Excerpt for Who Is Retarded by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Who is Retarded?

Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)

Copyright (©) 2018 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

Cover pictures by: face, rubenshito: tree, Michael Smolla

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.



A New Path

Autumn Musings

Be Stubborn

Changing Ones Name


On The Edge


Silent Stillness

My Quest

Path Of Infinity

Possessed By Desire


Tears In The Rain


The Dandelion Flower

The Image I Shall Carry

Walk Of Life

I Am The One

You're A Loser

Making An Assumption

Who is Retarded?


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.

Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.

It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

A New Path

Beside a crystal stream,

I sit and wonder:

why feel so unsure of self and life

on verge of entering a new path?

A gust of wind, a moving treetop

and in deep blue sky an eagle soars;

it seems we touch in mind -

in whispered thoughts he says -

“Everyone feels unsure, afraid,

thrusting out into the unknown:

try jumping from a nest with wings untried!

Just remember you asked for this path;

that your poetry would soar above the clouds.

New paths, new experiences, new feelings,

strange faces, foreign tongues, unknown lands,

altogether overwhelming sensations:

be sure of this: all who fly stood where you stand!

I, Spirit Eagle, watch over you.

I understand your desire to fly

coupled with the fear to try.

When everything says: “Impossible”

know that the goal is within sight.”

'Autumn Musings'

It's Autumn, and from my porch

overlooking a sylvan mountain lake

I see the sun rise over distant rocky peaks...

In the cold dawn and deep stillness

I can hear my thoughts so clearly!

What is the measure of a man?

the question has been asked so many times,

it has a million answers!

But for me, here, in this quiet place,

it means I am what I chose to be,

not what others would have me be.

How much can one choose one's direction?

Ah well, I can answer that:

by how much one is willing to explore

places shunned by most;

by how much one is willing to take on

- and prove wrong -

the plethora of nay-sayers and gainsayers.

Before I caught on; before

the “normal” label went to the garbage

with the ill-fitting clothes they made me wear;

when I was young and unsure,

I was ashamed of who I was:

for I couldn't hold down a job,

or live a “normal” life

within the System parameters.

Now a beautiful companion

who accepts me as I am

comes to sit beside me

and share my thoughts:

together we create such poetry

with power to change the world.

Be Stubborn

What breeds contempt

for those who stand alone?

What creates the bully mind

and fires the mob instinct?

Insecurity within oneself.

Let's not be insecure

about who we are

and what we are about:

let's not be a push-over

for mobs and bullies,

even when they come

in pretty uniforms

or bearing great titles.

I'll be stubborn (I said one day)

and stop believing in -

but not so proud I can't listen

to what others may have to say;

let's just say, I'll hedge my bets,

smile and nod, but think my way.

New things and great notions

from mobs and bullies do not come:

they rise from the individual mind

set afire by its own passion.

I'll be stubborn (I said again!)

when the sword of judgment

flashed my way

to make me bow my head -

but I didn't and behold,

it's blade was made of fear

and lo! As you can see

I am still here

as stubborn as ever.

Changing Ones Name

One day, I'd had enough:

I committed the ultimate anti-family

anti-system crime:

I changed my name.


Simple: I didn't like the one they'd given me;

I needed one that spoke to me

and for me.

People say "change" is the one constant

but try to change your name

and listen to their tune now!

Some will say we can't just go around

changing our names as we feel like it;

it would crash the system.

Well, if something as simple

as changing one's name

could bring down such a sick thing

I'd change it

every other day!


Hey! People talk, people talk, yeah,

has the whole world gone insane?

My appearance into earth life

brought resentment,

and earned me much discrimination:

seems I've yet to touch the falling rain.

I've had my share of man's abuse,

but never mind, I'm not accepting this:

that I'd be discriminated against

just because I appear to be different -

different than what?

Can they not see all I really want

is to be allowed my place?

Rage crashes through my mind,

its wind erodes the fabric of my soul,

yet while my entire being bleeds,

“I” - the silent “I” struggles endlessly

to bar hatred from the door.

Seems to me the search for equality

must be as ancient as the hills;

and seems to me it has never been found.

But do I give up on a technicality,

a mere statistical point?


I do not believe the universe

came into being simply

to grind out statistics.

We can do better.

I can do better.

On The Edge

Sadness pervades my thoughts

as I stand ever on the edge, wishing

that in the midst of this raging war

I could hear the sound of the sea

her restless waves rolling,

thundering and whispering

upon the length and breadth

of endless shores.

By an effort of will

I turn my mind away

from the noise and chaos of city life

and I hear that sound again:

waves thunderously rolling

upon a shore in early morning;

I feel the fresh sea breeze

and foam covers my feet:

Am I in a dream?

Am I seeing some hidden world?

Am I floating in deep meditation

within the spirit worlds?

Nothing so esoteric,

nothing so fancy or difficult:

I have discovered the ability

to function in man-made chaos

while living out my days

in a self-made world

of peace and serenity.


I didn't know any better

so for years I took it -

having my intelligence

lowered to that of a dummy,

by those who I discovered

did not want me to understand,

to learn, to expand.

Their pleasure was in tormenting;

in making me feel inferior,

a "loser" in my own eyes.

From the school yard

to the work place,

always the same.

They needed to believe

in their intellectual superiority

within a constricted mental space

and I was the 'dummy'

they used to beat up on.

One day, I'd had enough

and simply walked away

from all the bullshit:

enough of the baiting

and the lies that kept me

from walking further along

my own path to self-empowerment.

Everywhere I heard

the spirit of freedom

calling my name and laughing

and I never looked back.

To my own great surprise

I did not totter or weaken

but propelled myself

upon a creative process

that has become my life!

Silent Stillness

Many see life as so much dust

in the winds of eternity,

a silent stillness, an emptiness

within a black and white world

of death

and our utter sadness

only feeds our loneliness,

driving us to madness.

Out of the silence;

within this great stillness,

I come to understand death,

not as a dark void,

but as an open window.

We fly out through this window

but a great choice remains

even then: the final question:

And what would you like

served with your eternity?

My Quest

I have a vision of a perfect Woman,

I have yet to encounter;

every morning I stand

at the edge of the thundering sea

calling out her name,

yet it seems nothing ever comes of this:

she never comes into existence,

and the sea's waters blend with my tears:

what will it take for her to hear my call?

Should I give up this foolish quest?

Is it the impossible dream?

Is this my fate -

to always dream, never receive?

Fate is like faith: what people rely upon

when the unknown and the future threaten;

when feeling helpless; unsure of their way --

so they say, “That is my fate.”

or they say, “It is God's will.”

No - never will fate determine my life,

I would be my own proof

that if I keep searching for something

burning with desire; fired with passion,

such will come to pass; must come to pass.

And I will turn around and see

what my dream has helped me create.

The key to it all?

Never surrender to the too easy ways,

for what have they to boast of?

Path Of Infinity

Think about time

as your path to self-understanding,

to self-empowerment,

to "infinity"

as you go through your endless changes.

A few billion years from now,

you will realize what I am saying here.

It does not matter what happens in the end.

It matters what you do with you.

You are your past and your future.

There is no present in the sense of living.

Time can be played on,

can be compressed or stretched.

But it cannot be stopped.

It cannot be "present".

The best way to walk

the path of infinity

is in compassion.

For compassion

cannot be bought and sold

as so-called "love" can;

cannot be institutionalized

as faith is in religion;

cannot fail as do

hope's endless promises.

Compassion is for the self-empowered

for it is one's own

to do with as one pleases:

it is never reciprocal;

never dependent,

has no expectations.

Is it then "unconditional love"?

No - such a concept is an oxymoron,

a contradiction -

anyone can test this

and discover the truth of it.

Possessed By Desire

They pronounced “Failure”

and stamped it in their records:

it was to be my legacy.

I never would qualify

to compete in their rat race:

they made sure I understood

that I was “Different!”

Time passed and I played the game

by their rules:

I had been assigned

a proper Place in the Order of the Land!

I remained what they made me

until I realized

it's their negative judgment

feeding in vicious circles

that trap those who are “different”

inside the maze of “Failure.”

I learned to defy the odds,

to forge on, run with the moon,

embrace both light and darkness

and while society slept in smug assurance,

I confronted the ghosts of fear;

and set my own spirit free.

I discovered I possessed the desire

which neither weakness

nor society's glib forecast of failure

can ever hope to stop.

I moved through rock slides of doubt,

blizzards of confusion, floods of setbacks

proving to myself, if not to the world


is a subjective subject!


I feel totally stranded

at the edge of some flat world;

a world I am less and less inclined

or able to understand.

Some say the world is just fine,

it has been that way -

it will continue to be that way -

but I look out my window

and see a different story.

I heard someone say,

"the majority of humanity

is compassionate

and loves their fellow man,"

Yes? If that is so

why all the endless violence?

And why do most

torture and destroy nature?

I think the people of Earth

are hopelessly delusional

about the state of their world.

I think the aerodynamics

of their social system

are totally wrong.

I believe the social Titanic

is about to be breached and sink

upon the ever-returning icebergs

of global social apathy.

Tears In The Rain

It is a hard thing, is it not
to know anyone's tears in the rain?
Yet many tears fall thus
and only the tear-maker knows
how they were created
why they came to be
and where they went.

Tears flow with the rain
when the fabric tears;
when what should be
does not come to be
and what should not be
breaks down the door
to take away the child.

I have seen tears in the rain
for I have seen the sky
cry over the earth and the sea
many a time, too many a time;
when the sun could not shine
upon earth nor sea
for sorrow would not let it.

And the child that was lost
I saw again past her wandering.
I saw her somewhere
as another face in the rain;
another tear-streaked face
staring at a dark-grey sky
and barely did I recognize it.

I knew she'd looked her last
upon the things once called good.
Through tear-filled eyes
she'd reached for the hand of faith
and grasped at the arm of hope --
but hand and arm dissolved --
how bitter are tears in the rain.


The mind can't picture

a word like "ppp-rrr-o-bbb-lll-eee-mm"

as a problem until too late:

the tongue flips helplessly,

feet stomp, head shakes,

trying desperately to get one damn word out

at least before the day is done!

"You're abnormal; you're not one of us!"

said society mocking, perhaps afraid

of contagion, of disease!

A speech impediment can really be

swift judgment of one's mental ability

Children only know 'normal'

until forced to realize

there are differences, degrees

of normalcy in this society -

some impairments at least rate help,

a graded sidewalk, a wheelchair sticker

on the windshield -

some rate a degree of compassion,

some only bring about mocking and jeers:

ddddooo I mmmake mmmyssself cleeeear?

Years of harassment from peers;

of put downs for lack of communication skills;

take their toll, leave their mark, even kill.

It wasn’t society who said to me one day,

Judgments are the heavy stuff of human life.

Don't let these trouble your gentle soul!

Always remember you have the last word,

whether you can speak it out loud or not!

Determine the course of your life

according to your hopes and dreams.

Human speech is but a hindrance

to pure communication:

know you not that gods speak without words?

Don't worry about the so-called smart,

nor what they may think of you:

mould your impediments into blessings!

The Dandelion Flower

One spring morning

I went into the front yard

and saw a dandelion flower:

I bent down and smelled it,

yes, that's what I did.

The next day

I went into the front yard

and saw a dandelion flower:

I bent down and pulled it up,

yes, that's what I did.

The next day

I went into the front yard

and saw no dandelion flower:

I sat down and I cried,

yes, that's what I did.

(this is a “wisdom thing")

The Image I Shall Carry

A tree growing on a rocky cliff,

a branch moving in the wind,

a leaf fluttering gently to the ground,

a squirrel hiding it’s winter supply,

a caterpillar weaving it’s cocoon

to later emerge a beautiful butterfly...

A bird song welcoming the sun,

oxygen, a gift from the trees,

pure water, the life blood of Mother nature:

all these things work in harmony

to make this earth a living being.

When we finally realize and admit

we are also a part of all that is:

not above nor greater than;

will we change the way we live?

Will we know we don’t inherit the land,

we borrow it from the future?

I gather my paints, I take my canvas,

and on the bank of a river, among nature,

I begin to paint the beauty that surrounds me

why? Well, it seems to me

that if man does destroy this lovely world,

I will still have my picture,

and I will remember.

Walk Of Life

A flowered meadow;

a stream flowing through;

pine trees softly soughing

at the edge of the opening

as a gust of Autumn wind

brushes against my face.

I realize

as I stand by the edge of the stream

that I did not find my calling in life:

I received it.

It found me because I came here

and just as the seeds grew

because a stream flowed by

and flowers now cover its banks

so does life always meet us half-way

if we know where to stand.

Try as I might to find the right path

I found frustration at every corner

but when I stopped struggling;

that elusive path appeared...

I ponder these thoughts

as the sun paints bright colours

upon an ever-shifting canvas

of evening clouds.

It's a pleasant walk home today.

I Am The One

The Bible was written by man

(it had to be)

not by some god up there

somewhere in deep space -

because if all those commandments

exemplify the best a god can do

it's no wonder we're stuck

with such impossible problems!

This space alien God

who won't be seen and won't be known

and can't be shown

is not waiting to grant my every prayer

and it's pretty clear he's dead against

granting my every desire.

So what is left for one to do?

Against all I've ever been taught,

I have to say of me,

“I am the One.”

Yes, I am the one, the only one

with the power to change my life

when it needs changing;

to find the passion within my heart

to fulfill my own desires.

I have the power

to change my own thought pattern;

deciding how I see the world;

or choose to interact with you.

No longer a sinner,

no longer in need of saving,

I am just one who shares this space

with you.

Believe what you will

as long as you believe in you

the miracles cannot be far behind.

You're A Loser

It's a warm spring morning -

May first, Sunday, beautiful day

or so I think until a car comes by

and the driver

compelled by some dark inner urging

yells out the open window:

You're a fucking loser!

and drives on - I hear loud laughter.

What compels people to do this?

Will nothing ever change on this world?

Must people oppress and abuse each other?

Is this how it must be?

How terribly sad this world must be

for those who feel this need

to put someone down just to feel better

or to find entertainment.

It is said that the Yuppie years

will bring the downfall of earth:

clearly I can see this now -

people with too much time

and too much money -

and too much of nothing else!

This is a world of shattered glass

and no one will pick up the pieces

to create a new mosaic in time.

Making An Assumption

Some who read my poetry

call it bottom of the pile garbage,

they say it needs much rewriting;

object to my thoughts, say I'm all wrong:

well now, can a thought be wrong?

Hey, maybe they're just afraid: people do fear

what they can't understand:

it's so much easier to scorn than to accept -

many still do not realize it is the child

who enters the kingdom of wisdom!

I'd be the first to admit: I don't have a degree;

I failed barn cleaning at age twelve!

(though I do mow lawns on temporary permits)

My brain doesn't function the way most do

but it does force me to see

there's a 'fool on the hill' kind of world inside my head

and if I know something not mentioned

in the smart guys training manuals, can I help it?

Criticism is but an assumption

basted, battered and baked in fear.

'Earthians' pig-out on this stuff:

May I never eat such dried up crumbs.

The Rock On The Road

The road I've walked

has not always being smooth,

perhaps no road ever is.

However, if we look

at every moment,

deep within each experience,

as if it were

a rock sticking out of the ground,

smooth or jagged,

depending on

the experience presented

we would understand!

We can walk around the rock,

jump over it or step on it,

or ignore it and stub our toes:

it's all a matter of choice

in discernment!

The Simple Man

Birds call forth the rising sun,

rejoice at the dawning of day

and without any ulterior motives.

So does the simple man

lying in tall grass, eyes closed

wondering about all of creation,

feeling as one with all things.

But just beyond his idyllic view

the city’s polluted reality

also comes alive in the morning:

he weeps silently in his hunger,

wondering why man makes all things

more complicated than they need to be,

forever running through a pointless maze

yet seemingly getting nowhere.

Considered worthless and shiftless,

he doesn't play by the rules,

riding his bicycle down and up streets

collecting bottles and cans thrown away

by people who have no time to care:

he doesn't fit society's mould;

does not understand the clutter,

the noisy, harmful ways.

Sadly he rides on

though with hope he looks upon the city

from the top of a denuded hill

for in his sleep he has seen a vision:

the dance of life that rejects none

and he walks the way of love,

the only way he knows,

in understanding and acceptance.

The Unseen Side

More than a few people

have made sure

I'd be well advised to know

"writing poetry"

is a dead end street:

well, perhaps, I thought

as I headed out into the hills.

I came upon a lost and wild trail

leading into the high mountains,

past sun-filled meadows,

and bubbling crystal streams

to where endless snows beckon.

Here one can let dreams

soar in summer breezes;

one can gently feel

every wild color

in every flower...

Here one can touch the sky,

kiss the sun goodbye

welcome the moon goddess

in robes of white satin.

Here, one can just be,

and here, feelings define reality

and words truly become

best friends.

How could I ever

regret my choices?

Be The Teacher

His Irish flute still plays

gently through my silent mourning;

in remembrance of his passing

tears water my eyes

as rain on autumn leaves.

Yet through my pain

a channel remains open

as I remember these thoughts

he left with me:

"When the sun shines on me no more,

and the path you travel

seems pointless without this love

find the courage to close the door

on a chapter of life that for you

exists no more."

And these words he also spoke to me:

"A day will come for you to speak

to the world with your own voice.

You will write your own chapter then,

and from chapter to novel

your own life will unfold,

new and wonderful.

Keep in mind that dependency

is for children, for those

who mistake fear and laziness

for obedience.

Never remain anyone's student:

be the teacher, as you were intended."

Being Different

There are those who share a love of heart,

even if prevented from giving the helping hand

for whatever reason.

There are those who have the desire of heart;

like late wild flowers scattered

in meadows of dried soils and browned grass

you encounter them here and there,

dancing gently, adding color to Autumn.

In the hustle of Spring they go unnoticed

but when the dull shades of Fall cover the meadow

your gaze naturally turns to these brave hearts.

They could have chosen to be like everybody else;

Spring flowers gone in a week of sun or day of hail;

or grass: would a tired passerby notice

the brown stems lying on the ground all around?

Would his eyes find rest there?

How does one cause real change?

not from conformity nor uniformity.

It's not easy to stand apart from the crowd,

to blossom in Autumn

but some do this, not out of pride,

but out of natural purpose!

Endless Possibilities

I thought I'd forget all my troubles

hiking the high hills today -

but my thoughts betray me again -

turning my hopes to bitterness

until a soft voice interrupts

my internal monologue:

"Make your life a celebration,

not cause for regret.

Set a goal, a purpose, a direction

then enter every situation

with eyes wide open.

See your endless blessings,

the knowledge life has granted you:

put these to better use.

They will show you the beauty

of a cascading mountain stream

with a backdrop of jagged peaks

above scraggly pines at the tree line

just below the sun's slanting rays.

They will give you a sprinkling of fresh snow;

the feel of a shiver as a late autumn breeze

finds an opening in your collar.

Is this not the dawning of a new day

filled with endless possibilities?

Why should you allow yesterday's thoughts

to mar today's joy?

If you came here to find happiness

just for one day, that is all you will get

but if you discover self-empowerment

such happiness you will find

absolutely everywhere."

Searching For The Key

Millennia and the search goes on

for the key to healing:

a key we believe exists

but that remains hidden.

Perhaps as it is with the body,

so must it be with the planet

with the solar system,

with the universe!

Perhaps when that is realized

we can begin speaking

about healing.

How effective is it

to heal someone today

only to have death

claim them tomorrow?

Perhaps healing begins

with an understanding of death:

what is the cause of death?

Do we know?

We know death is not a disease;

nor is it a combination of such;

it can be accidental, slow or sudden;

it can be desired and chosen.

Death is termination

of bodily functions.

But why?

By what law does death rule?

Perhaps we need to ask

do planets die?

Do suns die?

Do galaxies and universes die

as the human body dies?

For if they do,

no healing shall we ever find

on this world alone:

healing must happen

on a cosmic level.

Is that the Key?


Father used to call me a failure

and when it came time for me

to face the "big bad world"

I looked upon myself as dumb, i.e.,

less intelligent then the rest,

so inevitably, in man's jungle,

I became prone to fail and did.

The tests we are given

in man's social systems

are designed for followers;

their so-called teachings

but instructions for yes-men.

No need to feel unworthy

if we fail these illusory tests:

they can never measure a person's worth!

What are they but a show

of "brainial" capacity

to store randomly acquired facts

spouting reams of mis-information?

What I have learned, I learned

at the university of life:

it may not contain degrees

or cost exorbitant fees

and the so-called smart may think it worthless

but everyone must ultimately pass

its un-written exams,

for in real life

there is no such thing as a failure.

In My Search

Out late at night, walking the streets

searching for pocket change

in aluminum cans, plastic, glass bottles.

In my search I see the police,

I was taught are heartless, uncaring people:

but tonight one policewoman chose

to show me where I could find

lots of empty beer cans...

Such a simple gesture,

yet leaving me glowing with joy.

Police officers are what they are,

the product of a society living in fear;

sometimes they get a bad rap.

They enforce a law; they play the system's game;

they hired on to referee, make sure the game

is played by the rules, and that

is what they get paid for.

If we don’t like it this way, there is a better one.

We don’t need rules, referees or a System,

to make us get along:

may I suggest what the policewoman demonstrated?

Unconditional love, no judgment?

Or... is that too simple? Too frightening?

To Change The World

Can one person change the world?

Can one simple idea?

There are those on this world

who bring about such change,

who live simplicity in joy:

quiet, steady as the stars

in the night sky - points of light

shining bright, not unto themselves;

There are those whose heart

is vast and open as the ocean;

of gentle word and soft mien,

a haven for those who hurt.

There are those whose mind

is like a mountain ringed with clouds:

whose thoughts are noble and wise;

who have the spirit of an eagle;

who remain graceful and free

in the face of adversity

You will not find them in the temples

nor in the high places of power;

their faces do not grace the TV screen,

or fill pages in magazines.

Lucky are you to recognize one,

wise are you to emulate one.

And how do you find such a one?

Just look deep within.

Walking with no Soul

(The Barefoot Pilgrim)

The underside of my shoe is coming apart,

so I go to the shoemaker's shop

just down the street in an old building.

He examines my battered sole

then says it will be a few hours for the repairs.

Fine I said, I'll wait here. I have no particular place

waiting for me at this time.

While he carries on fixing the various shoes

he tells me this little analogy that comes to his mind:

The sole of your shoe is like your human soul,

at the very least in placement.

As you walk upon it and wear it down

so does the owner of your human soul,

that would of course be God or some god

walk upon it all the days of your life.

As long as you have a soul

any god can walk all over you.

So here's a bit of wisdom from an old sole fixer

who's seen many a trod down, worn out sole:

give your soul back to God, son.

He won't be happy but he can't stop you.

Walk barefoot in spirit the rest of your life,

and learn what it means to be truly free.

You won't need any God to tell you where to go

nor will you need a soul-fixer priest to take your money

and leave you empty of mind, full of false hope.

So I decided from now on to walk with no soul

Who knows but this man may be right?

And how would one know if it's not tried?

What Name Am I?

Everything must have a name,

so it seems to me.

It’s the way on this little world

seeking its identity among the stars.

We name a tree, not individual leaves,

we name the sand, not individual grains.

Why do we place importance on names

in some instances and not others?

Human babies are named and catalogued

like butterflies on a collector’s sheet,

given an identity before they get a chance

to choose their own...

and thus the possession of mind and body

is assured: but does it serve the race

to pass on old names to new minds?

If we are to evolve, it would seem

that new energy must beget new names,

and as one grows and learns and changes,

so should the title that one bears.

We should decide at this point

is a name but a generic title, a hand me down -

or should it tell the world who I am,

as I pass by?

"Simple Simon" Seeking Change

I wonder: It's not so good

to remain too long in the same place;

better to move about, relocate,

if temporarily, if that means

tripping out of one's mind,

while the body lies dormant wherever:

Give me change, or give me death

or is that

give me credit and give me debt?

I wonder as I wander;

pull up a stump

in a different coffee shop;

walk down a different street,

take a different trail in the woods:

Could be, by wandering about

unusual surroundings

there is a good chance

to meet new people,

hear new ideas expressed,

enriching or amusing...

at least that's still free:

so why not?

Mentally Challenged

I was considered unworthy

to experience a "normal" life;

with my speech impediment I did not fit in at all,


TSK, TSK, TSK...what do we do

with the retard?)

among the robotic standards

of their pastel coloured world.

When someone is a slow learner,

has a speech impediment,

or looks unnormal or abnormal,

the regular ones quickly label them

retards and idiots:

they remember the warning pinned to their cribs:

"When encountering another not like you:


But now: look!

they've discovered political correctness

(from the point of view of normal, that is)

and have declared terms like retard and idiot

socially repulsive or at least, unacceptable.

How interesting: they were their labels, not mine!

Under the new charter of rights and whatever

my PROPER description is "Mentally Challenged!"

I just feel So Privileged, So Special!

I am being challenged by my incredible mental faculties!

That's sort of being like Einstein, I think.

(you know, the guy who wrote about an E

adding up to MC and a little 2?)

It feels just great to be recognized for what I am:



How would You like to work with idiots and retards

if YOU were a proud PHD?

Wouldn't you rather work with geniuse-suz like me?

Please, Mr. Shrink...

may I have another look at those ink-blots?

I need to amuse my Inner Child some more.

Running Free

The 'awakening' process brings us

in touch with “Spirit guides” and others

appearing full of knowledge and wisdom

to set us on the path of power...

But there is a neurosis among humans,

the curse of dependency:

so when spirit people enter our life to guide

we grow to rely on them instead of our self..

How do we know we are really on the path

to greater understanding and love?

How do we know we are breaking free

of addiction to dependencies?

One day, driving along a tree-bordered road

I became aware I was running free

along the road, through trees and shrubs-

effortlessly loping, keeping up with the vehicle.

Then I realized the concept of being one

for at that moment I had indeed become

my own Shaman, my own Spirit Guide:

I had broken my human dependency cycle.

Tears In The Wind

Tears in the wind

from life seen and tasted

in eternity

past the boundaries of earth

past the last signpost

of this universe,

I saw

(but what did I perceive?)


that I could understand


walking this vale of storms

of tears

in restless winds

--time's Autumn

weighs heavily on my heart -

a tumble weed

blown about

shifting sands

disheveled, naked, hungry

lifting scarred hands

to unsmiling copper skies

I cried to faded stars

out of my pain

"Tell Me Why?"

--I heard my voice carried off

in raucous laughter

the wind's laughter


through tears in the wind

I caught a glimpse of something,

unusual, fleeting, intriguing

and I called it compassion.

Father Knows Best

My Father always used to say:

"I'm proud of you, my boy

that you have chosen to follow

the path I mapped out for you!"

Even though I had yet to decide

which way I had to go,

my father already had determined

my life's purpose:

to be like him, of course!

Pressured into such conformity

I found myself on an embankment

he assured me was strong:

it had supported his own ambitions

and would do the same for me!

That doesn't matter any more,

for in fear of letting him down

I crashed through the flimsy supports,

my life crumbling into instant ruin.

"You have failed me, boy,"

came the voice of disapproval,

"but worse, you have decreased

the family's social standing!"

I rose from this false awareness of defeat

to find my own path,

to live my own dreams,

no longer listening to the old adage:

father knows best!

Now that I have found my own identity,

making my mark while still learning,

growing and succeeding in my life,

my father again says proudly:

"That's my boy!"

Who is Retarded?


What is a “retard”?

The question has been asked many times,

it has a hundred answers – some

even politically correct!


A person has a speech impediment,

Is dyslexic, has trouble concentrating,

has not goose-stepped through

the “normal” school curriculum

or read the mandatory “smart people” books:

is that person automatically a retard?


Who chooses one's genetic inheritance?

Who chooses one’s ability to “fit in”?

How is one thought of as a retard?

What is the official, read mob, criteria?


I’m so well placed to answer that.

Essentially, by not coming across as…

normal. What is normal?

It’s what doesn’t need defining.

If you are definable, then you’re not mob,

you’re not herd, you’re not normal.


You’ll say abnormal isn’t retarded

and to that I would reply: walk in my shoes.


Before I caught on, clued in; before

the “normal” label went into the garbage

with the ill-fitting clothes they made me wear;

when I was young, unsure and frightened,

They made me ashamed of who I was:

for I couldn't hold down a job,

was told I did not no how to manage money,

I was too nice, therefore easily conned.

Would never live a “normal” life

within the System parameters.


Add another strike against me:

I have a disability pension,

what a shame for the family.


Yet this retard can see the world

in ways a majority never could.

This retard created and published books

available for anyone to peruse and ponder.

Check it out and wonder once again:

Who is it we label retards?

The Golden Path

I walk along the shore

of a fast-moving river,

the soughing of the wind in the trees

blends with the musical laughter

of the water...

I am thinking of ways

we could save ourselves

in these terrible times;

these horribly selfish times

and this idea comes to mind:

The only way we can

ever change our ways

is through willingness

to give one's life for another -

no questions asked -

living each day knowing

that this is the day

I am called to give my life

for another.

Impossible, I think,

utterly crazy,

could something like this work?

Then I hear a voice

from nature's symphony:

“if all were prepared

to give their life for another

no harmful things would ever be done

by one to another:

wars would be impossible,

hunger would end,

as would crime.

Your world would become healthy

and safe for all your children.

Is that not what you desire?”

I leave this sacred place now,

reeling from this revelation

and thinking that yes,

given those possibilities

I must be willing

to give my life for another.

The End of Humanity

An old man sat beside me

as I was waiting for the bus,

turned and said:

“Is something troubling you?”

Yes I reply, I am wondering

why people don’t seen to care

about the fate of their world?


I think, somewhat sadly,

(says the old man:)

“It’s like this with humans:

they’re sitting in a big SUV

heading straight for a brick wall,

doing a hundred miles an hour,

and all these people can think about;

all they want to argue about,

is where is the best place to sit.”

(quote from David Suzuki)

“I thought when I was younger

(continues the old man)

I could make a difference

on this crazy world

but as I get older

I am finding out there is no hope,

people are just too stuck

in old ways that no longer work,

old ways that really

never did work.”

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