A light cast across the water.
I take a deep breath.
Pushing aside the deep thoughts of yesterday.
I look again to see the sun, trees, water and sky.
I realize it is a new day.
Another minute has passed.
Did I live or lay quietly in the shadows of my own past,
Or the images of what is to come,
Will I wait or will I march forward to triumph.

By Lauren Sweetland

Poem written by Eric Meyersfield

A face
From a place
I’ve never seen twice,
Twisting the chrome-plated armor,
From reality,
Bare bones,
All that you see,
Is in the open,
Nothing hidden in the depths or folds
of dark anxiety
And whispers of possibilities
Never realized or broken intention
Tangled mangled mess of insane wishes
Not you.
You just you just all of you.
Your hand reaches out into the
Mad haze of yesterwebs
As my brain crackles
Adusting to the new spin
Of the Earth’s axis
And in your hand is food
For my heart like energy
That keeps my feet walking
My hands talking
My soul, my soul, me
Never silent, quieted
By your intense kindness
Sleeping softly
In you care,
Between bouts of fits of
Thundertears and Underfears
The night is easier to stand up to
with your picture suspended
In front of my bloodshot ruined eyes.
And for a moment
You remind me
Of who I am
And all is calm
In my head.

by Eric Meyersfield
Feb 2004


“What is important is how much service you can give the world and how much you can get done and how much better you can make things. These are important things. These are all that are important. A bank account never measured the worth of a man. His ability to help measured his worth and that’s all. A bank account can assist one to help but where it ceases to do that it becomes useless.”  L. Ron Hubbard


“Do not believe in anything merely because it is said, nor in traditions because they have been handed down from antiquity, nor in rumors as such: not in writings by sages because sages wrote them; not in fancies that we may suspect to have been inspired in us by a deva nor in inferences drawn from some haphazard assumption we may have made: nor in what seems to be an analogical necessity: nor in the mere authority of our teachers and masters.

Believe when the writing, doctrine, or saying is corroborated by reason and conciousness.”   – Buddah

I wrote this poem in 1995

I see a wall of colors bright.
There is a strength, some unkown light.

Seasons change blue to gray,
Time passes by as children play,
Memories past forgotten at last,
By the eve of the first school day.

I see the wall but cannot feel,
I see the wall but it is unreal,
Fun we think, forever lost,
Fun we think, but at whose cost,
To look upon with no insight,
that glow becomes a little less bright.

At times we look, but do not see,
What it takes to do …
then to be.

The Joy of Creating

“Force yourself to smile and you’ll soon stop frowning.
Force yourself to laugh and you’ll soon find something to laugh about.
Wax enthusiastic and you’ll soon feel so.
A being causes his own feelings.
The greatest joy there is in life is creating.
Splurge on it!” – L. Ron Hubbard