“Fear prophets and those prepared to die for the truth, for as a rule they make many others die with them, often before them, at times instead of them.” – Umberto Eco

“Fear prophets and those prepared to die for the truth, for as a rule they make many others die with them, often before them, at times instead of them.” – Umberto Eco

“And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.“ – Luke 1:17 NIV
This is said to refer to John the Baptist.


Monsters Under Our Bed
by Michael Doyle
The dubious detective
Was a memory of the collective.
Searching through the night
For even one illuminating light.
In the face of the living dead,
The crowd screams its dread.
There are no real answers to be found,
No matter how fast clues are chased around.
Tell me, honey, do monsters turn you on?
What's left after the nightmares are gone?
Sporadically, we weaved across the floor,
In a dance number difficult to ignore.
Silence is golden, however much we stutter.
All of us have lived to learn to suffer.
All the lessons that we have learned,
Reaching critical mass, the stars have burned.
The indescribable scenes we've accidentally played,
Left to life, every one of us feels betrayed.
Howling our desperation into the morning's air,
We don't even remember how to solemnly care.
Tell me, honey, do monsters turn you on?
What's left after the nightmares are gone?
Sporadically, we weaved across the floor,
In a dance number difficult to ignore.
(c) July 11, 2026 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved

“If we want to know the Glory of God, if we want to experience the beauty of God, and if we want to be used by the hand of God, then we must LIVE in the WORD of God.” – David Platt

“Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.” – John Quincy Adams


A Tale of Indiana
by Michael Doyle
In the crack of life
Rests the obsession
Of all who know strife
And all of its oppression.
The cracks are loud,
In a way, somehow allowed.
It tells a story of death
That remains until our last breath.
A mouthful of dirt,
In this world full of hurt,
It requires a sense of brilliance
To get past the need for resilience.
A twisting tongue tells the story,
And a sequel is coming full of glory.
The horror of it is a lot more to say,
The bride, it seems, is on her way.
Chicago is the kind of place,
Full of loneliness and lost without grace.
Quilting multi-parts at the breakfast table,
It's a common feat of which we're all capable.
A willful darkness dances to recall
That a ballet of shadows informs us all.
There's an edge to the wicked fascination.
If given enough rope, we'll hang a celebration.
It's a sorrow that plays on violins,
Each note twists from the heat of violence.
We might refuse the end of our day,
But even the Devil knows how to pray.
Unable to breathe, as if buried alive,
We cannot remember the moment we arrived.
Every struggle given resists tyranny.
Prometheus delivered fire as liberty.
(c) July 10, 2026 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved

“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” – Nikola Tesla

“For the fetus, though enclosed in the womb of its mother, is already a human being, and it is a monstrous crime to rob it of the life which it has not yet begun to enjoy. If it seems more horrible to kill a man in his own house than in a field, because a man’s house is his place of most secure refuge, it ought surely to be deemed more atrocious to destroy a fetus in the womb before it has come to light.” – John Calvin


In the Early Days
by Michael Doyle
In the early days, just past proficiency,
Zeppelin rapidly proved its sufficiency.
Hitting the studio with Glyns to engineer,
The world braced itself for what it would hear.
In the good times and bad times of our youth,
The sonic metal revolution spoke its truth.
A first album exploded with textures and moods
As the exploration of music was seemingly renewed.
The magic of it all gave the dream a lot to say,
There were multitudes of colors given to the play.
While a six-string guitar tuned like a Himalayan sitar,
Became something like the first guiding star.
In the crossfading distance, you hear life's echo.
Suddenly, the sorrow of goodbye becomes a new hello.
When a band finds its soul within its own sound,
All that's really left is to shop its record around.
Musical notes can fit like aural keys to the kingdom.
When you know what you know, you know when the time has come.
Tragically, singles can break up the spirit of a band,
But that's all the more reason for the profit an album commands.
The first gig at Middle Earth arrived in 1968,
Led Zeppelin wasn't just good; they were great.
Some may have thought it was a communication breakdown,
But in the end, they learned as smiles came from their frowns.
(c) July 9, 2026 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved

“When the rights of any individual or group are chipped away, the freedom of all erodes.” – Earl Warren

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