This is the TUSKER QUEEN!

Elephants are the most regal creatures on land-to me, anyway! The way they walk and tread their land is majestic. I ran across this picture of the Tusker Queen and was so impressed, fascinated by the size of her tusks and the surreal quality of the photos being black and white just made the images that much more stark! This Queen has passed from this world and there are a rare few left of these giants. I believe I read there were only 30 left. Thanks to poachers, I’m sure! It saddens me that I love billiards so much but that in my small way I have helped to kill these mighty animals. Billiard balls are made of their ivory, their tusks. It brings into reality how humans affect this planet in too many ways, even by those that worry about the dirt we live on. Soon, like the mammoths, elephants will be extinct as well! I wrote this for the Tusker Queen!

I am..
Your Majesty! The Tusker’s Queen..
I bequeath to you the world unseen.
I am God’s rumination in the flesh..
and I leave this world to you in death.
Remember where I once did walk..
Giants destined by man to fall!
I am the Elephant Queen..
and I leave you all that I have seen.
The majestic that you know..
Is small compared to me and you can feel the rumble of my mirth in the voice of my low..
my deepest greetings in my girth
Feel free to bow or walk away,
Free to know that I have gone,
To the mightiest of all places,
To the safest of all spaces…
and I will miss you,
as you miss me. yet..
When you least expect,
You’ll hear me in the thunder
and I will shower you with blessings..
Be convicted in my presence,
Consonant in my essence..
I am the Tusker Queen! 


We are not!
The Champions!
..we are the weak,
the poor,
the forgotten!
We are the flotsam left over after the bludgeoning
heat of life has burnt the dross
from the iron!
We are the detritus, the dregs, the leftovers!
..waste and discarded material!
We are the chaff beaten from the sheaves,
leaving only the wheat..
..the good part…BUT..
What would the world be without us to aspire to be better?
Would Christianity have Christ if Christ had no need to tend to the poor, the forgotten, the sick?
And how would the iron survive if the dross, the impurities..
were not there to protect against the chaos of elements?
Where would the gold be without the humble rock?
Where would the rich man be without the poor man to exploit?
What about the Ghandi’s of the world?
For whom would he have fought for if the broken, the destitute,
the lost..did not need a champion to lead them?
Champions and Heroes exist..
because the chaff, the broken..
the leftovers..
define them!
Without the weak,
without the downtrodden,
without us..
There would be no Heores..
No Champions


Sometimes, no words can suffice to a need to just write for writing’s sake, for peace of mind’s sake, or just for the beauty. Such is this, written from the minor depths of a shallow mind:


I met a fine woman, so beautiful and fair; I noticed the crinkles round her eyes and her beautiful hair; I saw she had life in the depth of her eyes and youth sprung about her with each step through the air; the fragrance of joy accompanied her smile and I wished that could just walk with her a short mile. Perhaps in my dreams, perhaps in a thought, I will visit you and sip of your beauty..just a little..if I’m lucky, perhaps a lot!
I met a woman golden fair,
golden freckles, flaxen hair.
I met a woman gone away,
though she had promised here to stay.
I met a woman in my dreams.
a promise broken so it seems.
I met a woman now long gone,
made me wonder of the wrong.
I met a woman, a mere fantasy,
only in a poem meant for me!


Friendship is such an ethereal experience. How does one describe it? Visceral? Intellectual? As children making that new friend, perhaps it is just the idea of not being alone in a crowd of small individuals, or maybe something about that other kid caught your attention-a toy, a coat, a color they wore-or perhaps they saw you alone and being a of a gregarious nature asked you to join in the fun. Or just asked if you wanted to play. Or perhaps circumstances put you together and in doing so found you had more than just the circumstances in common.

Ethereal doesn’t quite capture friendship, but to describe the almost mystical, almost spiritual facets of a bond that is formed outside of the physical realm, it is almost extra-dimensional…plus, I like the word and how it just rolls off the tongue as if casting a spell!

Friendship is eternal! It surpasses the boundaries of time and space sending echoes to the corners of the universe. It is passed down from generation to generation and gifted to individuals found worthy. The pain of its loss is felt in its absence.

Below is a paean to a friend, a friendship given with no strings and to this day, even time has failed to erode the sheen of his gift:

Childhood friends
I stopped by your old house the other day,
But a ghost answered.
I mean..not really a ghost..
but my memory of who you were.
Last I saw you, your beard was full and white, but my memory is not very adept at remembering that old picture.
I see the ghost of the kid I met at 14 yrs old with a full black beard and I always wondered how the hell you did that???
Being naive at that age with too much wisdom of working hard on a ranch I had no idea of differences.
It was the first school I attended where I actually had time to make friends and so you and others formed my circle of friends.
Ghosts come and go..
Some become spirits that evaporate in the wispy winds of our minds..
Others imprint themselves on our soul and write part of their life stories on our souls..
They help create who we are and hopefully they leave a wonderful story to tell our children when they are gone…
Perhaps that is why I went in search of you today, my old friend..
I was hoping to add another chapter to the story..or perhaps..you have completed your story and I didn’t know you began a new book in another universe unreachable to me yet.
If so..then I will miss your incisive insults, the simple wisdom you spoke at the oddest of times and the unabashed daring in doing things that others thought were beyond you.
But more than anything, I miss the moments of friendship that dissolved years of absence as if we were neighbors.
You were always my better in a conversation of equals but spoke with the humility of my friend.



stared deep into the depths of space,
thinking to itself..
there I be,
But for God’s Grace..
A lonely rock,
Scattered ‘pon darkened shore,
blasted poor and puny..with no life..
And no recourse.
But no..By the by,
I am life upon a planet,
Of green, of air..
Animals and granite..
I am but a breath of life,
Measured in years,
With all its woes..
All its tears.
Yet in between my birth and grave,
A search for knowledge is what we crave…
And while we search,
Search from out our dearth,
We dwell upon this tiny Earth,
Finding beauty in its crevasses..
Brightest colors pleasing masses.
And slowly, slowly, we make this dirt..
Into ashes as with fate we flirt..
so now…
We turn our eyes up to the stars,
Wishing, hoping our way past Mars…But,
Until the time that time does come
when finally we can leave
upon a rocketship reprieve;
I’l stare deep out to darkest space..
In fascination of God’s grace!



I was having a disagreement with a fella online. We were going back and forth regarding some political BS. Long story short, he proceeded to legitimize his credibility by saying he was a humanitarian and thus his opinion carried more weight and truth since he did an astounding amount of good works(deeds). I know by the fact he proceeded to roll out a screed of all his accomplishments from NC to Louisiana to etc., etc., etc.

I left off the discussion by quoting Matthew 6:1-4 regarding doing such work in secret. I always felt people who did this rode on the backs of the poor and downtrodden for their own notoriety. I’ve know many like him that do such work but never telling anyone about it and they constantly amaze me with their hidden magnanimity. I admire such people.

This poem is not one of those pat on the backs. It’s about churches and the cost of being a member. I left because the cost to my soul was more than I was willing to pay:

I step into the church’s foyer,
look around to see the riches of God’s grace…
come to roost upon this place.

The coolness on the walls,
the sheen of rich oozing out its pores..
of lavish, polished wood.

I gather wrinkly, ragged coat..
underneath me my feet float..
to a pew.

I await to tell my sins,
ask forgiveness once again,
as I think of family and friends..
shedding money for the wares..
being offered as the pastor stares.

I watch the old
as well as new and think..
of all they give and do..
to keep the church’s walls pristeen,
while at home it’s barely clean.

Should I buy food?
or pay the rent?
while bills pile high on my old table..
knowing well my check is just a fable.

Talked about,
never true,
just enough for maybe two..
or 3 days of drink

Then remember as I think,
I’m now sober..
cuz what’s left to the church turned over..
thanks to thee,
God bless me in my poverty!




Whilst the sun doth shine… Tell me a story, Read me a line. I will wait upon your quiet voice, Impatient rumblings quelled by choice, Make me laugh ’til I cry, Then kindly say, ” Every thing is fine.”. Sing me a song, Play a note for me… Lyric my story in rhythmic time. Make me cry ’til I laugh… Until I finally say, ” I see…” Dance me a step and let your body sway, Like the 7 veil dance of Salome. Quench my lust, fan the fire, Interpret deepest, dark desire! In this pen, in the night, Tales from my bosom burning bright! Quench my fire, fan this lust While the moon hides secrets in timeless dust! In the run of dreams, There is no reality!



The world moves in different ways,
It keeps on moving,
So it stays..
It turns in orbit,
The days go by,
While we as humans say
Good Night, Goodbye!
In sadness,
we watch parades,
Of endless lines,
and serenades.
Names so big,
names so small.
While each passing casts wide,
and similar pall!
Some we know,
some we don’t;
Some we’ll miss,
some we won’t.
The living suffer while the dying,
have finally found some peace
We stay behind to memorialize,
to carry on and find release…
We hope,
we pray,
For relevance..
as the world keeps moving,
to different days.

I wrote this on my computer-typed it I should say. Normally I write my poems out on paper cuz I like the way that feels but it’s been a sad 2 yrs and the love I have is rather stunted at this time. The poem itself is self-explanatory..I think. That’s the thing about poems, it’s a piece of our soul that we share with people..sometime in joy, sometimes in sadness. Peace


The charcoal and the pencils lay scattered.

Like the thoughts tossed aside that take up too much time.

I will pick you up when I’m ready.


I will draw a thought with my pencil,

Write a painting with the charcoal.


and unravel my dreams with a drink.

I will remember the year has gone by,

maybe two years?

So quick is time..it moves so slow that the speed of light must move that fast to catch up to the paradox of how quickly it passes..

I..We..have lost some souls that were in our plans,

until God said, “Those are not my plans, dear child.”.

Still, we pretended not to hear..

‘Til God took those that were near..

and it shocked us.

I write this in memory of those we love.


…and so you ask!

…and so you ask! 2-19-2021

So you ask..
Why do you have to sing that?
and why do you sing it like that?
What do those words mean?
and you sound so angry..you sound upset!
So you ask..
Why did you write that?
and what does it mean?
It makes me uncomfortable like you’re pointing fingers..and I wish you would stop.
So you ask..
Why do you feel you need more?
What do you mean by inequality?
..and what is privilege, anyway?
So you ask..
When will you be satisfied?
What do you mean you thirst? For freedom?
..and did you not just say you were born here? Not here?
So you ask..
Why do you deserve what I am born to?
Why are you here? ..and so what if you served in the miltary?
So you ask..
Why does it matter if you’re a shade different than I?
..and what have you given?
So you ask..
Who has a right?
What is humanity?
Why should you matter more than my rights?
So I ask..
Who is God?
..and why do you believe he believes you are right?


the sun rose

Hello. I am a self-taught wanna-be poet. 62 years old with occasional thoughts I turn into short poems. Some good, some very bad..but they tell my story in different ways on different days. My love of writing came about from a break-up that had me riding around trying to escape my thoughts which of course never happens. All a sudden a got an idea to write my thoughts to see if that would help. Stopped at a old Borders bookstore and bought me a lil journal. Now being old school, I was not gonna be writing a girly journal about a broken heart and such but I just started writing and writing and writing and I still have that old journal with the very first thing I wrote. Good lord it was horrible..lol. I still have the next book I filled with some real crap but I have them. This past year was absolutely stunning due to Covid-19 but most especially cuz one of my younger sisters passed on February 24th 2019. It was a week where our heads were buried in our family sand and when we looked up, the sun was shining and the world was dying. Look me up on vixraintree.com. Thank you.


One day the sun arose..
But you didn’t.
I heard the sound of your voice.
As I looked up,
I remembered you had left.
There was this beautiful wooden chair..
So rich in color and texture.
In its comfort you sat serenely.
I looked up..
You faded.
Out of focus from my world.
One day the sun came up..
You have been gone a while now,
So I paid you a visit.
I took a little rag,
A spray bottle,
and some memories.
We sat and talked a little bit.
It’s a beautiful spot, isn’t it?
Kind of in it’s own corner by itself.
One day the sun will come up.
And I won’t.
And we’ll have all the time in the world.