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Worthless Cliche

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  Well, I assume I made my last run over to my daughter’s house to tend to the dogs and cats. They are leaving their holiday resort in the morning and heading home. I took out the trash, sprayed the furniture and the curtains with Febreze, and put the dogs and cats in the yard, fed and watered. Outside my apartment window, the neighborhood cat is toying with what looks like a big field mouse. I wish the cat would get the job done before the damn thing gets into an apartment. Other than that, the world's still a-turning as I work on my second cup of decaf. Of late, I have been having long conversations with a young (at least to me) person who is a recovering addict. At the moment, she has been struggling not so much with her addiction, but with life’s circumstances. Living alone in a motel room, abandoned by family, she has no money, nothing of value to pawn, and nowhere to go. I really feel for her and can sympathize with her situation, being that me and my family have been in ...
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Listless

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  I finished up feeding the dogs and cats and changed their water. Sent them outside into the yard, took my own bath and shaved, because frankly I stank. Now I just got through taking my own meds and cleaning up my crowded computer screen. My blood pressure is normal for those of you keeping count. Although there’s not many of us left that remember when that was a thing in conversation. I feel like getting back in bed to be honest. But my wife took that idea away by making up the bed. Still my eyes are feeling heavy, but I’m doing my damnest to stay motivated. But considering it’s the middle of the month and all the things that drove me in life have either moved out or work themselves. I starting to feel like one of those old folks rocking the morning away at the old folks home in Lumber City. Our goals are different now, gone are the obligations that kept us chained to a job. If you’re lucky you get to work a job for something to do. But sadly most of us old timers have to work ...
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Screwed on Straight

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  I spent the early part of the morning working on some Painted Poetry me and Sandra Lynn had collaborated on over the weekend. Putting the finishing touches to the painted end of her words, while I’m still fiddling around with mine. It’s a habit that has extended through 4 marriages, 7 kids, and God knows how many grandkids. But it’s something we have done together, if for nothing else but our own entertainment and letting go of the secrets that we keep. For a while we had hit a bit of a dry spell, but recently we’ve got the old factory running again at full production.  Most artist usually keep to themselves, and I am no exception. Sandra is a busy little lady managing a warehouse and being the glue for her expansive family. Our blood runs deep, with a shared passion for music, words, and peace. While I wear the same old curmudgeon armor I have worn for years. But we both have our needs and our desires we have carried since childhood. So we except our fate and do our damne...
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Storms A Comin'

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  The sky outside can’t make up its mind, rather it wants to be blue or grey. As for my own head, well it feels about the same. Chewing down my gummies there’s a sweet taste lingering in my mouth. While the sky outside grows darker and darker, looks like its headed south. As for me it’s hard to say where I’m headed, my body says to get up, but my head wants to go back to bed. In this semi-urban spawl, if you want to call it that. Small towns sprung up between miles and miles of Georgia Pine. Erasing from your imagination any idea of what this land was like a hundred years ago. With a freshly paved expressway rolling aimlessly to the beach. This place looks nothing like what it did a mere 50 years ago. But apparently the attitude has stayed the same, with the Fat Cats in Atlanta and Washington telling these paranoid want-a-be Lumber Barons how to think. But today there are no lumber barons now, just corporations and big power owning the land your Great-Granddaddy’s sold years ag...
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Where Do I Go?

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  It’s 10:30 AM and the candles finally lit. I spent the first two hours of my morning driving 65 miles round trip to give a blood sample, which for me takes all of 3 minutes. But when you live in the woods where you have a food desert, a doctor desert, and a hospital desert; what do you do? Don’t worry though, I ain’t complaining too much considering there are those worst off then me. I mean, I do have insurance and a way to go. Other than that it was a pretty uneventful trip, traffic was light. The long construction zone before I got to the labs was fairly smooth, and Dave the lab tech was efficient and quick. So now at 10:45 AM I can sit down with my brain mostly intact and tell you a tale. Other than a headache it’s a bright shiny day outside, not a cloud in the sky. Sitting here with nothing in particular weighing on my brain, other than missing a few friends and wishing I had the time and money to go to the coast. It’s going to be Mother’s Day this weekend and my bride sure...
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Allow Us To Live

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 Staring in the mirror I don’t take too long to think. Because if I do, I’ll reflect too long on the wrinkles and grey hair that now cover that once youthful smile. Still I laugh at the thought of all the time I spent just being busy and not appreciating the moments as they came. But for the last 30 years, I’ve been forced to think and appreciate such things. But still the mask remains secure, holding in the thoughts of stillness and calm. Only displaying the wit and the showmanship that has been my life. ​So I sit here with the curtains drawn to the afternoon sun. Debating with myself about the words I wish to say. Knowing dreams are but subconscious emotion playing out in my head, wishing for more but getting less. So I leave myself asking this question, which one of me is truly me? The joking, wisecracking, happy-go-lucky fellow you see? Or the reflective man you read about behind these drawn curtains? I dare not answer that question, at least not out loud. For each of us is n...
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Your Audience

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 That damn blinking cursor is taunting me again, staring at me with its blink-a-d-blink little self. But that’s okay, I just laugh at its power over me. While I continue to type the gibberish that eventually turns into words, that turns into statements of truth. I talk to a few budding writers out there and a lot of them compliment me on my style and the things I write about. It picks me up believe me, especially for a guy with no wealth to speak of. For my writing at the most has bought me a decent dinner or two over the years. But the main thing we writers always come to is the subject and the material. Which is funny to me because my main subject is usually myself. I mean, what easier or lazier thing can you write about other than yourself? But still my limited audience expects that or wants nothing else. So I dilly-dally about writing my little 300+ word salads every day, for the benefit of no one other than myself. And you know what? Maybe that’s the key to good writing, ent...
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