If I were to die tomorrow, I would like to be remembered as a man of peace, perhaps stupidly so. That’s why I joined the Quakers.

I once revered Judaism as reflecting wisdom from the ancients, and I sought favor from its followers. The vengeance being wrought no longer reflects that noble idea.

In my memoir/love story is an original poem written during the Vietnam War. There is no time like the present to realize it is relevant again.

Where have all the flowers gone?

“Yes, Sing On”©

Unsettled leaves of night float by
Falling from treetops in anguished cry,
Meadowlarks scream for all their worth
Trumpeting the end of this gray-green Earth,
And yes, sing on,
Oh God, sing on,
The days of discovery have found no one.

I wandered through heaven to find myself,
Encountered instead a harmless elf,
A figure of speech he seemed to me
And out of his mouth flew a bumblebee,
And yes, sing on,
Oh God, sing on,
The days of discovery have found no one.

The weather report calls for mushroom clouds,
Peyote prisms in a nuclear crowd,
While butterflies argue with tsetse flies,
Isn’t it funny how time goes by?
And yes, sing on,
Oh God, sing on,
The days of discovery have found no one.