An Old Drunken Story

The idea of tomorrow seems too far away for a young mind to consider. I remember because after all, I was young once too. I swore the fire from the bridges I burned would light my way. Eventually, the firelight from the burning brides dwindled as I moved on. When I turned back to see where I was, the light was gone, and it was too late to turn back. It was too dark for me to retrace my footsteps and I was unsure how I had gotten to this point. I was in deep and spiraling downward in an out of control sickness.

Closing of winter, the sun returned Continue reading

Gift Ideas . . .

Not sure if you’ve seen this, but the stores are already gearing for the holidays. October has yet to finish, but commercialism is quick to pull off its trick. . .

One of my favorite questions around this time is, “What do you want this year?”
I never ask for much. This does not mean my list is short; it only means the items on it a bit more personal. I understand that some of these wishes I have are unrealistic at best. Some of the Continue reading

A Mother’s Love

I have never been anyone other than who I am so I could not tell you what it would be like to be anyone else. I have only seen what it means to be a son and not a daughter. There is a different bond between mother and son. It is sometimes turbulent and sometimes misunderstood with moms being the way moms are and sons behaving the way sons behave. Mom is the first to worry. She is the last to sit at the dinner table and the first to wait up when her son comes home late.

I am reminded of the  Continue reading

With All of This

With all that goes wrong in this world, with all our faults as human beings, all the crimes we commit against one another and the disappointing displays in lack of humanity, with all the rainy days that crash the party, all the upsetting defeats, all the arguments that resolve nothing, the meaningless fights that ended meaningful friendships, with all the bills that come which I cannot pay, and all the taxes that come but I have no choice to pay, and with all the struggles I have, as well as the anticipation that anything which can go wrong, will go wrong at the worst possible time, I know there has to be a light at the end of the tunnel.
With all the scenarios in life being at its worst like a flat tire on your car without a spare tire in the trunk, no phone to call for help, no one stopping to help while you’re lost someplace in a town far from home and you have no idea where the next gas station is; with all those who pass Continue reading

About Feeling Inspired

Know this:
Know that even the smallest kind word can have the biggest impact on someone’s life.
Understand that you have the ability to inspire on a daily basis. And you do this all the time, but you somehow fail to see it.
Know that something you gave away, like something as simple as a quick and meaningless smile has the ability to be meaningful to someone else. This makes you a gift to those around you.

Same as misery is contagious—so is your spirit. Know that you being Continue reading

Music And The Rant About Its Future

I tell you they missed it. They missed it all. . .
Kids today have no idea what music is. Even my generation was light on the subject. We were a little late, but at least we were there for the tail end of its magic. At least we knew what it meant to walk into a record store and feel lost in a sea of albums and choices. Whatever the choice or taste in music may have been, at least we had these choices. We had rows of albums and genres. Meanwhile, kids today have no idea what it feels like to scrape up whatever money they have and walk to a record store.
They hardly have a CD collection anymore, let alone understand what Continue reading

A Letter

It is early and I am awake now. I have been for quite some time. I’m alive to see another sunset and watching the sky as it brightens slowly in different shades. The trees here are pretty now. The winds are certainly colder and the warm weather deck furniture that sits on my back porch has retired for the season and will hibernate in my cellar until next spring. I have been hearing the geese fly overhead. I like seeing them fly over in their V-shaped pattern. The fall is certainly here. The scenery changes each day and this suits me just fine

The caretakers of Old Wesley Chapel came by to secure the grounds and cut the grass one final time around the graves in the small cemetery. Old Wesley Chapel is diagonally across the road. I agree there Continue reading

Busses, Dreams, and Other Means of Transportation:

Do you believe in dreams?

I do . . .

They say our dreams only last a few seconds. I have read that research shows dreams can last anywhere between 5 seconds and 45 minutes. I have read that a few seconds in a dream, to us, can translate to an hour, an afternoon, or an entire day.

I once dreamt that I spent an afternoon with The Old Man. I was young in my dream. I assume I was the age when I saw The Old Man for the last time. Then again, I am often young in my dreams.
It was winter in this dream. I was dressed warmly and sitting in the backseat of my Father’s two-tone, black and gray, Dodge pickup truck with a cap on the back. The truck was exactly as I remembered it. Black on the upper half and silver below it. The maroon interior was the same, the long steel gear-shift with the black ball atop, and the dashboard, the radio, the heat and air conditioning switches all looked the same.

It was clear to me that The Old Man was Continue reading

Institution Prose

I tell you this, you do not understand victory
until you are sat in a room with a group of kids,
all of them mad and starving to escape,
each one with a unique story
all of them lost and each one sick of life,the system,
and sick of the surroundings,
sick of the world they find themselves in.

and sick of the fact
that the only brief intermission of ease

is the momentary high that comes with drugs or alcohol.

I say you can’t know victory until you sit in this group,
institutionalized with Continue reading

For The Boys

I know who they were then and I know who they are now. I was one of them and together, we were the wild ones of the town. We were only kids at the time, with the emphasis on the word, “Kids,” being confused and angry—we were young and willful. I know what we were and how others saw us. We were the opposite side of the good kids in lunchroom crowd. We were the kids with the long hair, ripped jeans, a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, stuffed in the pocket of a denim jacket or a leather jacket. We were part of a tragic fashion, beautiful in our own way and aggressive—mad to the touch but wonderful and curiously eager, yearning to feel the rush of something better than simple complacency of a spoon-fed life.

I was amongst Continue reading