We can beat ourselves up in the void, In all the shame we try to avoid. Waltzing through interconnecting rooms of shame This is where we learned to wear our blame.
We tell ourselves that we're different, Acting humble and somewhat reverent. We'd give our lives to learn to be strong, If only we could find where we belong.
Wound by wound, we become more alone, Learning that we have no exterior skin of stone. We wonder what it is for which we must atone, Until a stranger's voice becomes a friend over our phones.
These are the moments that we feel, Moment by moment, we learn to be real. We find it is the love of such a friend That brings us to "okay" and the pain ends.
It's somewhere there in the extended hand, That smile of love that understands. With it we learn to reach and extend far And with hopeful eyes to look up into the stars.
(c) August 29, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“I have one life and one chance to make it count for something… My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference.” – Jimmy Carter
It's funny, What one bullet can do, Taking away peace... As it stunned me. Watching time run out for you And taking from me, my peace.
Replacing peace with strife, Removing what had been bliss. What's left is a gaping hole. It should have been my life, not your life. What was happiness is now emptiness. There is only shadow, where once I had a soul.
It's tragic, What one bullet can do - Taking my peace. Losing you is more than tragic. Losing all the dreams we had for you. My prayers don't bring me peace.
You were born for more. I loved to talk about your dreams. I lived for making these come true. Like a mighty eagle, you'd soar... Or blow bubbles in childlike scenes. Nearly all of my world revolved around you.
The shooter was a man with an issue, A troubled soul without much of a clue. A hurt person decided to hurt children that day. His/her/his issues had nothing to do with you. The pain had ate away all the good they might do. Shots fired to kill would not drive their demons away.
I heard your last prayer as you laid down to sleep. We talked about your dreams for your tomorrow. The sin they have committed is worse than any crime. I can only pray, the Lord your soul to keep. All I have left is a heart full of sorrow. Some monsters come in the daytime.
(c) August 28, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“A strong defense is the surest way to peace. Strength makes detente attainable. Weakness invites war, as my generation – my generation – knows from four very bitter experiences. Just as America’s will for peace is second to none, so will America’s strength be second to none. We cannot rely on the forbearance of others to protect this Nation. The power and diversity of the Armed Forces, active Guard and Reserve, the resolve of our fellow citizens, the flexibility in our command to navigate international waters that remain troubled are all essential to our security.” – Gerald R. Ford
“But you have to give your whole life to a cello. When I realized that, I went back to the guitar and just turned the volume up a bit louder.” – Ritchie Blackmore
It seems like life knows its resistance, And all we have is our persistence. We're dedicated to getting our message through. Sometimes it feels like it's all we can do.
Sparks from the stage blaze a mystic fire. Night after night, we are filled with desire. The girl over there with the golden voice, She knows we really have no choice.
The set list creates the story Of our lives in our full glory. Note after note, we live and play. We keep our dreams on display.
We somehow want our narrative To speak for itself in the declarative - Who we are and who we will be. It's an open letter without any mystery.
No one has a heart of stone, And our chorus isn't sung alone. The tempo has its own way To be the song we're meant to play.
The set list creates the story Of our lives in our full glory. Note after note, we live and play. We keep our dreams on display.
These songs can only be played one way. I heard it from the singer as he'd say We have to play it like a heartbeat, Like we have coming up from the streets.
Life is a dress rehearsal, gone by like a blur Of dreams we chased after as they occurred. Retentive of every note played as it should, We still hold these dreams -and they feel good.
The set list creates the story Of our lives in our full glory. Note after note, we live and play. We keep our dreams on display.
(c) August 27, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“In these difficult years, America has suffered from a fever of words; from inflated rhetoric that promises more than it can deliver; from angry rhetoric that fans discontents into hatreds; from bombastic rhetoric that postures instead of persuading. We cannot learn from one another until we stop shouting at one another, until we speak quietly enough so that our words can be heard as well as our voices.” – Richard M. Nixon
“What is the universe? The universe is a symphony of vibrating strings…we are nothing but melodies. We are nothing but cosmic music played out on vibrating strings and membranes.” – Michio Kaku
I’m not sure I believe Kaku. But I do think it is interesting that we are back to talking about the music of the spheres…
The modern age has its share of complexity. But not enough to warrant Hawaiian anxiety. The sacred duty held with great veneration, Is the sacred duty felt by each generation.
Hula is the language of the Hawaiian heart. It has remained so since the very start. Each move is symbolic of a tale to be told. With each move, the Polynesian story unfolds.
Hula expresses all that we see and feel, In this way, this dance is what keeps us real. It is the joy and sorrow of every perceived fear. It is the courage that is always there.
The heiau stands guard over the native graves, But it is Hulu that reminds us of what it saves. Though life pushes out in a million directions, We cannot help but feel the deeply rooted connections.
The connections that make us want to return home, There is something intangible yet hard as temple stone. It is and was not just a dance but a way of life. It brought us to a sense of peace and away from strife.
A pig roasts beneath fronds baked within Hawaiian ground, And this too is a part of where our hearts are found. Heritage calling to our hearts with every bit of love, On the islands beneath a million stars floating above.
Like the ancestors did, we step left to step right As slack key guitars and ukuleles play into the night. There is and was something magical in the harmony. What sounded right was to melodically loosen the key.
Then we would watch as the dancers moved into position, Proud as we quietly were to be the performing musicians. The dancers would dance, beating the gourds, chanting in voice, And as we moved in unison, it was as if we had no choice.
In call and response, the dancers danced in sacred duty. Every step taken had its natural sense of rarefied beauty. Though life is filled with hard work and endless miles, The Hula is the dance of dances, bringing endless smiles.
(c) August 26, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
ALOHA PROMISES FOREVER 