Thursday, October 8, 2015

Drink It Up.

Come over here.
To the other side of the lake.
Where we dabble in mystery.
Where shadows are eternal.
Music is Celtic, and fiddles cry.
The animals are with us.
The hippies make us wonder.
St. Francis.
The Pope is with us.
Buddha is with us.
Jesus has long hair and is homeless.
No one has a gun.
Everyone eats French cheese.
Children are cared for,
from conception till death.
We smoke.
We dream.
We help each other.
We grow our food.
We are boring.
We celebrate the morning.
We hurt each other.
We are narcissist.
We love unconditionally.
Water flows into our cup.
It is miraculously turned into wine.
The wine is God's blood.
Drink it up.
wkm

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Cipher

The serious know.
They understand. 

They don't judge.
They comprehend. 

The merciful wait.
They know their sins.

The forgiven bow,
And begin again.

God is OTHER
He is not us.

We're made in His "Image"
We welcome rust.

Jesus is given.
He is received.

We are to cipher,
What this all means.

wkm

Friday, August 28, 2015

New Album by The Wineskins September 1...

You can get it now at


These songs were inspired by our unplanned reunion. Jeff and I came together in 2013 after a few years apart. I happened to be in Nashville working for a year, and one day I dropped by his place on Music Row unannounced. It's as if we had never been apart. The muse was stronger than ever. These were the first songs we wrote. We never meant for this to be an album. Most of these are the only recording of the song. We put the song together, get the feel, press record, and play it. These are all first takes. This is raw. This is real. These are all recorded on a hand held stereo recorder. Jeff would sit on one side of the desk, me on the other. In between, placed on a coffee mug, was the recorder. There is no mixing, overdubs, or panning. Every noise, tone, sound, you hear happened in that moment. 

Hope you enjoy, Keith.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Wait

It is 6:14 PM on Monday,

8-3-15

I'm worn out. 

Wonder if I should have been a monk?


The fan in my room hums.

I sit at my desk and almost pray.

But nothing I say is what I think. 

I hear a small voice. 


Jesus commanded us. 

"Eat my body, drink my blood"

It made them so mad they left. 

Read what happened in John 6:66 after he said it. 


Hey, hold on there sinner. 

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky"--JH

White wine and water. 

I'm sitting here filled with numb.


Confucius say something. 

Pilate asked what truth is.

Jesus called himself the truth. 

If he was not, then he was fucking crazy. 


I try to do my job. 

So do you. 

And the voice I hear,

You hear it too. 


Once, today, I looked into a mirror. 

I don't know who it was.

I washed my face with cold water. 

Wait, hold on there sinner. 


wkm

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Too Mysterious

I have never been to Tangiers.
But I want to go. 
I want to walk those streets.
Smell the hashish and lamb.

When I was in Istanbul,
I felt the calling to go there. 
Istanbul is a confusion. 
Not ready to live fully. 

Copenhagen is trying,
But failing miserably. 
It believes fancy shops and posh clubs are real. 
I loved every minute walking it. 

God is not considered.
The Other is too demanding. 
He/She is too mysterious. 
Like snow in July. 

wkm


Monday, July 27, 2015

To Something Else

This yellow paint,

reminds me of a bird. 

A Finch I once saw,

On a feeder in a yard of a friend. 


Why doesn't yellow smell like yellow?

Why doesn't purple smell like purple?

All paint smells the same. 

It shouldn't be this way. 


All of these scratches,

Chips off the corners,

Where someone has hit them,

With something they were carrying. 


Jack my dog is watching.

Always trying to make eye contact.

Either to hug me, or, to tell me something,

I love every animal that has been a part of our life.


Cats, dogs, horses, crows. 

Crows have always been with me.

No matter where I've traveled or lived,

They find me.  


Once while moving to Spokane,

Driving from Oxford, Mississippi,

We stopped at an eatery in the Shasta Mountains, Northern California. 

Crows recognized me. You can ask my wife. 


I want to get out of here. 

Go somewhere where the weather is a ghost. 

A place of wind and mist. 

Where the ocean can be heard pounding a rocky shore. . 


Sell it all. 

Go. 

Not away from anything,

But to something else. 


wkm

July 27, 2015