There is only perception

the war on drugs is a good thing

2012-02-06T21:17:00.004-05:00

and the man's little child, dies in his arms
Bruised a little about the head and body
The death certificate will read: "internal bleeding; unknown origin"

the place Afghanistan,
the time now, right now.
A man with not a lot of money and two small children.
Needs more than his meager crop of corn can provide.

drug lords invite him to a meeting.
so much food, he has never seen before.
he drank till he had no thirst,
they gave him food to take to his children

they showed him how well his neighbors do.

they said that if he grew just one crop, he could have enough for his family for two years.

He desperate to provide, agrees, to the deal as stated by the drug lords: "grow and harvest our poppy, and we will pay you handsomely"

they supply the seeds,
he provides all the work and the land,

they check on him weekly
he shows them everything is well taken care of

He hears the local men talk of something called "war on drugs"
The European's and the American's have a problem and they use a group called
Peacekeepers, to help.

He thinks nothing of it, in Afghanistan, Poppy is a good thing,
it feeds the family,
provides schooling for children,
gives farmers enough money to keep their homes in repair.
and if other countries use "Peace keepers" it must not be that bad

three weeks later, he hears a commotion in his fields, he goes to investigate
military vehicles, tanks, and armed men, flank his lands as local police destroy his crops.

Emblazoned on the military vehicles are the initials "U" "N"
...

that week the drug lords show up to check on their crop,
the farmer explains "but... but.. but.... the peacekeepers... not me,... them"

the drug lords having no compassion
seeing only lost revenue
explode

their violence erupts in the mans small shack.
the man's children hide
and they beat him beyond unconscious
and then kick him a few more times

When he awakens his 8 year old girl and 10 year old boy are gone
his lungs on fire from broken ribs
bone sticking through skin of his right arm
his face deformed from the cruelty
as he stands his broken bones in his leg, cause that cause him to vomit and pass out.

hospitals require payment in advance
he has no payment
his bones set by neighbors, may never heal

Three weeks later the message comes
Since YOU let our poppy crop be destroyed we need $20,000
we understand your plight so we will give you two months
$20,000 in two months or we keep your children,...

In a country with such poverty $20,000 is 10 years worth of salary
in such a country, the police are powerless
in such a country, ancient laws make it OK to trade children for debt.
in such a country, outsiders force un-welcomed change.

and to the 8 year old girl they torture very little - fresh, untouched meat on the open market is worth much more than used merchandise.

and to the 10 year old boy, a perfect unblemished piece of wood, that could be sculpted into a beautiful delicate figurine, they instead pound in 6inch spikes,
splintering
deforming
turning wood into paper that is written upon, again and again and again.

The 10 year old boy, is thier favorate toy and played with many times, but then, like all toys he becomes no longer fun he becomes a rag doll with all of its stuffing spilling out.

The boy is thrown from a moving car in front of his fathers house.

the father, thanks his God for return of one of his children,
the boy does not speak of the last month
no doctor will examine for fear of what they will find
no police to call

And two days later the man's 10 year old son, dies in his fathers arms
Bruised a little about the head and body.
The death certificate will read: "internal bleeding; unknown origin"

As the man shuffles back to his beggars spot,
a US reporter asks him if he has heard of the war on drugs,... and does he think it is a good thing?

papa

2012-01-22T08:07:00.002-05:00

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that soon will be upon us

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow heavy

that tsunami of emotions as he takes his last breath

The closeness of three generations, now becomes the grief of two generations.

His life was long, with some deception.

he and his red truck made such accomplishments

his gruff exterior melted the first time his then baby granddaughter needed comforting.

such a long past he had, and yet his death only took a week.

Day One:

He called and asked "I know you'll be here tomorrow, but can you come today?"

A request not heard in the past two years, we say "of course"

...

We arrive all seems normal, but then

but then,..

He tells us of the past,

of past sorrows,

of the past secrets,

and then he tells of present appreciation.

and then he tells of the pain

a pain so incredibly unbearable that a failed suicide caused the phone call.

and we listened, and we jotted down notes of things so important we did not want to lose them

and we convinced him, and took him to the hospital,

Day Two:

Without our knowledge they shove tubes down his throat into his lungs

and poke and prod

and test after test after test after test

many many things not right

and they find lumps in his lungs

and heart barely beating, his legs full of water,..

and I remember 4 weeks ago, he dug a 3foot by 3 foot by 3foot grave for one of his large dogs in Caliche-dirt of the desert, dirt that is hard, hard like concrete.

Day three:

We show the hospital his wishes on death

"no extra ordinary efforts"

"no tubes down throat"

and the lung specialist hears nothing and looks at the lungs

and the heart specialist hears nothing and looks at the heart

and the others look after other organs

they all want to keep their specialty-organ alive,

they so focused on their specialty

treat the organ and not the person

they do not talk to each other about the person

they see only one organ and not the person

not caring of his wishes

not caring that the person is loved

not feeling his readiness for peace they poke and prod.

Day Four:

He fully coherent, demands the tube be removed from his throat.

His great grandchildren visit him for a scant 40 minutes

His grandchildren visit and they talk for most of the day

Day Five:

Fully coherent but tired, I, the son-in-law,

talk with him about death

talk with him about regrets

talk with him about thankfulness

and then he flashes a grin,..

a smile,..

a smile of a 16 yr old boy about to tell his friends he touched a bare breast

and tells me,....

that the night nurse,.....

"is a real looker"

Day Six:

When he was coherent he would say, "why is there a white owl in that closet"

he would drop back to sleep

and when he would awaken again, he would ask us if we saw the white owl, and why is it in the closet of this hospital.

with no logical explanation for him, we said "yes we see it, and it is there to watch over and protect you"

The heart and lung monitor started to jump erratic

and he was a little scared

and wished for parts of the past to have never happened

Day Seven:

Morphine filled his veins, so he was calm and painless, perhaps for the first time in his life he had no pain, no sorrows, no fears.

in the room was his granddaughter, his daughter, and his son-in-law

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow so very heavy

that tsunami of emotions felt by the two generations as the last generation begins his final rest.

daddy

2012-01-01T17:56:00.029-05:00

The sensation of being lifted and swung around by your feet,...

Exhilarating!

Trusting and fearing your daddy's grip on you,.. to protect you, keep you safe.

Faster and faster
you can barely keep your arms crossed on your chest
your shirt crawls up your back.
faster and faster and the floor misses your head by what feels like less than an inch

then he swings you so high it feels like you are flying

you almost forget,

forget that he is mad at you

and the spinning, ends as quickly as he jerked you from your hiding place when he got home from work.

the wall came at you too fast, no time to react.

your face, no match for the plaster, is slightly crushed, and blood pours from your nose

your neck snaps back as your body slams into the wall.

its as if your blood and pain stick you tight to the wall and you slide down, a crimson line seen from across the room marking your decent.

and you, a crumpled mass of childhood flesh, can to nothing but bleed out.

you know to be more concerned about getting blood on the floor than checking for broken bones.

and the words
stupid
useless
lazy
fucking piece of shit

continue the assault as he stomps across the room flipping chairs out of his way.

you try to roll and sit up.,...

you feel the insults emphasized by his boot slamming down on you and bruising your still crossed arms.

words to vicious for one so young, they burst your organs with every kick.

words to hateful for a child, they shred your skin with every drop of blood that comes from your body.

While the assault continues, your need for tears turns inward to become a deafening whimper that only you can hear.

Then you hear silence, like the absolute silence after an atomic bomb has wiped out a city.

His emotion spent at your expense, ...

you get up,...

and, ..

and begin checking.
check to see if you can still see
check for blood on the floor
and check for blood on the wall
check if you can stand up

and then clean up the mess you made.
sit the chairs upright
wipe the blood from the wall
hang up the picture of your grandma that fell, when you slammed into the wall.

when there is no trace of violence in the front room,

you can go to the bathroom,

and clean the dried blood from your long hair,
examine the bruises for bone fragments sticking through, or funny bends that were not there before.

your emotions with nowhere to go, burrow deep,
a deep, one-way tunnel down into your core,
deep so your body does not feel.
deep so you can control the tears
so deep,... that you can survive.

tonight, like every night, you will go to sleep afraid that he will kill you while you sleep.

The next morning comes and you wake up, alive one more day.

You and your mom need to decide if the right clothes will let you go to school, or will she need to call the school and say you are sick.

Your mom tells you to go to bed and she will bring breakfast in a minute.

She tells your 4th grade teacher, you will be sick for the rest of the week, but should feel better by Monday.

You are too sore to move, so you will be in bed all day.

And you are glad that you are bedridden, because today you can't do anything wrong to make your daddy mad at you.

One day

2011-11-19T08:07:00.007-05:00

And the look she gave me when she found out

was a mixture of pain and regret

with disbelief and, of course,..

anger, the anger that turns your vision red
The anger that hides

her the quivering lower lip of dis-trust and the tears of betrayal streaming down her face.

I did not intend to cause her so much pain and so many tears.

I got caught in my addiction.

So many years and weeks and days of

honesty

sincerity,

faithfulness

trustworthiness

shattered and now rent useless.

Cutting into her chest with a razor-sharp wood chisel, slowly stripping the skin off her ribs, would be less painful.

Breaking her exposed ribs one by one, would be less painful.

It was me, piercing her exposed trusting heart, with my selfish behavior

that causes me to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

and it started not too long ago, ....

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,....

Confident in myself, I thought about a short escape from reality.

other people can look,...... once

other people can taste,........... once

it had been so many years since I have done either,

and with the years of accomplishment as my justification,
I believed I was like the other people that can taste,... just,..... once.

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,...

That one day, no one was home, it had been a rough week at work and the family was at one of the kids ball games without me. I was alone and bored.

That day I took a look and had a taste, not too much,.... just enough to time-warp past the boredom.

When the family got home, I was cool,

... and no one knew what I had done.

The family was talking to me, but in the back of my mind, I was playing again and again and again, that secret-feeling, not hearing a word they say, I just wanted that secret-feeling again.

All of a sudden everyone was laughing at what my oldest had just said,

I not listening

missed the humor,

missed the spontaneity of the moment

missed the moment of family love and togetherness.

I laughed, not knowing why, ...
and inside I felt guilty and alone, ...an outsider to my close, loving family.

Just a few hours ago had a small taste and I am now thinking more of that,.

than being with those that I love so much.

The next day, using my self-inflicted guilt I tried to push that secret-feeling away,

but the work too stressful

the traffic too much

the money too little

blended with my guilt.

The secret-feeling wants me and I want it.

Living in the anxiety that makes my head explode I search for relief, and find it in the fantasy of using again.

The fantasy turned into a goal.
With the goal in mind I created a plan,
The plan gave me focus and my anxiety went away and I felt like I had control of my life.

That day, I left work earlier than normal, and got home later than normal.

By the time I got home,
I had missed the dinner table conversations
so I did not have to fake laughing at a missed joke,

By the time I got home,
the kids were in their bedrooms already
so I did not need to look into their precious trusting, crystal clear eyes.

by the time I got home,
the kids were asleep
So I did not have to give them hugs and remember how important they are to me.

by the time I got home,
I could justify just going to sleep
so I did not have to hide the telltale signs of usage from my wife.

I passed out, not feeling the guilt,

I passed out and not feeling the anxiety

I passed out not feeling the love.

I passed out not feeling.

This was the first day that led to me
to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

I put myself here

2011-11-04T20:45:00.005-04:00

And I cant stand the thought,... that I put myself here

choked up

tear filled

stomach wrenching from the pain

pain of longing for

pain of needing

pain of so desperately wanting to be with

one more touch

one more hug

to smell their hair one more time

my very core

and my heart

are now both void and hollow without you.

I can't find enough distractions to ease my pain, to ease my guilt.

The death metal that can rip the skin off my bones as it erupts through my speakers has no effect.

I am numb to the disgust of the cockroaches crawling across my feet.

Numb is all I can hope for,....

my pain,

my agony and

my regret

it is ALL my fault.

I, . . . . . did the abandoning.

I destroyed the utopia, thinking that it would all work out.

The movies always show living happily ever after, our life had been a wonderful storybook, so it should end happily ever after.

but like the only survivor of a plane crash in the desert, it is, I, who tries to survive.

To live one more day.

using images of you,

the hope of seeing you,

the need to hold you and breath you in again

to get drunk looking into your eyes

to hear you laugh, one more time

I the solitary survivor - do what I need to

to live one more day.

and my self inflicted torment makes my sick

food wants nothing to do with me.

something is trying to rip its way out of my chest.

I am suffocating on my loneliness.

The music can't get loud enough.

I can't write enough.

I can't become numb enough to forget

forget the way you can get soooo mad

forget your cute little phrases

forget your never ending smile.

The homeless have shelters.

The suicidal have hot-lines.

But for me there is no help for me while I survive the loneliness.

no help from the repeating thought,

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

The ATL trams brokedown

2011-10-09T10:02:00.003-04:00

the inhumanity of people pushing and shoving
parents dragging children, pushing them to take another step
another step
another step,...
beyond their exhaustion.
the few belongings they can carry are clutched on-to for dear life.

One family forced to decide should they leave their meager belongings or their child 's precious property, those little things that make the child feel safe and secure. The parents have only enough strength for one or the other and no time for compromise, so they choose.
.
.
.

And the back pack that looks like a teddy bear is trampled and kicked around, its guts spilling as the mob runs. Her favorite scarf, her princess tierra, the stuffed toy she has had for the last 3 years spill out of the now dead teddy bear. And I caught up on the horror am about to kick it out of my way when it rolls and looks at me, with one of its eyes now missing, and scuff marks that looks like sad little tears on its precious soft fleece face.

a symbol for what has happened, a lost soul with no one to love it during this most dreadful of times.

but my moment of mourning is broken by a shove and a woman part crying, part screaming with the most dreadful tone imaginable saying "Oh my god I can't believe this is happening to us"

And then I hear the gamut of "God Damn" and "God bless" and "God save us",....... But God has nothing to do with the horor unfolding, even he, the killer of millions, the one that turned Lot's beloved wife to salt, the one that killed David and Bathsheba's baby boy, could not have come up with this torturous day.

Some sit exhausted, they have given up, no fight left in them resigned to the fate that will come.

Some couples urge each other on to break through the wall of exhaustion and get their much needed "second wind"

And a few that chose to shed themselves of their possessions, run, run as if their life depended upon it, refusing to be trampled by the hoard. They dodge in and out of the masses, occasionally pushing someone out of their way and jumping over the little children that wander into their path. They will survive!

the confusion
the disbelief
some just stay frozen in the shock of the moment.

Some people try to maintain civility and politeness and humanity, but such efforts are lost on the too many trying to get through.

The pregnant lady, even she must fend for herself, her impregnater and protector in another town can do nothing to help. Her protruding, soon to be bundle of joy, right now is a horrible encumbrance that threatens her very existence, if she were a kangaroo she could leave her joey to be trampled and in doing so save herself.

And the few entrepreneurs that believe in money, betting that there will be a tomorrow, stake out a corner to sell only the basics, bottles of water, days old sandwiches, anything quick to grab and eat on the run.

Some fearing this be the last nourishment for hours make the purchase. They are frustrated and outraged by the incredibly high prices for such simple items, but there is no time to argue, so they hurriedly pick items pay for them then run away trying to make up for the lost time.

And the ladies with their fashionable shoes finally relent, and for the first time in years walk without heals, walking barefoot, foot flat on the floor, they trip over their pants that are now 4 inches too long, but they soon remember how to walk, and soon they too are running with the crowd.

my life is normal

2011-09-24T08:11:00.005-04:00

my life is normal

i have a mom and a dad that have never lived together

my dad married a new wife, when I was little

and now I have baby sister,

my life is normal

I have two moms and one dad

I get along with my little sister

and now I have a baby brother

so,.. when I'm there its 3 girls to 2 boys

Girls Rule!

I will be 9 in a few months

so at my dad's I get to have birthday cake fiiiivvvee times every year.

my life is normal

I have different rules to follow when I am at my mom's than when I am at my dad's

just like there are rules for when you are at school like (stay in line) that are different from rules on the field trip to the children's museum (go explore, touch everything)

there are rules for when you are in the house, like (USE YOUR indoor voice) then when your outside you can talk normal

just like rules when you talk to adults are different then when you are are playing with your friends.

i have different rules when I am with my mom than when I am with my dad and other mom.

with my mom we have lots of secrets we can't tell my dad,

when I keep those secrets I feel special and important and I need to protect my mom

but with my dad and other-mom, . . . they never tell me to keep secrets

and I feel confused and guilty for keeping secrets

but, my life is normal

I am still in the first grade because I missed so many days of school

at my mom's each week there is a different uncle that visits

sometimes they play too loud all night long and sometimes they get into fights that last all night so,....I don't always get a lot of sleep and can't wake up in time for the bus to school.

the first 10 times I missed the bus I tried waking my mom to tell her so she could drive me to school

but since my mom has been up all night also she can't help me

so,...its really my fault I don't get to the bus stop, no matter how tired i am i really should get to the bus stop

my life is normal

when I go to my dad's

The first thing I have to do is take a bath, my other-mom washes my hair and we talk about the plans for the next few days, and sometimes I splash her with water and she splashes me back, . . . . . . . . once we splashed each other so much the water got on the carpet in the hallway.

I like the way I feel after a bath, my hair feels nice and soft, and the slight scent of soap on my skin, its like i am alive again and have no worries. and can do anything.

I like it when my other-mom brushes my hair as I sit in her lap, and

I really like the hugs and kisses from them both.

my life is normal

when I am at my dad's house they go outside to smoke cigarettes.

when I am at my mom's house she smokes inside the house and when the uncles are there

they smoke out of this big plastic thing that makes a gurgling sound, they sometimes cough and then laugh as they wipe a tear from their eyes,

then some times I see them in the living room putting their head close to the coffee table then sit up, I think they have the sniffles and are sucking it in ,. . . . .

Thats GROSS !

they should use a tissue like my other-mom tells ME to do.

A few weeks ago when we had that earthquake,

they let us out school early and when I got home my mom didn't know so she just slept through me knocking at the door. . . .

Its OK i know she gets tired . .

so,.. I went to my neighbor, they couldnt wake her either. so i just sat on the door step for, i guess 3 hours before she was able to wake up and let me in.

my life is Now NOT normal

for the past few months there's been an adult-my mom doesn't like-asking me and my teachers all sorts of questions, and my two moms stop talking as soon as i come into the room.

I must be in really BIG trouble so I try to be extra good.

I keep mom's secrets

Make it to the bus on time

do my school work and home work

am extra nice to my little sister

I don't know yet what id did wrong but it feels like it must be something really really bad.

my life is Still not normal

my dad and other-mom just told me that "A woman thats a judge helps adults make decisions that in the best interest of the child"

before I could ask "what does THAT mean?" they said that the judge decided i should live with them and not my mom.

then they tell me

I don't need to keep secrets,...

and I'll have a bed time,...

and I'll go to school everyday,...

and I don't have to take care of my mom,...

and that they will take care of me,...

and then I begin to cry,

uncontrollable sobbing and tears stream down my face

but I don't know why I'm crying but I just cant stop

Picasso

2011-09-21T23:57:00.002-04:00

I sit in my room packed full of my stuff
my treasures
my memories
my words
my addictions
my desires
my unfinished
my books (owned and borrowed)
my very being

and I reflect on all the good I have done
and I regret all the bad I have done

I feel proud of my accomplishments
tactful agility of my words
confident in my thoughts,
I embrace my emotions
I rely on my perceptions

proud of my kids and their accomplishments

Tears of pure humbleness fill my eyes when they say, "I did not know what to do,....and I asked myself, what would You do"

After so many years of marriage, we are still symbiotic catalysts for each other,
Happy,
such a simple word, but so very real for us.

and with all that is good in my life,
there is this haunting
this, this,.. this, THING that taunts me
that stalks me
and I know I'm not the only one.

I and others are compelled to its control
Those not afflicted, think my actions are just on the other side of insanity.

If it does not get its required attentions, evil is unleashed in many many forms.

I have friends, that are mesmerizer by it, like a moth at night-to-a-light turned on inside a house, hitting up against a window again, and again, and again and again, trying desperately to get to the light, but just doesn't understand that they can't ever really get to it.

The light mocks their attempts to be satisfied, as does the THING.

It aggravates us.

This thing can be satisfied, as water prevents dehydration and death, but only if you drink every three days.

and on that third day without it we feel
anxious
tense
depressed
suicidal
selfish

selfish that is the greatest irony of this thing, it is most selfish,
it demands attention
it is never satisfied
it is never happy
it is always longing for more
it is cold and heartless

the musician knows it
the painter knows it
the sculptor has his own version
and the writer knows it

the insidious thing, to the outsider is nothing it is blank, null, void, meaningless

and that is an even greater irony than its selfishness, what appears to be nothing is actually to the select few, a taunting insanity can never fully be satisfied, once filled it magically becomes empty again and needs to be filled once more.

this

THING

a blank piece of paper,

an empty canvas,

a stone not yet brought to life,

and as soon as life is breathed into it, there is another

blank piece of paper,

empty canvas or

stone , calling, taunting demanding to be brought to life

and once it has life there is another

poem to write

painting to paint

sculpture to break free from the rocks.

p.s.

I call this Picasso, because at the Picasso Exhibit there was one of his paintings;

it was of a room full of color and paintings and curtains, and just off center of the room

on an easel

was a blank canvas

calling

haunting

demanding to be filled

center of the world

2011-09-19T23:15:00.000-04:00

Oblivious.

The person not holding me

keeps me in the dark

I seeing no light, although I still see waves of energy, while waiting to come to life.

my need to be touched and held and looked at,

all ignored

I am the center of the world for moments, sometimes hours, and then darkness.

the person NOT holding me is engrossed in other things

in conversation with other people

in telling jokes

in listening

I plea for attention, hoping for a touch, a look, to be held,

but like one stranded on a desert island seeing a plane that does not see him

I am ignored

feeling abandoned

feeling alone.

I hear the person laughing, and touching others with me so close, I am not even though of..

so I scream as loud as I can

NOTICE ME

TOUCH ME

FEEL ME

but the screams are ignored,

I the center of the world must wait

wait in the dark

wait for a wave of energy that will bring me out of the darkness again

energy that will make me feel the touch, make me feel important.

I have one trick, that always works, that special call I can do

the call that tells him, he is in love

the sound that makes him stop what he is doing.

the sound that makes him hold me

makes me again the center of the universe

and here it comes that special ring-tone, that can break through the noise of the loudest bar

and soon he is touching me

caressing me

massaging me

and I shine for him

remind him how important I am,

as he reads my face he know what he must do,

plz on ur way hm, get hotdogs, chips, soda and B hm Soooon kids are goin %-)

the breakup

2011-07-17T23:49:00.003-04:00

Our journey started at the bottom of the desert mountain in the fall.

life giving rains watered the slopes we tread,

easy at first, then steep and steeper still

a loose rock here and there,

a rattlesnake across our path,

caused us to go on paths not marked

and my first taste of the agave.

we were on the move up, so no time to relish in the agave's beauty,

we continued to the unknown

then a landslide, we barely made it alive

we looked down and saw only rubble, where our journey started.

in the winter we were close to the top, basking in the warm winter days, holding each other close on the almost freezing desert nights.

times were hard during that dry spell, but we survived together.

we survived till the next rain.

the rain caused the agave to grow, and I uncontrolled drank deep and often.
it was not till my near death on a freezing night, that your loving words came through and touched my soul again.

when spring came we had been at the top for a while,

comfortable, settled,

it was just you and me again,

predictable

empty words

routine

stifled

suffocating

in a rut so deep we feared the next rain would drown us,

so we headed down,

steep at first, then it smoothed out

and we found ourselves on a gentle slope in the middle of a field of flowers,

beauty,

gentle smell of mesquite,

the desert alive, and with it us

and I saw the agave but left it alone.

when summer came, we were more than half way down

thirsty for life,

looking for relief from the sun

the life that was once flowers and struggles to overcome together

was is now a brown dusty hell

burning our hearts

burning our souls

a burning so strong that

we see no beauty

we see no life

we see no us

death, if we stay

so you with your mesquite go left

and I follow the agave and go right.

thanks roscoe

2011-07-17T23:32:00.003-04:00

sitting silent easy

inter-action hard.

loneliness in a group,..

that is me

you reach out in your way, but I not knowing what to say,

say nothing.

so I, distant, awkward, inept

feeling alone

don't reach out to your extended hand.

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to say hi

I awkward know not what to do

i am different

i run away to my shell, to deep inside my mind, at the slightest discomfort

loneliness is safe

loneliness is me

loneliness in a room full of people

that want to know me,

seem to accept me,

talk to me

extend their hand to me

extend their hearts to me

acknowledge me

support me

and help me

and I the great outsider keep my barriers up,

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to share parts of me.

you applaud in honesty

you applaud encouragement

you value me enough to know my name

when I fell you were there to pick me up

I am different and you are OK with my difference

and I come back

again and again and again.

learning,

growing

truly grateful for

talking to me

applauding me in honesty and encouragement

knowing my name

extending your arm in friend ship

and sharing your heart

step forward

2011-06-26T10:07:00.001-04:00

one step forward is huge

The pre-toddler works out for months before he or she takes their first step

laying on their stomach arching their back like their flying

bouncing while holding your hands,

holding on to furniture to just stand there

it takes work and dedication and time.

one step forward is huge

for an adult it means that the three things that knocked you down are neutralized

and after getting through the shit you took another step

so you really took four steps to get to one step forward.

it takes work and dedication and time.

I see that the lost one takes a step forward

a small step but a forward step,

outsiders see chaos and misdirection

but when asked the lost one says

"but I think, I took a step forward"

Others will say:

but what if it doesnt work

but what if this

and what if that

the lost one feels confused, diswayed

but using me to hold his ground he says

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

Others say

there are needs you are not taking care of

I need you to do this

you need to to that

and the lost one stumbles a bit

feeling insecure and unsure

then I tell the lost one that

"I took a step forward"

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"

The lost one leaning against me tells the needy others

"I know you need, but I took a step forward

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I think I know what my next step should be"

The others say

don't forget what you used to say

don't forget our need

don't forget about this

don't forget about that

and the lost one feels overwhelmed and broken.,,,,

and I tell the lost one that I have not yet been able to take my second step YET,

but i know it is the right step, and i am close to being able to take it.

and the lost one resists the needy,

and in doing so resists the forced mediocrity of following the others

and he says proudly with chest out and head held high

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

"and it was ME that took that step"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"

6:30pm

2011-06-21T07:45:00.002-04:00

I sitting in a room full of hard core spiritualists

you know

contact people from the other side

Near death experiences

seances

tea leafs

crystal balls

tarot cards

oui ja boards

I ended up here because I thought a woman that I thought was pretty asked me what time is it.

small talk pursued

and smiles

and her curling her hair with her finger

and her touching my arm when she laughed

and trading phone numbers

the first date was at my favorite restaurant

the date ended with chivalry and chastity

and a promise for another date

next Saturday she said

I said yes.

next day I shot her a text

suggested a movie or a play

she responded back "I'll pick the place"

just be at my apartment at 6:30pm

during the week I tried to get her to tell me what she had planned

and her reply was always the same

"you will enjoy yourself" be at my apartment at 6:30pm

I tried the ploy of "what should I wear?" formal, casual, BBQ?

she said anything comfortable

"you will enjoy yourself" be at my apartment at 6:30pm

so Saturday night finally gets here

I as instructed am ringing her door bell at 6:30pm

she invites me into her apartment

Only a few small lights are on

there are a few candles lit here and there

mellow music was playing

There was wine breathing in two glasses

and a fragrant incense burning

she is looking very beautiful in the romantic light of a flickering candle as we sip wine and eat some cheese and crackers she had set out before my arrival.

then a knock at the door, she says "come in" and a herd of people come rolling in through the door, loud chatter,

"ohhhh hi"

"so your her new man"

"your apartment looks great, I love the painting technique on the walls"

and so i find myself in a room full of people that want to talk to the dead.

I don't dis-believe, but I don't really want to spend my Saturday night with these people.

I was looking for relationship, camaraderie, life partner, love.

My mind was racing on how to get out of this, I did like the woman, so I wanted to see if we had something, so I did not want to be leave now and ruin my chances.

my thoughts were broken by someone asking me to ask the OuiJa board something.

I think to myself, this is so not me, and what a waste of time.

but after much thought and some push back from the group I came on the question:

"what should I do with my life?"

and in the background was some freak humming

and tea leaves being read

and the woman that I thought was beautiful was in this trance like state with her hand on the Planchette

I reluctantly do the same as do two others

then some says "the question has been asked, oh spirits in this room please guide this lost soul"

The planchette starts to move around randomly then stops on a letter, then randomly moves and stops on another letter, a fifth person is watching and recording the letters as it stops.

I am expecting some mumbo jumble of letters, that I am then to make into words, but I pay no attention to the letters i just am along for the ride waiting for this horrible night to be over.

Then the planchette moves off the board, and the person that started this spoke and said "wheh that was good, I really felt a strong spirit" and looks up to the fifth person and asks him to hand to me my answer.

I look at the piece of paper and saw what look like a jumble of letters, but then it became very clear to me the message.

the message was" Go find someone who likes what you like"

and with that I left her apartment

no "s"

2011-06-11T12:13:00.009-04:00

Our time together long, began at 18 and endured through graduating college and beyond.

mom and dad thought marriage

we did not need any paper to proclaim our undying affection and love.

from dorm to apartment,.. to our very own home, we knew we were made for each other.

change, confrontation, and turmoil, all handled like mom and dad - together.

I,.. confident in our love,

and with my faith well-founded in you

you told me to invite him to that one party,

you told me you liked him

you thought he could become the loving brother I never had.

I allowed him in,

I welcomed him,

I did need him,

another man to talk with

a friend to go to the bar with

he became my confidant,

and, ... he did,... become the loving brother I never had,....

N O W,...

melancholy full

feeling down,

like a bolder falling from a cliff creating an avalanche of pain

on the journey to the bottom.

my woe exhaled in every breath

I,... now alone in the middle of nowhere,... on a night with no moon, with only a fire to talk to.

the agony burned into me like the knife I pull from the blazing fire

and touch it to my tattooed arm where your name reminded me ,..of my love for you.

the charring will deform, and defile. but will be nothing compared to the torture you have inflicted upon my heart,

the growing boil upon my arm will be beautiful compared to the thought of you with him.

and the man that I loved like a brother, ....the man that took you away from our home,......

he became the knife that burned me.

private and public me

2011-06-11T11:58:00.002-04:00

And why do I even bother,

damaged and beyond repair,

I had my chance but had the wrong people.

why do damaged people seek damaged people?

I have no focus

no desire

no reason to wake up

so I wander through the days doing what I am told is most urgent

no plan

no mission

no goals

just doing

outsiders think I get a lot done

think I lead my life

think i achieved my goals

think sometimes that i am wonderful

think i am a good man.

but my private self thinks the opposite

thinks I am lazy

thinks i am selfish

thinks I am uncaring

thinks I wander through life, certainly no lead it.

I waste so much time doing nothing there are no words or pictures to describe it.

My private self doesn't think I'm a sociopath

I care a little bit,

I don't set out to use people

but sometimes I do use people,

so maybe I am a sociopath

and then someone tells me,

"thanks for talking with me yesterday, I really needed that"

and another person said

"I took your advice, and I feel better than I have in years"

and another person said

"God has given you a gift, thank you for being part of my life"

so Maybe i am not a sociopath,

maybe I am just confused and lost,

and then I met a man that said

"we are not as bad as our private self, nor are we as good as our public self"

the private me sees a lazy looser

the public me portrays a confident helping soul

I wonder what the truth really is?

I feel nothing

2011-05-01T22:46:00.003-04:00

I Feel nothing.

the hard normally uncomfortable chairs that makes my back and ass hurt with equal intensity, created to look inviting, inviting enough to have a coffee and look out over the book store, but designed to be just comfortable for 5 minutes after which you feet fall asleep.

But tonight, I feel none of that.

I feel nothing.

The young beautiful people with there perfectly smooth skin and beautiful teeth just inside those desirable lips, and wonderfully rounded body parts, sometimes they show just enough of their firm flat stomachs by taking a long stretch while arching their back, reaching their arms high in the sky which leads to fantasies of the unmentionable pleasure felt when there is skin on skin.

but tonight, no one evokes such feelings.

I feel nothing.

Reading about and seeing pictures of exotic cars and the frustration of the present with the overwhelming regret of past choices that force me into fantasy for escape (like winning the lottery) and the sorrow so overwhelming that I would normally take a big swig of the too hot, too bitter coffee just to focus on the physical pain instead of the mental anguish of the present, so I can forget just for a moment how life really sucks.

but tonight, I feel none of that.

I feel nothing.

flipping through the art magazines, seeing in incredible creativity, and sometimes the anger, and fear, and lust, but more times than not feeling confused, and a longing for talent, and a regret that is a hole in my core, for not having talent like that.

but tonight, I feel no envy.

I feel nothing.

A group of teenagers harass me as I go to my car, one boy steals another boys hat and offers it to me, another stands in front of me and put is on my head, and asks for 20 bucks. The disgust mix with fear and frustration, usually caused intelligible words to come out, it doesn't matter the kids call me names and give me a little shove, then take the hat back, seems I got the worst of the deal,

but tonight there is no rush of adrenalin, no self talk of "I should have"

I feel nothing.

Phoebe and Jack

2011-04-13T21:56:00.003-04:00

cant stop

gotta look

got to have...

I cant stop its driving me crazy

the beauty

the perfection

the mystery

I need to be near

its driving me crazy

every time he walks by I have to look,

and inhale deeply in futile hope, to feel his scent. To inhale his very essence.

he is cautious of me, because he thinks I will hurt him.

last time I got him, I did not hurt him, I just brought him close to me

so I can feel him,

smell him,

gently put my mouth on him

and yes I did lick him and slobber on him

but I didn't hurt him,

he says i would have if those people didn't stop me.

"stay away"

"leave him alone"

"just don't worry yourself about him"

that's what the people say.

but he is so,

so,

so in-describable,

when I look at him my soul stirs in a way that words can't describe

he is so much of everything I like,

I've got to have him.

He has to like me,

if I can just get him alone again I can tell him

and if he won't listen

at least I'll be close.

and if he won't listen

I will pin him down and inhale his beauty

and if he won't listen still

I will be the last thing he sees while i crush the life out of him

slowly,

lovingly,

feeling like I have never felt before.

cut the crust off please

2011-04-06T22:23:00.002-04:00

little miss white bread

with her turkey and tasteless white-cheese on white bread

pouts to the man across the table

"the crust is too hard" she whines "please cut it for me"

he comes to the rescue with knife and slices

slices off the crust

slowly precisely as if he has planned this moment,

fantasized about slowly with surgical precision

cut,

cut

cutting

first one side

then the other

then flip her over

and cut more

and finally cut the last time.

and the woman asks "whats the matter, you look so sad all of a sudden"

he replies "sad, no, just deep in thought,.. dear"

and as she begins to eat her now crust-less sandwich he savors the crust

the part of the sandwich that she will never know about and with it his fantasy continues.

addiction

2011-03-14T22:38:00.002-04:00

the image is burned into my very core,

every where I look I see it

when people talk I think of it

when I'm alone i long for it,

I play with fantasy of it during the day

intelligence is no match for the emotion

the computer screen shows it to me,

and blurs the spreadsheet that I am working on.

then for a moment, brief though it is, I get relief

I can think again, I can see the bright blue skies

I feel the loving hug from my family

and I feel regret and guilt

and it starts to come into view,

I try not to look at it

and I feel frustration and fear

and waves of hopelessness pound me

and it starts to call my name

and I try not to hear it

and I try to remember the love of my family

and I try to remember the happy times without it

but again everywhere I look I see it

there are no words to explain it

its image is burned into my core.

I need to do this lady

2011-03-05T23:30:00.007-05:00

"I am getting to drunk to drive home, can you help?" says the lady sitting next to me at the bar.
A slightly classy joint, where they have replaced live musicians with a mellow sound system that has a great mix of mellow jazz, Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, and Tony Bennett.

Looking for small talk, she sees on the TV above the bar, a show about golf lessons and asks me "What are they doing?" as she scoots a little closer to me.

I reply "it is a golf lesson, and yes he is really hitting the ball, but it goes into a net, and a giant projection screen makes it look like he is on an actual golf course"

She makes a joke that is funny only to her, and gently touches my leg.

We make small talk, and she is looking at me intently, and twirling her hair with her fingers. She rocks and laughs and touches me again, and again, and again.

In conversation I can see that she is truly one of those stupid, inexperienced people that has used her firm smooth body, cleavage, and perfect lips to get what she needs in life.

Some more TV watching, comments on music, and small-talk about movies. Some time passes and she makes the statement again "I am getting to drunk to drive myself home"

I look and see no evidence of a wedding ring, even when you take one off there is a tell-tale indentation or a subconscious touching of what is no longer there.

During the minutes that pass I see she is not drinking that much, well not drinking as much as a person "to drunk to drive" would drink. The conversation goes to the deal she got two meals for the price of one, and tells me she is between jobs.

Seems to me asking a stranger to drive you home is an invite to have one night of shallow intimacy.

So wanting to keep conversation going I ask her "What brings you to this restaurant's bar in this part of the city tonight?"

She said "She had dropped her son off at the gym around the corner, and while he is working out she decided to come here." Which totally contradicted all of the signals I had been reading. One night stands and children don't go together.

I feigning interest asked "Oh and how old is he?"

She answered "He just turned 18 yesterday, yeah he is not my little boy any more."

With that she ordered another glass of white house wine, and while sipping looked straight ahead at the meaninglessness of all the alcohol bottles lined up so perfectly in front of the huge mirror.

As I looked at her beauty, my eyes gravitated toward her face as she sipped her wine, and saw her as her, not as one night of meaningless intimacy.

She is lonely, and so desperately wants someone in her life.

Her little boy is turning into an independent man, and will be leaving her soon. She has nothing left in her life, no career to push out the lonely feelings, no person to come home to, no one to be home for.

She feels a loneliness so deep, so debilitating.

Not knowing which way to turn, she tries what worked almost 19 years ago.

Silence

2011-03-02T20:14:00.003-05:00

he always wanted more out of life than his parents could offer him.

so as a teen he stayed in shape strong, flexible, no extra fat

he needed to be prepared for his future

although he did not know what that would be.

high school years were normal, well normal for high school

experimenting with different people

looking for different highs

trying to avoid his parents

he really liked movies and saw where money could fall from the sky

he was a mediocre actor

but took drama all years of high school

and was even in a few plays

once he had the lead role,

he liked the attention that gave him,

he liked pretending to be something he knew inside he was not.

he acted the leading man

strong

secure

a person that liked, loved and respected himself.

but he was none of those things

he was young and strong and fit

a beauty, handsome

anyone seeing him would think so,

a swimmers physique, is how one described him, although he did not go into sports.

lost at 18

high school over

parents divorced

no money

no prospects

he thought about how to get out of the place he was in

bouncing from parent to parent as they tired of his moods

he really liked acting, but the one thing his parents Could agree upon, was that he could never make it into the movies. He would scream back how wrong they were, that he would make it big and they would be sorry for trying to crush his future.

he stopped talking to both of them and moved out of their little town to find success

he tried,

auditioned

pleaded

practiced

and found nothing,

and then one night while he was trolling the internet for escape

he realized exactly what he should do

he saw a small movie company in his area and he applied,

his good looks and youth were all they needed.

for very little they paid him a lot

so he went back

they asked him for more and he gave it uneasily but they paid him very well

so he went back

having pushed him this far they pushed him the rest of the way too his future

a future of acting

a future of lots of money

and it was his dad that stumbled on to one of his movies,

who then told his ex-wife his acting was not all that good, not bad, but not great

but he was very beautiful on the screen

and she said well did you bring the movie with you, I only get an occasional "I'm alive mom" he didn't tell me he was in a movie.

and the father said, " I don't think you will want to see this one, I know I did not"

and she said "well no matter how bad it is, its still our son, we should be proud"

and the father sat there looking at his ex-wife thinking of their little boy, and the childhood, the messy divorce, the infidelity,

and after a long silence the man had the look of extreme sorry, and shame

and inhaled deeply

and exhaled long and slow

and the father said "our son is the star of a gay porno..."

Write

2011-02-22T21:48:00.002-05:00

and here to be with himself the lost one stays distant

not present

dissociated

displaced

distant from the beauty so close and all around.

the happy energy

the beautiful skies

the kids playing

the grass, still green.

the leaves of bright crimson and reds and yellows

hiding from the pain of loss.

Oblivious to the humor of a woman in incredibly high heals trying to walk down a very steep hill while trying to control a baby stroller.

He stays inside his cell phone

texting

sending pictures and movies of only scenery, with no one in frame, no candid shots.

the good is since he is alone, he doesn't have to ask a stranger "can you please take a picture of US in front of this railing?"

with no one else to text, the flat lifeless boring pictures, he slowly becomes aware.

aware of the beauty

aware of the humans taking a moment to enjoy life.

aware of his own pain

he seeks escape, but there is none.

so he must face himself and write.

One of the Regulars

2011-02-17T20:58:00.003-05:00

At the main yuppie shopping drag sits me, one of the regular observers to the hustle and window shopping, searching for my next reality.

I sit outside by the, little, local coffee shop, they have several blends that are very good. With all them damn Starbucks around, all the really good coffee shops are disappearing.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "THIS is the BEST STREET, I LOVE it here, you will NEVER find me at a Starbucks, I'd rather be dead with a splitting headache than even sit outside a Starbucks. Starbucks is SHIT.

The people on the street shopping, make the street a community of safety. Old houses turned into quaint little shops and restaurants. People walking, saying hi, dogs on leashes, kids being kids. There is no other word, other than "community" to describe the feeling. Those big shopping centers where all stores are massive cross-country exactness - each one is the same, people crammed together inside, no one smiling.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "this street is COMMUNITY, DOGS, KIDS and SHOPPERS, you will NEVER find me INSIDE one of those huge shopping centers, where SORRY losers shop"

On the street you have other regulars like,

The kids that bang on overturned plastic tubs to make some cash for their mom,

Over there is the flute player, with his hat turned upward on the side walk with hopes he will play in a concert hall one day.
The "rasta man" is set up with his trinkets for sale and peace and love all around.

And next to me, ever wareful of the local police, the lady with no legs selling her roses for $5 each.

"Not a bad markup" I say to her.

She just grunts back looking up and down the street, calculating the best place to be, yet a place to push her electric buttons to get her out of sight of the local cops.

"so do you live in the neighborhood, or do you need to travel far?" I continue with the one sided conversation.

She says nothing.

"listen girly, just because you aint got no legs aint no reason to be high-hattin me" I said to her.

With that comment the Rasta-Man comes over and spouts out his "hey man there is too much negative energy, that is your fellow human, can't you find any love in your heart for her?"

I yell "this street is for all,... NEVER get INSIDE my space man, you Rasta-man freak", then I look to the girl and yell at her "hey girly, do you care that I call you girly"

Then I grunt at her.

She still sits there and says nothing,

but the Rasta-man can't leave well enough alone and eggs me on.

So I yell "Rasta why don't you go to Starbucks and drink their SHIT"

I take a deep inhale

Spit on the ground

and continue yelling "this is the BEST STREET just and leave us"

Then I whisper "hey girly, sorry, sorry." The no response forces me to yell, "SORRY, girly I said SORRY"

Then the Flute player hearing me apologize to the wheel chair lady, comes over to see if I wanted to hear any song I say "THANKS man, this is the bests street.

Community that what it is, there aint NEVER a better place than THIS STREET. Them Stupid malls and the SHIT Starbucks got nothing on THIS STREET right here. Where people care and it is a COMMUNITY!"

Then the boys come on over to keep the beat for the flute player, I say "you are just KIDS,... little. I am SORRY, SORRY I said SHIT and all that crap, but sometimes the others gets INSIDE me and I just gotta Yell. I LOVE this STREET so much.

Then all of a sudden that no legged freak disappears, as does all the other peddlers, and I look up and see a young man walking over to me, SHIT, I think to myself cops,.. I LOVE this STREET and don't want to be locked up INSIDE some hole, but he is not wearing a real cop uniform.

he asked me "hey old man, where are we?"

I respond "We are here you punk KID, on this STREET with the row of stores, most of which I remember when I was a kid, they were houses. Now they all gone,.. and just people and stores and concrete."

"Do you know who am I?" the stranger said.

I replied "you don't look familiar, you the grandson of one of my dead friends or something?"

"no sir, i don't believe my granddad knew you" the stranger said and continued

Then I looked real hard to see if I could recognize him from somehwere and then I said "It looks like you are wearing one of those uniforms you get at the halloween shop, its not Halloween, what the hell you wearing that for?"

The stranger said "It is a real uniform, sir, I am part of the mall security and the manager of the Starbucks called us, with a complaint that you were yelling and talking to yourself and it is scaring the shoppers"

Saturday night

2011-02-12T22:35:00.004-05:00

Satuday night

at the end of my day with tea and toast

thinking of the horrors I chose Not to do today.

I sip slowly sipping, thinking of the so many times today I did the right thing, the expected thing.

At work I was cordial and helpful, energetic and happy

- and wondered if a co-worker's incessant chatter would stop if I threw a computer monitor at him.

I held the door for the old lady and her grandson,

- and wondered what she would do if I knocked the kid on his ass

I waved on the idiot that doesn't know the rules of a 4-way stop

- and wondered what he would do if I T-boned his car.

I went shopping at the orange-box hardware store,

- and wondered what they would do If I walked right past the cashiers and went out the door with my partially fill shopping cart.

I bought a box of girl scout cookies,
- and I wondered what her self-esteem would do if I told her that her girl scout vest looks stupid.

I got into my car,

- and wondered what the person next to me would do if I slammed my door into his car.

I saw a really beautiful person,

-and wondered if they'd enjoy me grabbing their ass as much as I would.

I let the cat out,

-and I wondered if it would be eaten by something tonight.

as I get into my jammies,

- and I wonder how many adults call them jammies

so on this saturday night I sit thinking of the horrors I did Not unleash upon society,

-and i wonder why didn't I....?

thanks nick

2011-02-05T21:24:00.003-05:00

tormented by myself there is no escape.

rage so strong
hurt so deep

and I die a little more every day I think of you,

and,...

I think of you Every day,

you haunt my dreams

you monopolize my thoughts

triggers of rage and disgust and regret and hurt at even the slightest scent reminiscent of you.

and my life is torment with no escape.

if only

if only

if only i could torture you the way the thought of you,

is,

to me,

pure anguish.

but I must live with the fact that there is no death slow enough that would fill the abyss you left inside me.

spencer

2011-01-29T09:56:00.003-05:00

he is gone
some heart ache now, protects from heartache in the future

its for the best
we lie to ourselves,
he did not suffer

the mind protects itself from the horror
that is what we say when we see a smaller animal being ripped to shreds by a larger predator.

but we don't know,
so our mind protects itself from the horror

the thought that the smaller animal felt every bite,
felt the crushing power of jaws around its little body

"its for the best,"
"its life"
"he really didn't suffer"
it must have been quick

took only but 60 seconds,

and we forget that time slows down when we are in full adrenalin crisis.
as it must be for the small animal being killed by the larger one.

60 seconds must be an eternity to the one dying, fighting, ... for its life.

and so "its for the best, "
"he was the weakest one"
"its nature's way"
the dog did not mean to kill my cat
it was an accident

it must have been quick, I was gone for a short few minutes

and my mind feels the heartache of loss and protects itself from the horror of death to a pet so well loved, killed by another pet so well loved.

Hope?

2011-01-23T08:26:00.003-05:00

and the shadow of a man stands
he stand alone

stuck in his his own mind all he sees is horror, sin, guilt, despair

gray skies convince him of his
uselessness
pointless-ness
this miserable moment in time called life, he calls it existance

barely hanging on, he looks forward only to the sin

such a strong word 'sin'

a word that can't truly exists,
.... unless,
unless, ..
he truly believes in a God.

a God that created good,

a God that created life,

a God that created Sin
and with it created,...
guilt
obsession
betrayal
hatred
the irrational people
the narrow minded
the judgmental

Internal confusion for the man that stands alone.

his friend say "trust in the Lord",
but he knows all too well that if he confessed his sin's these same friends would
shun him
exile him
judge him
gossip about
fake smiles, while vomiting inside, when they next they see each other.

no help for the man that stands alone.

"you'll feel better if you talk about it" says his other friends

There is truth in that, but the consequences of betrayal too great, he says nothing.

and the shouldn't have's and the should have's bombard his soul;
"I should not have ever started", "I should have stopped" are the things he says to himself over and over and over. useless thoughts that will not help him with the sin in his life.

"sin" such a strong word and backed by an all powerful God,

There is no hope for the man who stands alone that has his heart scared by sin.

bad music

2010-12-19T21:51:00.004-05:00

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

2010-12-05T08:56:00.003-05:00

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

2010-11-28T20:18:00.009-05:00

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

2010-11-15T21:13:00.003-05:00

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.

2010-10-30T16:59:00.002-04:00

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

2010-08-29T15:01:00.007-04:00

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

2010-08-15T15:46:00.004-04:00

"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

2010-08-13T19:00:00.002-04:00

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

2010-08-13T18:24:00.003-04:00

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

2010-08-13T18:19:00.003-04:00

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

2010-07-08T22:00:00.003-04:00

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

2010-07-08T21:54:00.002-04:00

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

2010-06-19T17:57:00.003-04:00

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

2010-06-05T09:07:00.004-04:00

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

2010-06-03T22:10:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-31T16:55:00.007-04:00

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

2010-05-31T16:43:00.004-04:00

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

2010-05-28T07:06:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-27T08:28:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-26T00:04:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-22T09:33:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-21T21:16:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-17T19:57:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-17T19:26:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-17T19:14:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-12T21:40:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-10T22:21:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-09T23:15:00.003-04:00

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?

2010-05-08T11:07:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-04T22:33:00.004-04:00

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

2010-05-02T08:41:00.007-04:00

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

2010-04-28T23:17:00.003-04:00

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

2010-04-26T22:16:00.002-04:00

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

2010-04-24T20:31:00.003-04:00

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.

turn left part 1

2010-04-22T19:21:00.007-04:00

And my wife says "Jerry hopped over the gate again and he is at our door"
"I know" I reply quietly
She frantically, "Just give him some money, at least we can get some sleep for a few weeks before he comes back"

"I can't not this time, I love him too much" as I place a pillow over my head to muffle his screams of pain while he pounds on the back door to my house

Me and Jerry are best friends.

He actually was my first friend.

Until you are about 15, I don't think you can have real friends only people you play with.

At puberty your whole world turns on you, leaving you confused, scared and horny.
You have real problems its not just grade school things like, I said the “F-word” and had to hand my parents a note from school.

Real problems make real friends.

Jerry, he doesn't like being called Jerome or any nickname, he likes Jerry, anyway, he and I met after I moved into his neighborhood.

I was incredibly shy and insecure.

I would still be stuck in that house had he not ridden his skateboard in front of my house like 100 times to encourage me to come out with my skateboard.

We were 14 or 15 then and both hated our parents and the world.

I was a tall and looked skinny, but was really overweight, a sad depressed, loner, loser that could only see the horrible in the world, relatively neglected and abused by my parents, who never taught me to take showers or say hi or smile when you meet someone along with other basic human things.

He was upbeat knew lots of people, knew the right things to say to keep us out of trouble with the local gangs, and how to get their help a couple of times when some older kids were harassing us at the arcade. His dad was on the road a lot so his mom was like a single mom-had no control.

I said the freakiest things. Once while getting high with some friends he called me over to say something bizarre and depressing, I like a trained dog did as commanded and that started us laughing all night.

He pushed me to dance at parties and date and to try to forget my parents shit. We shared with each other the first time we fingered a girl, shared our jacking off experiences, and got high together.

He did a lot more for me than I have ever done for him, he taught me how to live in our society very tactfully. He told me what to do, as a matter of fact, and in such a way that I couldn't say no. things like:
"Hey Steve, we have a party to get to in two hours, how about we split up now take showers, and I'll meet you at your house"
or
"Have you tried this new antiperspirant/deodorant it smells great, here my mom bought extra you can use it today before we skate off to school."

He taught me that if you only have a few pair of pants, but a lot of shirts, keep your pants clean and you can wear them a few days before laundry day.

Laundry Day that is something else he helped me with.

He pushed me off the roof, when I was too scared to jump into the pool below, but did it in a way that the kids looking at us did not know I was scared.

He was the first person I loved as a friend, and would do anything to help him. He did not ask for anything, so I always felt like I owed him something.

Once we went out with some 17 yr old girls, we were not yet 16, so neither of us had a drivers license, but that did not stop him from driving. He drove home from the party high as a kite, when he pulled into his mom's driveway, she happened to be waiting for us, just as she started yelling at him for driving without a license, I stepped in and told her that Katie had been driving up until we got into our subdivision, then Jerry drove, honest Mrs Jerry's-Mom, (its just what I called her), she laughed and said, "well OK. just don't do it again, and,.. NO Girls In The House, you can talk out here but not too late." and off into the house she went.

We did not do a lot of talking in the car, Jerry and his girl in the front seat, me and mine in the back, just kissing which led to fondling. Oh and remember before when I said we shared fingering a girl, happened that night in that car, we each got some and before it got too far the porch light came on and the girls shut us down.

Of course we got high a lot, I always had money, he always had the connection and we always got the best shit. School was so much easier to handle when you are high, and as I look back, the teachers were so stupid. Just before grades would come out they would tell us what homework we needed to turn in to get a passing grade. It only took a few small pills and a few days staying awake. And we were superstars completing 8 weeks worth of homework in just one weekend, and taking an “F” to a “C” sometimes we could even get a “B”, didn't matter either grade was passing.

We had great times together great parties, great dances, great sex, great drugs, great fights, everything in life that makes life worth living. And through it all Jerry had my back, and taught me of life:
How to dress, helped me buy the right clothes
To take shower everyday
How to say hi to new people we'd meet
When to 'make my move'
When to say "westside" and nod my head the right way so we wouldn't get shot.

Once he arranged for us to get high with the hottest twins in school. We went over to their house and hid in the bushed outside their bedroom window waiting for their mom to leave. Once she left, Jerry hopped into the window, I was so clumsy I couldn’t climb in, so Jerry pulled me in.

Plenty of pot, clothes were starting to come off, I thought this might be "the" night, well up until their mom came home. Jerry jumped out the window half naked, I was too wasted to move that fast, but somehow I got my clothes on and remember clear as day their mom saying “whats going on in here”
And the girls saying “nothing mamma, nothing”
“whats wrong with his eyes?”
And the girls saying “nothing mamma, nothing”
"girls whats wrong with your eyes?"
And the girls saying “nothing mamma, nothing”
“you boy, get out, get out now!!” as she grabbed my arm and started yanking me down the hallway. I thought it funny, I towered over her and she thought she had real control over me.

Jerry and I ran as fast as we could as she was screaming "I'll call the cops, hooligans, I know your mother, I will call her" she was so mad she was slurring and spitting all of her idle threats

We turned left to go home.

{note: (to myself) this is my first multi part, writing. new territory, but it is just coming out of me this way I gotta be true to me. (to everyone else - thanks for reading, any comment on any of my writing is appreciated, greatly}

The lie

2010-04-20T21:35:00.005-04:00

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

2010-04-18T10:08:00.002-04:00

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

2010-04-17T07:40:00.003-04:00

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

2010-04-13T22:56:00.003-04:00

"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

2010-04-13T22:45:00.003-04:00

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

2010-04-08T20:56:00.003-04:00

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

2010-04-05T21:46:00.002-04:00

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

2010-04-04T22:35:00.002-04:00

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

2010-04-03T10:54:00.002-04:00

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

2010-04-01T23:45:00.002-04:00

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

2010-03-31T23:42:00.003-04:00

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

2010-03-31T23:30:00.003-04:00

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

2010-03-30T22:57:00.003-04:00

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

2010-03-29T22:06:00.004-04:00

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

2010-03-27T23:46:00.003-04:00

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.

teenage angst

2010-03-27T11:56:00.005-04:00

art comes in many forms and serves many masters For Using Chosen Knowledge to
communicate, you have the chance to
communicate!

the Feelings Underlying Chaotic Kingdoms YOU choose to express and create.
art comes in many forms and from all over the world
From Ukulele, Cithara, Kazoo, Television, Haiku, Imagination, Soprano-voice,
Seven-string-guitar, Harpsichord, Irish-bouzouki, Tromboon (yes, trombooon).

it communicates thoughts and feelings using words or music, oils, pastels, water colors, Steel, Hardwood, Ice, Talc (the mineral not the powder)
are all there for you to express yourself,

only you really need to know what you mean in your art.
mixed messages are in all art forms
For Understanding Common Knowledge means nothing, but then everything,
it is frustration, so very frustrating, but no, no, it is, it is, …
it is a learning process.
as you grow your art changes, explore it, but keep it forever, keep it, share it when you want, and let art live with you.
Infinity, Lives Outside the Very Existence, of Your Own Understanding.

2010-03-25T21:34:00.002-04:00

And the Lady yells and flips people off as they drive by
The words almost foreign,.. almost inhuman,
Hand gestures, stay Away, Stay AWAY! STAY AWAY!!

The pedestrians walk on the other side of the road,

Her hand gestures change to invited calmness with a Surprise insult on the end.
The Lady flips people off as they walk by, afraid of direct confrontation.

And the Crazy Lady is alone,
her possessions in a borrowed shopping cart.

And we walk on,
sideways stares,
pace quickened
grabbing little childrens' hand to hurry them a long.

Alone - In public,
A different sense of reality lived-in.

separation

2010-03-25T21:23:00.002-04:00

And the two that became one so long ago must become
two again,

It’s the best for us,
We are tired of us.

The separation is hard and tense, to the two
But to the casual observer its easy.

When they talk about the future they talk not realizing they
Use words like;
We, us, our,…
We looked at a house the other day
1500sqft is fine for us--I mean we,-- I mean me…
...
So many years living as the collective.
And now the two that became one so long ago must become two again.

One wants to start new, remove everything painful
The other wants to keep the past because it might be needed in the future.

The observer sees the things as things, meaningless,
To the two, the things are one more disagreement, one more tension soon to be ended.
The future is both bright and bleak,
But the present is truly, truly unbearable.

Get real

2010-03-24T21:13:00.001-04:00

"tell me about your father"
"tell me about your mother"
"tell me about your brothers or sisters"

The therapist had all the questions,
the same ones as the shrinks before her.
prying
trying
lying

Anything to get the truth - they call it "getting real"

"You seem so unhappy for such a young teen" The therapist says.
As if that would mean something to me
I know I'm unhappy! No one needs to pretend to be my friend and tell me that. Lady that is a lousy opening line, maybe you could ask if I find you attractive, or when was the last time I masturbated, that might shock me into being a little bit involved in what you are trying to do.

"If you could change one thing in your life what would it be" she queried.
This is a new question for me, so i answer this one real quick "I don't know"
Three magic words which when said early enough will keep me from saying too much and staying out of trouble with all adults, except of course the one that taught me to say it.

"Do you like anyone at school?"
I respond "I don't know"
She exhales in frustration.
I think to myself see how effective that phrase is :-)
But, do I like anyone at school? lets see, who do I know at school. Tommy-I think that's his name-blue jean jacket a little overweight dark hair, spit a huge flem-ball on my back. Gene-he'd kill you just for looking at him. The smart kids who,... who likes them! Then there is that blond kid, blue eyes, in gym class he cracked his nuts on the pummel horse, how I wanted to,...

"Do you have any pets?"
I respond "yes, a dog" and think to myself oh, did I give too much information, no, no that one is OK, everyone has a pet. I've seen kids playing in the street, out there, sometimes playing having fun, some with their dogs. One kid in particular my age, perfect smile, smooth tan skin and.....

"What's your pets name?"
I respond "why do you ask?"
I think to myself I am tired of the questions, maybe I can get her to do some of the talking.

"Why do you hesitate to tell me your dog's name?"
I respond, you guessed it "I Don't Know"
Her name is Greta she is a German Sheppard, my only true confidant and friend. Sleeps at the foot of my bed, tries to protect me from the now occasional 'night time visits'. The only thing in my live that I truly Lov,...

"In class your teachers say you daydream a lot, look out the window, generally don't pay attention" then after a long pause therapist continues "what are you thinking about all day"
I pause and think to myself, I think of how to escape the boredom, what trouble can I get into so I don't have to go home, how can I get close to that blond so I can see part of their naked body. When I get home what do I have to do to stay out of trouble. Why didn't I throw a chair at Tommy when he spit on my. Why am I afraid to make eye contact. I hope there are aliens, because I so want them to do sex experiments on me and let me pick some of their victims and ,....

"So, are you just going to sit there for the WHOLE session!" the therapist snaps "did you hear the question I asked!?"

I respond "what was the question again? I got lost in thought."
I had truly forgotten her question, I was day dreaming and lost touch with reality. Funny me being in a shrinks office, them trying to help me "be real" and I lose touch with "reality" when asked what do I daydream about all day, then I forget the questio,...

"You are incorrigible, if you don't care enough to help yourself then there is no hope for you,.....this session is over" she states in a most condescending tone.
and with that I felt
hopeless,
lost, and very alone,
and I don't even know what incorrigible means but the way she said it must mean that I am a horrible person.
Why do I even try!!
I am so different than everyone else and I just don't fit
I'm a fucking loser
Home, school,
even the shrinks don't like me, and They get paid to like me.

I wish I were dead--no not dead just in another country where I--no not another country, but friends with some aliens which let me help them understand sex in humans by letting me pick up that blond kid in school, and the one on my street with the smooth tan skin and perfect smile, and let me strip them down and,...

"Do you have nothing to say?" she asks and then excuses herself after a long exhale and a short grunt.

On the way home my parents say that the therapist was frustrated that I just sat there with a blank stare, and only gave short answers. They were still talking but that soon faded as some aliens came down and...

Cycle of life

2010-03-23T23:06:00.000-04:00

A bird falls
It was weakened and its energy is now
Greedily taken in by the cat
My mind only sees the
Bird fall.
Does not see,
Loss of life,
Pain of death.
The way of life
Energy is gained from death.

Thanks for getting

2010-03-23T23:03:00.000-04:00

Forgetting to take the trash out
For getting the ring I wanted
Forgetting to put the potatoes in the stew when you got home
For getting me the Flowers
Forgetting how long we have been married
For getting me the recliner
Forgetting the names I called you last night
For getting the trip away from it all
Forgetting how hold I am
For getting the gold on our anniversary
Forgetting my name
For getting me through life.

he is a smart boy

2010-03-21T17:52:00.004-04:00

And the teacher said if he just tried harder

He is a smart boy very capable but he just doesn't do the work.

Every report card said the same thing,
politically correct bullshit even for so long ago
no one dare say:
"there is something wrong with your son"
he is dirty and smells of body odor all the time
he needs to brush his teeth daily, before he loses them all. His breath stinks.
his hair is an oily long rats nest.
what kind of parents are you!!
he is only 9 years old!!

and when he is 10 yrs old the teachers say
"he is a smart boy, but does not do the work"
Every report card mediocre, with the same comment.
and the nurse that sees him every day to give him Tylenol for his daily headaches
says nothing.
She tries to coax him to confess his secret.
He is a smart boy knowing consequences are to horrific,
so like a prisoner of war afraid of being electrocuted again,
he complies with the jail keeper and says nothing.

and when he is 11 yrs old one teacher dared to say:
"there is something wrong" for which she was rewarded with the chance to work for another school,
long ago upper-middle-class parents yelling and screaming
was a shackle on the hands of teachers.

He is a smart boy, and turns to Mr. Spock the fictitious character
that controls emotion, pushing it down deep below
where no pain can be inflicted on what was once an open gaping wound.
No one can see it now.

He survives by being the loner in the corner. and the teachers say:
"he is a smart boy, solid "B" student, he could easily get "A's" but he really needs more friends.

And when he is 13 yrs old things change, apparently hair above his groin stopped the nighttime rituals. But it was too late he is a shell-of-a-person, emotionless, indifferent actions scripted to conform but nothing felt, protection came from being numb. He finds another boy, they hang out together so the adults think they are friends, but they just use each other and the adult think that he has feelings.

And when he is 14 yrs old the hair now on his balls also, gave him a better escape where he had control and power, the adolescent game was better with fantasies. Which almost always turned to one sided pleasure.

"He is a smart boy, gets A's and B's in school and seems to have a friend or two." His parents say, "we did a good job"

But the fantasies would prove to turn him into a monster.

YOU or you

2010-03-21T15:24:00.004-04:00

You look at you
(the little you,
the young you,
the child you)

With Today's YOU
(Older You,
Experience You,
Mature You).

and you feel with YoU
(confused You,
growth stunted You,
untrusting You).

and YOU blame you for
letting him touch YoU
and YOU are hurt and damaged
by what happened to you.

and YOU hide from you
hide from past
hide from emotion

and you feel you could have stopped it somehow,
intelectually YOU know you could do nothing about it
but YoU still feel as if you had control.

and He contols YoU still
and YOU hate that but
yoU dont know what else to do.

so YoU Hide
hide - Socially in public
hide - Emotionally in anger
hide - imaturity with responsibility
hide - happiness with purchases

So what are YoU going to do about YoUrSeLf?

show begins

2010-03-21T15:18:00.002-04:00

In setting the stage
we see through the audience's eyes and make ready
and clean
and paint
and plan
and just before the show begins the funk is cleared from our eyes

and we see very clearly we are not ready for the show
we see very clearly what the audience is about to see
the chaos
the mess
the clutter
the pain
the sadness
the drifting with no purpose

we vow when the perfomance has ran its weeklong run
we will do better
and clean the mess
and not clutter
and not be in pain or sad

and now the week over we are sad
and feel pain
loss
sadness
like we have no purpose

so we have no energy to clean the mess or clear the clutter.
so we hide from ourselves until the next performance when we will

see through the audiences eyes, and not our cloudy depressed pair.

monster

2010-03-21T15:11:00.003-04:00

Its in me and no way to get out.
I sit solomn and alone
Controling the monster within
wants to live
wants to experience
wants life

The monster is chained, bound and controlled to protect those
who want to live
who want to expericne
who wants life

the monster must stay chained and calm at the expense of the life of the host.

quick stress

2010-03-21T15:07:00.002-04:00

and the heart stressed
the body feels old
and the joy so distant
its hard to feel.

hard to feel anything

so the stress becomes real
and the pain becomes real

the tears flow where there should be joy
and no one knows
how much the heart is stressed.

Party of 100

2010-03-21T14:45:00.001-04:00

"The newsman said it is a large canopy it can accommodate a party of 100"

Party Of 100
Your invited
Dress formal
Wear comfortable shoes it will be held outside
Grass field with some interesting landmarks
No food, no drinks the time will be short
If you can't make? It will be televised
Commentary before during and after
The nation will be tuned in

The blessed event?…

The death of five little children, ...

Drowned by their mother.