Aftermath, after all

A year of living dangerously, in an aftermath of ghosts…contemptible sprites.

Obliged shadows in my path.100_0832

Yelling, pointing, transfixed on…the disappointment.

I am just a child with a hand upon the hot stove.

Upheld as the deviant…never doing as, told.

Perpetually trespassing to abandoned places…

forging into haunted cold cases…

awaiting the critical scold.

Conversely, ‘what have you done?’

Shouting the paint off the walls.

Incarceration by itself…to place left to go.

Survival in the aftermath, after all.

Is survival in the after math…after all.

Harvesting the Seed

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He had never been an intended farmer

And, perhaps, Mr. Frost knew he never would be

Unintentionally up in the notches…working the land with hands calloused by tragedy

Cursed tractors, sullen cows, an unconditional hell’s paradise

Baskets of discoveries…In one’s own unmade garden

 

Trained to farm the land…Once gone…

I had no intention of going back.

Searching the pavement for creativity

poking about the neon

digging in dollar signs and dimes for deliberate self-discovery

The writings on the wall were slipping away into graffiti

So, maybe Mr. Frost had been an intended farmer, after all

His seeds of thought burning a hole in my pocket

His travels into struggle…

Left open for me green fields of self-discovery

 

a Life Practice

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“Try to put well what you already know; you will in good time, discover the hidden things which you now inquire about.  Practice what you know, and it will help make clear what now you do not know.”

Rembrandt

 

OCD and the Land of Misfit Thoughts

Lying, awake, in bed at four in the morning can be a horrible feeling.  It is the ‘stuff’ that songs are written about.

Dark, dismal, alone, bad thoughts…etc.

For those of us with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder?  Awake at ungodly hours?  Can lead to cleaning spells, rearranging the sock drawer, smoking weed, watching the Twilight Zone…etc.

Though, I find no humor in the actual context of my diagnosis!  When awake and alert, I do find many of those early morning hour…thoughts, somewhat comical.

Therefore, I have designed a list of OCD and the Land of Misfit Thoughts…when you find yourself with eye’s wide open during predawn hours.

In otherwords, if there is nothing else for you to do…below are some notions you may want to think about!

 

*warning:  I am older than some readers.  Therefore, my list may not pertain to the…young folk!

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  • How do we know there are no ‘identical’ snowflakes in the world?  Certainly, we cannot ask them.  And, though I am not scientifically savy, has anyone truly witnessed them all?
  • How many licks does it take to get to the end of the Tootsie Pop?  Without sounding like a pompous ass…Wouldn’t this question rely on how big the tongue is?
  • WTF had Elton John and Bernie Taupin been thinking when they wrote:  Rocket Man.  Sure it sounds like an astronaut going off into space.  Trying to better the world.  Being the ‘big’ provider for his family back home.  Yet, I believe there may be some underlying ‘sexual’ context in the lyrics.

‘She packed my bags last night…

Rocket Man burning out his fuse out here all alone…’

Cut it out.  This screams, I am a gay man alone getting an erection…wanting to not be bothered by all those adoring female fans!

  • Is Richard Pryor still alive?  Well, of course not!  But every couple of years I ask my wife this question…Not because he has moved on to greener pastures! But perhaps, my mind has!
  • Are squirrels suicidal?  Or, do some of them just die of old age out in the middle of the road?   Maybe a heart attack or something.
  • My wife and I have one niece.  And, every year she wants a ‘new American Girl Doll.‘  Give me a fuckin’ break!  The average American Girl costs, $100!  I go over the math in my head, late at night.  What else of importance could be purchased for this amount of money?

You could feed two school aged children in developing countries for a year!

‘I did the math!  It is possible!’

  • My family consists of two sets of two legs.  And, many sets of four legs.  These are my children.  Other than my wife, obviously.  My eldest child?  A hound/shepard mix.  She is getting older.  She is getting lazier.  She seems to only want to…eat, shit and sleep.  Yet, still I wonder…Is she depressed?  I ask friends when they come over…’does she look sad to you?’  I ask myself…’am I doing enough for her.  Or, does she just feel like giving up?’
  • Are the Go-Go’s still on tour?  I hope so.
  • Was Nancy Kulp from the Beverly Hillbillies gay?  Personally, I thought, she and Mrs. B from the Andy Griffith show were pretty cute!

With some research, I could not find much info Mrs. B’s sexual exploits!  However, thanks to Buzz Feed, I found some dirt on Nancy!

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What you may not know is that in a 1989 interview she came out to author Boze Hadleigh as a lesbian.

Boze essentially asked Nancy Kulp…Are you a lesbian?  What is your response to fans that have been wondering for years…?

“As long as you reproduce my reply word for word, and the question, you may use it… I’d appreciate it if you’d let me phrase the question.  

There is more than one way. Here’s how I would ask it: ‘Do you think that opposites attract?'”

“My own reply would be that I’m the other sort — I find that birds of a feather flock together.

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How cool is that?

  • Coming to the end of my current list of what keeps me up at night.  There is always a question that preys on my mind…

Is my wife sexually satisfied?  I am a little over fifty years of age.  We have been together almost twenty years…And, a healthy degree of paranoia sets in!  Certainly, ours is an honest relationship…so on occasion I wake her up and ask… the infamous question…

“Are you happy with me in bed?”tom

And, nine times out of ten, she will say…

“Just turn over and take some sinus medication!  Your snoring is killing me!”

Backyard Clarity

marching band clamoring

church bells with a twangimageedit_43_8842562016

night-owl Cardinals…preaching

serenity… a visceral sense of knowing,

‘this is where I am meant to be.’

never have I been overly religious in the partaking of…someone else’s god

awaiting the traveling chipmunk…this is where my faith belongs

attempts of whistling…mimicking the creatures who are serenading

winged beasts perched above me

unrestricted the renaissance

no matter the travesty about my weighted soul

I am brought into the fold…

backyard clarity