Tired of the same ole Star Fleet coffee and doughnuts? Tired of Federation theology? We invite you to attend Klingon Hall.
We embrace your prideful ruthlessness and brutality.
Where phasers are set to fun.
Thursday, July 17, 2025
Unless ye abide
Unless ye abide
By John Clare
My greatest desire above all
To abide as one upon the vine
Bringing forth fruit in time
Then resting come the fall.
No need to depend upon me
But simply let the vine
Flow the sap into mine
All from Him, simply freely.
And after the harvest ends
The Master wields his knife
To end my dead life
So new growth can begin
In the vineyard across the road
The shoots are never pruned
They multiply until all too soon
The vine breaks under the load
The fruit spoils upon the ground
No wine at the wedding flows
They bundle up the dead boughs
Up to the heavens flames abound
Meant to grow in the light
The vines made a grand shade
The husbandman abandoning the blade
Stealing off under cover of night
But in the vineyard of the King
The clusters grew in the sun
Upon new vines upon the one
As to the bride the finest wine did come.
My dad and I for years grew muscadine grapes. I dearly miss them and the lessons learned from them.
Rudy
Rudy Medlock
I rate Rudy as my all time favorite art professor at Asbury. A potter, he taught color theory, but it was his humble, wise, inspired way that won me over. This is his home outside Wilmore I'd love to spend time in again.
Rudy died in his studio earlier this year.
As a crow flew
As a crow flew
John Clare stokes
As a crow flew
it was a straight shot
to you
bypassing Orange Hill
the chills
going around the grotto
the chills
the moon would rise
i would howl
don't know why
seemed the thing
to do.
But I was grounded
it was a long way
to you
going right through
the cemetery
the chills
swimming through the grotto
the chills
the moon would rise
i would howl
now i know why
still seems the thing
to do.
Monday, July 14, 2025
Dark side
Blind John sometimes felt being on the dark side was asking a bit too much.
In looking back on the comments of this depiction, it was totally frustrating that no one got it, or said inane things.
The dark side is a Nikon photographer. Unlike Canon, whose longer lenses are white. Same with Sony. Nikons are black. Lighten up Judy and all you literalists.
Rage
Raven
The epitome of one
Such as I
In shadow and darkness
Dwelling
Crying out as Dylan
Rage! Rage!
Against the dying of the light.
Heart level
The more you take at face value
The less you see at heart level.
A worthy pursuit is to grow beyond the face value of like and not like, the disappointment of apathy, the obscurity of heart, the contentment of dwelling in the cleft, in the closet, in the unknown.
Silo storm
Silo storm
The silos outside Archer are gone
The swallowtail kite has long flown
The storm has ceased its roiling roam
The scene yet forever lives on.
Thigpin
Thigpins portraits
Johnclarestokes
Thigpin had no use for sycamores
Thigpin spent his days inside
His two dogs and the memory
Of the ones gone on
Every one with a portrait on the wall
Thigpin had a man
That did his mowing
Leaves just fell in the way
Thigpin will eventually
Hang upon the wall
Between the last two dogs
In the hall.
I drove by Thigpins yesterday
It was completely gone
Even the Sycomore trees
Just the memory
Remained
Sunday, July 13, 2025
Waltz of life
waltz of life
John Clare Stokes
And she waltzed with me
And she soared with me
And she taught me
The dance with eternity.
Down Pounds
Pounds
Long I’ve pondered why it’s called
Pounds Hammock
I’m sure some pioneer had the name
But to me, it’s because my heart pounds
whenever I round a bend and I am
following the tracks of deer
giving rise to the flying ones
beckoning me from the slow sand.
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