# 117:

Being enlightened.
Knowing you’re not enlightened.
Pretty much the same thing.



~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved




Take These Roads, Please!
















Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And glad that I could travel both
And be two travelers
Because I’m schizophrenic.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And glad that I could travel both
And be two travelers
Because I’m schizophrenic.



~ Russ Allison Loar
Apologies to Robert Frost

© All Rights Reserved

# 107:

It’s an ordinary poem in a gilded cage.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved




It's Been A Long Struggle


Supreme Court Rules In Favor Of Same-Sex Marriage Nationwide

~ June 26, 2015



































~ Click here for the story on the L.A. Times website ~ by Russ Allison Loar ~ 8-5-1996
© All Rights Reserved

# 226:

Knowing is remembering.
Experiencing is being.



~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved




The Fly
















H ere,
In this beautiful world,
A fly is trapped in my house.

Trapped.

It's buzzing madly against the window glass,
Certain there must be an opening,
Beckoned by the light of the outside world,
The outside world,
Just a fraction of an inch away,
An impenetrable fraction of an inch.

Here,
In this beautiful world,
Where all things are possible,
This Garden of Eden where life explodes,
Where love and hate contend,
Where joy, real joy is actually possible,
A fly is trapped in my window.

I get a clear plastic cup
Reserved for such rescues
And capture the exhausted creature,
Gently sliding a square of cardboard beneath
To prevent escape.

Here,
In this dangerous world,
Where evil survives and babies die,
A fly was trapped in my house,
And I opened the door
And I let it go.





~ by Russ Allison Loar
~ Artwork by Chris Ezelle aka Boogey Man
© All Rights Reserved

# 247:

All knowledge is based
on the amazing fact that we exist.



~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved




The Newer Colossus



















Don’t give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
I extinguish my lamp beside the golden door.
Go away.
We’re full.



~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved