Seeing Is Believing

Can you see, forever?20131114_152430

Does it look far away, or can you…almost…touch it?

Is the mind limited by what our eyes can reach?

Close your eyes then, and reach out….

Fly thru the valleys of forever time, a landscape that is created by the limits that you are capable of.

Open the mind and see, where the golden land lies…

Is it truly there?

You can see it, even though your eyes are closed.

The eyes that draw in vision are not the eyes that create, forever land.

Breathe in the air, of forever time…

You can…almost…touch it.

Walk thru the rivers of forever land, and see….

There are no bends, no dams that slow or hinder the forever tide…

There is only power, majesty in the icy rush of flow around your feet….

Climb the mountain, and see….20130928_120523

It is the forever peak that hides a forever sky.

Can you see the summit?

You can…almost…touch it…

The eternal sun that holds forever land is waiting for you…

You can feel the warm, golden kiss of light, as if by a lover, tickling across the back of your hand.

It is a forever, tender kiss.

The ropes of sunlight grasp your arms and help you kneel before the edge of forever sky…

Your eyes are closed….

The voice that has been with you forever whispers “I am afraid to see”

The sun kisses your cheek, the lips of forever sky brush lightly across your brow…

The forever voice, in gasping awe “There it is” “Open your eyes”

Open your eyes, it says…

Easy for it to say

I’ve never seen forever, have you?20130913_191443

You open your eyes and behold forever land.

Time has no purpose here, in forever….

Now, close our eyes and imagine…

Your very own forever…

You can…almost…touch it.

“D” is for Dramatic


I am SO sick….

I can feel the blood scraping against the vessel walls in my brain.

I am so sick….

I have become the most productive snot factory on earth.

I am so sick that it hurts when I think I’m not that sick….

I am so sick that when I lay down I can hear my heart beat in the pillow.
Thump(echo echo) Thump(echo echo)

I am so sick I am contemplating suicide by Nyquil PM.

The Coughing, sneezing, so I can die in my sleep medicine….

I am so sick that I hope I drop a lung so I’ll quit coughing so much.

I am so sick that they will use virus cells from my dead carcass to cure Ebola and reanimate Elvis.

I can feel myself slipping away….

Goodbye cruel world!

Say goodbye to MA and PA and little Buffy….

It’s getting so dark….

Where is the light they keep talking about ?

Oh… I’m so cold…..

…… So cold

Hack! Hack! A choo!

I’m fading…..

Goodbye Aunt Fred and Uncle Sally, you gay bitches!

**Whispers next to my death bed** “He’s delirious”

Cough! Kack! Brrrrr!

I…feel…. Death coming…. Closer…

Go toward the light Carol Anne….

I….. Must make my peace with…

*cough cough cough *

Make my peace with….
Screw that, I’m freaking dying here people!

Goodbye WordPress people, I only knew you for a short time…

*cough cough cough Kack! *

Try and find a reason to go on without me…

Be strong…


*gurgle Kack bleecck Pfffftttt! *

“He’s dead Jim…. ”




Wow Is Me…


How can this be?
Two big zeroes preceded by a 3…
Im not that interesting
Or witty I agree
Why would anyone want to read anything written by me?
I find that I use grammar like an unwieldy axe
It doesn’t seem to matter though because my blog groupies always come back
They honor me with likes or a comment or two
“You are so talented, you big sexy guy you ”
I get embarrassed by all this lusty praise
I find that fame really sux despite the truth of it all and the questions raised…
” Will he keep being awesome and a stud muffin too? ”
I say “Yes, never fear, my minions of “wow” and “eww”
It’s a helluva thing to be equal to all of my hype!
Thus I promise to keep boring you with prose and type.

Thanks for following my stuff, 

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Dream Flying

images (13)

He’s been having more dreams than usual….

At least he thinks so.

It happens to be that here lately he dreams most every night.

The dreams seem to last for days and after he wakes up, he’s exhausted, thrilled, disappointed and happy.

He’s never happy.

He hasn’t been happy for years in this Awake place.

He is only happy when he dreams.

In his dreams……He can fly!

All he wants to do, when he is forced into the grind of the world, is to be alone and quiet.

He doesn’t like to be alone….but that’s up to…them.

He won’t take the pills or liquor anymore to help him sleep, to help him “handle’ things.

He doesn’t dream with the dope, no dream……no flying……

No sky dancing…..

He lives deep in his mind during the Awake time……The dark corner next to a wet spot where all the noise and arguments rage behind his eyes…

He tried to stop the noise with an ice pick once but his courage failed.

It always seemed to fail when he needed to fight back or stand up for anything, or anybody.

“I can’t even stand up for myself” he thinks….

But when he was flying, he is above the pain and noise.

He flies through the rays of blinding light, like ribbons made of rainbows.

When he flies he would soar through clouds that were so cool and clean that it would make him breathless and tickle his face, pulling crystal tears of joy from the corners of his eyes as if drawing water from the well of his soul.

He would laugh and shout, cry……

He loved the wind pulling through his hair like a lovers hands.

He loved to dive toward the earth at blinding speed then, at the last second, climbing, clawing back heavenward….

Back into the clouds…..Back into the light.

Back to where laughter is louder than the rushing of flight.

The pinching of the cold wind, the heat of the sun take turns changing the color of his spirit.

But the Awake time would always bring him back down from the sky.

The Awake time would bring back the noise and arguments in the wet spot by the dark corner where he used to hide as a child when the drunken hitting started to fall through a bloody haze.

He had read somewhere that all he needed was the faith of a mustard seed and he could do anything.

Flying is much easier than moving mountains he thinks.

Oh….He has faith.    The faith of a lost child who believes in love…..but never touches faith….or is touched by love.

He is tired of being Awake.

So tired……

The noises and arguing behind his eyes are loud today.

He only wants to sleep…..

He just wants to dream…

He wants to fly……


download (64)

The man stepped off of the roof ledge of the tallest building.

The wind ripped through his hair.

The smog of the city below tearing at his senses, drawing gray dead globs of bile from his widening eyes.

A smile breaks open upon his face….

He is flying…..!


***An unidentified man jumped from a 100 story building in the lower part of the city first thing this morning.

Eyewitness accounts said they thought that they had heard laughter before they saw the man falling, causing them to look up at the strange sound when they spotted him.

“He looked like a mustard seed against the sky at first” said one witness.

“He was laughing like a mad man, I could hear it all the way down here where I was standing” said another.****

The coroner zipped up the bag that contained the body of the man that couldn’t fly.

“It almost looks like he’s smiling” said a grimacing cop.

“Who’d ever dream that a person could take their own life?” said the coroner. “I still ain’t got used to it”

“Well…” said the cop, pushing back the brim of his cap…..

“He’s in a forever dream now”

The church bells began to ring across the city…..

….. Just asking


When I die, will the earth keep turning?

Why do they say “Life goes on” after someone dies?

If the world truly loved me it would waste away after I die…

If I really made a difference on this earth, why couldn’t I live forever and do more?

If I’m truly insignificant, then why am I capable of  procreation, art, love…. And destruction?

If each tomorrow is a new day, then why is it hard for me to change ?

If life is about choices why are there so many wrong ones and only one right choice?

Yes, there are options but knowing the difference between  what smells like dog shit, tastes like dog shit, or Is dog shit takes experience and effort.

Then why do we always want to test a boiling pot…?

If had an employee that represented my life, I would fire them.

There are several answers to any question….

No there’s not.

Think about it.

What kind of answer is “yes AND no”?

If there are subtle differences why are they so easy to recognize?

If we can be taught, then why do we never learn?

If we learn from the past, why do we forget the lessons?

Future – 1 = Past

If we can remember what a certain flower smells like all of our life and a certain song, then why can’t I remember all the sunshine?

Why can we describe the ugly in much more detail than the beautiful?

Because there are no words for true beauty… Only wind and music.

You are beautiful…

We are beautiful…

I..Am beautiful…

Can you whistle?


Whistle a little tune today and know that you are beauty.

You… Are wind and music…

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Reasons to Scream and Giggle


(number) My question

(letter) Actual replies

1) “I’ve lost my keys and can’t find them anywhere…. Have you seen them?”

a)  “Where did you lose them?”

b)  “Where did you have them last?”

c) “What were you doing when you lost them? ”

d) “Where have you looked?”

e) “What do they look like?”

f) “Did you check everywhere?”

g) “Do you have another set?”

h) “Where would I be if I were a lost set of keys?”

2) “Have you seen the TV remote?”

a) “No”

b) “You had it last…..”

c) “Is it on the TV?”

3) “Could you hand me a roll of toilet tissue please?”

a) “There ain’t none? ”

b) “I thought you bought some”

c) “Are we out?”

d) “Use a wet rag”

4) Honey, where’s my watch?! ”

a) “It’s on that thingee”

b) “Last time I seen it you had it on… You’re not wearing it now?”

5) “Who left a 1/4″ of milk in the jug?!”

a) No answer

6) “Who ate all the raisins out of the Raisin Bran!?”

a) No answer

7) “How long has it been since you put oil in the car honey?”

a) “Do what?”

8) “Honey… A cop is behind us, where is the insurance card?”

a) Blank stare

b) White knuckles

Treyfucious sayeth: “When one tries to change a light bulb, the light bulb has TO WANT to change”

Hokey Pokey Rehabilitation: A place to turn yourself around.

Put 2 and 2 together and what do you get?

“Roses are red”
“Violets are blue”
“If you’ve read this”
“You must be bored too”

Thx for visiting from treyZguy!

PS: Sometimes stupid is all the inspiration you need….

In A Flash (for the Newbies)


The I.E.D that killed Private Lykes on an isolated dirt road outside of Fallujah was so powerful that his physical body left this earth as a fine red mist mixed with fire and steel.

The other 6 troops followed him into eternity at the exact same moment.

Different lives…different mists….same color.

They never knew what hit them…but still…..

There was a back-up in the line at Saint Peter’s gate that morning.

There were more everyday…There was also a delay in the phone call to 221 Edgrum Farm Road Bristol, Nebraska.

Private Lykes’ childhood home.

He walked up to his front door 5 minutes after he died.

The door opened for him.

Private Lykes stomped his feet on the Cornhuskers welcome mat. He grinned a little when he saw that he was in clean gear.

All the boys that had reported to the Gate after the blast this morning had no idea what had happened to them.

They had all been upset and angry about not knowing that they had been killed.

There is no truth in the fact that there is no anger, hate, and bitterness in heaven. Especially outside the Gate…

Private Lykes wiped his arm across his face. He could still smell the cordite, steel and blood, although his gear did not show it.

He was grateful though.

Not everyone got an opportunity to say goodbye.

The man that had met them at the gate had taken pity on the small group of Nebraska National Guard troops.

You see…they had just got off the plane outside of Fallujah.They had never fired a shot…never actually set foot on enemy soil.They had been on their way to a staging center when the tiny man with crazy eyes and sweating brow killed them with a mortar shell and a Trac Fone.

None of the troops were over 24 years of age.

Private Lykes was 18….and still a virgin.

He walked into his house. He had just been here 3 weeks ago. His mom would probably think he had either forgotten something or went AWOL before actually getting on that plane.

Private Lykes heard dishes clattering…water running…laughing.

He looked down at his dusty boots.

Maybe his mom wouldn’t freak out if he walked across the carpet.

He moved silently to the kitchen door. He looked in at his parents; their backs were turned to him.

His mother was washing the dishes, his dad was rinsing this time.

Private Lykes smiled to himself, wondering why his dad was in trouble this time…

“Hey” Private Lykes said to his parents backs.

His dad turned first, a look of surprise crossing his face. His mother turned with a more questioning look, guarded….you know how mom’s look at their kids when trying to decipher mischief or mayhem?

That look….

“Michael…?” his mom said wiping her hands on his dad’s shirt-sleeve.

His dad pulled his wet arm from his wife’s grasp laughing, saying “Woman…!”

His mom started to ask him “What are you…?”

She stopped when she saw tears in her son’s eyes. His dad looked at him, searching “What’s wrong Mike, did something happen?” “Why aren’t you…?

The Man called Jesus stepped around the corner of the kitchen door.

They both knew The Man.

Jesus placed his hand on Private Lykes shoulder.

Mike’s dad didn’t mind anymore that his wife’s wet hands were digging into his arm now.“No” his mom hissed…”No…No…” she started to cry.

Mike’s dad was pale…quiet.

Jesus squeezed Michael Joseph Lykes Jr’s shoulder and told him “Go say goodbye for now Mike, go say goodbye to your Mom and Dad.”

Mike didn’t look back at Jesus.

He walked to his parents, running the last 3 steps, crashing into their arms.

The arms that held him when he had learned to walk, the arms of the mother that had taught him to dance in the living room so he wouldn’t embarrass himself at the prom. The arms of his hero…his Dad, the dad that had taught him to play football in the cornfield behind the house, the arms that had held him high above the crowd to see their Cornhuskers “Fight Fight Big Red!!” they had all shouted at the tops of their voices…

They all stood there together…trembling, holding on to each other.

Private Lykes’ mother slowly pulled her wet face from her son’s chest. She looked up into his eyes…

”Did he suffer?” she was looking into her sons eyes, but directed her question to The Man.

“No” Christ said.

“Why not ask me…?” Private Lykes’ grinned a little at his mother, acting hurt.

“Because he wouldn’t lie to me” she replied as she wiped her son’s wet eyes, smoothing the tears from his cheek…

She was staring at her hand that was resting over her son’s heart.

Michael’s dad was holding his sons hand as the young soldier began to fade away.“I just wanted to come by….and tell you goodbye mom…”

His dad winked at him, giving his son’s hand a hearty, hearty handshake.

Jesus walked over and put his arm around Michael’s shoulders.

The Man said “He’ll see you on the other side”

“You promise…?” his mother asked the Man, grasping at The Man’s arm.

“I always have” replied the Man, squeezing her hand in his.

“Bye Mom…Bye Dad” Private Lykes said quietly, giving his dad a half-hearted mock salute.

The phone ringing drew the eyes of the parents to it.

The moment interrupted.

They turned back to say goodbye to their son.

He was gone.

There was a glowing new rainbow magnet on the fridge.

Mr. Lykes looked at it closely, giving a small, quick sob.

Mrs. Lykes put her fingers to her lips and asked “What…?”

Afraid to know…almost.

“I Promise…” he replied. “It says…I promise”.

Hump Day: A Shakespeare Sonnett


(not Shakespeare)

Oh Wednesday
Oh Wednesday

When doth cometh unto me thy poor servant
A simple dabbler in verse or prose

Ye draw the stage curtains across my quill and type, a sense of thy redress

Whereas not a single soul is stirred in yon Land of WordPress.

Oh WordPressia
Oh WordPressia

Draw not thy stalwart shutter
Hump day is no bastion that must be held

‘Tis not the joyus painful rapture of a cell

An artist must creates

To manifest their wares before a Web site whereas Hump Day doth desolates

Is there voodoo in this place to keep admirers away

Is there an unreachable summit of the hump on this Hump day eve
That breaks my horde of followers to their very knees

I am abandoned oh Absalom(?)

Oh Absalom
Oh Worthy words

Fail not from thine worship of my inane verbs
Cast off thine fear and relief for Hump Day

Although Sunday was only 3 days ago, thy bitch and moan
“Hump Day, Hump Day whoop whoop!”

Tanka: Departing Geese

This is my first attempt at a Tanka..
See also….

Departing geese
Wing tip to tip, mirrors wave
Ice recedes at Springs behest
Flowing, growing, nested rest

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