A Sexy Florida Morning

Lying in bed squeezing lids tightly closed, light seeps in under the leaky door
Filling more than the floor it splashes and thrashes washing away the dark sand of night
Spraying like a sprinkler through slices of shades, writing word rows of red marching ants.  Fresh squeezed sweet orange juice dripping, whispering memories of the evening’s passion
Covering the naked curves of sexy tanned night with strips of bright new clothes
Pulling open the shades like and old etch and sketch
Erases the wall and the Dream it did call
Warm days beyond the wall
beckon with no pall




Why Not To Be A Doctor Or Spock –  A Prose Poem

When as a 36 year old doctor I had severe chronic back pain, Dr John Sarno took me on a journey of recalling all my childhood’s pain. The rain of old memory, cured my back pain by allowing my life’ new memory to peacefully reign. You’ll understand sooner or later, perhaps in this story.

baby-1178539_1920Remembering birth was tough, but time before it was easy. Life in the 1700’s was magnificent but that came from past life regression and this story is not about that journey, but the one after my current birth, not before. I never did manage to remember this more recent birth, perhaps because I really don’t care to or maybe can’t. I do recall however being about age one. It’s not that interesting other than for its wordless description. So I will save you a long recital by telling you it was about cycles. I recall the cycles of the sun behind my crib as day came and went through the window behind where I slept (I slept through most of it). The next interesting thing, perhaps from your viewpoint, was the periodic visitation of floating faces that made cooing noises. I knew they were “nice” as I could feel their happy thoughts. When I could stay awake, seeing them was entertaining.  By the next year, I now knew they were “people” and that with gifts of food or lack of care their visits seemed to bring joy or fear.

When I was about three sitting on the basement floor, I watched my sister assemble a puzzle and for the first time really knew disappointment. I insisted on trying but when I could not do it my mother laughed; it was the first time I ever felt abashed. I did not understand that my sister being nearly twice my age had an advantage. How I “viewed”my mother’s laugh shaped who I am forever – competitive, but mostly with myself. Mom was very creative and to this I was native. There was little TV, just building creative toys and dreams for me.

In kindergarten, the teacher told us to put on reindeer hats and parade in a circle to music and entertain our parents. I refused her, asking why I should do this?  She just got mad thinking that I dared need a reason! From then on I looked at her with derision for her very poor emotional decision. This event that day made me a father to Spock,  emotion free as a rock; though I suspect he was conceived in my mother’s laugh.  We were one and the same with just my name. 

In high school and college, sex I had to acknowledge; but joy for me was being so high on the curve that everyone else would fail. Calculus, Chemistry, Biology all the sciences, her laugh long ago determined how far I would go to leave them all in the dust. 

doctor-2337835_1920Fifty years later having joyfully invented a branch of Holistic Medicine, my patient’s pain had become dark rain. A body cooked long round the spit of the sun finally begins to fail, it ceases to run. My patients grew, old my joy grew cold, for even years after I could still hear her laughter.  It was time to leave!  After 45 years I’d earned that reprieve.

Here in Florida I met a lady who’d been my best friend 40 years ago when I had been painfully divorced.  Her eyes were failing and her surgeons flailing. I volunteered my services for a guided tour that the doctor, not Spock, should have known to abhor. Surgeons well selected, care well directed. But, years of life predicted age could not be interdicted.  Now I remember the reason to retire, watching life end inspires no great desire.


But being a friend before life’s end is a gift of value that laughter can’t devalue.  As I sit here this morning enjoying the sun, I’m glad that from other’s pain, I chose not to run.  I cannot stop the end of life but with love and caring there is great opportunity for preparing.  

For much of my life I’m again married to a wife, who had been to many daring to be selflessly caring. Now I’m inspired, to be so desired, life’s too short to stay retired. Care given to a friend does spiritually help them mend. Her laughter faded in the ever after. 


Rachel – Is a heroin addict and knows it. You may be an addict and don’t know it!

Watch this amazing video produced by my newly discovered friend Mitch Barr.

This is an amazing, eye opening, interview about addictive behavior!   As a holistic eye doctor, I have long sought the answer to Rachel’s dilemma.  Which, as I view it, is  how to  best understand any “addictive” behavior problem and overcome it permanently! Food in excess or the miserably toxic quality of fast food restaurants is an addiction, like drugs!  Why?  Because, as Rachel knows, it will kill you but yet you still do it! You “cannot stop“! McDonald’s, Burger King and KFC is betting on it!

Can we avoid or reverse addictions? I am always seeking a method of helping my patients achieve personal growth and change, when I diagnose potentially catastrophic future illnesses during a holistic eye exam.  Via DRI, digital retinal Pills -  Addictionimaging, we can potentially diagnose future disease like: strokes, heart attacks, diabetes and blindness.  I clearly explain their illness and give them information on how to resolve it.  Yet most seem unable to change and prevent disaster.

As Rachel is telling us change is difficult!  She calls it something like the “devil of addiction” talking to her.  I think this choice of words is disabling and destructive!  When you picture a devil, you know you will be in constant battle and you likely believe the that the god like devil is too powerful for you to overcome.

However, I wonder if, in some ways,  people like Rachel are less diseased then most Americans?  What if  the world is full of  “numb” people who don’t get “excited” and involved in anything and as such don’t get addicted, as easily as Rachel does?  Is being “numb” an illness?  In the 50’s, angry mothers marched down the streets of the USA in large numbers protesting a small increase in milk prices! Today Monsanto genetically alters food and spends millions to fight for campaigns to keep you uninformed by denying you information about the toxic foods they have created and the toxic chemicals they use as pesticide. Most of you know about it and yet, you who know, keep poisoning yourself and your children with their “food”.  How does this possibly indicate that Rachel is healthier than you?

What is worse a passion that can lead to addiction or a passionless slow death? Think about this.  What if the deadreason people like Rachel get addicted is because they are “passionate” people that get addicted because of their passion for the depth of their life experience (something you don’t have)?  Artists are filled with “entheos,”  the creative power of emotion. The word entheos derives from Latin meaning filled with God’s Spirit.  Artists get addicted as we all know from the newspapers. Actors and actresses, musicians, fine artists of painting and sculpture seem to wrestle with this dilemma.  They get addicted to drugs and alcohol.  The rest of humanity seems immune or is that they are too passionless to be truly fully alive?  Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying, “Sadly enough many live to the age of 21 only to be buried at the age of 65.”  This may be what he meant!

Maybe we need to think outside the box and realize that drug addicts may have far greater potential than average people!  Maybe the cure is not to fix the drug addict’s disease but help them focus their “passions”  on great achievements!  Help them substitute their drug addiction (passion) for a passion for good?  Can you picture an addict who is addicted to exercise and good diet … to the extreme?  It may not seem perfect to you but it is a heck of a lot OutSideTheBox01better than drug addiction!  I am not sure I have the answer to drug addiction but I can see how addictive personalities (which may be entheos filled passionate people) might turn away from viewing the “devil” whispering into their ears. Instead they might be seeing God’s love  filling them with an explosive motivation to achieve, in a tireless fashion, as Thomas Edison did when working on creating the light bulb.  Thomas Edison was so “involved” that he slept only for a few hours in a closed roll top desk in his lab so he could work on and on until he succeeded!  Was Thomas Edison an addictive type of personality?  I think so!

What about the “numb” people who are like sheep marching to their slaughter?  I am not sure how to awaken a dead passion in average people!  Yet I am beginning to think that “addicts” have a bit too much in some circumstances.  Perhaps this means that in the right circumstances we can awaken passion and life in the seeming less passionate.  Is this not what men like Tony Robins seek to do?  It is why I studied hypnosis.  I believe this dream is possible; however, I have yet to solve this problem, only define it and even there it could use more work.  Maybe this essay will  provoke some outside the box thinking that might lead to a solution to both problems.

Janr Ssor

we opted against san loco (on 160 n 4th street) to get something more authentic at the taco truck on the side of n6th. – 28 (williamsburg, borough of lost boys)

Janr’s intro:   Frankie Leone’s words, like Rit dye, drip down in rainbows of darkness to tie dye your soul.  Like Dali’s paintings, their  surrealistic twists and turns add depth to your dream of reality.  Each charcoal shaded stroke takes you deeper into his soul, your soul and the pain and passion you thought you erased when you showered.  Read it on “Borough Of Lost Boys.”


we opted against san loco (on 160 n 4th street) to get something more authentic at the taco truck on the side of n6th. – 28 (williamsburg, borough of lost boys).