I wish I could take your pain away,
I wish I was a better man,
I wish I could fly up high,
And pull you up so high,
I wish I was,
I wish I could,
I wish I could go back in time,
And save you from the pain,
And I wish I was there for you,
I wish I would never let you down,
Bring you up to where you belong.

Oh I wish I could,
Take away,
The pain,
I would dance with you,
Through the rain,
And laugh with you,
What are we going to do?

Oh I wish I could,
See your smiling face,
And love you more than yesterday,
Oh I wish,
How I wish,
You’d be mine.
To settle down,
To see the world,
How I wish it would,
Be that way!!

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08/09/2018 – Blahland, USA

I casted my first vote way back when in 1989, it felt good to be part of the “Democratic” process and from that day forward I voted, I felt like I was a solution to a huge problem, I was told by people I respected that my vote matter.

My voice was being heard, I thought, by people of great power.

You wanted to keep your job, you better do it well, or I’m voting you out.

I even helped a senator from the great state of Montana get re-elected in 1996.

And there, in that process of helping out, I peeked behind the curtain, I saw that the great and all powerful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than some frail old man in dire need of a blow job.

I learned that both sides were cobras, we, the people were just voting for which cobra we wanted to bite us.

(D) or (R), which one had the best fangs.

I registered as a D, they seem like they were there for the people, the Democrats wouldn’t fuck the working man.

The Rs were the evil, mustache twirling black hatters who cackled with nervous glee as the train came barreling down the tracks to the tie down damsel in distress.

The Third Party, the I, were basically two commies in a bathroom stall in a Greyhound Bus Station in Fargo, no real presence but you knew they were there because of the smell.

The Is never amounted to much, a tick in some elections, a barf in others, and if you asked your grandparents, the only good commie was a dead commie.

In 2016, something happened that pushed me farther away from the political scene as a voter.

A cluster fuck of a circus that for generations will be taught in history class as “The Year the Music Died…”

No wait, that’s a different blog.

The 2016 Presidential Election was a space flight right into the sun.

The Rs decided to hold a 100 ring circus before the main event; thousands of contenders filled the air waves with debates, punches, circle jerks, etc.

“I want to be your President!”

And there was some actual good candidates in the bunch.

But in the end, they picked a game show.reality show host.

The Ds, not wanting to be outdone by pure stupidity, held a race between two mice; one though, the Ds cut off his legs before the race was even announced.

It was a good year to stay home and vote for your penis as state senator.

The main event; laughable in the fact that the Ds swore they were going to win.

“How could we lose to a game show host! We have the chance for the 1st woman President right here!!! IF you don’t vote for her, you’re a sexist asshole!”

I decided to vote for gin.

“Don’t throw your vote away! Make it count!”

To explain the electoral process of the United States of America is like explaining the beauty of a mountain scene to a blind at birth person.

You can try and explain it but in the end, you’ll both just want to drink a lot of booze and write love poems to your mom.

I’ve had people from other countries ask me, “But didn’t Trump win by the peoples’ vote?”

And the answer is no.

The way the American election system works is people, pretending that their vote means a crap, goes to a place to check boxes, it doesn’t really matter which box you check as each ballot gets shredded and the computer assigns a random number every .000001 to the voter which is then translated to a candidate.

None of this matters as the final decision is sent to a college with no football team who then flips a coin; heads to the Republican or tails to the Democrats.

It has been ran this way since forever.

Back in the day, cow patties and huge rolls of butcher paper were used to pick the President.

I won’t go into the details except to say your plop mattered back then.

If you live in a state like I did during this election, where your “Electoral vote” is less than the IQ of a dead monkey, those ballots are just shredded and you just get the feeling that you did your civic duty.

You can get that same feeling by drinking a bottle of rum and then drunk texting your ex.

“But, Mr. Blog Writer, why don’t you go out and change the system! Go out and help the I to become a fighting force! WE CAN!!!”

Sadly we can’t.

Not without Corporate Sponsorship.

Or a dance off.

But mostly Corporate Sponsorship.

So what happened?

Donald Trump won.

It is now 2018.

The future science fiction writers wrote about way back when in 1942.

Flying cars.

Cities on the moons,

They couldn’t imagine.

A new mid term election is in play; the people are out!

“We are going to change the system!!”

“Come on Random Blogger! Get on board the TRAIN! WOO! WOO!”

I have decided to not vote this time around; take a breather from that feeling of civic duty; one I was beyond proud to do back in the day; now it just feels like giving a blow job to a dead monkey.

Both sides are insane; the only time I hear from either is when they need something; donations, my vote, blood.

Both sides are like blood suckers; “IF you don’t help me, the system will implode!!”

Well, in that case, goodbye system and thanks for all the fish, I ain’t voting, I ain’t donating and if I’m lucky, I’ll kick the bucket before 2020 when Kim Kardashian becomes the next United States of America’s President.

“That’s Madam President to you Random Blogger!!”

If you want me, I’ll be over here drinking rum and watching 100 Day Fiance…

Write some silly words, to that world, where the people dance,
Laugh,
Like silly children,
Staring into the sky,
Looking to be free,
Among those stars,
They stare up into,
Wanting to fly,
To be,
Free!

Silence, there, upon the screen,
The words come out,
To be heard,
Screamed,
To be testified,
They are alive,
Breathe!

The colors,
Alive,
Spread across the canvas,
Into the night sky,
A sun rise,
Demonized,
Human revolution,
Evolution of the mind,
No skin,
Just the words,
To justify,
To hate,
To love,
Reach out,
Touch,
Smile,
God forbid,
No way in.

Run away,
Hide your eyes.
Children don’t look,
Horrify,
That senseless death,
By suicide.

Drinking gasoline,
A pilot light,
Sitting by the pool,
The mind released,
Heaven in sight,
Realize,
There ain’t no Heaven,
There ain’t no Hell,
Except here,
This paradise,
This slum,
This endless hike,
This fucking place,
This beautiful place,
Let us rejoice,
Let us hate,
Let us be,
What shall be,
And nothing more,
Let us be,
What we can be,
Let us be,
Oh Ancient one,
Let us move away from here,
Let us be,
To rejoice,
To hear the angels’ voices,
To hear that beauty,
Here,
That song of life,
That song of death,
To hear,
To fear,
LIVE!!!

There in the moon light I saw her face, like the very first time, a mirage I thought as I sat there, the world closing in, ripping my flesh from my bones.

I cried to her, to come back, to hold me, if only for that moment, that I wished would last forever.

God was a miserable fuck, I thought, to be so cruel.

“It’s a test of your strength!” some friends told me.

I spit in their eye and said, it’s a test of your strength.

They didn’t laugh.

We are born dying; we are conceived for only one thing, to consume, to reproduce, and then, at a predetermined time, to die.

In some cultures, there is a reset, reincarnation for a better term.

We are reborn, to retry and beat our high score in the game of life.

In a previous life, I was told by my friend’s grandmother, I was a barn owl.

She didn’t really tell me that but she did tell me I was an old soul, possibly one of the original souls which meant I sucked at this game of life and really shouldn’t be allowed to play.

But nope, here I am, my 999,999th attempt.

“What’s the score?” I scream into the night air.

“How the fuck should I know!” God screams back.

I should have known.

I would try to go to bed but I’m not sleepy.

So here I sit, the TV turned off, the radio turned on, listening to music and randomly typing on the keyboard; click clack give the dog a bone!

In this life I have learned a few things; mostly don’t pee on the electric fence and don’t eat the yellow snow, it ain’t lemon!

I have learned that love truly does bite; no one should play that game but it can be rewarding, so why not!

When in doubt, reboot.

Nobody should play politics, nobody wins in that game, but if you like peeing on electric fences, you should become a senator.

If a war was held and nobody showed up, would that be peace or just a terribly short war?

Why did Mother Nature create ticks?

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

And did you remember your towel before we began this trip?

Why is this bus heading south, isn’t Seattle west?

I think I may be on the wrong bus, unless Fargo is my last destination, in which case, let us have a hamburger and chips at the next stop.

If not, I better get off and head in the right direction.

Good night my friend, I hope you are well, and not sick.

 

 

 

There are no bears in these woods, they left last spring for Las Vegas.

Trudy, the oldest of four sisters, sat on the front step, looking out at the rolling prairies of the west, towards the bright light streaking across the midnight sky.

The morning would bring nothing; no alien invasion as was predicted on the news or an apocalyptic ending to a worthless novel started by God whose name was Hank but no one was suppose to know that.

Humanity was like rats, over running the planet, over devouring resources and there, in the darkness, Trudy saw the answer.

“The world just needs to go!”

And then, she stood up and disappeared back into the house, for another cup of coffee and maybe a honey and butter biscuit for good measure.

In another place, a man, no name as he’s not a main character in this story, wanders outside to walk his dog and is vaporized by a passing comet flying too low to the ground.

Jesus hated that guy.

Nobody, including his own mom, would miss him.

Bit by bit, worthless coding in the program that was “Life 2.09” was being erased, rewritten, replaced and reloaded.

“Now compiling…”

87 minutes left.

Continue?

“Reply yes!” screamed a bat in the corner.  “Reformat too!!”

The program continued, a few adjustments here.

Terrorism was replaced with jello shots.

God was in the pudding.

Marriage, a worthless concept, was replaced with interpretative dance and poetry reading at a coffee house in Trenton, New Jersey.

Politics, another overused and shitty concept, was replaced by chocolate milk at a bar in Fargo, North Dakota.

France was erased completely, to be replaced with a huge bingo card made out of cheese.

The world was coming along nicely.

“Replaced donkeys with flying monkeys!!!” the bat screeched.

“What if I replaced bats with sheep?”

The bat quietly grumbled and flew away.

Somewhere, out there, a wolf howled.

“Increase volume +5”

The wolf howled louder.

Soon, the world was perfect in the eye of the creator, and soon the bright light crashed into the ocean, killing off all of the whales as the otters paid extra.

And all was good, until the next rewrite…

 

 

 

 

 

08/06/2018 – That way, that place – A Surreal Road Trip – A piece written while listening to Jack Kerouac

That way,
That place,
Where are we, the car is zooming, faster, the mile markers zooming by, tick tock goes the clock,

224 – See a hitch hiker, by the side of the road, seemingly drenched in the hard cold rain of life, lies?

We drop him off at a gas mat, a place somewhere outside of some dying town, a bar, praise be to the Gods of Booze, as our pours were growing stiffer, down to drinking gasoline, a few hits of some acid Mack found in his suitcase.

15783602603_55527bc1a0_bJack Kerouac once drove down this road; simple Frank, misery on Jack Daniels, beer chasers, somewhere, in Butte, Montana, down to Mexico, all the while, the booze was drained, sucked down as the mile markers drifted by.

Hot girls, sucking, fucking, loose, drifting, impure men touching their asses, blank expressions as the rod slides in and out, where that death is in the soul, in the mind, wanderers, drifting, past the desert, lets all get drunk on crappy wine, die, free fall, kiss the sky in sweet orgasmic screams.

The phone rings.

“Who there?”

“Walter Black…..”

The phone goes dead.

Traveling down some road; can’t remember where, somewhere.

Here.

There.

Everywhere.

The writer writes; cries, gloom, doom, memories, rituals.

The song keeps playing; 1954 – Angry New Orleans, drifting on a river, the boat sinking, we bailed, we wailed, the old bed springs creaking, broken, busted, the dam broke just above the water line.

Gramp remembers the days of long lines for a piece of bread; we smoked our weed as he talked about the good ole days, before he lost his eyes to an exploding grenade.

1943.

There was wine, sweet, flowing, crazy life, we drank, till we couldn’t feel our minds.

Who was there?

I forget.

By the time I opened my eyes, we were near Phoenix, the sign dully painted through rusted metal, next exit, 15 miles.

Cheers.

And we drove on, this trip, snaking through the night, and there we were, on this road, who knew where.

Lost?

No map needed.  It was just a ruse, to keep us going, drinking, till we saw that mound of crystal sand, outside of someplace.

“Where are we?” my girl friend asked.

I forget her name.

The map; if we had one, disappeared out the window at mile marker 6, we didn’t need no stinking map; dreamers dreamed.

Saturday we fell into a tourist trap, $7.50 to see a real life manufactured tee pee, straight from a wild west movie made in 1983.

Hope, that was her name, my girl friend.

She left me soon thereafter, wanting a map, direction in her life, not just a quick fuck in some pay by the hour place in North Dakota.

The place was always packed.

$37.50 plus tax.

Clean sheets.

Colored TV.

We slept till noon then back on the road; to someplace, we never knew where till we got there.

Jack would smile as he pulled into some parking lot.

High.

Waves.

Then we’d pull out the next day; on that road to some other place.

On the first strike,
We killed the Press,
On the second strike,
We killed them all.

We were dancing on a neon cloud,
Of DDT,
A nation lost,
In the TV screen,
Club girls,
Fucking a machine,
As we flew away,
We dropped the bomb,
We saw the world,
Go aflame,
Humanity,
Gone,
Like a bad disease
You know what I mean!

Jesus died,
For somebody’s sins,
But he sure didn’t
For my fucking sins!

We are the terrorists,
We are the disease,
Everybody here,
Is going to Hell!

Girls in the bathroom,
On their knees,
Sucking in a disease,
The new nation,
The creed,
Born from lies,
We all be dead,
But we just won’t care.

– LYRICS FROM A SONG, THE LAST HURRAH!

We lost.

The system, built on the backs of the people, visualized but never realized for the people, began to breakdown completely.

It did not go with a bang but a slight whimper, only noticed by a handful of roaches who sat at the bar after hours on 21st Street.

Did anarchy rule?

Not a chance.

It was a school night and all the kids were in bed, dreaming of electronic sheep, virtual drugs coursing through their neurons.

Sleep?

A coma-like state, the sheep, tucked into their shells, lines feeding their brains their preprogrammed dreams, with limited commercial interruptions.

Not thinking, which, seemingly is a good thing in this day and age.

“Look, a shiny!!! Cans I touch it?”

Took a peek at news, too depressing, so turned it back to infomercial TV.

I think our country is based on infomercials.

30 second snippets then on the next day, we forget what we saw the previous day, and are amazed at the same 30 seconds we get, with just a tweak here and there, the next day.

One day, you’re friends, the next enemies, on the third you’re fucking, the fourth you’re killing each other on a TV show on channel 583.

Remember when there was only 3 channels?

We supposedly were suppose to be more intelligent, happier in the increasing access to information age.

We aren’t.

We are getting dumber.

Things we use to question, we no longer do.

The absurd has become the norm.

The right, the just, has become abnormal, a sickness, in this new world order, to be cured.

Being kind, helping each other has become an offense, to be driven off the Earth.

Where did we go wrong?

Can we blame it on TV? Random acts of stupidity that soon become our basis of our world, our laws, our reality?

We are feed horse shit, from our first days till the end.

We begin to believe this crap, and if we begin to question that, we are called traitors.

We are not traitors, you, the blind believers are the traitors, to the better life, a brighter future, without hate, without war.

You are the ones who block progress, true progress, and not just for one section of the population, but for all, to rise up, to become better.

Someday, that day shall hopefully come, and I hope I am alive to see it.