Only This, Again.

I will never be what I imagined or dreamed of….

I will never know everything.

I will never touch the moon.

I will not live forever and I still can’t accept this fact or believe it, honestly; even after my body has started to betray me by falling apart.

I have been a hypocrite, an idiot, a thief, a liar, spiteful, condescending, bigoted, biased, cruel, racist, a disappointment AND occasional colossal failure.

I have also been kind, loving, forgiving, patient, courteous, courageous, giving, a joy to be around and an occasionally successful with a task.

I’m just a regular guy, with a regular life, facing normal challenges and inopportune fiascos; doing the best I can, as I can.

I realize that I have unlimited, untapped potential that I know I will NEVER have TIME, in my life, to explore or achieve.

But, I am here, now.

A little sad today, but not too bad…

I’ve learned over the years how to keep those monsters at bay.

Just don’t feed them…

I don’t listen to my mind very much or at least I don’t take its first thoughts seriously…

It’s kinda ignorant…really.

I listen to my heart a little more in my older years but, I know it’s naive to a fault, still….after all it’s put me through.

So, I balance them out, best I can.

I’m just a simple man with regrets and future dreams in the same head & heart I started out with.

A little bruised & dented but, we’re still OK….

It’s not bad to not be perfect.

It’s the effort that counts.

My one saving grace is that I continue to effort the hell out of it.

Sober Rain

Maybe this can help…someone.

rain2

The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, you know, the one with her so called “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, hardly able to breathe….

….. today was a good day for her though, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.
….like sand in an hourglass.

1461613209900.jpg

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

rain3

Six months…..seems like yesterday.

It’s been years, really….

Too fast…
…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I remember when she was sober.

I look at her face as she sleeps….
She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….

The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

rain7

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

I’m not going to cry…not now at least.

She gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There was only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

(I got to first base….ha ha…slut…ha ha)

Seems like forever ago…

There was only skinned knees, gum in our hair and friends we shared.

It was all a dream.

images (1)

It couldn’t have been real.

It was all….too perfect.

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and I follow my dying friends hooded gaze.

She’s looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….

Dying sober, thank God….

Oh so still…..

God? Where have you been….”God”?

images (8)

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

She did it all to herself.

(Drunk bitch)
I fucking hate her.

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I’m alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.
(I hate you for dying)

fb_img_1450528313084.jpg

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….
(You did this to yourself, all you had to do was say something)

[RUMBLLLLLLLE]

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze her hand too hard…..

She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.
(This could have been avoided)

So easy to avoid….(It’s my fault)

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”

I cannot cry in front of her….

man-screaming

I will not….I won’t!

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….
“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt…” she whispers….”weird” she breathes.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.
(This is all your fault, you ASSHOLE!!!)

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like the asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

(I HATE YOU!)

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

animanshandsholdingwater

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God!

Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

……she lives where lightning is born, now….

Our lives will continue as my memory….

I guess I should cry now….

But, I think it would still upset her…

…..no matter.

She did it to herself so, fuck her.

I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

SOBER

She will watch our children grow.

imagessundrop

SOBER

She will watch our children become best friends.

SOBER

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

(I’m sorry I yelled at you, God…earlier)

I’m….just…….mad

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I don’t believe in heaven, only hell is real.

I can hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

SOBER

….sorry again, God.

I didn’t mean that part about only believing in hell.

I’ve seen pieces of heaven, sometimes; here and there….

Our heaven is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….then
(But, why….?)

She did it to herself…..

Selfish bitch! Why didn’t you say anything!?

She could have stopped anytime she wanted.

I shouldn’t judge, really.

I’m an asshole, too. So forgive my outbursts.

I’m gonna stop tomorrow….

….for her.

download (2)
I promise….

The Dying Rain

rain5
The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, the one with her “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, her breath labored.

….. today was a good day for her, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.

….like sand in an hourglass.

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!

rain3

She did it to herself…. 

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

Six months…..seems like yesterday. 

Too fast…

…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I remember when she was sober. 

I look at her face as she sleeps….

She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….

rain7

The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

I won’t weep…..she did it to herself; selfish bitch. 

I’m not going to cry…not now at least. 

She gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There is only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

There is only skinned knees, gum in our hair and boyfriends we shared

.rain4

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and I follow my dying friends hooded gaze.

She’s looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….

Dying sober, thank God…. 

Oh so still…..

God? Where is God now? 

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

She did it all to herself. 

I hate her. 

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I’m alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….dream9

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.

 (I hate you for dying) 

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….

(You did this to yourself) 

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze her hand too hard…..

She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.

This could have been avoided.

So easy… 

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”rain6

I cannot cry in front of her….

I will not….I won’t! 

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….

“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” she whispers.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like an asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

(I HATE YOU!) 

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God! Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

She lives where lightning is born….rain8

Our joined lives continue as memory….

I guess I can cry now….

But, I think it still upsets her…no matter.

 I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

SOBER

She will watch our children grow.

SOBER

She will watch our children become best friends.

SOBER

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I can already hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

rain1

It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

SOBER

She is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….

(Why….?) 

Things To Ponder

If I reach one person, it will be worth it.

One talks to one…

“Oh, I read something the other day that got me thinking”

One+One = change

……eventually….

….hopefully…

Sit down.

Close your eyes and breathe.

Forget about the world and get into your own head.

Now….

Why is there war?

Why is there hate?

Why are there borders and fences?

Why do we hate the person that cut us off in traffic?

Why is there racism?

Have you ever really listened to the night?

How have we survived as a species this long?

Why …..?

Just why.

Why do we do the things that we do?

Do you know why I know there is no God?

Because every God created by man has never been this patient.

Zeus, Krishna, Yahweh, Appollo, Odin, Allah,  yada yada yada…pffffft

Have you ever really looked at a flower?

A God, to my understanding of what a God should be, is not here.

We are on our own and we’re killing ourselves.

Nothing is forever.

All things change.

Death is inevitable.

Tomorrow is not real.

Our moral compass will not fail but, our ego can drown it out.

Ignorance is the greatest enemy.

Everyone knows this.

Have you ever really looked at a human and how miraculous they are?

It is the doom of man that we forget.

My thought?

We never had a clue.

Save us from ourselves.

Have you ever wondered where it all went wrong?

Me either.

But, I am now.

There are too many humans on this earth and “God” knows it.

So does all the other Gods, plus Mother Nature  also knows.

The balance is wrong…

Just a matter of time

 

 

 

 

 

Dreams I’ll Never See

Have you ever had a wonderful, beautiful, tragic, romantic, heart-rending dream before?wp-image-2097291747png.png

There is this girl(I don’t know how old we are in my dream) but, if it’s in relation to her age, I should be late 20’s.

All I can remember about her (after waking up 3-4 times at intense moments during the dream, then losing the flow of the dream and then trying to get back to sleep like a crazy person) that she has fair, smooth skin…light hazel eyes, reddish brown or dark strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, and a smile….

A smile that makes me cry..

She evidently has a recurring role in my psyche somehow, because I have “known” her since I was a teenager; you know….when us boys start dreaming about the fairer sex.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen her but, it’s long enough between episodes that I almost forget about her; then, she reappears.

I don’t know her name yet but, this is what happened last night…

Best that I can remember.

[DREAM STATE]

I am sitting on a couch, talking to unknown people, subject unknown.

Dream talk….

When a door into the room opens up and “my girl” walks in carrying groceries…

I freeze…..it takes me a second….don’t I know her……….?

The closest I could get to Lady's likeness...

(I WAKE UP!!)

ARRRRGGGHHHH!!! NOOOOO!!!

(zzzzzzzzzzz)

 She’s seen me just as I see her and she drops the groceries, runs to the couch, crashes down on top of me and wraps her arms around my head. Laying her own beautiful red head down slowly; she’s looking into me; those pale green, sleepy, painful eyes…

Oh…there you are. Now, I remember… 

(I WAKE UP!!)

DaMMITTT!!!

(ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, DAMMIT!)

I’m looking at her again…her wet cheek dug into my chest and shoulder, her arm across my chest, her legs across my lap; she says…

(tears in my eyes now in really real)

She say’s…(I can’t see)

“Where have you been?”

So soft, so tenderly….

“Where have you been for soo long?”

Her eyes are glistening now…….accusing…..forgiving…..hating me.

I WAKE UP!!!

fb_img_1450528313084.jpg

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY!!!

I don’t want to be back in the awake place…

No one likes me here…. 

Guess what now?… I’m thinking…..”I should have stood up when she walked into the room, instead of just sitting there… been a gentleman”

Why that thought? It’s only a…..dream, right?

I must truly respect and cherish this lady; esteem her greatly I must.

Then, smiling to myself like a freaking Cheshire cat, I say to myself…

“Self”

“Thank God…she’s back.”…then, of course, crying myself to sleep…..still smiling.

Glad that “she’s” back…

I’m fighting to find sleep, trying to find her again.

But’ I couldn’t…

I had left her there…in my…”our” dream…apparently again.

I’ve eft her sitting there beside my spot; haven’t I? Clutching at empty air like a gasping person, be it out of despair or need…terrified that I had faded away from the couch and left HER, once again (Crying again now in this really real; my hands are shaking)

Oh my god…..she’s probably still sitting there holding my empty air.

I flatter myself…. 

Maybe shes screaming my name!wpid-wp-1417907323877.jpeg

I am empty air.

What a bastard I must be…in this awake place.

I understand a few things more clearly this day; a true zen moment has occurred in my life; other than the fact that I am empty air in a dream romance….

Maybe it’s real to her….

Maybe…..it’s real to me.

Wanna know why about the zen?
A) I do not know this “lady’s” name
B) I have NEVER had a dirty dream about her
C) I have never kissed her.

But last night…last night…(crying in the really real, again)

I think dreams are real…

Last night was the first time, THE FIRST BLESSED TIME I ever heard her voice!

She actually spoke to me, and I can feel her fingers in my skin as surely as I can hear myself sniffling now!

Maybe thats why I couldn’t stay there….

What a bastard I must be…in this awake place.

If heaven is where dreams come true…then I either came one step closer to it last night, or I saw it on a hill….

DSCF0303

I felt heaven there…in a dream…on a dream couch with bad cushions; my dream lady holding me…crying into my shoulder…shaking…Her loving me and me not knowing her…

Be back soon Lady…..

I know it and I can’t wait.

But, what if it’s years, like last time? Will you come? Will it be your turn to forget?

Or, will it be like that one time, where we passed each other on a crowded street and only had a second or two to die inside…..as we brushed by each other, the people shoving us along, keeping us apart?

Adrift on the waves. 

Here’s what I promise to the Sandman or God; whomever is in charge of dreams…

I’ll behave and commit no sin, I’ll eat all of my vegetables and pick up my dirty clothes.

I will eat tomatoes…..

I’ll beg the Lord for forgiveness and beg him to let me see you again …maybe I can stay a little longer next time…and we can talk…on our dream couch…

What a bastard I must be…hands

In this awake place.

 

Lasagna

It’s kinda hard, writing

When your humble servant (me) first started with WordPress (WP) I was probably just like the majority of y’all;

  1. Didn’t know how to use the regular editor thingy
  2. Didn’t know, and still don’t know, how to use the CSS thingy
  3. STILL don’t  know how to promote my writings, poems, musings or my carefully rewritten and reorganized ummmm…..what’s the word for stealing other people’s stuff and acting like it’s yours?

It’s either, ‘plagarize’ or ‘inspired’…fb_img_1451345640938.jpg

They’re both so close in their meaning, because if you look up both words in the dictionary and read between the corporate lines, they are, pretty much the same thing.

I guess I’ll go with ‘inspired’ because I do it without malice of forethought.

That means I didn’t mean to steal someone’s stuff and make it better.

Besides I can argue all day about why I have never willingly or knowingly plagarized anything.

I don’t read other peoples stuff or I should say, can’t read….

No, before y’all get all crazy and indignant, hear me out

If I read words from a page, I mean, literally read words on a page from a book like entity, I will be asleep in less than 2 minutes.

I have been like this since the 3rd grade. That’s when Mrs Salter first noticed it in me.

I can’t read instructions, newspapers, scriptures or anything over a page long. Seriously.

I will pass out.

I don’t think it’s a problem with dyslexia because I’ve always been a good speller, good problem solver and such; plus, mathematics doesn’t do it to me. I’ll look up dyslexia and see if I’m using it in the right context.

hmmm…doesn’t happen when I write.

I just noticed something else….

Why is dyslexia such a weirdly spelled word that represents a ‘condition’ where people have difficulties with spelling or the correct sequencing of words?

Oooo, look. My first wild tangent in this post.

Anywho…

My life has gotten in the way of me writing as much as I would like.

  1. eating
  2. paying bills, willingly.
  3. paying bills, that I have no idea why they are as much as they say they are.
  4. Treacherous wife
  5. Treacherous children; at least the ones I know about.
  6. Work; I guess that would be a ‘gimme’
  7. I wish I’d been born rich
  8. Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.

wpid-seductress-plain-black-page-picsay.jpgI never thought I’d ever write that statement “Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.”

But…I’m glad, or blessed, that I have gotten as far as I have gotten in this life; this test, this probationary state.

Because, if any of you have ever read any of my previous “get to know me” or “self revealing” posts on my humble blog, you will know that it’s pretty much a miracle that I have lived as long as I have lived.

Note: If I say I’m humble, does that mean I’m not?

If you haven’t read them, let me just simplify it so you don’t have to go thru the torture of reading them

It’s a miracle I haven’t killed me yet.

  1. I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on August 11, 1984; 32 years ago.

I was 19

When I came up out of the water in the baptismal font, I actually checked to see if my tattoos had come off.

Ignorant, yes, I guess; hoak’m maybe

But, man, I wish I had that feeling again.

It’s been the one instance that has seen me thru my fickleness for these past 32 years.

Yes, one moment in time, I knew that everything was gonna be alright.

….past 32 years….wpid-img_12463873886964-picsay.jpeg

I knew that I wasn’t alone, we aren’t alone. That, I knew secrets…and that I had to tell everybody.

If I had known then, as I stood waist deep in holy water, wiping the soul saving water from my eyes, what would happen in my life over these next 32 years, I probably would have asked the kindly missionary that had dunked me to dunk me again….until I quit kicking and tossing about and just floated, face down.

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand.” – Job 38:4

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

There’s a lot more in that question than you actually see at first; read it again and ponder.

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

“Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.” – Job 14:1

I have free agency but, I must cry repentance?

I wish I could keep a fetching steady stream of thought on one particular thread of contemplation and insight.

Stupid adult ADHD….

C’est la vie.

I’m all over the place with this.

Have faith?

Oh yes…I think I do finally.

I think I have an understanding in the concept, thereof.

If you are a memeber of the LDS Church, you will understand this…if not, I will add some links for clarification and has absolutely nothing to do with brainwashing. (You are a chicken, you are a chicken)

downloadI have been faithful to the law of tithing for a while now. Tithing

I have been faithful, as much as it is possible these days, to the Word of Wisdom Word of Wisdom

I miss tea and coffee…..WHY!!??

I am trying my darndest to pray each day, as much as possible, considering that I never really made it a priority in my life, plus I’m lazy, plus, I’ve always been like “Why, pray? God knows what I’m thinking or doing or what I need and what I;m thankful for, anyways. He’s a busy God; wouldn’t my stating the obvious to him just be a cruel redundancy or I’d be jamming up the lines for more needy and desperate or WORTHY souls to get their prayers heard?

It’s all about obedience to the word of God, I find out…dang it

Tangent 2….

I have so many ideas and directions that I can go with on this subject that I can’t keep my thoughts organized.

I think my writers block is gone.

Hallelujahimagesblock3

Anywhos….

I don’t know why I’ve gone in this direction with my blog.

Maybe it’s a natural course, maybe it’s a budding writer that is searching for meaning. maybe it’s because it’s time for everyone to start exploring their own souls and I can feel it in the air….

Maybe, I heard the voice of God in a prayer where I was saying nothing at all; maybe I was just listening for him, to see if he was eavesdropping on me.

He was.

I heard “Endure to the end”

As if someone was leaning over my shoulder and spoke into my ear, in a normal, level voice.

Not still. Not small

It happened.

I was there and I’m just as surprised as you are.

I opened my eyes. Got off my knees and sat on the edge of my bed. “hmmmmm”

That was strange.

Why’d he say that?

Not “OMG! God just spoke to me!”

Trey HeaderWhy’d he say that?

I know why. You know why. We all know why.

Endure. To. The. End.

So, I looked it up.

 

Endure: verb (used with object), endured, enduring.

1. To hold out against; sustain without impairment or yielding; undergo: to endure great financial pressures with equanimity.

2. To bear without resistance or with patience; tolerate: I cannot endure your insults any longer.

3. To admit of; allow; bear:

His poetry is such that it will not endure a superficial reading.

To hold out against?

To bear without resistance or with patience?

To hold out against, what?

To bear without resistance or with patience, against whom?

Hold out? Without resistance? Oxymoron?

Time?

Satan?

The World and all it’s ‘glory’?

God, himself?

I know what it is….

I have to hold out against myself….20141006_125886547-picsay.jpg

The greatest obstacle, hindrance in my life is undoubtedly and unsurprisingly…..me.

I only have to hold out, endure to the end, against the greatest supervillin known to me.

Great.

No problem.

I have to think on this.

TTYL

p.s: Oh, the last meat dish I have eaten was Lasagna.

 

p.s2: I miss meat but, not really.

 

 

 

 

 

Afraid Of My Shadow

 

 Can I go outside to check the mail, despite the terrorists lying in wait behind my Prius; just dying to blow themselves up or saw my head off? 

They’re everywhere. 

Probably raping and pillaging at the Walmart, right as we speak. 

Can I go outside and check the mail, without getting skin cancer from a dying sun that pours deadly UV rays thru our Swiss cheese ozone layer, that is caused by bushy, bushy blonde hair-dos and their gravity defying gradients? 

Can I go outside to check the mail without getting Type 2 diabetes?

Can I go outside to check the mail without locking my house and jacking a live round into my somewhat lawfully acquired, legal, 2nd Amendment protected concealed carry firearm? 

“It’s an 88 Megnum; it shoots thru schools”

Can I go outside to check the mail or did they email it? 

Well, if they did email it at least I won’t have to go outside. 

Staring at a computer screen will give you cancer or worse; make me gay! 

I might get hit by a driverless auto-car. 

There’s freaking drones out there too, man! 

(3 hrs later) 

Can y’all believe I just seen a blue butterfly? 

 ….in the summer. 

….in Texas? 

I started out this post feeling a little overwhelmed with life this morning. 

Then, I saw the blue butterfly. 

It landed on my semi-trucks mirror and just stared at me. 

I stared back. 

It fluttered it’s wings.

He didn’t say anything so we just sat there… 

I forgot what I was writing about. 

Stupid angels. 

Messed up a perfectly miserable post. 

Guess I’ll have to be in a good mood then… 

Damn. 

Memorial Day 2016

You never really see the flash of light when you’re killed on a roadside in Iraq….or so the dead soldiers tell me.

No, don’t start with me. I’m not like that kid on that movie.

I REALLY DO see dead people.

This is what I’ve learned from lost souls that go bump in the night….

You “think” you see something out of the corner of your eye but all you really feel is barely a millisecond of the sonic punch against your body, the feeling of…..how can you describe it?

You never knew what hit you?

A flash of pain? Nausea? Taste of blood in the back of your throat? Is that dirt in my mouth?

…..floating?

They had no idea they were being killed.dead

It was just…..over.

[Snapping fingers, echoing]

A bright light.

They all tell me that.

That there was a bright light, a sense of relief; not the kind of relief that you’d figure, I asked them that.

They said “No”, not the feeling of ‘Thank God, I didn’t go to hell” but more like “Thank God, I made it back”

I swear that’s what they tell me.

Let me tell you about one instance:

The I.E.D that was hidden beneath a dead dog on the isolated dirt road outside of Fallujah that killed Private Lykes was so powerful, that his physical body left this earth as a fine red mist mixed with fire and impersonal ripping steel.

There were 6 other troops that followed him into the sky at the exact same moment.

Different lives…different men….

Same fate…

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

[Snapping fingers, echoing like a distant explosion]

I imagined a queue forming for the entry line at Saint Peter’s gate that morning.

7 young men, newly arrived.

No blood, no guts, no screaming.

They’re standing there, freshly shaved, freshly starched….squared away.

There were more coming…always.

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

Private Lykes’childhood home.

Here’s what he told me:

He walked up to his front door about 5 minutes after he died, he figures, but it seemed quicker to him.

He was home, so he just went in,  you know, like usual normal stuff.

He stomped his feet on the Cornhuskers welcome mat. He grinned a little, glad that he was in clean uniform gear.
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He said he still wasn’t quite sure what was going on or what had happened but, he felt….reassured that he was ok….that stuff was “okay” that everything was….”cool”

All the other boys that had reported to the Gate that morning had no idea what had happened to them either but, they all basically said that they were all “cool” “good to go”.

They had all been a little upset and angry, to say the least, about not knowing that they had been killed.

I told them to be glad that they hadn’t suffered.

I’m such a hypocrite…..who am I to try and bullshit these kids?

I guess it’s okay to be a hypocrite when you’re trying to make someone feel better.

Anywho…

There is no truth in the fact that there is no anger, hate, and bitterness in heaven; especially standing outside the Gate where most everyone is trying to figure out what in the heck is going on, what happened and arguing amongst themselves…

Some of the people in the line know they’re dead, others don’t…

They won’t, cant, ain’t gonna accept the fact.

Well, anyways…

Private Lykes wiped his arm across his face. He thought he could still smell the cordite, steel and blood, although his gear didn’t show it.

He was grateful for that at least, he didn’t want to upset his folks…

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He was very glad that he was home, if just for the moment, because 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 in anger or protest…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 the hidden 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 further into his childhood home.

He remembered that 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. LOL!

Private Lykes followed the sound of dishes clattering…water running……..people laughing.

He looked down at his dusty boots.

Crap….Mom was gonna kill him….

He thought about that for a second and realized how stupid funny that had sounded….and not.

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

He moved silently to the kitchen door and 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……

Mom alaways made his Dad stand next to her at the sink and assist in the “womans work”, as dad would say, when he was in dutch.

“Hey guys!” Private Lykes yelled to his parents backs, they hated that and he loved it!

Dad jumped and turned first, a look of “oh shit!” surprise crossing his face as Mom jumped and turned with a more questioning and “I’m gonna beat that kid” look….you know how mom’s look at their kids when trying to decide whether to kill them or hug them.

That look….kinda hilarious, really. For a fleeting second, He wished he had a cell phone to take a pic of their faces….He laughed.

That was funny….ha….a phone..

…..he shook his head.

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

Moms……..

Dad pulled his wet arm from his wife’s grasp laughing, saying “Woman, cease!I am not a dish rag”

Mom started to ask him “What are you…?” but something went out of her face.

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

The Man that had met the soldiers at the Gate that morning stepped around the corner of the kitchen door.

Mom and Dad were surprisingly, not surprised…or alarmed….

“Monica…..David” the Man said.

The Man stepped next to Private Lykes and placed his hand on his shoulder.

Dad didn’t seem to notice that his wife’s wet hands were digging into his arm now almost drawing blood.

Realization…..inuitition….

Moms’………………?

“No” his mom hissed…”No…No…” she started to cry, her fists clenched to her lips.

Dad was pale…quiet.

The Man gently squeezed Mikeys shoulder and told him “Go say goodbye”

Mike didn’t look back at the Man.

He slowly, almost fearfully, walked to his parents and fell into their arms.

They caught their son!

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 caught their falling son! They had caught their son that had fallen!

They all stood there together…trembling, holding on to each other, crying, sobbing, gasping, squeezing, oh my God they were saying goodbye and not wanting to….

THEIR BABY WAS DEAD!!!!!

“No one from the Army has called y’all?” the young soldier asked, his voice muffled in his parents hair.

“No, no one” his Dad said.

The Man from the Gate watched too…..and he wept.

He had been alive once, here, on this earth, as a living, breathing man.

He too, had watched his own mother wiping blood from his feet as he had hung there on that tree; he had watched her weep as he had died….

The Man from the Gate suddenly realized he was getting angry…..this was so unecessary, so unfair for these nice people to have to go thru all OF THIS CRAP BECAUSE PEOPLE COULDN’T GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER!!!

The Man took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his chin.

Private Lykes’ mother slowly pulled her wet face from her son’s chest and looked up into her sons face,

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

“No” The Man said.

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

“Because “HE” wouldn’t…..can’t….lie to me” she replied as she wiped her sons wet eyes, smoothing the tears from his cheek…

Now she was staring at the hand that was resting over her son’s heart; so quiet……so, so quiet.

His Dad was holding his sons hand as the young soldier began to fade away. “I just wanted to come by….and tell you guys goodbye.” he said.

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

The Man walked over and put his arm around the young soldiers shoulders.

The Man said “It’s just for now”

“You promise…?” his mother asked the Man, her trembling hand reaching out towards the Man.

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

“Bye Mom…Bye Dad” Private Lykes said, giving his dad a half-hearted mock salute and a return wink that had a tear in it.

The phone began to ring and drew the eyes of the parents to it.

The moment, interrupted…

Monica and David Lykes turned back to say goodbye to their son.

Mikey, was gone.

The Man, 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…….

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

The Window

“Are you in there, Daddy?”

Dad smiles back at me, his eyes shining, a look of glee on his face.

He grins wider and squeezes my hand harder…

He has no idea who I am does he?

*She can’t hear me can she?*

*I’m looking right in my baby’s eyes and squeezing her hand but, she just looks at me with her sad, pouty face she’s used on me since she was 2 years old, right after the time she dropped her very first piece of birthday cake. That was a very unhappy girl; she was sitting there, so big on a big pot, in a big chair so she could reach her big plate of cake on the big table.*

*Such a big girl….
I remember it like it was yesterday….
How long ago was that…yesterday?*

I look into my daddy’s eyes and I can tell he see’s me but, like the Doctor says “The lights are on but no adults are at home, only a 3 year old”

I wonder if daddy can understand what I say to him?

What’s he thinking?

I hold his hand tighter and lean towards him; Daddy likes this and grins bigger.

“Daddy, Mama died”

I burst into tears….
I can’t help it.

It’s not fair.

My mom knew me to her last
breath; my mommy died with her ungrateful child’s name on her dry lips.

My dementia ravaged dad is frowning.
He probably doesn’t know he is….
Did he hear me, does he understand what I’m saying?

No….
He’s grinning again and patting my hand; a comfort pat.
He remembers what tears are, at least….maybe.
I shouldn’t get too excited though.
We all know what tears are.
Some more than others.
Tears are in our DNA.

I’m grasping at straws….

*Lisa’s dead?
My wife of 62 years is dead?
My junior high school crush is dead?
The girl down the street that used to beat me up everyday, when we were kids, is gone?
Lefty is dead?
My Lisa…..gone.

And here I sit on my big, flat dumb ass; I can’t do a damn thing about it except grin and giggle, pat Casey’s hand and drool like an idiot.*

*I’m trapped in here.*

*It’s like my body is a car and I’m in the passenger seat and I can’t move or talk and no one’s driving.*

*I’m dead in here*

*Is this hell?*

My heart keeps me alive out of spite, I’m sure of it.

*Am I in purgatory?*

*Am I not getting to spend eternity with my lover, my best friend?*

*Lisa
….. dead

My Honey Biscuit is gone.

I’m trapped in here.

Trapped…

*I’m watching my baby girl fall apart right in front of me, at my very knee, and all I can do is slobber and mew like a cat.*

It ain’t fair…

Something outside the window has caught daddy’s attention, so much for reaching him today.

I just can’t handle this right now….

“Daddy, I’ll come back tomorrow morning, we’ll have breakfast, OK?”

*I hear Casey leave; she doesn’t want to shut the door*

Poor baby. Such a great kid.

*Be strong, kiddo*

*I don’t think we’ll make breakfast.*

*Your mom is here to get me*

*Bye, baby girl*

*Thanks for being there for me, it meant everything, more than you’ll ever know*

*Lefty says you’ll be just fine, so I guess it’s OK to leave*

*See ya on the other side, Case’ *

note: I hate crying when I write

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