Archive for Dark Side

If You Say So…

 “In Accordance With Fact or Reality,” is the dictionary’s definition of “true.” And so I’ve come to the conclusion the word “true” is no longer a reality because, the fact is… truth has become a personal and individual thing. A choice. Read the rest of this entry »

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I Thought I was Alone

A few days ago, I posted a poem about the many people I’ve left behind as I steamrolled through life. The following is about one of them; true story—sad, but true. The thing is, we grow up thinking we’re the only ones going through what we’re going through, when there are others going through the same things. And we never even know it… or do we. Read the rest of this entry »

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Maybe I’ve Got Time

Do you ever think about an old friend, and wonder what happened to them; where they are now? Do you wonder why you lost touch with them; why they didn’t care about you enough to stay in touch, and remain a part of your life? I do, and it usually comes down to the fact I didn’t care enough to try to remain a part of theirs. It’s one of those things I tend to beat myself up about. Maybe I’ve got time to fix it. Read the rest of this entry »

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Then the Moth Showed Up

Did you ever have to hold the flashlight for your dad while he worked on something? Man, I hated that! When you’re a kid, flashlights seem to want to point everywhere except where they’re supposed to.

I was about twelve, the old man was working on his old truck, and when dark-thirty settled in, he yelled for me to bring the flashlight. Oh, jeez. Here we go. Read the rest of this entry »

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No Place to Hide

My theme of choice lately is just that: “choices“. Life often seems random, and we sometimes feel as though we’re extras in a movie we don’t even like. But I believe it’s more than that, and we can alter the course of our lives–even the lives of others–when we make the right choices. Read the rest of this entry »

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What’s in Your Dream?

I slept fitfully last night, having odd dreams that made little sense, and waking multiple times. I’ve always been intrigued by dreams, and it seems to me my mood when I awake in the morning is often determined by the dreams I’ve had. The following poem is a vague description of a dream I had several years ago. I awoke with a sense of dread and remorse in my heart that was hard to shake. I had no idea what the dream, or dreams, could mean, I just knew how I felt, so I tried to recapture the feeling in this poem.

3-21-17 2 quote


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Is It Too Late?

Today 6-10-2016 quote 3I love mornings, but there is no joy in my heart on this morning as I watch the sun coming up behind the trees. No, this morning there’s a lump in my throat, and an empty pain in my stomach. My mind is almost numb. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Timer

The timer beneath the corner table just turned off the light.

It rained all through the night, and even though the blinds are up and the window open to let in the fresh cool air, the heavy clouds hanging low above the city make the keyboard hard for my old eyes to see. And yet, I am compelled by… well… actually, I don’t know why I brought up this blank page and began to speak onto it. My mind—as old (it seems older) as my eyes—keeps wondering why I’m doing it. It’s not like I have Me writinganything important to share.

It seems this is how I reflect on things, and I often stop as quickly as I start, realizing I have nothing to say—to me, or anyone else. But once in a while—a great while—something comes out of the thoughts that flit about and then hide. And so I let my mind and fingers ramble, wondering as I do if something of substance and meaning might dart from the recesses and grab someone by the soul?

I keep thinking about the timer… and the light.

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Sudden Death!

There were times I literally lived in fear of my dad. At the time, it wasn’t fun, and it darn sure wasn’t funny, but now, looking back, some of the things that took place were a bit humorous in a terrifying sort of way. This is one of them: Read the rest of this entry »

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Feeling Kinda Sluggish

Most days I feel like a bee; racing around, humming and buzzing, doing good things, and leaving lots of honey for those who come behind me. 

But some days, I feel like I’m merely a slug that thinks it’s a bee, and what I’m actually doing is crawling through this life, leaving a trail of slime in my wake that just pisses people off.


Sang one, Sluggy!

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