bad music

And as I walk in the parking lot this rattling assaults my ears

loud

Over Booming Bass
Rattles emanating from a car parked

No way to avoid it I must walk closer to the noise and I find that each of my steps matches the over-amplified thump coming from that car.

I think to myself that it must be some punk-teenager thinking that he is making the world a better lace by sharing his shit music, and willing to fight you to prove it.

Or maybe it is some gang-banger, that wants people to look at him so he can glare back with the vile and evil look of a deranged homicidal killer.

Or maybe it is some kid from the ghetto trying to compete with the middle class that come to this shopping center, angry at his own misfortune.

Finally I am close enough and can't help but look,...

Look at the car to see who parks and has the intense selfishness necessary to pollute the air with this crap for music, played on a sound system that would distort a simple middle-C on a piano.

And to my absolute surprise I see no anger or threat, nor do I see selfishness.

I see a moment in someones life that will be remembered, a time that cannot be replaced, a moment of pure spontaneity and delight.

What I see is a boy in the front seat of a car bouncing and singing to the song while his father has joined in the sheer enjoyment of the moment, by singing the chorus with his son and rocking to the beat.

Talk maybe cry

and the adult child sits with her parents
most likely before church starts
the tension so thick it can be seen across the restaurant
her mom does not approve of her skirt
her dad does not approve of her choice of make up


mom and dad look at each other with the 50 years of marriage, they need not say any words
but the look which clearly communicates their intense disapproval of this child is felt deeply by the child
although a woman now in her 30's she still needs them
needs their love
needs their understanding
needs them to not look at each other that way, as if she was 10 yrs old and doesn't know what "that look" means

and she thinks to herself "why can't I just get the nerve to say what is so embedded in their look:
LOSER !
FAIL AT EVERYTHING
NOT MARRIED
NO RELATIONSHIPS
A JOB THAT SUCKS
AND HAVE NO FUTURE"

But her thoughts are broken by the breaking of the silence when her mom says "that's a colorful skirt dear, where did you get it?"
The Dad oblivious to his wife's cattiness adds injury to to the insult just thrown and says "It looks nice but don't you think its a little short?"

and with that the woman hears a pin drop on the other side of the restaurant.

and the three of them sit quiet, waiting for something to save them from this torturous morning. And for what seems like an eternity-was really only 30 seconds, before a little boy screams "I WANT CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES, NOT EGGS!" the demand punctuated by a plate hitting the floor.

and the dad say "sounds like someone is a bit over stressed, maybe got up too early today and is still tired"

and the woman says, "If I did that you would have drug me to the car and beat my ass till I couldn't breath let alone talk, then you'd beat me again when we got home for making you embarrass yourself"

and the mom says, "now dear we were firm with you as a child, but it wasn't all that bad"

and the roles firmly embedded, the child in her 30's takes heed and says no more.

The abuse was real,

but no one talks of it, so it is always there,

a simple thing talking about the wrongs of the past, we as humans need that, we need to know others feel with-us, and if both are lucky tears will be shared.

but no one talks of the past, so it is always there,

and the woman sits with her parents before church the tension so thick it can be seen across the restaurant.

a private moment in public

And the going-away-dinner at this very fine, expensive restaurant, comes close to the end.

Conversation stays light and airy with the under currents of the impending sadness.

the little kids run around

and the teenagers act like teens:

tough

harassing the little ones

annoying the adults

and bouts of intellectual acuity and real empathy-and-compassion

Then one of the teenage boys can't handle the sadness that is

as obvious as would be a hole in the floor where once stood the kitchen table

and breaks down slowly,

almost imperceptibly at first,

the feelings show first in the down turned eyes,

The controlled quivering of his lower lip.

Grief and Loss fills his soul for things not yet real, but it feels as if the very heart of the family is being ripped out.

Then he moves closer to the one soon to depart for parts unknown

And the-one gently touches his chin as if to transfer pure energy and love in hopes of calming the anguish in the boy.

Then the teen boy with a few drops of tears, buries his face into the-one's hand.

The-one looks deeply into the boy, to try to help him maintain control, this is America after all, and boys that are almost men are not allowed to cry.

The emotion of the impending grief is too overwhelming for the boy and he throws away all the societal bullshit rules, "not in public", "don't make a scene while we are at 'this restaurant'", the embarrassment, fear of ridicule, and the greatest lie; men-don't-cry.

And the boy moves into the-ones lap, hugging tightly, crying.

The boy hangs on not wanting to let go, his body trembles and with each inhale almost convulses to catch his breath between the crying that does not seem to have an end.

This very private moment shared in public.

andrew plays with himself

Computers
I hate them
but they allow a creativity not otherwise felt
a satisfaction that can fulfill the lonely
a release of stress
a release of angst
a release of frustration

yes a release of frustration
computers allow you to
to,..
well,..
how should I say,...

Play with yourself.

yes computers allow that,
you can do as your fantasies dictate
and the computer obeys

set up random
set up repeat
find new ways to feel

take your time
relax and let the computer do some of the fantasy for you
then let yourself become part to the moment to feel like you have not felt before.
hold back,
don't let the end come so quickly,
after all its not like its a 2 minute song on the radio.
quiet down


Imagine there are real people that think like you,
But know you are different
and go back to your computer for comfort and emotion

Play with yourself using computers, you should be so lucky to be able to.

hey perv, I'm not talking sex I am talking talent and genius

go to ted.com and check out

Andrew bird's one-man orchestra of the imagination

http://www.ted.com/talks/andrew_bird_s_one_man_orchestra_of_the_imagination.html

he records music on the spot and lets the computer play back so he can play with, well I guess I should have said,.. acompany himself.

I need t cook some corn chips.

and the weeks, have turned to months,
the normal excuses bombard
too hot
too cold
too much rain
not enough rain

and I succumb to the fantasy that something else really matters
and I feel day by day my core becoming a blob a mass of flesh rotting
or at the very least waiting to rot - off my bones as I turn into nothingness

Despair and Depression are the only thing that is real,
house a mess
kitchen full of dishes
lawn needs cut
car awfully dirty
but at least I took a shower today.

it is those little accomplishments that keep me going
a shower today, so today people will not wince at my stench
today I can walk knowing as I pass by people they are not talking about the cloud of odor that follows me.
today I don't have thoughts so full of death and despair
today I feel good enough to give my dog a pat on the head, for which he is ever so grateful.
today I see the sun is shining
because today is a successful day, I set a goal; to take a shower. And I did.

so that is the first hour of the day and it was good.


The start of the second hour of the day I make it out of the house not seeing the dirty dishes in the sink, the carpet that has not been vacuumed in 8 months, the ashtray overflowing and spilling on to the coffee table and on to the floor.

I made it out of the house and saw the sunshine and it felt good against my now clean skin.
Knowing the mess my car is both inside and out, I decide to walk to the bus stop to go to the store. The graffitti and grim and bums and homeless at the bus stop is a much happier place than the inside of my car.

On the bus and someone actually sits next to me, and begins conversation. .... light, casual, meaningless dribble that people do when they sit next to strangers and the stranger does not stink so bad they fear puking.

at the start of the third hour
I leave the bus and go to the store, I know the food in my house is old and moldy or freezer burned and horrible tasting, so I take my few dollars and a shopping cart and in that big clean, brightly lit, well air-conditioned super market, and I wander, looking at the cereal, and the ice cream and the bakery section, the ethnic food section, and I pick up items look at the price closely and say - it may spoil on the way back home- and put the item down.

I only have a few dollars for groceries, and seeing those around me with shopping carts filled to the brim and overflowing, I wonder what that must feel like to have a grocery cart full of food that you will take home and eat..... To eat it you must cook, to cook you must clean, and I,... I have pots and pans and plates all of which are in the kitchen sink smelly, slimy, moldy.

Why don't they have a kitchen sink full of mold, I wonder to myself, and then I remember the item on top of the pile of dishes in my sink is a frying pan, that gives me the clue of what I need to buy.

Corn chips in the bag cost almost 6 dollars, but corn tortillas cost 2 and oil cost 2, of which I can make bags and bags of corn chips because I already have the salt.

At the start of the fourth hour of the day, I get on the bus with my tripple bagged groceries, the $15 spent fits very nicely in one bag-- actually it takes up less than half the bag but I asked the store clerk to put the plastic bag in another plastic bag, and that double-bagged bundle into a third - I did not want to take any chances.

There was a homeless teen on the bus, you know them, raggy clothes, snot dripping from their nose, scars on their arms - they hate their life and try to run away from it, but you are always stuck with yourself where ever you are.

At the start of the fifth hour of the day I walk into my house and think, I really should:
wash the dishes
vacuum the floor
clean the bathrooms
clean the dogpoop from the yard
wash my car
clean the inside of it out
wash some clothes
empty that ashtray.

Overwhelmed I go to my clothes strewn room, slip into the sheets which were recently washed 3 months ago, and pet my dog. The room is dark so I can't see the mess I am, and my dog likes me, so I must be OK. I fall asleep.

At the start of the 16th hour of the day I awaken ready to change my life, I get out of my room go into the kitchen and wash the frying pan, a bowl, a knife, a spoon and the cutting board -- all that I need to fry some corn chips for dinner, with a side of cottage cheese.

Today was a good day I washed five items, but somehow my sink is still piled high with dirty dishes and I have nothing clean.

He pinched me

Even though he is almost 10 he is still small and helpless
and during this early-morning family outing to get coffee and scones
he has fallen asleep next to you on the couch.

your work responsibility causes the need to leave.

so lift him carefully to your shoulder to protect his innocence.
and to the car, the family walks.

his arms cling to your neck
the protective strength you feel
feeling his warmth and total trust in you
his legs flopping with each step you take
so you slow to protect his slumber state


the older brother, almost 15 yrs old trailing behind on the way to the car,
pinches the sleeping child hard
hard enough to startle
hard enough to welt
hard enough to cause uncontrollable sobbing

As the father you scold the 15 yr old.
"that was not funny"
"why did you do that?"
"what were you thinking?"
"I'm really disappointed in you" this last statement directed at the soul of the 15 yr old.

The mom is oblivious
to busy in her own reality
busy texting
busy face booking
busy farmville -ing
busy twitter - ing
busy google - ing
busy hiding
she did not want to come at all
she lives in her own world
distant and isolated

She does not see life as other mom's
although plenty of food
her kids go to school without breakfast
although plenty of clothes
her kids go to school dirty

her defense: "she does not sleep well, and can't get up in the morning to be with them."

but she sees not the cause is her awakening at 3:am nightly.

for her husband 3am
is believable lies told by her
"I just needed some water"
"I hoped to read myself to sleep"
"I have an upset stomach"
"I heard a noise in the boy's room and was checking on them"

for her 3:am
is selfishness and power
it is adrenaline and control
it is for secrets
"he doesn't know what I'm doing, he's asleep"
"if he didn't like it he would tell me"
for her it is justifications
"tonight I'll just look and not touch"
"tonight I'll Just touch, only with my hand"
"oh, tonight I went too far, tomorrow I won't do anything"
"next time I won't li
"next time I won't
"next time
"next time
"next time
and
"next time,.....


for the almost 15 year old
3am is
feeling confused and scared
... hopeless ....
feeling alone and helpless
... dirty ....
feeling powerless
feeling betrayed by his mother
feeling guilty for hating his mother so,
feeling betrayed by his dad, cause he doesn't see what is going on.
betrayed by himself for NOT telling her to stop IT.
betrayed by his body that responded to something that feels so horribly wrong
he feels tortured.
. he feels numb mixed with bouts of horror unimaginable,....


And in the daylight the almost 15 yr old now trailing behind the family on the way to the car, after the impromptu family outing, was re-living the previous 3:am.


if one could rate the horror scale,... last night,
last night would have been the worst,

because the outrageous evil of his body almost caused him to cum at the lips of his abuser.


he sees his little brother
innocent
helpless

and he thinks back to the first 3:am,...
and realizes that his little brother is as old now as he was then.

a thought causing crashing waves of concern, confusion and overwhelming helplessness,..
"Has she started doing it to him?"



the older brother, almost 15, pinches the sleeping child hard
hard enough to startle
hard enough to welt
hard enough to cause uncontrollable sobbing

he knew his father would scold.
"what were you thinking"
"you should be ashamed of yourself"
"I'm really disappointed in you" this last statement directed at the soul of the 15 yr old.

And the almost 15 yr old inhaled the disappointment, like he had been underwater for 5 minutes and needed air.

The shame of self-inflicted guilt of hurting his little brother was like his intestines turned inside out and his mouth filled with the taste of shit and bile..


And breathing in the dad's disappointment, and tasting the shit and bile,
at this moment,
is easier to live with than his thought that,..

even though, 15 years old, he can't protect his little brother from their mother.


***

the name

"gross" is what my dad called it,
my mom was totally disgusted
his dad just sighed at us as if that was enough to change things.
his mom left years ago, on his 11th birthday so we couldn't freak her out even if we wanted to.

We have a garage band this summer and we are sounding great. We even had one of the "popular ones" ask us to play at a party he was having, actually his parents paying for, out in the sticks.

Some covers, but a lot of our own guts and sweat.

Other kids are just stupid.
Parents-for that matter-all adults, -- not much better, except when you need a ride or some cash for shopping, then the parents are the best.

our music is real
its about the love of our life,
the unjustness of being grounded,
the bully that no one likes
that really queer kid - you know the one that think he's straight when he is obviously Soooo, gay.
the homeless ones.
the hungry.
the addicted.

So many songs have that stupid predictable repeat yourself, repeat yourself, repeat yourself, repeat yourself, repeat yourself, ............ everyone play your instruments Loud - then END-song.

Some of the songs our parents liked, how disappointing it was for us when they asked us to "please play that one song of yours that starts and ends with a guitar solo."

It took real pain to create the one my parents liked so much. no formula, no copying, no "influenced by", just me being me.

Then you have that cherub-faced kid that sang a Lady Gaga song and now has a new record label funded by Ellen.

Life is so unfair.

I wonder if its worth the fight, or should we just be like everyone else??

So that's where our name came from we were looking for something different, a little bit meaningless, not real, memorable, and- how did my dad put it,.... "gross"

We need to be us, you'll know our sound when you hear it

and you will remember our name

Thank to Michael,

you'll remember our name.




"Carbonated Afterbirth"

looking for some relief

I am lost there is something deep inside not willing to show itself
I stay stuck and in pain waiting for it to show

but relief is nowhere near
the forced tears, the therapist said to try is not working for me this time.
the porn is boring
the thought of drugs does not excite me either.
I am looking for the words to give me relief from the stress and pain of life.
but no magic to be found on-line.

No food can fill the void.

I call a friend but she is not home, so I feel so alone.

I rock like an autistic idiot and hope for relief, distraction or death

But none will come, the past is too strong and it pulls me into depression.

The past needs to come out, but I am afraid
afraid of the pain
afraid of the truth
afraid if my new-found friends shun me.

the music can't get loud enough
the pictures dark enough
the stories sad enough

I am still stuck with me.

Exercise can't sweat it out
Can't fall a sleep to let sleep hide it from me.
the hot line just put me on hold.

no one to talk to
nothing to stop me this time

my knife collection so large, I leave it to my son's
my car, paid in full, I leave to my daughter
the insurance will take care of the house for the wife.

not much else to do,


except of course,...



to stop living.

Dharavi

and the bright blues and reds of the pictures of the small portion of a town are very appealing and beautiful. the high gloss of the National Geographic photographs legendary; 

does paint the town in a pretty light. pictures of the adults working kids playing a girl in a dress the occasional close up of an old person's weathered, life spent, face you know the one I'm talking of, a man that looks to be 110 years old, 

wearing non-American headgear (towel-head, you might say). a man that has been through life and has kids, grandkids and great-grandkids to his credit. he has seen it all and his face shows the pains, and each hardship cut into the deep cracks in his cheeks.

 the look that half says "whats the big deal I'm just me" and half says "I have lived through more horror than you can imagine" There are plenty of words to go with the pictures, but nobody really reads when there are pictures - whats the point? 

 Dharavi - a slum, full of poor who wash their clothes in sewer water. aerial shot of the cardboard shacks inches apart. dirty people in a dirty part of a city as if this is the only city with its shame contained to a few square blocks. kind of easy to view the pictures in the magazine and talk of the sadness in distant countries while drinking a latte looking out the window of the coffee shop. but not easy to see those children sitting in the grass while a homeless woman, their mother, stands in the middle of the road with a sign pleading to be pitied, helped, and most of all acknowledge.

dead dog

my dog is still alive.
a disappointment,..

sort of.

I was hoping for some break in my otherwise mediocre life.
a little bit of fear
a little bit of adrenaline


is he breathing?
what do I tell the kids?
how do I lift the lifeless body?
That feeling of what once was life now heavy in my hands, .....
where would I carry him to?


but no, he met me at the door, all happy to be.

I wish I was.

decision

The world around me happens
Death of a plant
Death of an insect
Death of a squirrel
Death of a person

and it all feels the same
"oh thats nice" i say to the stranger sitting next to me at the bar where the news is on the tele.

I don't mean what i say, but he started the conversaion
so given the choice to punch him in the head or say "oh that's nice"
I chose to speak.

but then he goes on talking about how bad the world is now,
and when he was a kid, He remembered, blah, blah, blah

I think i should have punched him.

But if I did that now there would be a good reason, to make him shut is mouth!
I imagine the patrons around me would applaud for putting an end to his now constant whining.

So I can't, I can't be the hero that shuts him up, too predictable.

and he drones on about a failed marriage, the news, the horrors of the world.
And the bar is too noisy to really hear him, but you can tell by the pathetic look and bags under his eyes how he can only talk of misery and grief.

so I take relief in a a moment of non existence, as the noise of the bar drowns out my very thoughts.

There is this wonderful moment just at the peak of emotion where being overwhelmed transitions to anger, but before everything turns red and I start throwing chairs at people.

It is the only moment in life when I know I'm alive. This moment of pure adrenaline not hampered by the tunnel vision of anger, not encumbered by social norms.

It is this moment that I have a split second to tell the idiot next to me to shut the fuck up, or smash his face in,

... both of which have their rewards.

I stopped

Like that first true love that breaks your heart
grief so overwhelming
overwhelming my mind
overwhelming my body
overwhelming my soul

the years of being numb
all of the tears suppressed

All coming out at the same time, so intense the emotion, ... I look for escape

escape, I must,....

but nothing works;
torturing animals
mindless television
hours of self inflicted pain

the emotion is still there
a monster that cant be itself
killing the host body

this time there may be no way out

except Dea....

I did it

I did it
with all my fighting
with the years of holding on, I have finally let go.

Death will come slowly, but I will not feel it.
People won't notice my decay, because they have done it already.

The only ones left not doing it are very old, but who listens to them.

I am the last in my family, the one who held on.
Held on that the only truth in life is our perception of life, and I must NOT do it, otherwise I loose perception.

I argued that I must not do it, because, I must stay different and prove that difference, when called upon to do so.
But my family and friends have shown me the Way,

and if I am the only one that knows the truth regardless of its reality, no one will believe, even if I have proof.

I once showed to someone, that scientist believed there was 'advanced life' on the planet Mars, the document cited the latest evidence. The year it was printed 1930.

He just laughed and said, "idiot we know that's not true now"

Explaining to him would be just like telling my family and friends, they would not understand that something printed does not change, history can't be re-written if you have a book on your shelf. Even if I never read that book it is an unchanging perception of the time.

And so I did it:

I got rid of all my books, the new house is just too small and the fight too great.


So I succumb to be told what to think, by relying on news and the source of all information Wikipedia.


The price I fear will be:
Forgotten oil spills (Persian Gulf 1991),
Forgotten impact of introducing pet rabbits in Austrailia (1859),
What are two of the formula's used in waiting line theory?
was there love or hate in the Republic of Bosnia-Herzegovina(1993),
and what is an 8-track, what did it do right?
what is the proper position to sit when you transcribe dictation?
and what was a fagot used for again?

life in 30 seconds

as I sit and wish for the magic stone to make life happily every after i scream at the television "fuck you for your lies"
life is not solved in 30 minutes
life is not happily ever after
life sucks
but there are moments of comedy
then life sucks
but there are moments of loving smiles
then life sucks

but there is beauty
and hope
and plants to water
and pets to feed
and kids to raise
and people to help
and times to ask for help
and cars that need repaired

there is survival
then comes accomplishment
then comes the pride
and acceptance

then you can look back and see
see life
see the love
see happiness
see the inner beauty
and

see


really see clearly




that life sucks.

turn left part_3

Author's note: This is part three of I don't know how many parts. A new venue for me, a long story, funny though I know how it will end, but all the middle pieces are like this void that then cries for life, so I write. Here are links to Part 0ne and Part Two, if you want to read those.


Jerry helped me more than anyone else through the hell of being a teenager,
"best years of your life" my grandparents said.
Bull Fucking Shit,...
anyway, like I said Jerry got me out of my shell, he helped me make and keep friends. He taught me shit that my parents should have, some real basic, like take a shower every day.

But when he went down the path of unknown drugs I had to drop away.

We stayed in touch and shared pieces of our life, when he bought that big 4x4 truck, I was the first person he showed it to.

I fell in love and married an older woman that had three kids, he was the only person in my life that showed any sense of real happiness for me and my new family.

We had a love and a compassion for each other that you see in the movies, when two soldiers escape death several times and they both make it home, alive; and then of course, live happily every after.

Well we had escaped death several times, he saved me more times than I saved him, and we made it to adulthood, me with my family and job and house and school recitals; and him working construction when there was work to be had, and living in an small apartment not too far from my house. The happily ever after part, well, that, I guess that will happen when we are both dead because I have a family to raise and he is still looking for the next high.

One of my three kids is a girl, her name is Jenna, the night she turned 15 years old she wanted to go to a party at the local college, from a fathers perspective the answer is easy "no".
"but why" she pleaded
"YOU DON'T TRUST ME" she screamed
"you are ruining my life, all my friends will be there" with tears in her eyes
"I hate you" as she she stomped down to her room, and slammed the door.

I had learned that going down to try to talk to her would be a waste of time and emotional energy, I figure I finish with my planned night and in the morning, well noon-ish when she woke up, we could talk it out. Somewhere close to midnight after watching a string of those great "B" rated sci-fi films, and after finishing a jigsaw puzzle I headed off to bed.

Jenna must have been waiting to hear the TV go off, because soon there after, as I would later learn, she left the house through the bedroom window. She was headed to the party and her blond hair and tight fitting clothes were attracting all the boys roaming the streets, like a spotlight attracting moths.

She was feeling alive and free, having broken the bondage of her room, she found three escorts to tell her how pretty she is and how stupid her parents are, two of them were within a year of her age and one of them was about 5 years older.

All three of the boys had been partying and were feeling good, the boys did stupid boy-things; yelling loud for no reason, hitting each other, all the primal sexual feelings suppressed by society and learned fear, expressed in ways, that when they look back, they will not believe how dumb they were.

They would do different things to embarrass her, make her blush, make her hit them, the boys would do anything to get her to hit them or better yet kick at their groin. The oldest of the group, Ben, dared her to kick him square in the balls, the group turned silent.

Getting hit there by a girl was like, a rite-of-passage for a teenage boy, but to ask for it, no one had ever dared a that. Ben said "boys, looks like she is all talk, she is just a scared little girl"
Before Jenna could have a verbal comeback the two other boys began egging her on to kick him
"kick him "
'Kick him"
they chanted in unison.

She said "OK, alright, you sure Ben?"

And he stood directly in front of her, spread eagle with a slight stagger, then regained his balance and glared at her in defiance.

She kicked at him, but with a little hesitation, and in that hesitation he stepped into the kick and grabbed her. Pulled her close to and rubbed her body against his hard cock, she tried to get away but he just held tight, grabbing her breasts and her firm rounded ass,
She was squirming around a lot trying to break free from him.
Just as she was breaking free, Ben called to the other boys and said with a voice that cracked "Hold her,.. don't let her get away".

They thinking its all part of the fun did so and the two of them pinned her down to the ground as Ben approached "you think your so hot and beautiful, prancing that bitch ass of yours in front of us, I know what you want, you want a real man"

One of the boys holding Jenna, echoed "a Real Man"

And Ben said "boy's you've been wanting this for a long time lets take a good look at her those tits" and with that he grabbed her shirt and cut it open with a knife and then ever so delicately cut her bra, which then exposed her stomach so firm and smooth and two perfectly tender, perfectly sized breasts.

Jenna was in shock as were the two holding her down. She lay there exposed and vulnerable. She was to scared to scream. Her mind was going a million miles an hour but did not know what to do.

She could feel her heart beating so fast if felt like it was going to explode.
She lay there helpless, wishing she was home,

and then she felt Ben,
grabbing at her breasts
hands traveling down her firm soft body
grabbing at her shorts

She looked up to the boys holding her down, to plead for help, and one of them let go,
but the Ben, punched him in the ear and said "if she gets away, I'm gonna rape you, then slowly cut you into pieces, NOW HOLD HER STILL!!!"

All of a sudden the night turned very sinister and smell of fear and adrenaline was in the air, three of them experiencing pure fear and confusion, and the one in control was feeling very powerful and very aroused.

She closed her eyes trying to escape the horrors by going away,
going away mentally
going away emotionally
"If I don't see it, its really not happening" she said to herself,
"If I don't see it, its really not happening" she said to herself,
"If I don't see it, its really not happening" she said, over and over as if it were a magic chant that would make this end.

And she cried, a silent whimper as Ben touched every part of her body Ben had cut her shorts off,


and pulled his pants down,


then he fell on top of her.



she screamed "No, DONT!!!", ...




But felt nothing, nothing except the dead weight of his body on hers.



Then the two boys let go of her.


The dead weight of Ben was rolled off of her.



She opened her eyes to see Jerry.



He told her, in a very quiet calming voice "it will be OK, let me take you home" and took his shirt off so she could wear it.


Jerry left Ben on the side of the road, told the two boys to go home and and walked Jenna home.


About 3:am My wife and I woke up to a knocking at the door, when I answered the door there stood a girl that had learned a good lesson, instead of being tortured and raped. Jenna came running in and crying uncontrollably to me and then her mom, I invited Jerry in.

After Jenna relayed the story and had cried all the tears she could that night she and her mom went off to bed.


Jerry asked if he could crash here for the rest of the morning, of course I said "yes".


About noon, the household was waking up, and Jerry told me that he happened to be there, at the right place at the right time to save my daughter, because he was cutting through the neighborhood, after his truck was stolen at the local bar. He was drinking away the pain of the job he had just lost. He said he really did not have any place to go, by now he would be locked out of his apartment, because he is 2 days late with the rent money.


So I let him stay with us, and let him use a car so he could find another job, I offered to pay his apartment rent, but he said he could figure that one out. For a couple of weeks he came and went looking for work, I was beginning to think he may actually be getting his life together.


Then one night about 2:am there was a violent pounding on the door, that woke the whole house, Jerry told me to grab my gun, there's gonna be trouble.
My kids and wife went into the walk-in closet, we had made it a safe-room years ago when Jerry went a little PCP-crazy and tried to break into the house.

My wife called the police.

I grabbed a couple of guns, one for me, one for Jerry.

I yelled out the door, "Cops have been called, you have 2 minutes to speak your peace".

The man on the other side of the door, yelled back "Jerry, you still owe me, that piece of shit truck of yours is NOT payment in full!"

I said "Jerry, what the fuck is he talking about"

Jerry yelled through the door "Just leave now before the cops get here, I will get you the rest of your money, I'll meet you at...."

His sentence was cut short by the sounds of sirens and he quickly said to me "man I am so, so sorry, I just needed to hang low for a little. I didn't think they would find me this quickly" he gave me a long and strong hug and said almost in a whisper "I am so, sorry, I don't have time to explain. I can't let the cops catch me"

And with that he ran out my back door hopped over the fence and turned left down the alley, where the trash bins are emptied by the association's contracted waste management contractor.

depression

Internal Desires Stifled and stuffed
The external happiness saddened by my insides that are hollow and lonely
Energy zapped
Will and desired weakened
and the work piles up
and the frustration abounds
but the cats don't care they just purr and play with my pen, and lay on my paper.

the cycle begins

and the escape is but a moment
reality takes hold and
depression set in,
self-doubt abounds and
The words so long stuffed
Don't flow.

The music, all but gone.

Shed a tear, mourning the loss

public solitude, no one sees me
desire
fire within
all wished for
all yearned for
all the things, and experiences for.

exhaustion overtakes
and the unrest-full sleep is cut
short by
responsibilities
responsibilities
landing on the chest
crushing
suffocating
stifling

Seeking an escape in words or song and

and the escape is but a moment
Reality takes hold and
depression

.... the cycle ...

public service announcement

And the sight of the rag-doll man now lying limp on the side of the road.

How horrific a sight it was to see
the man bouncing,
cartwheeling,
transforming from a body so strong so resilient to
a rag-doll so weak , so limp, so broken


and others saw the motorcyclist limp on the side of the road,
cell phones blazing calls for help.
parents hiding children's eyes
women crying with empathy
and one man screaming
"leave him alone don't touch him"
"Don't turn him over, don't touch him"


I knew why the man was screaming,

I wonder if those around the rag-doll man on the ground understood.

Do you know why the man was screaming ?




This has been a public service announcement If you see a motorcycle accident please.
NEVER remove the helmet.
Don't move the person Stop traffic if you must
Assume they have a spinal, neck, and head injuries and DON"T MOVE THEM.
Talk to the person let them know they are not alone,
Tell them to LAY STILL, even if they say they feel fine.
WAIT for the PROFESSIONALS.

help me

the man on the side of the road has a sign that says "help me"

as I stay safe in my steel cate
I look with guilt as my car inches foward toward the traffic light
No I will not help you (i say to myself)

No you are not part of society,
you are a non-person standing there on the side of the road
druggie,
loser,

No I will not look you in the eye
to see you may have been a
father
a son

and to my releif the traffic light turns green
and I leave behind my guilt by turning on the radio and adjusting the A/C.

ballons by the side of the road

and she started crying at the site of the balloons and bears on the side of the road.
she imaginged the horrors that must have been,
the lost child
the pain
the death of a loved one
the shattered families of both
the victim's family and
the perpetrator's family.


It was a country road not a lot of civilization,
trees
cows
single lane each direction
just a single stop sign easily missed could have caused the mishap.

she continued to cry as she thought of the profound loss,


The teenage driver of the car asks what she is crying for,
and thinks to himself:
opportunity to console
to be sensitive
maybe sneak in a quick feel while hugging
he pulls over, after all its hard to be sensitive and,.. while your driving.

and he asks "Why are you crying?"

she explains how she saw the balloons and teddy-bear on the side of the road
and he holds her hand

she continues how sad it must have been for the family.
he slides over and gives her a hug

she continues how life can be devastated in an instant
his hand is just on the side of her breast

and she cries while being held,..



"to upset to realize she is being fondled." he says later that night to his friends while they were out in the field getting drunk.


"and the best part of the whole thing" he continues "is; the balloons and teddy-bear was to mark the road to go down for some kids birthday party."


The group of boys laugh loudly and call him lucky.

sit close

and the friend sits on the bench so close people may think they are gay
uncomfortably close
affectionately close
scared
embarrassingly close


then the friend whispers into his ear
and a cute smile mixed with innocence and shyness appears.

Then the friend whispers again,

this time the teen boy slides along the bench away from his friend. a respectable distance, distance enough so no one could think things about them.

he slides a little more and is now sitting beside, very gently touching the girl on the bench that likes him.
comfortably close
affectionately close
excited
insecurely close

blood

The muscle bound man struts around with his trophy woman,
daring other men to look at her, ready to pounce to her defense.

She, wearing all but nothing, to entice the young men to look at her deeply
look at the smooth, firm, supple skin of her tight stomach
look at the gentle mounds of flesh inching up towards her face,
look at the long graceful legs that end right at her short, short skirt.

With a flirt of her eye or a long exaggerated stretch she pulls the attention of all guys around, and just as many disapproving looks from the grandma's walking by. Almost everyone that walks past, looks at her, and has something to think about or something to whisper about.


And he defends her honor,
by staring down all the men and moving from her left side to her right side then back again like a bull elephant in musk, he will defend what is his, even if it takes every ounce of his life energy.

So much energy to protect what is fake, and she relishes in her power. she is intoxicated by the control she has on everyone around her.

At the end of the mall's hallway coming their direction is an equally as large a man, unashamedly looking, staring, maybe even undressing her with his eyes, he sees that skin so smooth, and lines of her body so appealing.

His pace stays steadily toward the couple, and the couple walk steadily toward him.

She uses her best move, wanting to see blood tonight, and this equally as large man, just may be the one.

Steps Closer...

The muscle bound man sees the equally as large man and puffs his chest up, straightens his back to walk a little taller and now swaggers a little with each step.

Steps Closer...

The equally as large man puffs up his chest, and stands taller, imagine a wildlife show where there is only one female and the two males are ready to fight to the death, but first make themselves look bigger to scare down their opponent.

Steps Closer...

They are but a few steps away from each other now, the onlookers can feel the tension in the air,


and the woman's adrenaline is coursing through her veins, built with anticipation and intense fear as her warrior is about to battle for her honor.

she has done this before and knows how scream "ooh, ahh, stop, don't hurt him" and then she would jump on the muscle bound man's back as if to try to stop him from beating the pulp out of some innocent victim she coerced into the scene. but really she just wants
a better view of the violence,
the punches being thrown
the nose being broken
the lip being split
and the blood covering the victims face.

That's what she likes the most the blood, her man never loses and even if he did she wouldn't care as long as there was blood.

Steps closer....

and the two men are now face to face, just staring,.. as the tension builds, the woman begins her act and she knows that blood is sure to follow.

As if on cue the muscle bound man says "What are you looking at?"


The equally as large man takes a good long, death-defying, look at the woman exhales in the ecstasy of her beauty and says "the controlling Bitch next to you".


The mall went dead silent and the woman is breathless. She cannot believe the gall, the absolute rudeness of his comment. Having never rehearsed this scenario, she was at wits end with what to do next, she was utterly speechless, her mind was reeling, searching for the next thing to do.


Then in a split second she imagined how this would play out, her muscle bound man will be so infuriated that there might be more than just blood. This time there may be broken bones, shattered ribs or even death.


That thought of the sound a broken bone makes, or the vision of the broken bone ripping through the flesh and the limb bent in an unnatural way, was a turn-on like she had never felt before.
The anticipation of what was about to happen was so intense,
the blood
the pain
fear
broken bones
on-lookers screams
filled her with a rush of pleasure like no other.


She started crying the heartless tears of a crocodile-the ones that best control the muscle bound man-and runs at the equally as large man swinging fists wildly.


The equally as large man just stood there as she attempted the attach and she just bounced into him and fell onto the ground.
Then she screamed "My wrist, ... you broke my wrist" as she turned around to be sure to see the first blow that she knew would take place.
She continued with her best tears "He broke my wrist,..... KILL HIM". She knew what would be coming next, the blood and pain all because of her.

Because of her honor.

And as if in slow motion she sees the muscle bound man draw his fist back, to land that first mighty blow and she is tingling with excitement, fulfillment of her fantasies of a moment ago about to be realized.

The muscle bound man takes a step forward and gives the equally as large man a hug saying "thanks dude you were right she is a controlling bitch." The muscle bound man turns to the woman on the ground, who is no longer crying and says "I am breaking up with you" and the two men walk to the local pool hall to have some beers.

The woman still on the ground, almost everyone that walks past, looks at her, and has something to think about or something to whisper about.

jigsaw

and one day
The jigsaw puzzle disappeared.


He worked hours on them, some a few hundred some a few thousand pieces, one had more pieces than I could calculate, but it measured 4 feet by 6 feet, it was an Old World Map.


I imagine him putting together pieces of the puzzles
the care in gluing on a back, making a custom frame and sealing the front as if it were a rare piece of art that needed to be restored and preserved.

So many pieces sought-for and placed, but not-a-one had feelings. They were all pieces of colored card board. Cardboard is so much more predictable than humans.


Working for hours on putting the little pieces of cardboard into a predefined pattern,


and relishing in the incredible accomplishment,


yet ignoring and hiding from the pieces of his life that really mattered,.....




Me,


.... his child.

diplomatic

And I digress,

a moment ago I was here
Palpable,..
Palpable to others and now the point i make is lost
the wonder of my story is lost - all my
experience and knowledge wasted

Wasted, but I see it not
but I see it not.

and so I go on droning on and on and on and on
and on and I am oblivious to the way I am received by the audience
my pearls of wisdom lost and I know it not.

and someone so diplomatic, gently pulls me back

"hey dude, what the hell are you talking about?

little town

the only traffic signal in 50 years is down town now.
people crowding around looking in in amazement as the Mayor makes his debut

traffic in all four directions is stopped,
funny how something meant to make things better must sometimes stop that which it intends to fix.

the young kids play in the streets feeling daring, because they know they are not allowed to.

the housing developer looks at his contribution and sees the many many dollars he will earn.

the original residents, don't understand what is about to happen to their sleepy little town.

The teenagers, can't wait to try to run the red light in the middle of the night.

and no one sees that this is the end of their little town, first is traffic signals
then a library
then a park
the oldsters will die and young families will visit, but soon leave.

Leaving the town a shell of nothingness. where the traffic light will blink, directing the no one that still lives in the little town, that had one traffic signal in over 50 years.

decree of relationship

The house is slowly emptying and it starts to be very very real.

I leave the collection of matchbox cars in the display case, the other five shelves are empty except the outline of dust where other collections once were. Some hope of magic or ritualistic-superstition where as long as something is displayed we belong here.

The cat rubs up against my leg as if to console me.

The dog that used to live here, the one that I rescued, that followed me from room to room. The one I take--I mean took, for walks. She caused at least as much delight as anything else in my life. Mixed, of course, with lots of frustrations, which I have just started to realize that I miss the frustrations also. But she will be better off at another house, my words sound very convincing both to myself, and people that don't know the truth. - This is the home that she loves and...


Boxes of things ready to ship to thier owners. Seems like a waste to ship schoolbooks not looked at for years, but it needs to be gone, this house needs to be empty and soon.

Fixing the holes in the walls, fixing that towel rack that has been broken for the last,... last, ..

Oh,....

Oh my, Its been 5 years, since it was originally broken.

...... I can't believe it has been that long.

Each room has its boxes half packed, chaos every where I look, as if I must wait till the last minute to keep on display all the meaningless shit we've collected over the years.


The garage is empty now, no need for a lawnmower if you are not going to have no lawn,
no need for a shop-vac if you can't have a workshop.
We keep the golf clubs and bicycles although I don't think that they have not been used for, for.. 5 years, I still can't believe its been that long.


The kids are grown, some in living in other states, the others in college, they are adults now they'll be OKay, this will be good for them. When they visit it will be cozy in the a two bedroom apartment, they really don't need this big empty lonely house, where there were many a teenage slumber party, where once the older boy had that party that got out of control the weekend we were at a resort relaxing. We came home to beer cans in the front yard, teenage boys all over the house asleep or passed out, and that HUGE drum set that was in our living room.

But those are kids memories, the house is just a large, empty, sadness echoing chamber.


This is life, an experience to grow from, they'll be OK.



,... how come my words don't sound so convincing?




Today is the 30th day after the decree of divorce, a relationship that started to end 5 years ago.

one on one

Mom's been working long hours this week.

Daycare is OK and my friends are fine, but I really like my mom.

She said that this Sunday is a special day, something called "Mother's day", and that she would let-me take-her out to lunch (I'm only 4 so I really can't pay for it myself).

I reminder her every night just as she tucks me in "happy mud'ders soon, mommy"
and she says "yes just me and you, this Sunday"
I go to sleep safe and secure.

Then finally the day is here, she buckles me into my car booster seat and off we go. We sit in a booth, she pulls out some crayons and coloring books and I think "we are going to color together how great is that, this will be a special day"

We place our order, I am coloring and she is helping, not doing it right, but she's my Mom so I let her color as she wants. Then her cell phone rings and she answers it I ask "who is it Mommy, who?"

She ignores me to talk on the phone, then her laptop comes out,...


I feel:
confused,
unloved,
I put on my best pouting face and almost full on tears face and she doesn't even see it.



I drop a crayon on the floor just to crawl under the table, she sometimes yells at me when I do that, ..nothing.


I knock over my soda, but the lid stops the impending mess. Then I played with the ketchup and salt and pepper and sugar, she waved at me as if to stop, but kept her eye on her laptop.


I didn't know what to do, this was our "special day", I was feeling alone.


I saw that she had some french fries still on her plate, so I reached across the table to get some.




The next thing I know she hangs up her cell phone and turns her laptop over and is screaming "you stupid idiot, can't we just sit here and enjoy being out together, why did you spill the soda in my laptop, you always do something to ruin the day."



I sit there defenseless against the words and energy
confused
hurt
scared
little
tear in my eyes (but not too much I know better)

the barber

Paranoia,

Over there that teen, the way he looks at me, he knows what I'm thinking
what I'd do with that,...that hair it needs to be cut and

I, I am a barber I would
get him in my chair and adjust it so he is nice and secure,..
tie the smock around his neck nice and tight so tight a hair's breath couldn't escape,..

Then I'd soak him down with lotion so I could see the glistening flesh of his,..

his,.. his scalp this way I'd have an idea how he would look with really short hair. That young smooth look.

Then snap some pictures for the before and after portfolio book of mine.

Then I'd pull out my tool and start in on him,..

Snip here, snip there slowly he would succumb to my greatness and like what I am doing,
he's already paid the price he came to me, so he must want it...his hair cut that is.

And I'll be careful to not leave any marks on his delicate body, no sense spoiling the view.

But the after picture will show a changed person.

And when done, I guess I'd have to clean up, very unsanitary all that hair and sticky mess.

I am a very exclusive barber, no storefront, very low-key, word of mouth, "by special invite only"

The young companion in my car, sees my next customer, and hops out to convince him that I am the best, my companion does it because I started as his barber when he was very young.

truth?

The emptiness fills my existence, Again.

Routine has taken over, nothing matters,  I am going to die any way so why not today.

A slow stressful existence why is life so valued?

I kill nothing but eat
food is death consumed
but life has value??  how can it, if it is so short and useless,

The church has a bazaar-sale and the 10 yr old boy direct traffic as if it is important.
The raffle-ticket seller sells ticket
the junk of people's lives displayed for the price of 1, 2, or 5, sometimes more.
the kids run and play while the adults feel embarassed by their behavior.

And I am recognized as an outsider, and asked if I want to attend this church, other members uninvited to the conversation agree that this is a great place, "we have a great pastor", then others continue on, do you live in "the truth".

I turn away, thinking to myself, the glowing smiling faces of these people is sickening.

the bumper stickers say:
"prayer is the most important time"
"he loves you"
"its not a choice its a life"


that last one especially gets me,  so very easy to be a narrow minded opinionated individual, much harder to see life for what it is.
the single mom neglecting her child
the dad that beats his kids because he was beat
the drug addict that sells her 12 yr old to some man for a few bucks
the homeless child that was given life, only to have their parent abandon them.

Ignore the horrors but keep your opinions, 
go to church where other narrow minded indivduals can agree with you.
let your preacher tell you what to think
trust the bible has never changed languages nor that the meaning of words do not change over time.


I thank you, your stupidity gives me a reason to live; because I, in my opinionated way, will argue with you and talk to you until one day you too will see the truth. 

two questions

I saw an amazing looking person
nice looking shirt, with a great fit
pants that showed off their better parts
but I noticed that the cuff of their pants tattered and torn
and their shoes were those plastic things wore down to almost nothing

The person was young, an adult, but a very young adult. Their face was smooth as was their arms, with none of the tell-tale sores of certain drug use.

But definitely had the look of a run-away,
fresh out from safety
scared
alone
friendless
walking slowly aimlessly
lost


And my mind flashed to thoughts of nudity and bodies holding each other in ecstasy. then common sense ruined any chance of full on fantasy.

In front of the sandwich, I saw a deep sigh and a head hung low, as pockets were searched finding nothing. A gray cloud of despair spoiled an otherwise perfect face.

I in an act never before done, I walked up and asked "Are you hungry?"

The response was a hesitant "yes" mixed with fear of the price I would ask in return.

I ignored the fear, pulled out a couple of $20's and said lets go eat.

Slowly we both went inside, with some encouragement and flashing of funds to reassure that all I want to do is help.

Sandwich orders were placed and we ate.

During the conversation I discovered the deep dark secret for this run-away, to leave the safety of home.

I said all the right things to reassure that I was OK, and just want to help, trying to gently push this person to come home with me so I could see that body, of course, was Not on my mind :-)

After belly full, tiredness, the emotional release, and a new-found "friend" weakened their will and agreement to come home with me was not hard. I guess I really was in full control of the situation.


After a few nights of honorable behavior by me,
I bought some new clothes and threw away the tattered pants an shoes,
and found myself, actually liking maybe even loving this person
all of which killed my plans to totally take advantage of the situation.


So this becomes a love story, we laugh together, live together, cry together as we grow together. a one in a million shot at happiness that started, when I wanted to get into the pants of some run away.


Thanks for reading, but before you go, two questions, we'll call it reading comprehension questions:


Is the run-away a man or a woman?



Does it really matter?

comparisson value

A snap shot into four peopl talking/comparing at different points in life:

Kid #1. Well my dad once saved my brothers life.
Kid #2. My dad knows a famous movies star.
Kid #3. My dad is so important at work, he has a pager. (author's note: a pager was an electronic device that could only receive a phone number, these pre-date cell phones and text messaging)
Kid #4. My dad knows over 100 people.

I have value because I am my parents child.

Kid #1. I can run faster than you can.
Kid #2. Well I can lift more weight than you.
Kid #3. I can do the monkey bars quicker than both of you.
Kid #4. I can hold my hand like Mr Spok.

I have value because I have a body that can do.


preteen #1. See this scar here on my finger, well I got it while carving a piece of wood and it slipped, it nearly cut my finger off.
preteen #2. Oh yeah, well this scar here on my ankle happened when a picture frame fell apart and the sheet of glass landed right there, I almost lost my ankle
preteen #3. Well, I have a scar on my butt, I was Ice skating and fell and jammed the end of the blade square in, imagine if I lost my butt.
preteen #4. See how this finger is just a stub, I lost it because another kid was pretending to cut me with hedge sheers and actually cut me.


I have value because my body can be damaged.


young adult #1. a while ago I was walking to the store one day and a man, just for a moment, blocked my way and opened up his jacket and said want a lick.
young adult #2. When I was about 10 I had a teenage boy lured me into the woods so he could 'touch me'.
young adult #3. I had a baby sitter that made me watch and touch her as her and her boyfriend had sex.
young adult #4. My Mother used to come into my room at night so she could 'touch me'.

I have no value because I can be damaged deep inside and am now a victim.

adult #1. I was able to go in a quiet room put a pillow over my head and cry
adult #2. I was able to cry in front of a therapist
adult #3. I once cried, while sitting in the corner of a busy store
adult #4. It would hit me like a wave, whenever or where-ever I was, I would just cry


I am gaining value because I am facing my pain.


1 I live life for the most part, OK, with "moments" of depression.
2 I live life for the most part, OK, with "moments" of fear and distrust.
3 I live life for the most part, OK, with "moments" of feeling-dirty, scared and alone.
4 I live life for the most part, OK, with "moments" of sadness so overwhelming all I can do is sit in my recliner with a towel over my head.

I have value because my life is OK, with "moments."
There are some that the "moments" are their life.

change for

And the boy turned to a man years ago
but today he turned,...

Responsible

and with it came a flood of the suppressed
fear
anger
pain
love

and the seriousness of it all weighs heavy on the new father.
how small and vulnerable
how helpless
the little ones are.

What if he gets it all wrong?

Stuck in the present no way to turn back time.
Tears withheld for self disappointments


Openness offered and accepted
work still to do
hard
rewarding
work, still, to do.


no chip to transfer life experiences

only self
to show for
to love for
to share for
to discipline for
to care for
to laugh for
to cry for

Sometimes a lonely experience, but this time not.

He waited, and is with his life partner for this very emotional event.
planned for.
excited for.

and now that it is here, they realize how they must now
change for.

New shoes

I picked up Johnny from school and told him that we needed to swing by the store
I needed to exchange some shoes.

he said: "Oh OK, how come?"
I said there is something wrong with the leather insoles either that or the socks.
My foot slides inside the shoe and it is a little bit uncomfortable.

So dad, our assignment tonight is to find out how we can help out in our community.

"The socks were the best the store had, some blend of synthetic and bamboo."

Do we do anything to help our community?

"You'd think that shoes that cost $500 and sox that cost $25 for the pair would be better."

Billy's said that he and his dad were going to a soup-kitchen, whats that?

"I know its a hassle going to the store and there are things you want to do, but its the right thing to do, this damn traffic, we are going nowhere fast."

Hey dad look

"I sure hope the store clerk gives me a hard time I'd love to take this to the manager, that will show you how to deal with people."

Dad, whats with that guy on the side of the road?

"Oh, damn it looks like its going to rain, I sure hope it holds off till at least we get in the store."

His clothes are a mess and torn and dirty.

"In this traffic we haven't moved an inch, maybe we won't go to the store."

His face is so grimy and dirty, and

"No, no matter what, we will go to the store, giving up now will be a bad example for you."

His fingers, it looks like he is missing some, dad do you know why?

"This is not just rain, its an absolute downpour, well, the store has a valet, so will use that to keep from getting too wet. your old man's pretty smart huh Johny?"


He is just standing there in the pouring rain, why doesn't he go home?

"Its important to stand up for your rights, eh son, the shoes should be comfortable the second you put them on."

Dad, hey dad, why does that man have duct tape on his feet instead of shoes?

"After I exchange these lousy shoes, how about I buy you that new "i-something-or-another" that was just released."

"So, what did you learn to day Johnny?"

turn left part 2

I got tired of being harassed by my parents all the time for the failing grades, even though I knew it could take but one weekend to catch up for the last 8 weeks, it just wasn't fun any more. Jerry thought it was the only way to live.

For me the drug usage stopped, except of course for pot, but that's not a drug no matter what the gov't says. Jerry continued.

Once, I swear, he took speed cut too heavy with rat poison, because the next morning he was doubled over in pain for hours after he woke up. I pleaded with him to just stick with pot. "man I'll get you speed to catch up at school, but,... Please don't buy from that guy again"



A few weeks later, I was going to spend the weekend at his house and he showed me a baggie of multi colored pills.

I asked "where'd you get those from"
"a new guy, over by the school" he said

"dude that's a lot of pills, where'd you get the dough?"

"he gave me free samples to see what I liked the best" said Jerry proudly.

We did not know what was what, or which was which, we knew some would bring us down, some would pick us up mix the right ones together you will feel both at the same time. Mix the wrong ones together and you could die.


"Jerry, just flush them man I got both Sensimilla and Red Hair you'll be flying after a few bongs."

"Yeah, but I want something different" he said.


I pleaded "man speed's OK. You don't know what's in there, remember what you got a few weeks ago, how do you know one of those is not real poison?" I then said "I'm sorry man, but I can't be here while your doing that, please just flush them don't ruin the night"


He spit out at me "man as fucked up as your life is you should be diving in, anything in here has got to be better than that hell hole you call home, don't be a scarred little fuck!"


I left his house and turned away from him and away from my house.


After wandering around for most of the night and with no place to go, I climbed in to his bedroom window, the one that from inside looks like it is locked, but he and I "fixed it" so it wouldn't lock, to get some sleep. We both woke up about noon.

I asked him what color pill and how did it feel and are you going to flush the rest. I really don't remember his response. The years of propaganda had sunk in I knew that pills is a bad way to go.


I told him, maybe out of fear, maybe out of responsibility, that I can't do unknown pills and that I gotta get out from my parents and that bag of pills won't get me, and if keep on taking them, you will eventually get me to take them and I can't let that happen.

I said in a quiet almost cracking from tears voice "I don't want to lose you Jerry"

He said "don't be such a downer,......its Saturday morning, we gotta enjoy the now, hell you could die at tonight's river bottom party"

And with that he went to his little baggie of pills and took two more, and swallowed them in front of me, in what felt to me like absolute betrayal.

My heart stopped beating and I nearly puked.

I had just lost my first real friend.

He kept me alive in fights, got me out of harm, got me laid for the first time, and now he is going down a road that I can not.

I felt helpless and scared and alone, very very alone.

With nothing else to do, I went out his front door and turned left to go home.

The lie

so in a restaurant a waitress needed to leave
her dad is in the hospital and may not make it much longer.

her body shook with the intense emotions of fear.
And tears fell as the sadness, so stifling takes over.
she inhales and stands up strait as if she was going to
serve customers

then conflict fills her
tell boss !
go to dads side !
clock out !
Gotta go !
Collect tips !
Gotta GO!


Then the cycle starts again she says frantically
" I gotta go"
then heads over to the time clock
"it wont, LET me punch out"
"stupid thing won't let me punch OUT"

"I GOTTA GO!!" with tear filled eyes, "and it wont let me leave"
"I gotta Go, My dad need me and this FUcking thing wont let me clock OUT!!"

Coworker comes to her rescue "Don't worry about clocking out, Just Leave! Go To the Hospital and be with your father"

The chaos felt by the waitresses was huge.

The greatest lie smacked her unexpectedly and hard and she was not ready.
fear
panic
disbelief
all at once and others.

Reality strikes.





People die.

She saw it on TV,
Talked about it with her customers many times before.

The street person that died yesterday meaningless to her, she joked how she did not understand how the bum froze to death "as much dirt as he had on him it should have insulated him" ha ha ha

The boy that starved to death when his crack head mom abandoned him, and she said that his life would be better dead, than a life of misery and drugs.

The person tied up and tortured and killed days later - in reality meaningless to her, she says "your body goes into shock and you don't feel the pain after a while"


Death is all around,
yet she lied it actually existented,
lied about grief by making jokes
Lied to herself of the horrors just before death.


But somehow she thinks that her dad dying is different.
Like his death is important and meaningful.
So important that she can ignore the customers at the restaurant and add workload to her co-workers by leaving early.


Somehow her dad in the hospital is more important than anything else in her life.


and three weeks or a month from now she will lie to herself once again that death doesn't really happen, except of course smacked up side the head when the waves of memories of her now dead father overwhelm her.

who am I

Everyone that meets me has a different view.

some think I can do no wrong,
some see compassion
some see intelligence
some see thoughtfulness
some think I am just and fair
some feel a profound love from me

some feel pain caused by my hand
some feel confused by me
I keep you captive
say things to confuse
cut you shallow
sometimes cut you deep
sometimes I find you as a child and ruin any chance of childhood
sometimes I go after your kids or grand-kids
sometimes I go after your friends or neighbors
sometimes I find you as a strong adult, and crush you, maim you, make you plead for life.
and sometimes I just kill you because I tire of you.

Fortunately I don't kill too many of you.

Like the tortured, kidnapped victim, you will lose all hope in life.
But,.. I need you alive, so I ease up, soften or stop the blows.
Let you get comfortable with the lack of pain.

You thank me for being nice, and letting you live, when others have died.
When actually i am just resting it takes a lot of energy to ruin your life.

You start believing that.... "No Pain Means, Pleasure".


I may let you go and find another victim,
I may keep you,
Either way it will take years to accept what I have done to you

Maybe I should have killed you,.. it would have been more humane.


The ripple effect of my actions will profoundly affect everyone in your life.

They will cry, they may scream,

They will no doubt curse me for what I did to you.

You too will curse me for what I did.


If anyone else did what I did you would also want revenge.
(side note - people call it "justice", but its really revenge-you'd want me to suffer and burn in HELL.)
-- Fortunately it is I, and not someone else.


Then your humanity kicks in and you accommodate what has just happened.


Others in your life will help you minimize the horror I inflicted.


Then somehow you, and those in the ripple effect, will God-willing, get to a healthy-acceptance.


You will see the good that came out of it, and know that you and others are better people for experiencing the horrors.


In the acceptance you may say "thank God for being a fair and just God, and letting you live, when others have died" or "I could not have gotten through this were it not for His love"



And in some perverse sense of everything that is Wrong you will love Me, and think I am fair and just for the tortures I inflict on all corners of the world.



Who am I?

cloudy day

and there is so much to do
I am handicapped by myself
Going through clothes in storage
finding them moldy and musky-smelling

like the old man that lives alone in his clutter
overwhelmed
sad
waste

everywhere I look is something,
something to fix
something to clean
something to build
something to throw out
something not done!


I look at the past and I see failure
financial, emotional, spiritual, physical
all elements have failure
failure a judgement word I feel
judged
judge poorly
depressed
despair
demoralized
a grey cloud hangs on me
the weather echos my feelings
there is really nothing left but pain
I am too strong so my monster is no help
just pain
regret
overwhelmed
pain







I find myself on the floor puking a cocktail of poisons,






Apparently I'm a failure in attempted death also.

Gone

"I can't look" she says.



as the humane pretend


the Nazi continue on

men work
boys work or die
other boys, girls and women, well you know

"to unspeakable" so they say

say nothing.
its not real (I hope)


why?
how can we stop?

profound suffering
pain
horror


but it just a job
to torture
to shatter
to abuse


and we say nothing
fear
fear of torture
fear of power
fear of death


and we say nothing

but some messages do survive

and we learn nothing because it is "to unspeakable"

and we learn nothing because there is no excitement
no fantasy
no video games
no talk shows
no mindless entertainment


just reality to unspeakable

so it will repeat

congratulations

Damn
I did it again
my self worth hinging on another

excited anticipation
contoled.
crashed,
dashed

the overseer had their reasons

and for over two days I am
crushed.
dejected
ruined

then settle for sets in
its better than nothing
its better than others
its better,...

but deep inside I bury the truth

and to avoid the pain I seek escape
music
pictures
words
self
others
sleep
TV
chores
anything but to think of the torment
feel the pain of disapointment.

i have no escape

except to accept and confrom
conform
tell others how great it is

conform

be "normal"

I am happy now, I must be because everyone says:

"Congratulations"

although I still hear the complete sentence

"congratulations, at least you got something not as much as others less than you, less than half of what you deserve"

"congratulations, Steve"

Soup kitchen

And a good man's heart is heavy with sacrifice and pain
he stays hot and sweaty all summer,
cold and in pain all winter.
he lives in darkness with a thin layer of grease
a thin layer of grease all around

his claim to fame?
He is alive.

and hot and greasy bombarded by noise relentlessly
accepted?
Resigned?
Given up?
no
No,
NO!

He sees the bigger purpose
Helping others.

Help the sheep -- the ones with no initiative
The masses that don't want help.

and hope that a few do want
want to be helped
want to succeed
want to live

he wants to help the peoples, the peoples
the peoples that are hungry when they go to sleep
the peoples that are hungry when they wake up.
they hurt so bad, the need to escape the pain.

The pain of years gone bad, the pain of being stepped on.
so they self medicate, it is easier to escape than feel the hunger.

and he wants to help the people.
"when you are hungry that is the only thought you have,
you feel it so deep,
it creates hopelessness,
it lives and controls your thoughts and feelings
it hurts so bad that you can't think
it makes strong men cry
and mothers die."

and the thought
"we choose where we want to be"
some conscientiously -- like Louis who lives at the soup kitchen.

some through their mistaken beliefs and victim posture -- like all the people he tries to help.

hmm vanilla

yes grandpa I want ice cream
and we sit down to eat.

He explains to me his Lego x-wing fighter and other craft he created.
showing me the turns and how fast they can go
who the good guys are and the bad.

his excitement and pride in accomplishment expressed, he takes the first bite
and with pure honesty and a little surprise he says, "hmmmmm Vanilla."

Those words evoke in me
pleasure
gratitude
pride
closeness

Feelings I have never felt before with such intensity.

that moment, that very special moment
the innocence
the real
the taste
the smile

Hmmmm Vanilla.

procession

It felt solemn and quiet today.

and the and the 13 year old in the back seat of the car trying to escape the boredom tries to put music to his ears, but was denied that needed pleasure.

His parents talked to him of
respect
custom
being proper
avoidance of being looked down upon by the others.
conformity

But He saw they felt
uptight
slightly sad
slightly bothered
and
huge sense of duty.


and his parents trying to justify their decision to keep him from his music, show him how one of his friends two cars ahead is sitting up straight and proper, and looks like he is actually talking to his parents.

and they boy sees how the car directly ahead, and directly behind have "old People" that don't look very happy.

and he knows that his friend two cars ahead, is trying to get on his parents good side so they will let him spend the night even though he got detention at school this week.

Neither of them wear ties too terribly often, just special occasions, he does not find it comfortable, and he thinks to himself; these pants are TOO TIGHT. Who ever heard of wearing your pants around your waist AND a belt, I feel like i'm going to smother to death.

"Mom I'm Freaking Dying in these pants" he screams.

She looks back and says "Poor choice of words, young man, especially where we are going"

"Sorry, Mom, Its just weird today, all of us heading the same place at the same time what did you all it?.... like a Procession?"

"Yes dear procession, and when we get to the church, stay with us don't run off with your friend. And please, Please, Please let us do the talking especially if someone says they have not seen us for a while."

Fortunately they sit close to his friend that was two cars ahead of them, and the service begins.

No texting allowed, so they resort to whispers.



"God this is boring..."


"Why is that woman crying?"


"I can't wait till the Easter egg hunt."

regret created

As the girl looks out the back of the car watching as Scott rushes into his dark empty house, she sees his slightly hunched over body heave up as he enters the front door.

And her mom asks her "is everything alright with him, he seemed quiet even for Scott." but before the girl could answer the driver of the car, in his logical way says to his wife "dear he is just a teenager, he has no normal"

The wife retorts "Why do you always interrupt, I wasn't talking you, Damn-it Can't I have a civil conversation with my daughter, without 'Mr. Logic' interfering,..."

and he says "don't start with that again"

She continues "well its true you are as cold as a stone, and your world is this perfectly arranged, bore, there is more to life than logic, what did the Doctor say?"

He reacts: "Can't you just leave well enough alone, why do you always bring that into every conversation, Damn it, you are such a Bitc..."

And the wife cuts the insult off before it is completed "not in front of our daughter"

He says "she knows we fight, its normal for people to argue"

The car becomes quiet, and the short drive home seems to take hours, the girl's let her iPod battery go dead, so she did not have her normal escape.

With no escape she looked back on the argument that just happened, and could not remember where it began,

What was that first question?

What was the words that turned it ugly?

When will we get home this it taking for ever... but, tonight was a good night we all had some great fun.
Picking on Scott, he was-like in such a mood tonight.
hiding from him in that one store.
pretending I wanted to kiss him.
John yanking on his pants, we didn't know we'd get to see so much :-)
Making fun of the middle schoolers trying to be Goth.
Pretending to get into a fight with Emily, it shocked even me when she pushed me into that display, knocking down all of those neatly stacked boxes then called me a bitch so loud that everyone in the store turned to look at us.
Flattening the tire of the security guards golf=cart.
Booby-trapping the salt shakers at that restaurant.
John kissing Ben on the lips on a dare. I found that so hot I had to do the same to Ben, and gave his butt a little squeeze as I slipped my tongue where just a minute ago John had his tongue.
Playing with the puppies in the pet store.


Finally, we are home, I can't wait to get out of this mobile cage. And with total predictably, Dad goes to the garage to watch TV and have a few beers, and mom and I have a night cap of milk and some delicious chocolate cake.

I tell her of my night, but not everything, of course, and as the conversation has longer pauses, I ask her what started that fight in the car?

She said "I'm not exactly sure dear, things sometimes are more important than they appear." after a short pause "All I really remember is after we dropped Scott off I asked you is Scott was OK, he seemed unusually quiet tonight?"

and the girl responded, "he was just Scott, maybe a little quiet, he kept on getting some in his eyes 'cause a couple of times tonight I saw them tearing up"

They cleaned up their plates and turned in for the night.

The next morning the group of friends were texting ferociously of the latest news and the girl in front of her mom, while reading a text exclaimed
"Oh My GOD, that cant be"
and she immediately called the sender of the text, and hopped online to read it for herself,


and the girl begins to cry.


and calls her her mom over to see the horror that took place while they slept.




The headline read:




"TEENS No Longer Allowed in the Mall"

alone

and the one alone in the crowd of his peers
conflict - full.
home life stress
peer social shit
choices too hard for one so young
he seeks escape

tears held under the surface no one sees his pain
he is alone.

alone
alone in a crowd of peers
family strife hidden deep
the tears dare not come
not now! not when he is at the mall with his friends
but one or two still fall.
the group ill-equiped to see the danger does nothing.

alone
his crowd now gone he is left with only one other
her compassion spent on the goodbyes to the group of peers
she sees none of his fears, nor the one tear he can't hold back.

Alone
the crowd driven home by their respective parents.
he does not have parents tonight so he goes with
the one girl left and her parents.

he let slip one hint but the parents heard it not,
and real conversation is not spoken.

Alone
last hope driven off with their daughter in the back seat.
Tears deep inside begin to freely flow with each step to his front door.

Alone
no drugs left, his parents stash empty, they found his and used it all up
no friends to help
this feeling must not live longer than this night.

Plan set
the tears finally stop
calm replaces the pain
The cold feeling as blood fills the tub makes him feel alone.

words have meaning

And the adult victim tries her Healing hand on her childhood tormentor

A sense of duty,

a sense of caring.


And the adult stealer of childhood says "you bitch,"

"you bitch," to show his appreciation!?

And the adult woman hears it not,

And the younger male whose childhood was also lost is helpless to protect,

To teach, to expose that the abuse that still goes on.

Goes on, but has changed from traitorous night time behavior, to day time ruinous words.

Physical to mental.

The rules are set and the old man says it is easier to be depressed.

sorrow for the past

I regret the past
Using the present me, the learned me, the experienced me.


I sorrow for the past
Using the confident me, the middle aged me, the empathetic me.


I long for the past
Using the complicated me, the regretful me, the responsible me.


And I consult with two others to see if they feel as I do,


The 23 year old agrees with me, as if the truth of the world was just placed before him and jumps up and says "that’s amazing"


The 75 year old agrees with me as if an old wound was just cut open and he says to me in a somber voice, filled with many heartaches "you are correct young man"

name calling

And the little boy in the big boys body,..

so very upset,

Runs to his momma for comfort and protection.
Scared
Hurt
Physical damage?

No

But the pain just as real.
Momma tries her best to comfort using the tried and true, but utterly useless phrases
"don't let them get to you",
"just bury it",
"What they say doesn't matter"
"sticks and stones,.."

And the boy feels of failure,
confused,
hurt
inept
useless
defenseless
helpless

Momma says it doesn't matter, but the little boy feels it so strong

confused. He just holds back the tears welling from deep inside.

A wet fagot

with a title like that what do you expect?

bash?
trash?
support?
claim?
identify?
jest?

be warned this may offend you, but maybe not, they are just words.

If you are the average person, then, YOU DON'T KNOW what THOSE words Mean.

Words lie! That is hard for me to say.

Words are so important to me, and crafting them together to express emotions keeps me sane, but words lie, cheat and change.

Well words don't change themselves but HOW they are used and WHEN they are used change. So people do it.

We all know that in about 1920 if you were a 'gay fellow' or having a 'gay old time' it meant a happy thing, now kids use the phrase "that's gay" to show displeasure in 'that'. Please note that there is no sexuality in either usage of "that" word.

If Fearful is full of fear, is awful full of awe?

and what is a Banger?


What is a Mash?


Then what is a headbanger, it certainly could not be some one that listens to Metallica.


And whiskey and scotch are made from what? potatoes?


People go on about how its "in the Bible," read the bible, go to your religious leader or go to a bible study group.
I can't, I've tried a few times but the words, I know the words lie.

Written down after the fact,
You know, of course, there were many, many more writings that were not included (look up "canon of scripture").
Its original words and language are not even around today.

So we have a translation of a language no longer around, to a language currently around, though generations of people without photocopiers.

While all of this is going on words are changing.
Changing meaning, (Kleenex or a tissue?)
changing usage, (Tissue as in toilet paper?)
change spelling (cheque, or check, color or colour)

So those religions that rely on written word, rely upon lies, or at the very least, relying on a person to interpret something correctly, not comfortable with that, then relying on the ever changing usage of words.

Rely on others to interpret for you, are you OK with that?

Thats it, I'm off my soapbox, you can choose to blindly follow the interpretations of others, or not, either way you should choose based on information not emotional dogma that has been forced down your throat since before you could talk.

One more thing:
You should stop lying to yourself as quickly as you would pull a wet fagot out of the fire.


Fagot (pronounced [fag-uh t]
-noun
a bundle of sticks, twigs, or branches bound together and used as fuel [such as in a fire], a torch, etc.

best friends

hey buddy

your my best friend we have been through good and bad.
lying to our parents so we could go to that party.
ran from the cops.
slept on the streets.
snuck into that abandoned house to steal the copper.
that threesome that lasted all night, man i can still feel the tingling.
we get high together.
and take care of each other.

but now we have come on some hard times.
food and drugs are so scarce
we are both just skin and bones, we need food.
haven't showered for a month now.
no place to live
no friends to let us crash
no wheels
the shelters are always full by the time we get there.

Just you and me buddy, we'll get through we always do.

hey I have a plan,
lets steal some bikes from some kids find an empty house
sell the copper
then pawn the bikes
meet up at the flophouse then I'll go shopping.

worth the $10 to spend the night here, huh Buddy.
at least we are dry and warm :-)
while waiting for the the shower lets dig into my shopping

I couldn't get as much as we wanted, but we can make it last.
hey buddy take it easy, its like we are both starving here,
we need to make it last
take only what you need
easy I need my share also
don't over do it buddy
we both need to get our fill.

hey buddy,.
hey buddy, its my turn,
hey, Buddy!

buddy,... buddy,..!!

i TOld You to take it easy,
now you've wasted it,

Fuck!

Damn it!!

I am so mad at you right now

ARRGHHHH!!

Oh man look what you've done now!!

ARRGHHHH!!

You are Dead!

I don't fucking believe it, Your DEAD!!


your really dead.

who the fuck am I going to party with NOw.
you selfish bastard why'd you have to take so much!!
FUCK!!!
WHAt aM I sUposED to do without you?!!

If you were going to die with a needle stuck in your arm the least you could have done is saved me a hit.

What a waste! all that good shit stuck in your dead body.

Hey I see some still in the needle in your arm, you did save me some, thanks Buddy.

Man this is the best I've felt in a long time.