Posts Tagged ‘Random’

The year was 1997 and everyone was dead.
Welcome to the future kids,
Come on,
Stay awhile,
Everyone driving Buicks through the desert!
Welcome to the madhouse,
Nobody gets out alive,
The world is an oyster,
Flying through a cloud,
Distant memories, stacked,
Like cement blocks on our graves,
I love you Rio,
Cheap sheets on a broken bed,
Mama can you hear me crying in the storm?

The man was a great man,
So the pastor says as he performs the last rite,
He’ll be missed,
He’ll be something.
A writer?
Nah, too fat,
Writers have to be skinny,
Haven’t ate in days,
They should be high,
See the sea?
The waves rolled in,
To the sandy beach,
And we all laughed,
Red balloons falling from the sky,
Jesus ain’t here,
Come on Jack!
Come on back!


In a few years, I would be dead, a memory in some data bank, possibly even erased, to make room for those still alive.

The sky was gray; overcast, as I walked the two miles from my house to the beach, the wind hitting my face hard.

“Lyle?” a voice crept from my memories; July 12th, two years, maybe three years ago, I was seventeen, Aunt Tilda was dying; I couldn’t see her then, there at the hospital.

My mother was dying too, both of cancer. I tried to see them but I couldn’t, I was sick, the flu, I think, my father let me peek at them through the window of their rooms. Both laughed and waved.

I waved back.

When I die, I hope there is someone there to wave at me; a small glimmer of hope before the end.

I wrote a letter to mother; father gave it to her, please come home, I will make Chester pudding for you and father.

She never came home; died on the 20th of July.

Aunt Tilda on the 21st.

I sat there on the beach.

I did not think about death as the waves crashed to the shore.

I thought about life.

It was a good day.

We flew,
To touch the sky,
To go where no one could touch us,
To bring us down,
To fly,
To sing,
Upon gilded wings,
We flew,
To find ourselves,
Among the clouds,
We saw,
The Heaven’s angels,
Singing to us,
As our wings brought us,
To that bliss,
Among the clouds,
So high above,
To softly drift,
Our life was ours,
To do as we wished,
To fly,
Dear ones,
To fly.

Why do some loves fade away,
And others grow intense?
Why do some fools,
Who fall in love,
Fall from grace,
While others,
Love beyond the grave?

Somewhere in that book of love,
Please tell me why,
Oh dearly why,
These rules of love,
So I may feel that dear embrace!

Sunday March 6th, 2022 (originally written) PART ONE

Run Jesus! Them peeps wanna eatcha? Inside my head as I sat in church with my lady love; Amber.

It was a social project gone wrong.

There were bats here, buzzing around me, “My name is babble babble fart face!”

It was madness.

The rest of the Church sat and stared at me, wondering why I was there.

Didn’t they see the bats flying overhead?

We were led into the worship.

Oh father in Holy Rome please forgive me for forsaking Catholic Jesus for Methodists Jesus.

It’ll never happen again.

They tried to hand me some crackers, a grape in a baggie. I knew a Fed set up, I’ve seen Good Fellas.

I blacked out at Good morning.

This was too much to handle.

The red tail donkey was speaking.

No one else seemed shock.

But apparently, they had never seen a grown man scream out “waffles! I was promised waffles!”

And kids that’s why we can never go back to Holy Pine Resin, in Puddle Rock, South Dakota!!

Sunday March 6th, 2022 (originally written) PART TWO

Photo by Alena Darmel on

The best time to attend church is just when “the meds” are kicking in. As the ghouls begin to feast on the body and blood of their savior, you begin to realize that the world is going to be okay.

The pastor begins to compare her being lost with her husband for 6 hours up in the woods to that of Jesus, who is literally being devoured by his followers.

I say amen as the teleprompter tells us.

The pastor is reading a script the entire time.

I begin to think I need more meds.

The dare to be weird crowd are sitting across the aisle.

“Hi my name is Dave, it sure is nice weather we’re having, right?”

I smile, nod, say something, maybe yes, I don’t know, my mouth isn’t moving, the natives know, I’m high, oh Jesus, I’m high as a kite right now.

Maybe I’m not.

Maybe I just think I’m high.

It’s all an illusion, put together by Hollywood, to make me want to take more medicine.

The pastor is beginning a new scene.

It’s Lent. Or The Time of The Gathering, there can be only one. PRINCES OF THE UNIVERSE begins to play. Swords clash. The end of society inside my head.

Pastor is still reading a script.

She doesn’t want to forget a thing I guess.

People are opening their sandwich bag with Jesus’ body and blood.

I must have missed something.

I say amen twice.

Everyone turns to look.

I turn too.

Damn sinner, who said that?

We sing a hymn. Nearer to thee. I sing loudly. Off key. Someone sighs sadly. We all say amen.

At the end, there are no pancakes. I sadly leave. “At my church back east, we get pancakes!” Im asked to never attend again. An Easter miracle indeed.

In the night,
I see the fire,
Burning bright,
Among the misery,
In that moment,
All is revealed,
There in the pouring rain,
Sweet misery,
A razor blade across the heart,
Oh Jesus,
Don’t cry,
We have our way to fly,
To kiss the sky,
A dream,
In the field.


The world did not see him as a human being; just a cog in a huge grinding wheel, nothing more, if he broke down, he’d be replaced, not even a mention on the grave stone.

I’m not an author, a writer, just some guy clacking at the keyboard, just some guy clacking at the keyboard trying to get the words out of my mind before they disappear like smoke on the wind.


Mr. John Patterson died as any man would die after having his love scorned by the woman he dreamed he’d spend his life with; he strapped sticks of dynamite to his chest and blew himself up a block from the brothel where his “True love” worked in.

Mary Soren, not her real name, heard and felt the explosion and thought the city of Butte, Montana was being attacked by the Germans.

She found out later, her suitor, who tried to persuade her to move back east with him, had blown himself up at her rejection.

She felt sad for a moment but continued “working” the night through.

I woke from a fright,
A dream I thought was just a dream,
Turned out reality, was not such right,
I tried not to cry,
But failed that night,
Sitting there, in a waiting room,
She decided to pass,
In the afternoon,
Oh God,
What did I do,
To deserve such a curse,
To be punished so bad?

I left my heart,
Buried in a tomb,
Couldn’t find the road back to the truth,
Merry life, swept by me,
Other went on,
And I fell by the wayside, to see,
A burning lie,
A morning in mourning,
A life moving forward,
But seemingly dreary.

To live to be old,
Is sometimes a treat,
And sometimes it’s not,
To see those who you love,
To be buried,
To rot.

Life goes on,
We try to move on,
But sometimes we find,
Ourselves in the muck,
We’re drowning, you see.

Good night,
Old lovers,
And friends,
Remember to tell your heart felt lovers,
Goodnight and love you,
Will see you tomorrow,
For that tomorrow might not bring!

I have decided I am neither Democrat or Republican, I am me.

I mean, when I first registered as a voter, they asked me to decide if I was (D) or an (R), I think there might have been an (I) but only commies and traitors to the American Democratic system picked that.

I decided I was a D.

Straight and true, I was for workers’ rights, health for all, even free higher education for all. Republicans were for the rich.

It was in the bible or something.

I got into a fight with my best friend back in the day, before I was old enough to vote let alone just out of diapers.

I was nine.

It was 1980. Carter was running against Reagan.

I was for Jimmy Carter.

He was for Ronald Reagan.

As we all know, Reagan won.

Before the election, me and my friend got in a fist fight.

I doubt Jimmy Carter would have approve.

But I felt good, there, face to face, the right, versus the left. I was the left but it felt right.

By the way, I kicked his butt. I threw up my arms in victory.

He cried and ran off to tell his mom.

Ronald Reagan was the devil. Those nowadays who say Joe Biden is about inflation and killing America, forget that during Reagan’s term, we hit that inflation button.

Jimmy Carter didn’t have an easy administration either, the energy crisis, people lining up, not to get gas. I remember that too.

High prices at the grocery store.

Silver prices went up into the sky; which was awesome, when my dad found a silverware set. He got like $500 for that set. We ate good that month.

Presidents really have a hard job, no matter what they do, it will not be good enough.

Wars, job reports, monkeys in top hats, etc.

But here I am, realizing, neither parties gives a crap about me. I could vote for Johnny Cash and they wouldn’t care, as long as the majority doesn’t vote for the dead.

Before my illusion that the Democrats gave a crap about me was destroyed in a flaming nuke, I worked for the re-election of a senator back in 1996.

A friend of the family was his regional director and they needed somebody stupid enough to revamp their database (a database they paid someone else ten thousand dollars to revamp but they didn’t do their job!!!) for the huge sum of $500 for three months of work that turned into something more than just the database; answering phones, putting up signs, etc. etc.

I worked a zillion hours. I was promised a bonus for my hard work which in 2022 I’m still waiting for.

The head of Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign called once, but he called the senator’s line, and then belittled me, for answering it as the senator’s line instead of Bill Clinton.

It was my first look behind the curtain; to see the wizard of Oz naked; behind that curtain. I told the head monkey he had called the wrong number, nobody else was here in the campaign headquarter; he threw a fit, I should be drawn and quartered.

He screamed at me. “You should lose your job!!” I wished.

A year later, I saw him on some show, acting like king of the world, he was now a bigger being of energy and light.

I changed my mind from (D) to (I); I decided I would vote for the person, not the party.

I kid. I was doing that anyways.

Everyone should vote for the idea that is good for the country; not some jackass in a polished turd they call a top hat; an emperor with no clothes; acting like they are dressed.

Senators, Congressmen, governors, whatever should do what is right for the country, the state, etc. rather than what is good for the party.

In 1996, I got to see behind the curtain, as a peon. One of the sheep, being led to slaughter. We as the sheep, should never see behind the curtain, it ruins that illusion, we lose that innocence that our party is the best party!

We seriously need a third party; a party for the people, what is right for the country, not what is right for the party. I hope I will live long enough to see that party form; it won’t start on the grand level of presidency, but at the level of the smaller jobs; mayors and such.

Here is to someday!

I found a place; in my travels, a nice place, a place to sleep, to ponder, I don’t care if I’m homeless, I am sitting here, free to think, no connections to the world!! I am a philosopher, a dreamer, nobody knows what I have seen, released into a world, to captivate that audience, mindless wonderings of lies, dreams and ramblings!

Jesus loves me, told me so, in the Bible, or the Sears Roebuck catalog. I’m sitting here, pondering, wondering, seeing the world through alcoholics eyes; bottles; 23, I got them for a whirl, misses, disses, a lie in the sand, twirling around, fourteen skid row, trying to write a letter to the president, postage due, lies on the mattresses, fleas on my pillows.

Mister can you spare a dime? A reality in time, a misery in frame. She was laying next to me, her body my temple, she smiled in her sleep, rolled over, her arms embraced me, I felt love, finally.

I had planted a seed, in that wonderous garden, she would not tell me, till seventeen.

I cried.