brother,
With examples of goodness.
—Dr. JJ
INVICTUS
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| William Ernest Henley 1849-1903 |
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
—William Ernest Henley
YOU CHOOSE
Ensures good fate.
Anyone who'll never quit
Avoids the pit.
Anyone who keeps her soul,
By never casting off his goal,
Sets up a plea
For destiny
That's touched
By Serendipity.
Will You?
Will I?
I guess we'll see...
But this I know,
Though vague it be,
That all of us
Are FREE
To be
The kind of folk
We'd most like to be.
And in the end—
Deep down—
Each of us knows
That blame for failure
Truly goes
To every
Single soul
Who's free to choose—
To win
Or lose—
No matter how the battles rage.
Come wind, come storm, come ice and hail,
You'll always get your due earned wage.
Will YOU prevail?
Fly high and FREE?
Beyond the grasp of gravity?
The choice is YOURS
To win,
Or lose—
YOU CHOOSE!
—Dr. JJ
I Am Sovereign
I am Sovereign!
Today I affirm that
I am the captain of my own life.
I acknowledge that as such,
I am fully responsible for
My attitude,
My decisions,
My personal and professional results, and thus—
My life's long-term
Direction.
No one can take this power away from me,
Though if I choose, I can give it away to
Someone, or
Something else.
This I will never do,
For their is but one me in all history,
And my one shot at life
I will not waste!
In the past I have Blamed
Named,
Gamed, and
Shamed.
No more!
For now I know that I cannot control anyone
But myself.
Yet in that control—and
Aided by the grace and mercy of Serendipity—
I possess the power to
Defy Existential Gravity,
Create my world,
Design my destiny, and
Conquer the enemy within.
All along my journey toward
Self-transcendence
And
Beyond!
Why?
Because
I
Am
Sovereign!
—Dr. JJ
WILL
THERE is no chance, no destiny, no fate, [that]
Can circumvent or hinder or control
The firm resolve of a determined soul.
Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;
All things give way before it, soon or late.
What obstacle can stay the mighty force
Of the sea-seeking river in its course,
Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?
Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.
Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
Whose slightest action or inaction serves
The one great aim.
Why, even Death stands still,
And waits an hour sometimes for such a will. (4)
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Solitude
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| Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1850-1919 |
Weep, and you weep alone,
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air,
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectar'd wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. (10)
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Slaying of the Beast
What holds me back from casting off?
"Why nothing!" said I with a laugh,
"But won't they sneer and scorn and scoff?"
"Of course!" said I, "And that's but half
Of all the calumny they'll heap,
Cov'ring me knee, waist, chest deep."
"When covered all, what then of you?"
The skeptic asked, his motive true,
"Will not they smother all the good,
And spoil God's gift of daily food?
Will not your efforts yet prove vain,
Leaving you with naught but pain?
And 'pon your soul, will yet remain
The deepest, darkest, blackest stain?"
"Nay, not so, dear friend, you're blind,
And I'm bereaved you've yet to find
The one true light that lights the mind,
And with this truth I'll now remind
You of this elementary right:
That God's endowed me with a might,
That's free to those willing to fight.
And with pure weaponry so real,
I've got an everlasting sight
That cuts deep through this earthen plight,
And lifts me far beyond the night
They'd gladly cast me ever toward—
A death incurred by my own sword.
"The beauty of seeing clearly,
To recognize the foe 'tis me,
Not you, but me, yes yes, it's me!
To think that they're the enemy
Is fiercely falsified foolishness!
"And knowing now the facts—the sum,
There's nothing outside me to fear,
The real demon's much more near—
And clear—insidiously in my ear,
Yes! Each one plots their own dam fall,
But for those who come to see
That fiend alive in you and me,
Yet to make the choice—a firm resolve—
To kill the beast that doth evolve
Inside myself, then vict'ries won
In utter solitude... alone.
No shouts or cheers,
No joyful tears,
No thundering applause,
No commendation and no praise,
No rave reviews, no front page craze
Accompanies the slaying of
The beast inside myself.
"But once the demon has been slain
the onward march of time makes plain
The end of it's the start of me—
My pending public victory, (3)
And my eternal destiny."
—Dr. JJ
Become a BUILDER
The world has too many critics; it needs more creators.
The world has too many theorists; it needs more practitioners.
The world has too much deconstruction; it needs more construction and reconstruction.
The world has too many pundits and planners; it needs more players and producers.
The world is full of good ideas, noble dreams, and worthy visions; it needs more people who realize them. (1)
I therefore salute the builders; and call upon every man, woman, boy, and girl
In this world who is not a builder to become one.
Join me, and together we'll make something magnificent of your life.
And in the process, imagine, create, and build things that will leave the world a better place
Than you found it, making YOU one of the honored and revered persons known simply as:
A BUILDER.
—Dr. JJ
JJ's Personal Creed
I am a simple man
With a simple plan.
To live each day the best that I can:
To live simply and pace myself,
With an eye ever focused on long-term ends.
To learn what is right and then do it;
To know what is wrong and eschew it.
To practice fidelity unto my wife—
My best friend, my lover, the joy of my life.
To hearken to conscience—the voice of God's Spirit—
And e'er do my duty whenever I hear it
Call me to lift child, sister, or brother,
And e'er be the change that I wish in another.
God give me strength to always be true,
In Christ's name I pray, through whose blood I'm made new.
Amen.
—Dr. JJ
Be Strong
Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift.
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift.
Shun not the struggle; face it. 'Tis God's gift.
Be strong!
Say not the days are evil,—whose to blame?
And fold the hands and acquiesce—O shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.
Be strong!
It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day, how long.
Faint not, fight on! To-morrow comes the song. (2)
—Maltbie Davenport Babcock
The Finish Line
The day was lost, as many had.
Another gone, a tragic fad.
Lost, yet I, not really through,
Still saw some hope to start anew,
And climb back up into the sky.
And yet, such fret did cross my face—
For to realize
The length still in the race
Placed teardrops in my salty eyes.
Then, in the midst of agony,
My Rubicon comes, and I resolve:
I must not quit,
Run, race the way,
Claw my way out of this pit,
And then one day,
Stand boldly up,
And humbly say:
"Time is done,
And I have crossed
The Finish Line."
—JRJ
Life Sculpture
With his marble block before him.
And his eyes lit up with a smile of joy,
As an angel-dream passed o'er him.
He carved the dream on that shapeless stone,
With many a sharp incision;
With heaven's own light the sculpture shone—
He'd caught that angel-vision.
Children of life are we, as we stand
With our lives uncarved before us,
Waiting the hour when, at God's command,
Our life-dream shall pass o'er us.
If we carve it then on the yielding stone,
With many a sharp incision,
Its heavenly beauty shall be our own,—
Our lives, that angel-vision.
—George Washington Doane
Coarsely crossed, the angst-filled smart
Of agony did fill my heart.
An outgrowth of my humbling path,
Bedecked with the Refiner's wrath,
That ripped my soul and taxed my mind,
Beat me through life's unending grind,
That was ordained to make a king,
Who after night is o'er will sing
A thousand praises to the cause,
That aided an end to my flaws.
As for the realms of royal right,
I will transcend the cold, dark, night,
And gratefully begin to see,
The road into eternity's
A path that starts and ends with He—
And all between calls upon me!
—Dr. JJ
Consternated Underneath
Consternated underneath
A soul that's ever burdened,
With all I am,
And all I'm not,
And all I want to be!
O please, dear God, do not forsake
My ever-anxious mind.
Be always near me,
Is my prayer—
And peace
Help me
To find.
—JRJ
SONNET
Thanks be to God for the passage of time,
That life marches on to a welcomed grave,
Where at last we may hasten the sublime
Status of living in a new enclave
Outside of TIME—that fleeting enemy—
Which serveth death to each blessed moment
We fain would prolong throughout eternity,
Yet elongates obsessive moments sent,
Perpetuating all with interest
Into the rusted trappings of the mind,
Wherein we may perpetually invest
In joy that ne'er dies, or pain that e'er grinds
To piece and powder all my use of time.
I pray that I may yet summit the climb.
—Dr. JJ
SONNET
The world is not enough with me—NOW,
Too much time spent thinking and forecasting,
Trying too hard to see it all—blasting
The feelings of peace—I fail to allow
Real emotions, the wonder—the WOW!
The satisfied sense of sweat on my brow;
That pure joy—so spontaneous in youth—
The unsullied acquisition of truth:
It moves me not! Great God, I'd rather be
A zealot, willing to fight and to die
For any just cause that might make me free,
Unshackle my brain from perplexing whys,
What e'er it may take, or how I must cloy
To gain the God-granted privilege of joy.
—Dr. JJ
A Two-Edged Sword
What has it done for me?
Is it my friend?
Or my enemy?
The answer,
You see,
Though I've
Oft been its slave—
Pathological knave!—
Made me crave for the grave,
Yet somehow,
Someway,
As I've labored
Each day,
I've now been set free,
Through the efforts of me...
And Serendipity.
Yes it does rather seem
That my nightmare extreme,
Sometimes guised as a dream,
And a good one, forsooth!
For in truth
I behold,
That for brain hygiene's gold,
I must work hard to mine,
Spending mountains of time,
Sweating tears as I pine,
Many years 'ere I find,
That the cure for my mind—
So oft plagued by the grind—
Is just like that gold,
Mixed betwixt all the old,
Common, cheap, rocky ore,
Whose plentiful store
Hides all worth
Worth pursuing,
Investing,
Accruing,
Thus, there's no need for
Stewing,
For Freedom's
Now
Mine,
And ever can be
Into eternity,
If I'll never
Forget...
That the price
Involves sweat,
Regret,
And that
I'm only set
When I see
I'm not yet;
And then rightly perceive,
That in time I'll receive
A most pleasant reprieve
That's as grand,
I believe,
As it badly began,
As if alchemy's claim
Held pure gold—not cheap sand.
So, I'll hold on to fight,
Through each day
And each night,
With a pure tranquil
Might,
That affirms
I'm all right;
And ne'er e'er forgetting
The puzzling piece
Of the pie
Peck calls (31)
Grace—
So truly AMAZING—
To see its pow'r
Razing
My mind's ills
Erasing,
With help from my
Pills,
Wills,
Shrink,
Gal,
And SAL
To boot,
But shoot!
What a pathetic
Hoot
I would be
On my own,
Although I'm now full grown,
And have carefully sown
Seeds of thoughtful decision,
Crafting nobly a vision—
Important!—
Yes all;
But lest I should
Fall,
I will never
Forget
The Source
That doth heal,
With sweet salve that is
Real—
As real as YOU—
and me—
And OCD,
And the help,
And the cure—
Or the management—
Here and
Now,
As I await its ultimate
Eradication
THEN...
By HIM:
As long as
I
Do
My
Part.
—Dr. JJ
Progress
From all that has been stopping me.
And I exult in all that will
Break forth into my life yet still.
It cannot happen overnight;
It can't all fall within my sight,
But over time I'll make my quest—
To bit-by-bit become my best.
There is still so much to learn,
Things to achieve and things to earn.
Folks to meet—my heart doth burn—
As for it all I greatly yearn!
This anxious state amidst it all,
Oft seems to blur my life's true call;
Yet spite the pain and petty pelf,
I'll still claim vict'ry over self.
And meantime I'll enjoy the ride,
And bask in the abundance here.
My life will be serene inside,
And outside I'll be filled with cheer.
—Dr. JJ
Sometimes with One I Love
Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with ragefor fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love,
the pay is certain one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)
—Walt Whitman
Summum Bonum
All the breath and the bloom of the year in the
Bag of one bee:
All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the
heart of one gem:
In the core of one pearl all the shade and the
Shine of the sea:
Breath and bloom, shade and shine—wonder,
Wealth, and—how far above them—
Truth, that's brighter than gem,
Trust, that's purer than pearl—
Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe—
All were for me
In the kiss of one girl.
—Robert Browning
SonnetUnveils far MoreThe pure unsullied sweetness in her face,Unveils far more than just mere pulchritude.Her every movement filled with perfect grace,Hides inner beauty most have never viewed.The eye itself so poorly judges light,And oft ensnares mere senses in its grasp,Rewarding far too much on simple sight,Ignoring all that's held in a soul's clasp.But when her inner majesty's revealed,To one who recognizes Godly grace,'Tis like a vision of a pure gold field,Enriching outer beauty in her face.Alas, my most rewarding quest shall be:To find her grace and share eternity.
—Dr. JJ
She WasShe was...An angelic figure of embryonic divinity,A guileless goddess of perfect pristinity,My unmatch'ed match throughout all infinity...This girl that I met just today.—Dr. JJ
The Beauty of Her VoiceAlthough I've never seen her face,Her voice is sweet as honey,It speaks refinement and pure grace,That can't be bought with money.'Tis 'mazing how her tone enchantsMy heart and soul and mind,The lovely sound for me implantsHope that my eyes might find...Her face and form and outer light,And with that meet and mingle.Then listen to her voice so bright,My ear for her is single!Yes hope and words and inner spirit,All proclaim her golden worth.And when her sweet voice I hear it,My am'rous heart is filled with mirth!—Dr. JJ
COLUMBUS
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores;
Before him only shoreless seas.The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone,
Brave Adm'r'l speak; what shall I say?"
"Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"
"My men grow mutinous day by day;
My men grow ghastly wan and weak."
The stout mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
"Why, you shall say, at break of day:
'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak, brave Adm'r'l, speak and say"—
He said: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.
He curls his lips, he lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite!
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he paced his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck—
A light! a light! At last a light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
—Joaquin Miller
Keep a-Goin'
Keep a-goin!
If it hails or if it snows,
Keep a-goin!
'Taint no use to sit an' whine
When the fish ain't on your line;
Bait your hook an' keep a-tryin;—
Keep a-goin!
When the weather kills your crop,
Keep a-goin!
Though 'tis work to reach the top,
Keep a-goin!
S'pose you're out o' ev'ry dime,
Gittin' broke ain't any crime;
Tell the world you're feelin' prime—
Keep a-goin!
Keep a-goin!
Drain the sweetness from the cup,
Keep a-goin!
See the wild birds on the wing,
Hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like singin', sing—
Keep a-goin!
—Frank L. Stanton
Waiting
Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! My own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays—
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me,
No wind can drive my bark astray
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
The waters know their own, and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
—John Burroughs
The Impossible Dream
To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star.
This is my quest,
To follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far,
To fight for the right,
Without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause.
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star!
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star.
This is my quest,
To follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far,
To fight for the right,
Without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause.
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star!
—From the musical, Man of La Mancha
I Am Somebody
I am somebody,I am very special,
I am here today because
I want to learn something that I did not know.
I promise I will not cause problems for my teachers, classmates, school, friends, or myself.
I will let nothing stop me from achieving my goals.
I will not let you stop me from achieving my goals.
I will help you to achieve your goals.
I will achieve the goals that I have set for myself.
With you or apart from you my friend.
—Thresa Brooks
I Am Sovereign (Classroom version)
As the Captain of my life, I understand that I am responsible formy thoughts, my words, my decisions, my grade, and ultimately, my future.
Knowing this gives me power—personal power—to make good choices, do the right thing, (2) and be successful at Cy-Ridge High School and beyond.
No one can take this power away from me, though if I choose
I can give it away to someone or something else.
This I will never do. For there is but one me in all history,
And my one shot at life I will not waste.
Just for today, (3) I will respect myself by respecting my school, my teachers, my classmates, and by doing my best to master what I am supposed to learn.
I know that I cannot control anyone or anything but myself. Yet with that control I create my world, design my destiny, and conquer the enemy within. Today I choose to be successful in school and in life, because...
I Am Sovereign!
Gradatim
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.
I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step toward God,—
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
We rise by the things that are under our feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain;
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light,
But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.
We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the call of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.
Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way—
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.
Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.
Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.
—Josiah Gilbert Holland
Nobility
 |
| Queen Victoria of Great Britain Lived from 1820-1901 Reigned from 1837-1901 While most of us are not born a King or Queen in a literal sense, all of us have the potential to become existential royalty over time. |
In doing each day that goes by
Some little good—not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in blindness
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There's nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.
We get back our mete as we measure—
We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But alway[s] the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.
'Tis not in the pages of story
The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
Alas! it is only prove
That nothing's so sacred as honor,
And nothing so loyal as love!
We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses,
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.
Through envy, through malice, through hating,
Against the world, early and late,
No jot of our courage abating—
Our part is to work and to wait.
And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth;
For he who is honest is noble,
Whatever his fortunes or birth.
—Alice Cary
Will
THERE is no chance, no destiny, no fate,
[That] can circumvent or hinder or control
The firm resolve of a determined soul. ...
Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.
Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
Whose slightest action or inaction serves
The one great aim. Why, even Death stands still,
And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ode on Intimations of Immortality
Forget the glories [we have] known
And that imperial palace whence [we] came. [For...]
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
—William Wordsworth
Not in Vain
If I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain:If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robinUnto his nest again,I shall not live in vain.—Emily Dickinson
The Finish Line: Part II
The day was won,
As many had,
Another gained—
A glorious fad!
Won, yet I,
Not really through,
Still saw new dangers
Lurking true.
And yet,
Such hope did fill my soul:
For to realize
The dragons
God and I had slain,
Empowered me and
Gave me rest.
And with my newfound
Strength and power,
I'll boldly take on each new hour,
Resolved beyond the tempter's snares,
I am equipped to meet all cares.
And thus empowered,
My sword—once set in stone's—
Allowed to be be drawn forth
To help me fight,
And race,
To win,
And make it
Through the night
First Place
In the most important
Race of all—
The one that pits me
Against me
And Existential Gravity—
That I might
Each day
Stand boldly up
and humbly say:
"As time moves on,
I will keep on...
And on...
And on...
To cross
Each Finish
Line."
—JRJ
The Sun-Dial at Wells CollegeFOR THE CLASS OF 1904
The shadow by my finger castDivides the future from the past:Before it, sleeps the unborn hour,In darkness, and beyond thy power:Behind its unreturning line,The vanished hour, no longer thine:One hour alone is in thy hands,—The NOW on which the shadow stands.March, 1904
—Henry Van Dyke
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
—Langston Hughes
IF—IF YOU can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Rudyard Kipling If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two imposters just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build 'em up again with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!—Rudyard Kipling
—Dr. JJ
Wednesday, July 1, 2026
Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, USA
Author's Note: This is the 529th Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013 and the 311th consecutive weekly blog published since August 31, 2020.
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