Posts Tagged ‘stuff’

I was a freak in school, wandering through life, a clown inside myself, trying to figure out where I fit into life.

Mary was my sweetheart, my protector from the bullies who cruised the hallways like sharks, looking for their prey, an early morning lunch.

Gerald Barker, the big time high school quarterback, was the leader of the pack, growling as he knocked me down, my books flying down the hallway, to the giggles and jeers of the gathering crowd.

He kicked me hard in the side. 

I felt something, my blood boiling as my fist curled up and I stood up and slammed it hard into his face, breaking his nose, his teeth flying from his pretty little mouth.

He cried as he slammed against the wall, my fists flying into his gut, hard, enough to make him vomit up his lunch, all over the floor.

The crowd gasped.  

Blood mixed into the vomit.

I didn't care that a teacher, Mr. Wallace, the gym teacher and coach of the foot ball team, grabbed me, I knocked him in the jaw with my elbow and flew into Gerald.

I only heard Mary, cheering, the rest of the crowd, muted.

"Kill him Bob!" she screamed at me as I pounded Gerald nose into his skull, felt the bones breaking under my fist.

I got three weeks expelled, a court date, probation for 6 months, and angry management classes.

My father was proud.

"Shit deserved it, I bet!"

My mother was livid.

"We do not fight in this family!"

Mary threw me on my back, ripped my pants off and rode my cock like it was going out of style.

It was a great three weeks.

Gerald ended up in the hospital, four surgeries, his parents tried to sue my family, damages to their sweet boy.

Apparently the judge had been bullied in high school too and said, CASE DISMISSED!

His parents were livid.

My dad laughed.

Almost too loud.

I got back to school with cheers from fellow bullied classmates.

Gerald transferred, I never heard about him ever again...
Photo by Fabio Partenheimer on

I feel your hate,
My friends,
Dare not let it consume you,
Burn you in those flames of hate,
Starting at the end,
Pursuing you,
Till the end,
Beginning lies,
Stirring deep inside,
Burning lies,
Bitter ways,
Slyly waiting,
In silent places,
For those tributes,
Made to the mind.

Photo by Allef Vinicius (ig: @seteales) on Unsplash
Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

She dances in pure beauty,
The lightness of the music,
Dances through her soul,
Pulsing through the room,
Inspiring the air,
To smell of her sweet perfume,
The beauty of her innocence,
Her skirt flowing around her,
Twirling about,
She is the angel,
To my demon,
Spreading her love
To the world.

She dances into the night,
Her skin, the back drop,
For the sky,
Her tears,
Those rain drops,
Falling on a cold November day,
She is life,
To me,
She is everything.

How I wish,
I could hold her,
To feel her,
Next to me,
Dancing slowly,
In that night,
Was it so long ago?

Silently, we rage, 
Into the silence, we scream,
Words do not escape us,
Fluttering away,
Into the night, we rage,
Simple times,
A simple way,
Running away,
Into the victory,
We gain.

A tribute,
To those before us,
In time,
Did save,
From horrid days,
To rage,
To sage,
Down that hill,
Running towards God,
Hopefully not towards Hell…

February 20th, 2019 — Dear Mom, I think I blew up the world!

Note to a reader: Don’t ask for an explanation, it cannot be explain, only written, as it happens, sitting here at 2 in the morning, listening to Tom Waits – Hell Broke Luce – and sitting alone inside my mind, trying to figure out that thing called life.

Hell is not knowing, what lies over that long high hill, not to be able to see over into the next valley, so here I sit, and I write, randomly, with no purpose except to let thoughts pour out of my mind and onto the screen, so you, the reader, may read, I may read, to think, what does it all mean?

Wandering through a mind field

Explanations are not forthcoming, they probably will never be, because, right now, I have no idea, and when it comes time, I won’t remember except to say, I don’t know, I don’t care, lets go get ice cream!

So for now, I will just say, I’m in a weird place, a place that cannot be explained, no psychologist will be able to analyze, to say, “I know what his problem is! Here’s a pill!! Take two every day and call me in 30 days!!”

…And he shall ride a dark horse into that field…

Oh brothers and sisters, I wish there was such a pill, something to keep the demons at bay, but sadly, none exist. They say they can help, put you in a nice room, and fill you up with chemicals, to stimulate the brain, to put me into a better mood but…it just hides those demons, in a box, tied with a bow, then left in an airless room, but somehow, they live, they break out, even bigger than before…

Silence in the storm,
Reaching out for warmth,
The fire spirals into that night,
Colliding with that world,
The silence,
Inside my mind,
Echoing through the madness,
Blindly running through the streets,
Midnight hour ringing out,
The creatures, dancing in delight, coughing sickly in the mist.

Silence in the morning,
A dream,
A hell,
Broke loose,
Sweet misery,
Digging ditches,
In the middle of holes,
How many ways can you polish up a turd?
How many nightmares can bomb the end of a truce?
Dead inside,
Into the middle,
Back to the Left,
Left my body,
With my mind,
In the middle of a good home,
Can’t go back home again,
So the story goes,
Where the wind wipes away,
Those foot prints,
Down into the misery,
Lost my face,
Lost my mind,
Bombs bursting in the air,
Rancid meals,
In the soap,
With rope,
The Pope hopes.

Red light over a darkened sky,
A rip in time,
A drift in space,
Flipping through the channels, 3:45 in the morning,
I’m broke,
From the neck up,
The mind is a wasteland,
Copulation of misery,
I had,
A big bomb,
Drifting into the ground,
Twirling into beautiful horror,
Death that becomes life,
A bright sun,
The darkness of Hell broken,
A truth,
Birth, reborn, to the choirs of Angels,
In Heaven’s name,
We are cursed,
Clawing out our eyes,
To relieve our selves,
The pain,
Blistering through our minds.

The body bags,
Are left too full,
Present arms,
Ain’t no bullets,
Too damn broke,
Loose, lose, Fever,
Not breaking,
The ceiling opens up,
What the hell?
Give them all a beautiful parade,
And say hurrah!!!

Do right,
Say left,
Walk into the road,
Say hurrah when you pass the magical parade,
Left, right,
The madness is here,
Wipe our forehead with a dirty cloth,
Pissed on, pissed off,
Deaf, screaming into the silence,
Blind, staring into the darkness,
A dream?

There is nowhere else,
I wish I could be,
A river flowing free,
Silence in the night,
A whisper in the wind,
A thousand lights,
A thousand years away.

Good night,
Oh fair one,
My beautiful one,
May we see each other,
Once more,
Before the night is gone.

To sleep,
In your embrace,
One last time,
To feel your kiss upon my lips
To hear you utter my name,
One last time,
To listen to the wind,
Choir to our ears,
To feel that warmth,
To say,
To say again,
One more time,
Good night.

December 1st, 2018 — Louisville, Kentucky — Mood: Wha?

Apparently, if something is slightly offensive to a few people, if really any, it’s off the list.

A long time Christmas song has been removed from a radio station’s play list because a few people insist it’s about rape.

In this day and age, anything can be construed as “offensive” and deleted from society because well, we are snowflakes and hurtful things are bad, even the word, “Hello” could be construed as hateful.

Take a look at the make up of the word.


Offensive to me, hurts my feelings, people telling me to go to Hell when I enter a room.

Sinful even.

Frosty the Snowman should be removed as well.

First off, Snowman?  How sexist!!!

Then melting the man? We all know that the snowman represents our religious beliefs and are being melted by the Atheists who wrote this song.

Don’t believe me?

Just ask me, I’ll tell you.

I remember back in the day, there were things that offended society, we dealt with them by not listening to them, they usually went away if they were truly offensive.

We lived with bad TV shows, rotten songs, crap movies, even slutty priests and dirty nurses in Penthouse Magazines.

We lived. 

We actually grew up, maybe a little twisted but that could have been the lead paint.

Nowadays, kids do not know the experience of surviving of being nailed with a lawn dart or hearing the Satanic version of Frosty the Snowman, or seeing a priest and a nun naked in Penthouse Magazine.

A sad day indeed.