You Are Not Me, and that’s OK.

I will tolerate you, if you’ll tolerate me.

I’ll accept your opinion, if you’ll accept mine.

I’ll judge you like you’ll judge me….

Fair enough?


What if, what was applied to you, was applied to me?

Let’s swap opinions and really act like they’re our actual ones, just to see what happens.

“Man, you’ve done a complete 360…” They’ll say “I had no idea you felt that way”

“I changed my mind” you’ll say, extending the farce.

But then you get to reflecting on the whole mad experiment of swapping the opinions.

To make it believable you had to argue the point, to defend your stance.

To make it believable you had to convince the other people that you are right and you are justified in your opinion!

Try the experiment, even if you put it on paper.

Take out your diary or your journal….or do like me and start a world renowned blog; now, take a subject, any subject…say, along the lines of anything you have a strong opinion against.

As for one example, I don’t agree with gay marriage.

I have friends that are gay so I don’t voice my opinion, which is only an opinion, out of love for them.

If they wanna throw their lives away by getting joined in a ritual that has absolutely no meaning anymore, except on paper and be legally bound to another, go for it.

Ill bet some of the poor sots will be sucking wind when they realize that the divorce, IS legal….and binding…

I don’t see the big deal.

Go in the woods, prick your fingers, mingle blood, dance around a tree and say “I marry you” 3 times.

Poof! You’re married!

If you actually love each other you won’t need any paper saying your hitched and if you actually love each other you don’t have to worry about being financially secure later in life.

You’ll have it all planned out, just like millions of straight, unwed couples all over the world!

Marriage is in the heart and soul.

Sorry, got side tracked;
As I was saying, earlier.

Swap your opinion with someone else’s, then defend it as if you own it.

Defend it faithfully and honestly and you will start to see something….odd; from your usual perspective.

I’m not gonna give it away but, it’s like this:
You might not change your mind about your “real” opinion, or even entertained the possibility but, you’ll actually think to yourself “What’s the big deal? I can actually see where they’re coming from, kinda; why was I getting so upset about that crap!?”

That’s a new idea for posting ideas for my blog, at least.

I will be 2 people.

I will be me. I will be thee; meaning you as my differing opinion.

I will give my opinion to thee, then I’ll give “thee” opinion to me.


I will argue
I will defend
I will feign ignorance
I will feign arrogance
I will tell thee that you’re full of crap!
Thee will punch me in the mouth!

Then, we will calm down, hash things out, come to the decision to “agree to disagree” but still love one another.

I will cure myself a little more with each argument.

Argue a point that isn’t yours and see the point of it.

If I wanna be a better person to my fellow man, without compromising my own values, I gotta try anything!

That’s only my opinion.

30 Day Writing Challenge; Day 2

I accept this 30 day Writing Challenge from Klnikolovas’ Blog because I get where Klnikolova is coming from….and it sounds like fun.

This is Day 2.

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”Trey Header

Good lord, where do I start, where CAN I start?

From the beginning, from the first time my mother scolded me or praised me?

Do I remember “You’re such a good boy” or “You’re such a bad boy”; which one is so deep that it’s in my bones and I believe it, no, I KNOW it without KNOWING it?

Do I recall all of the bad things or good things?

Do the bad things leave a bigger mark on my soul than the good things?

I am made of pieces of opinions by flawed, imperfect people

I am a castle built on sand, made from blocks of comments and observations by people that had the responsibility to build me up, tall and impenetrable; people that should have created me as a fortress that was beautiful to look upon and had a light that shone bright as the sun, for all to see…

I should have been a beacon….

But, I believe that I am only a quaint hostel; built to stand in a dark forest that is filled with ghosts, skeletons and shadows.

But, do not weep. The sun does shine through the leaves occasionally and I have a small garden that often blooms beautifully according to the amount of complimentary light that reaches it.

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

I think it’s the things I can’t remember that define me; that is my bedrock.

The foundation on which I depend upon is not of my own making.

Others have shaped it, I have only built it.

images“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

I cannot pin-point one thing, in particular.

I am what they say I am; how can I be different?

A perception as to some; I am created and categorized by what others have told me, in love and anger, by careful consideration, knee-jerk reactions, first impressions and “Hey have you heard so and so and this and that, about him?”

“I’m gonna tell him a thing or two” is quantified according to the conceptions of themselves and also sit upon foundations others have built for them.

“I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind” is a two-edged sword. It’s all in how they swing it….defense or attack.

I am part of a vicious circle that stems from our first parents; the ignorant couple from Eden…..

They too, had no idea of the consequences that their words would affect their children, and their children’s, children’s, children….until it got to me.

We….all of us….are affected by those words; words that we have forgotten, but not forgotten…..

And he said; “Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?”

They point and say….”He told us”download (4)

Follow me here….

One man says “You are beautiful, you are smart; you are awesome”

The second man says “What!? He’s nuts, you’re the ugliest, stupidest person I’ve ever known!”


Can you see what I’m saying?

Who would you believe?

Do not lie…

We believe haters before we believe lovers.

It is easier to tear down than to build.

Who DO I believe?

Who SHOULD I believe?

Believe in myself?

I don’t know me that well…..

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”


A fence in my mind that was built early, high and sharp…..cropped-cropped-10177421_865697956780084_2641514896274692354_n.jpg

“You can’t do that”

But, they lied……

A Quick Poem

I was listening to the band Bread…..

A poem.

Original Poem from trey:wpid-20150109_062042-picsay.jpg

I am me
You are you….
Together we are two
Two is more than one
Two is a greater number.
…..than I ever knew.

Catch Myself

I forget to be grateful.

A woman, hunched over, grunting with pain and effort, her right fist pressed against her chest, walked thru the rain from the doctors office doors to a car waiting at the curb.

It must have taken her 15 minutes to travel 40 feet. 5 of it spent trying to step from the curbing to the flat parking lot surface.

My step daughter and I kept guessing what was wrong with the bent lady, shooting nasty glances at the driver sitting in the car waiting on her. We wondered why he wasn’t helping the poor thing and we cussed him soundly from the snug, dry confines of my little car; only 10 more feet away….And we weren’t helping, either.

The driver watched the lady open the door and get in the car; grunting and gasping as she did. She was so hunched over in the front seat that I could barely make out the back of her head from her window.

Me and Lacy cussed the driver even more. ..on the inside.


The driver got out of his car, ducking into the rain as he came around to the lady’s side, opened her door a bit and shut it more tightly.

Then, to our ogling dismay, he turned to us, his coat pulled over his head against the downpour, motioning me to roll down my window.

Oh Crap, had he heard our thoughts?

Had he noticed us staring at him and read our lips as we damned his hide?

I shot a quick glance at Lacy, she gave me the “Well, at least you’ll be the first one killed” look as I slowly rolled the window down.

I looked at the man thru the window and rain. He motioned for me to roll the window down further. To have more room to get his hands in and choke the shit out of me or fit the gun thru, I thought in the “Oh Crap, I’ve been caught being an asshole again and the piper needs to be paid before the fat lady quits singing” thought.

“She gets mad if anyone tries to help her!” He shouted thru the rain and 2 inch gap of the window.

I nodded sagely.

He looked at our judgemental faces and accusing eyes for a second longer, then nodded and returned to their car. He got in and said something to the bent lady, glancing at us over her hunched back as he spoke.

The lady’s head turned towards us. She gave a slight smile and then, a little wave.

The car backed out and they were gone.
Lacy and I just sat there and stared ahead at the flapping wipers.

“I feel like a butthole” Lacy said.

“Well, she would have just had to have gotten mad at me because I would have helped her if she been one of my
kinfolk’s” I retorted.

“Why didn’t we help her anyways?” asked Lacy. “We don’t have to be related to help people”

“We don’t know them people, Lacy” “She could have been contagious or something” I blustered.

Then, it happened.

Like it always does.


My conscience and humanity put its little two cents worth in….

No excuses, What would Jesus do, golden rule, charity, mansions in heaven, Touched by an Angel, Mister goody two-shoes, beggar, ungrateful, cold hearted……human.

Then I remembered the last few days; with my heart stent, ICU time, Mrs. Lady dying and the whole of my woeful past week replaying itself inside my head.

I had forgotten all the promises I made to God when I was scared.

I wasn’t helping my fellow man.
I was being judgemental.
I was being selfish.
I was being…..
The same as before.

You see, it is the doom of Man that we forget.

It is the doom of Man that we judge, unguided and unchastized for righteousness’ sake.

It is the doom of Man that we forget that we are all the same, you and I.

For the good of the many…

One must fall.

For the good of all…

One must lead.

I am a simple man.

I have flaws and faults, skeletons and bridges aflame.

I make rash and stupid decisions and I judge people by their appearance and not their character.

First impressions are almost engraved in stone.


Maybe all of our bad, wrong first impressions will be engraved in stone, somewhere.

Or maybe, it’ll be in a big book…at the left hand of God.

I forget to be grateful.


I have forgot to remember

I forget to let God help….

It is the duty of all mankind to remember our Brethren on this earth and the plight and miseries of all, thereof;
To smite the wicked and uplift the meek and mild.

It is our duty to remember our past so it doesn’t keep happening.

Tomorrow is just a word.



Live and be grateful.

Live and be helpful.

Do it now.

Tomorrow is just a word.


Once Again

Prologue: You CAN cry forever…..

I dreamed a dream and there you were, still in love with me.

I woke up sobbing in regret.
My poor heart…

My poor, poor, pathetic heart

When I woke up, against my own will,  I felt….So lonely ….empty… Missing something….

So, I took my soul out and looked it over.
Just what I thought….
There’s a hole in it, alright.

How long will I be in love with you…?
I don’t know.
I’ll let you know after I die.
I hate you for this.
I still love you…for it

OMG, how I feel right now…..

My heart is breaking because I woke up.


My pillow is wet!
My eyes are wet!
My face is wet!
…… My mouth is dry from calling to you, asking, pleading for you… To forgive me.

Don’t leave me again…
You always leave…
Or, am I waking up too much?

Don’t be angry at me, anymore.

I’m crying right now as I write this, tears on the keyboard, blurry blue screen, knife in my heart.

I’m 50 years old and I’m crying over a dream…!
I’m crying…. for you.

I got to say I’m sorry in this dream.
And I meant it.
Oh man, did I….and how!

You believed me this time.
I saw it in your eyes.

You couldn’t talk in my dream…they never let you talk…
All I need to hear is 3 words…
Just. 3.Words….

Thats not asking too much is it?

So, you wrote it on a piece of dream cardboard.
“I love you, too.”

I love awesome dreams….
Even the crying part is OK.
So long have I loved you…
So long….
OMG….. Would you look at that…
….. Another hole.

I do hate you, sometimes.

Drama King

Laying it on thick:

My wife does not love me


Sheila uses me…. Sexually…

She calls me names and spits in my food…

She hates me

She pushed me down the steps at church, once…

She makes me live alone in this lonely truck so I decided to kill myself in my loneliness for being so alone.

I am so lonely that I must look in my little mirror if I don’t want to be alone.

I was so handsome before the loneliness…

She drives by graveyards and says “That’s a nice cemetery”


So lonely…. So lonely….

Aloneness is so lonely, in this lonely truck.

She would know my aloneness if she didn’t leave me alone in my lonely truck with my little mirror.

She throws rocks at me sometimes.

But she don’t care….

She wants me to die all alone.

She hit me with a stick, once…

She said I couldn’t get any chickens.

Chickens get lonely too…


I saw her kick a child, once….And steal his lunch money…

Poor lonely chickens.

I am a lonely chicken.

She hates chickens.

My wife only likes pork chops.

I saw her trip an old man, once…

He was lonely too.

I don’t like pork chops because they aren’t lonely.
….. Like me.

I am a lonely pork chop that has no friends.

My wife won’t let me have any friends.

She says chickens can’t be friends

I saw her eat a chicken once…

imageChicken Killer

She says she’ll eat my chicken friends.

I don’t wanna be a friendly pork chop that’s lonely….

She is a mean wife.

Thanks Giving….

I'm in there somewhere...

I am ungrateful
But I don’t mean to be

Nothing has value anymore
Even honor and life are cheap.

We are so blessed!
We don’t notice…
….our world still needs and bleeds

The Golden Rule is lost in self love
What’s in it for thee…

Take a moment and look
Steal a glance and see
All the great moments in our lives
That passed by unnoticed
So fleet

It is the doom of man that we forget
It is time that will tell
You can’t appreciate the roses
When we don’t take a smell…

Sit and think about what thanks-giving really means.
An instant to admit how ungrateful we’ve been
Thanks for the blessings we have had, no matter how small
Then give them to someone else
Give them all…

Touch my face and love me
Hold my hand when we’re scared
Hug someone tight when they weep
Whisper “There there there…”

Hug them tight and give thanks for love
Hold their hand all the way
Touch someone’s face and say “You know what, it’s okay”

We are ashes and dust
A gleam in dad’s eye
Just being born is a miracle
Think about that…
Make the time.

Dear God or to whom it may concern;
  Thank you for everything you have given me and for what you have taken away.
Thanks for knowing better than letting me always have my way.
Thanks for showing us so much patience, free will and pretty things.
Thanks for it all
Good and bad, Big or small.

I am ungrateful
I don’t mean to be
I actually TRY to give thanks sometimes
If !
….. I recognize the effort
You’ve put into me.

It’s so damn easy to forget to give thanks when our blessings abound.
If you get too much of a good thing, eventually we will expect it, take it for granted…. A given.

It is not Thanks-given….
It is Thanks-Giving….
Not past.
Present and future.
Life…. The gift that keeps giving.
Think about that and be grateful.

Give to another so they will give thanks
Thank someone and give them joy
Try and say Thanks today and think about it…..
Really, really try and think about “thanks”
Then, give it away…

Give thanks…
Give….. Thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

My Past: 12 Step Boogie; Chapter 2

First Chapter; Last Week

“The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward.”

– Amelia Earhart



I remember good Christmases…

There was a model fighter jet plane that made smoke and screamed… a G.I Joe with the kung fu grip and underwater gear; a BB gun, a Swiss Army knife, and a .410 shot gun.


Dear old Dad was also a very good guitar player and singer, and actually recorded a record….(that’s a round piece of vinyl with music etched into grooves)

With my dad on local T.V and radio in the South, I had several instances of meeting famous people; they wore the same shoes I did and their kids were just as noisy and cranky as my siblings and I were when it got late.

I don’t remember him once sitting down and teaching me chords though….. I learned by watching.

I taught myself the guitar, drums, bass, piano and trumpet, all by ear…well; I could read a little bit of trumpet chords.

Mostly, I learned from watching the musicians around him, when they weren’t too F’d up to show up and practice.

That happened quite a bit, believe it or not.


I guess I wanted to show him I could do it, teach myself or prove that I was talented too….

I can’t remember.

Lots of childhood memories are lost I’m afraid.

Alcoholism, addiction, divorce and self-loathing will do that to a guy.

I don’t believe I ever really tried to learn anything special or do anything where Dads scrutiny or critique might possibly be involved.

I did not test those waters.

Anyways, not beating my poor old Dads memory…Change of thought process for a second…Copy of Copy of the early fam

My mom says I used to take the blame, or something like it, for my brother and sisters, to protect them from punishments.

She said that I used to wake my brother up at night after an “accident” and change his sheets; so that he wouldn’t get in trouble the next day.

The only way I remember these things is by people telling me about it many years later.

Hell, I had no idea…I was capable of self-sacrifice….



But, I offset it of course, ass that I was.

Sexually abused, myself, I was gave the cruel to my siblings.

I don’t remember specifics or occurrences, but when someone yells fire and you smell smoke…..

Figure that….

I can’t seem to remember anything….

Love and pain…….I still can’t understand why.

I have tried for years and years; nothing….

Don’t get me wrong…I love them all fiercely…I would kill or be killed for them.

They were the country that I would die for.

I was hateful and abusive to them.

I was hated and abused by the neighbor boys.

I was scared.

I wanted to be their friend.

I wanted someone to play with.

Dad was gone a lot, don’t you see?

I didn’t have anybody to protect me.angel6

God didn’t answer my prayers and the pictures in the bible never came to life.

An angel never descended from heaven; brandishing the flaming sword of righteousness; swathed in damnation and justice; saving me from the “fucker” boys….

There was no one to tell…

How could I have said anything or tried to explain it anyway to a grown up….?

“Mama, Ricky is making me suck his pecker so I can ride his bike, is that okay?”

“Mama, it hurts when Dennis holds me down in the bushes”

How does an 8 year old boy explain that he is being tormented by his idols?

Then came puberty; then anger, then the realization of what had been happening to me.

Realizing, that these guys weren’t my friends after all.

I found out that everyone in the 6th grade knew or had been told that I was a “fag” .

I didn’t know what a “fag” was or a “dildo baby”…..

Then came more anger….greater betrayal…..deeper HATE…..

Shit rolls downhill….download (22)

Along came the inevitable next victims of sin….

My siblings.

I was acting out people may will say now…

I just wanted to hurt something…anything….

I was only a kid myself, you know?…..But bigger than them; just like the “fucker” boys.

I was my sibling’s hero; they worshipped me and I demanded absolute devotion.

Their big brother was different from current me…but the same guy.

Know what I mean?

I can never forgive myself for that stuff though….

Never, ever, ever, ever…..

God doesn’t know the depths of hell that a man can dig for himself.

Even Dante’s tragedy had a last act; non-infinitetum….

I didn’t know how to be then, being a kid and all….

I was one messed up little boy…you’ll see and understand more later, I hope.

My examples in parenting were poor indeed.20130707_215134

Don’t get me wrong, I am aware that all Moms and Dads are human too and have their own faults, issues…baggage?

They can’t shoulder all the blame, but take a little responsibility; don’t put it all on me to deflect criticism from yourselves!

Save your image, CONDEMN THY SON AND BROTHER!!!!

Speaking of which, I have not been a positive role model toward my own progeny, by any measure.

A good example of what NOT to do you might say.

(Extremely immature and naïve am I)

The constant, raging dragon within.

I didn’t even start to gain any semblance of maturity until I reached my early 40s’ for crying out loud!

I swear it runs in the males of this family!

I made horrific decisions (meant well), was irresponsible (meant well), and a terrible liar.

Telling people what they wanted to hear, so not to disappoint or hurt them.

I thought…..

In all honesty…It was to keep me out of trouble or shine in their (97)

I was just a kid then.

The lying continued…..

In my misperceptions and distorted way of coping, I was sparing them and myself, I guess.

I never considered that it hurt them more to be lied to, or else I just didn’t care.

A little bit of both maybe….

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

I was unaware, or probably couldn’t have cared less about these consequences… I really can’t say.

Thinking about it now, this path was influenced somewhat by my parents.

When you’re a kid, you learn from what you see and hear….

I called it “self preservation”; at least in my case.

I had 2 options: To lie; or get the shit beat out of me.

Most times over nothing…NOTHING!!!images (69)

Lying was a crutch for me; a weapon to swing or a band-aid;

Lying was a tried and tested action/reaction that lasted way after leaving home.

But lying is a very, very bad habit.

I found out too late that is a terrible thing not to be trusted… It is almost impossible to regain trust…

You never can completely.

A boy crying wolf echoes in the valley where no one chooses to live close to you.


Alas, accepting ones faults, putting them behind you, is the road to redemption and peace of mind and soul…

A possible awakening….?


Now…as a man, I know that there were lots of children that had it much worse than I….much, much worse.

Much more worse than a sane, reasoning man; limited by a religious upbringing and Georgia home town, could ever….imagine.

No, that type of horror against children cannot be imagined.

It is only created, born of true evil….

Maybe, no definitely; I should count myself lucky that all I had happen to me was getting my ass kicked and fucked.

I could have been in a more terrible place than hell…..

I remember times that my dad could be very cruel to my mom.

I don’t remember any actual physical abuse; only threatened, but definitely mental.

He spoke down to her a lot… said she was worthless and other ugly things.images (96)

Then, he would switch (snap!) just like that, and be very loving toward her.

It depended totally on his moods or the blood level in his alcohol.

There were many moods in the dark place where BC lived.

Weird it was.

Their Dad was different from mine…but the same guy.

Know what I mean?

I also remember mom making us pack our clothes in garbage bags a lot, because we were going to leave… go anywhere, “I can’t take it anymore!” she’d scream.

I don’t remember if we ever did.

I don’t remember a lot of stuff in detail before the alcohol came…..

It never happened, the actual moving or fleeing, when I was there.

He’d have hunted her down and killed her!

I know this without a doubt….

I will explain this absolute in the next 2 chapters, maybe….

I do recall him putting a gun to moms head in front of his friends (people who worked for him I should say) thoroughly terrifying and embarrassing mom.

That was old B.C…Dear old Dad.

In hindsight (percentage wise…60-40) he was always putting her down.

Probably to get a power fix.

I don’t know if his tenderness toward her was just for show or not.

It'll get darker before the dawn....
It’ll get darker before the dawn….

It totally depended on his moods or whomever he wanted to display his dominance to; and of course, alcohol intake.

My mom’s the only one who could tell you that, since I haven’t spoken to her in 13 years.

I don’t even know why….

I’ll tell ya’ll more next week….

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