Lone White Horse

I rap my knuckles upon a closed door.

I hear a voice that seems like broken glass upon barefoot.

I drive pass a white horse with no rider.

I ask…

‘Does it ever end?’ my one and long time friend.

She speaks in a whisper…

‘I am beginning to wonder that myself.’

Skin raw and filled with excess debris.

Fingers bent and calloused.

As one, I ask, ‘do you see me?’

So this is where we lay.

Open to the chaos of black new days.

I could grow older but then maybe not.

I asked, my long time friend…

‘does this ever end?’

Help from a Gen X-er

Me?  Generation X…and, damned proud of it.

In case you were curious…this definition, pretty much sums up myself and many of those around us.

considered laid back

prone to psychological disorders

beaten by their parents

disaffected

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without any real direction.

However, that does not mean, I, WE the X’s, do not care about the world at large.  However, however, I, WE the X’s, never really had to deal with war…other than at home.

Because I care.  Because #45 is more of an ass than I ever was drinking.  Because that little guy over in North Korea is the world’s largest walking S.T.D.  Because the threat of nuclear attack being as critical today…as during the cold war.

Because, because, because of the wonderful things an Nuclear Blast does!

A list of Do’s and Don’t During A Nuclear Attack had been made –

If alive…walk about a mile.  Do not go any further…because you wouldn’t be able to anyway.

  • Find a city.  If you live in rural New Hampshire like I do.  Well, S.O.L Sisters and Brothers.  Find a barn or an underground outhouse.
  • Attend a lecture.  Why?  I am uncertain.  But in the 50’s…it had been a suggestion!
  • Seek shelter!  Your ass is following off.  And, you must sew it back with thread doused in radiation.
  • Wait!  Believe or not, and this is our good luck!  That pesky death-ridden dust rots quickly!

If unable to move, run, stay calm…

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A family modeling radiation protection suits made by Civil Defence Supply, a family mail order business which can supply everything you need to survive a nuclear attack, including packets of instant meals and protective suits complete with radiation filters, date unknown. (Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images)

  • Duck and Cover goddamn it!
  • Hide!  But if you were never good at Hide and Seek…cover your head.  That’s just as good as, a table or couch, anyway!
  • Keep your fuckin’ eyes shut!  Who wants to see the carnage anyway?
  • Buy a can opener.  That is if you can find a store open during the doomsday chaos.  Before I had been kicked out of the Girl Scouts…metal can openers, were all the rage.  can-opener.jpg
  • Ring a Helpline or Hotline!  Now I did some checking on this and found only two legit phone numbers.  And, I am not allowed to share that information.

Now this is very, very, important…Smile!  What is the worse that can happen…after having just been in a nuclear attack?  My suggestion would be…before all this happens.  Back when you and your loved ones are gathered around the radio.  Listening for updates about the two dictators.  Find yourself a cedar cigar box.  Gather all the pot!  The stuff under the couch cushions.  The little baggies you left hidden in the car’s ashtray!  The ashtray you never use.

Scrape resin, dig out those pipes and put your stash in the cedar box.  Put it in the box and wrap it with ducttape.  Wrap it ten times around.  If you can’t duct it.  Fuck it!  Never let go of that box.

You, I, Us, will need a good high when all this shit is done!

 

Aging with Ignorance

With floods approaching, have I cleaned my act up in time.

At the foot of hazard gates, is it all just justice…a little too late.

All the warning signs…imageedit_1_5390726160

Mixed messages…

Beware, beware…

Could it be I just do not care?

Had I prepped my body for doomsday sooner…

Would my ignorance have had less flair?

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2.5 Minutes to Midnight

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If the world should continue to fall into decay…would it continue to break me?

Or, would it be the love, I could no longer retrieve?

How easy would it be to dismiss the beauty…

Watch it bleed.

Witness it leave.

How infantile…these notions with branded courage.

Youthful toys building an Armageddon in the mind.

They were only no plastic friends.

Young, my tomorrow’s tomorrow…had no end.

Still, and now, when I play the mature kind…

How difficult it is to witness love and beauty bleed.

Watch them as they leave.

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Who will provide the grand design, what is yours and what is mine?
‘Cause there is no more new frontier, we have got to make it here!
We satisfy our endless needs and justify our bloody deeds.
In the name of destiny and in the name of God.

Last Resort/Don Henley, Glenn Frey

 

 

No More Tree to Hug

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The calm before…someone else’s storm.

The path after…someone else’s storm.

Perchance, a place where none belong.

Either route…

Sometimes gentle.

Sometimes…strong.

Could be…

This is a hand…of extinction,

played wrong.

Ψ

No!

No, hysterical waif could produce this wake.

No!

No, bias to her game.

No, storm will produce…her name.

Soon, mortality will relinquish our fame.

Ψ

Too soon.

No massive emptying will suit all needs.

No more…

Later, for bluffing our dirty deeds.