Transcendental Medication (Life Philosphy Through medicinally enhanced Accupunture) episode XI


The Truth Did Not Set Me Free
J.T. Hilltop

After being chased by a pterodactyl wannabe and the legion of angry rattlesnakes the quiet three mile hike was welcome. I had no clue crossing dimensions could be so unreal but then again, I didn’t know alternate dimensions were real to begin with. Castomar seemed unaffected by the heat and bugs but perhaps that was because the bugs were all busy feasting on me. By the time we reached the cabin I was half eaten alive as well as mentally and physically fatigued. We entered the cabin which was in the middle of nowhere, perhaps even in the literal sense all things considered. Atop a heavily wooded mountain sat this small cabin, or maybe its more of a huge shack but it seemed sturdy enough and functional. As we entered there was a large room to the right with nothing in it and to the left a small kitchen with a eat in table. Castomar pointed to the hallway, “my room is on the left, yours on the right, the bathroom at the end of the hall there. There is water in the refrigerator and tea in the cupboard. Help yourself.” I looked around, clearly it was designed my a minimalist with no concept of decorum. I pointed to the big empty room, “What’s that room for?” Castomar disappeared into his room and returned equipped with bow and arrows a large dog trailing behind him. “That’s the learning room kiddo, that’s where your gonna spend the night until you find your learning spot. I’m going out to catch us some dinner. Have some tea then get some rest, I’ll be back when I have something for us to eat.”
The learning room, was he out of his fucking mind? There isn’t a single thing in that room, I mean nothing save a lone window. “What do you mean find my learning spot, there’s nothing there?” Castomar was frustrated , “Didn’t Kha tell you anything? Oh shit of course not, Castomar will show him. What you mean to say is you don’t see anything in that room but that doesn’t mean its empty. Look kiddo, you relax and have some tea while me and Travis get us some dinner and I’ll explain it all after we eat.” He walked outside without explaining the dog so was unable to hear me when I said, “What the hell is it with these guys and tea?” On the way out of the cabin I could swear the dog chuckled as if he understood what I said, but that’s not possible. Or is it?
Exhausted from the hike and dimension jumping I headed for the kitchen to take his advice. There was a small stove with a black kettle which I filled with water and placed on the burner. In the cupboard was a variety of tea’s, only one of which I recognized. “Guess it’s chamomile tea for now.” I poured a large cup and went to check out my room. The room was a small but functional with an unneeded dresser but a large very comfortable looking bed complete with nightstand. The room was adorned with Native American arts and crafts, a set of four dream catchers at the foot of the bed. I felt like I was in some ancient Native American spiritual ceremonial quarters but it was surprisingly serene. Not sure if it’s the tea or the room but I was becoming very sleepy, totally at ease so I hopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. Outside the forest was jam packed with all the sounds I expected, hooting owls, scratching crickets, howling wolves as well as a number of unfamiliar animal noises. Outside this tiny cabin was a world teeming with some kind of life while inside I was alone with my thought which turned immediately to sleeping. I surrendered to the comfort of the bed.
At some point I heard Castomar and his dog enter the cabin and could tell he was in the kitchen. I got up and walked to see the dog coming down the hall towards Castomar’s room. As he walked past I heard someone say, “Remember the crow, the crow will show.” I could hear Castomar at the sink so it wasn’t him but no one else was around. I looked at the dog suspiciously and asked, “Did you just say that? Are you a talking dog?” He stopped in front of me staring waiting for me to pet him but said nothing. I’m not sure exactly what kind of dog he was, he looked kind of like a Retriever but hairy as an afghan hound. I patted his head, he moved on but before he went into the room I heard it again, “Remember the crow, the crow will show.” Someone was fucking with my head.
When I got to the kitchen I noticed Castomar was cleaning some sort of flying animal in the sink. I say flying animal because I’m not sure if it’s a bird or a winged monkey the way things have been around here so far. “What’s that?” He stopped cleaning and turned to me with a huge smile, “We’re having Ringneck Clomart for dinner” He stepped aside revealing three dead animals, two plucked and clean and one that looked like a cross between a pheasant and a duck the size of a small turkey. The feathers on the counter were brightly colored former plumage, red, green, and orange. They looked almost jubilant although I suspect the families of thee fowls would disagree about the jubilant terminology. If they could talk that is, and well, who knows? “What’s a Ringneck Clomart?” Beaming with pride he returned to the sink, “Only the tastiest and hardest to catch fowl around these parts. I got two with one arrow and the third as it attempted to escape Castomar. I’ll put one in the freezer, we can share one tonight, the other tomorrow. It’s the tastiest thing you will ever eat JT.” He wrapped two of them up placing one in the fridge and the other in the freezer compartment on top, then skewered the last on a spit. “You relax, I’m gonna cook the bird and have a mug.” He poured something into two mugs, handed one to me, “Here kiddo, have some meade, it’ll do you good.” I had learned at this point to just shut up and do what he says. Castomar yelled out loud, “Come on Travis, outside boy!” The dog came running out of the room sneering as he ambled past me. “The crow.” I squeezed my temples together, “Don’t start that shit again Travis!”
Reduced to talking back to a dog I tried to find solace in the meade. It tasted like a liquid honey cough drop only not as sweet. Had a little burn to it but I kinda liked that, goes down like bourbon but tastes like honey. The more I drank the more lightheaded I got like I was sipping grain alcohol or something. By the time Castomar came back with the cooked Clomart I was downright tipsy, “Hey Castomar, what’s happening my man?” He laughed heartily, “Enjoyed the meade did you?” He had cooked the fowl outside on a spit and it looked like the most amazing huge rotisserie bird I’ve ever seen, twice the size of a chicken. He plopped it down at the small kitchen table and motioned for me to join him. He grabbed one of the legs ripping it off, “Don’t got no forks or knives, grab what you want.” We ate dinner Castomar style, ripping an chomping on appendages of Clomart tossing pieces to Travis who waited patiently at Castomar’s feet. Travis never said a word, not even a thanks. I have to admit it was a delicious if somewhat barbaric dinner.
After we ate Castomar brought me to the learning room, “Before I teach you it’s important you find your learn spot. No two people have the same learn spot, the universe has chosen yours and will not reveal anything to you until you find the spot.” I eyed him suspiciously to see if he was pranking me or something. He was quite serious. “Okay, so here’ what were gonna do. You will have a cup of Psilocate tea then enter the room. I’ll be resting in my bed until morning. If you are in your spot when I get here I can begin your enlightenments, if not, we will need to try again another time.” I was slightly confused, “How will I know when I found my spot?” A warm smile came across his face, “The spot will let you know Justin, drink your tea and find your spot.” I felt slightly vulnerable hearing him call me Justin. Something in the way he said it struck a familiar chord, as if the words came from my Mom but in his voice. But my Moms been gone for years. One thing Kha said is ringing true, things really aren’t what they seem.
When I turned to look at Castomar he was gone, a cup of steaming tea sat at the table. I did as told, finished the bitter tasting tea then began the search for “my spot.” I felt silly walking around the room waiting for something to happen. How the hell am I gonna do this? I decided I would just keep going around randomly, sitting for a few seconds and see what happens. After four hours of frustration I felt nothing spot worthy. Not one single thing felt different. A gust of wind blew the door open and a green bird flew into the room. It looked like a normal bird, like a bird from my world except for its unusually bright green coloring. It flew in four circle around the room then came to rest on the sill of the window. I stared curiously as it just sat there motionless. For twenty five minutes it didn’t move and neither did I, when just as suddenly as it flew in it sprouts its wings, flew directly toward me stopping by the side of my head for one second, just long enough to say. “Travis sent me” before flying back out the door. “What the fuck is going on here?” A bird just talked to me saying a dog told him to. Are they partners or something? What the hell? Suddenly it dawned on me. That bird was a bright green crow, that’s why it looked familiar. I ran to the spot under the window sill and sat down. Believe it or kiss my ass I knew straight away that it was my spot! I found my learn spot, I was sure of it. I didn’t move for the rest of the night, waiting anxiously but patiently for Castomar to return.
Castomar finally walked into the room smiling wide, “I knew you would find it. Kha knew you would too. Not everyone does ya know?” I felt an enormous sense of pride as he came and sat with me. “Lets get started kiddo, we have a lot to cover. Kha tells me you have an intensely inquisitive mind that remains open. We have shown you things about the universe most never see because Kha believes in you. There are many forms of life, many laws of nature, many new and unique things in this world far beyond what most ever see. Universes’ are like bubbles, soft and pliant edges that can rub up against each other shape around each other without bursting. Inside each universe lie an endless amount of mysteries, Kha will get to them, I am here to tell you of your world. Infinitesimally small in the scheme of things, but important none the less. Your world is framed with four truths.”
I chose to do as I had been instructed, silently listening but the questions were building up already, the first being why is he saying my world. What world is he from? Whatever, I just want to hear about these four truths right now. “The four horseman of the apocalypse, four seasons, four strands in your DNA, and four noble truths. The concept of four is etched deeply into your cultures and your selves because it is a reflection of the universal four, the four forces. The horsemen represent, conquest, war, famine, and death, the noble truths are suffering, craving, death, an acceptance. Even the stages of grief were originally four, denial, anger, depression, and acceptance, only bargaining has been added in the modern model. Your DNA is a series of double helix’s held together by strands of four guanines. This ain’t no accident kiddo, its mirroring of the four forces that define your universe. The four forces are what make life in your universe possible. The truths, the horses both represent life stages. We are born, we survive, we reproduce, we die. Truths are unchanging rules and these four truths can never change in your universe. Religious scholars interpret them more dark in nature, suffering, famine, war, but all truths come down to the four unchanging forces of life. The weakest of these forces you all know well, gravity. Strong as it may seem keeping everything on earth, and pulling everything in space towards it, keeping all planets in orbits gravity is still the weakest yet its gravity that binds everything. Gravity is survival. The other three forces are electromagnetic, strong nuclear, and weak nuclear, and in terms of your universe they represent birth, reproduction, and death. These are highly complicated energy forms even your most brilliant physicists grapple with them so I will explain them not so much on a technical level but on a vibration level, on their energy. The sun is a huge ball of pure energy that sends portions of energy to earth. The sun is life. You absorb the energy, convert it to strength. It makes you warm, it colors your skin, but you feel it and take it for granted. You have spent years absorbing energy so where do you think that energy goes?” I remained silent. “Time for you to answer kiddo, you can speak.” Castomar was smiling and I liked him more an more as the day wore on, “Um, in the things we do, like walking or push ups, or like even catching Ringneck Clomart?” Castomar laughed heartily, “yes, like catching Ringneck Clomart. But everything that lives uses that energy. Every species consumes something else to absorb that energy, like you an I absorbed all the energy the Clomart had an now its energy iss part of us. When a male and female combine energie, or DNA’s, the result is another of its own speciess carrying not only information from both parents but energies. That’s electromagnetism, or birth. The sun sends own energy through electromagnetic waves to insure birth occurs, the second truth you learned but the first truth of your universe. Birth and survival, without those you would not be able to live. The next two truths are important for the continuation of life for you, reprouction and death. Those are the four realitie of your univers, all other realities can change and life will adapt to that change. That’s a lot to take in, we can pick this up tomorrow. Have some meade plus, the enhanced mead will help you sleep.” He poured me another mug of meade and placed a capsule in it which began instantly smoking like dry ice. “Drink this down and take a short nap. When you wake up Travis is going to take you across dimensions for some perspective. You must be exhausted. I chugged down the meade plus because he was right, I was very tired. So tired it never even registered that he told me that a once I awoke I would be traveling across dimensions with a talking dog.

I Want You

i want you

You shredded my heart put me on the back shelf
All that’s left for me to say is go fuck yourself

Baby I want you
With all my heart I do want you so
But I don’t want you to want me back
Cuz babe I want you to go

You tore out my heart just to kick it around
Now you say you want our two lives to split
You once gave me dreams and hopes of a life
But you have nothing to give but your shit

You said you’d always love me and I loved you too
Together with our hearts out on our sleeve
But you tell me you want someone else
I really do want something of you baby I want you leave

You hit an all time low no place left to go
So I want you to know that I want you to go
I won’t take you back for love that you lack
I want you so bad so please don’t come back

Leave me one last kiss to show you have class
So kiss of you cheat with a kiss of my ass

What Is Love


Why is love so hard to understand
Is love the air
The air we breathe while hand in hand
As we walk
Creating footprint sets in the sand
Is love the fruit of dreams two planned
What is love
That strange uneasy pleasant feeling
Is that love
A magic spell that sets hearts reeling
Laughing and dancing on the ceiling
Is that love

What is love
Two people dreaming over the ocean
Love is pure
Two lovers bursting with deep devotion
A pair of hearts etched in one emotion
Is love feeling
The feeling that no one else exists
Another’s soul you just can’t resist
Finding love
When life is hard can love be found
Give love
Fill your heart with chains unbound
Is love what make the world go round
What is love
Love is what makes our lives worth while
Making love
An act that creates everlasting smile
To take that short walk down the aisle
That’s love

Two together for ever and ever
Hand in hand wherever whenever
Eternally bound never to sever
Love is the glue that binds together

Love is love
Doesn’t matter who you give love to
What matters is if they’re right for you
Because the more of love you give away
the more of love you get back each day

She Said, I Know What Its Like To Be Dead, (J. Lennon)


There and back
J.T. Hilltop

Of all the people to hear about God and life after death Samuel Brooks was not the most likely conveyor of truth. Sam wasn’t an especially religious man, went to church on Easter and Christmas, did good deeds, but never really prayed or sang hymns or anything like that. What made Sam’s story worth hearing was the fact, or at least the fact as he tells it, that he literally died and came back to life. Then again, he does claim his death and return was the result of a heroin overdose so it should be taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps some tequila and lime as well since his story was being told to me at Driftwood Pub in Cow Harbor New York. But to the best of my questionable recollection here’s what transpired.
It should be said first an foremost that Cow Harbor was the Mayberry of the Northeast, a tiny little beach town full of clammers, fisherman, and escapees from the metro Manhattan madness. Anytown USA, it was a beach oriented community on Long Islands northern coastline. From the boredom of the chowder many of us suburban misfits turned to drugs to take us away from a mundane life in a small community. In our day marijuana was a must have while the slightly more hardcore of us experimented with hallucinogens, diet pills, and Quaaludes. The really hardcore bored rural drones dabbled in snorting cocaine and heroin. It freed us of the mediocre and transported us to a level of suburban legend the likes of James Dean in Hollywood. Of course once one dabbles in something as powerful as coke and dope you become a mere half step away from the stereotype portrayed in public service anti-drug movies the schools force feed the huddled masses of suburban youth. The true legends emerged as the rebellious main-liners who inject the poisonous powders directly into their veins. Sam was one of those rebel legends.
I was back in town after leaving some eight years ago to visit the grave of my beloved deceased Mom. While in my old hometown I always stop off at The Driftwood as it’s one of the more comforting hang outs from my metaphoric stomping grounds. A place where the jukebox now played fond memories and the pool table stored folklore of all nigh revelry. Just walking through the door of Driftwoods imparted the warmth of a treasured and magical time. The comfort of a mug of beer transported me even further to an easier if not so innocent time. To make the trip even more appreciable who is sitting at a table in the corner but my old schoolmate Sammy Brooks, one of the once revered icons of a town as defined by drug use. Sammy was known for his numerous battles with addictions and stories of suburban legend most of us were glad we avoided retrospectively, but misguidedly glamorized in the days of our asinine self absorbed down with the system youth. Sam was a heroin addict turned methadone reliant ex user who if had no major contributions to society at least held down a job. Truth be told the stigma of addiction aside he was a really nice guy who just got caught up in his attempt to be the coolest of the cool but instead ended up selling his soul for some temporary recognition. I knew him since kindergarten, and while not best friends we were never enemies, not even for a petty moment.
“Yo Sammy my man, how the fuck ya dewin? Must be like seven years at least brother.” Sam looked up from his drink staring at me puzzled, “JT? That you JT? Hey you look good Bro, still got your pony tail, eh? Glad to see that, too many short hairs around these days. Jeeze shit man what brings you back to this hellhole of a town?” I was honestly surprised he remembered me let alone that I had left town some time ago. I grabbed a beer, sat down and we began to catch up. We had a great time reminiscing the old days but once we got around to the reason for my visit Sam got weirded out. “JT, I know death is hard when its your Mom and shit, but I’ve been there, and there are things about dying you don’t want to know.” He couldn’t have been more wrong, I’m a sponge for information as it relates to the mysterious unknown. There was no way I wasn’t going to ask him what he meant. “Whadda ya mean Sammy? What do you know about death man?” After some prodding Sam relented. “I died from an overdose in the city but for some reason I came back.” Afraid he was gonna go off on some God reached his hand out and took me back story I attempted to change the subject until he asked me if I wanted to hear about what its like to be dead. Of course I did.
“Buy me a club soda Bro, I’ll tell you the whole deal but don’t get mad when I tell you there ain’t no god just a big nothing after you die. I know everyone wants to believe in bright lights, hugs, getting back together with gone family members and shit that’s pure bullshit man, its nothing like that.” I walked up to the bar to get us each a drink. Always one to play the devils advocate this particular time I was in unfamiliar territory lobbying on the side of religion but just to stir it up I asked, “How do you know it wasn’t like God or some angel or something that came an brought you back?” Sam got this real serious look on his face, “Look man, you can believe whatever you want, but if god or the angels or whatever wanted me to live why would they have let me get so strung out on drugs in the first place. Listen to how it went down and judge for yourself man but for me I’m sure there ain’t no super power saving people and shit. Don’t be counting on no help from above because there just ain’t nothing there. You’re on your own Bro.” It wasn’t anger registered on his face but contemplative reality as he launched into his tale.
“I was on the lower east side looking to cop some dope and coke. I was into speed balls back then dude, you know mixing dope with coke in the same shot. The best dope on the streets was Mr. T. which I’d been doing all week. Really good shit man, one bag was enough but two bags sent you out of fucking town. There was some killer coke a few blocks away called double D and I heard it was perfect for balling. I had me some extra cash so I got a bundle (ten bags) of Mr. T then went over to cop some double D. I got four bags and headed out to my little studio apartment to do a few speedballs. I near about ran home with the shit so I could get off good an quick like. It was a really bad time for me Bro, Stella left me, I was gonna get fired soon because I was fucking up a lot, life just totally sucked, ya know? I needed to escape so I take out my spoon, empty three bags of Mr. T into it and add a few drops of water. I cooked that mother fucker up then added a bag and a half of double D, sucked that shit through the cotton ball up into my syringe. I tapped the fucker making sure it was ready to take me away. No prob finding a vein man, I’m a pro at hitting veins.” He rolled up his sleeve to show me the red track marks on his arm as if it were some kind of red badge of courage and not the scratched silhouette of a life once struggling in turmoil. We both took big sips of our drinks as he continued, “I stuck that spike right into my arm and drew back. I see a small patch of blood so I know I got a good hit on the vein so I start booting ya know, hitting slow back an forth a few times then BAM! The whole shot right in to my blood system. I could feel the “C” running up my arm right towards my head when hit me in like two seconds Bro. Like the shit flew right up into my brain and started filling it up with fizzy blood or something then a nice even buzzing settled in between my ears. I was flying bro, like on top of the world flying. It was so awesome it forced a huge smile to creep across my face. I was thinking man this is the fucking best thing in the world for like fifteen seconds, every part of my body buzzing easy before the god damn “H” kicks in. First this warm feeling creeps up my backbone, across my shoulders then into my head, like a warm puddle of happiness soothing as all hell man. My entire being was vibrating nice and smooth and then wham! I sprung up of the bed flying backward and passed out with the needle still in my arm. Next I feel nothing. I mean like fucking nothing bro, like sleeping sound like without any dreaming. I musta hit my head on the wall of something because like I said I was feeling nothing ya know, like I didn’t exist no more. No bright light calling me, no fucking angel singing to me, not even a dream or anything. I wake up like four hours later with this like dried out puke all over my mouth, down my cheek and some big puddle of puke on the bed. I got this slamming mother fucking headache man, like none I never had before. I mean I hear people say they had a splitting headache before man but I swear to god this really felt like it was splitting my brain into pieces. So my head is like throbbing hard, painful as hell but I’m still like groggy, ya know disoriented and shit. Took me five minutes to remember where I was and what I was doing. Something happened to my neck and I can’t hardly move like my shoulders are sprained or something. I look down on the floor see the needle laying there all innocent like. Musta flown outta my arm or whatever cause the rest of the baggies of dope and coke are on the floor too. That’s when it really hit me man, I died and come back for whatever reason. The hit on my head musta made me puke and if I didn’t toss my cookies I woulda been done for bro, I wouldn’t be here telling ya this, Ida been another New York City police blotter statistic. Couldn’t move, just laid in bed for hours thinking about how I just died and come back. Being dead just feels like nothing at all. No lights, no meeting the maker, no life flashing before my eyes, just empty. That’s when I realize there ain’t nothing at all after death man, its just the end, total dark and void. Knowing I lucked out I swore I would stop using, maybe go to NA, ya know, Narcotics Anonymous to help get straight. No more poison in my blood ,man.”
I took in the story and considered how easily this could have been my story. I looked him in the face, “You clean now Buddy, you completely straight?” Sammy peered up from his dark memory, “Oh I’m dosing legally on methadone but as far as street drugs I’m clean. I had to do it on my own cause like NA relies on praising god and shit, and now I know there ain’t no god. Counselor sent me over to another group of former addicts that don’t believe either. We lean on each other and do just like the other Anonymous groups but no meetings with all the thanking and praising shit. Been straight for almost two years now.”
We finished chatting and reminiscing not brining up the addiction again. We had a great judgment free reunion complete with one more beer for me and a game of pool for old times. Neither of us were anywhere near as good as we were in years gone by or maybe we weren’t ever as good as we thought back in the day but either way we had a great time.
One thing Sam said really resonated and if anything that’s what I’d want you to take away from this tale of addiction. There are many reasons people end up addicted to substances and judging them isn’t productive. It doesn’t matter how or why someone goes down that road, that road becomes very dark very fast and its nearly impossible to find your way back without some really good people to shine the flashlight ahead of you instead of in your eyes to make you confess. Sam’s parents gave up on him because they didn’t know what to do but his brother never gave up and neither did his good friends. So between them and the other warriors of addiction he has a good support system which enables him to stay clean. As far as god existing I reckon that’s a personal decision and frankly I really don’t care what your belief is because your believing or not believing has nothing to do with how I perceive you as a person. Like Dr. King once said judge a person by the content of his character, and let me tell you Sam is one helluva character. A real good character……Peace

The Nuts Are Always Bigger On The Other Side


Day In The Life
By Gary Graysquirrel

Hey there, my name is Gary and I’m a 16 year old gray squirrel. Well in squirrel years anyway, to you its more like four times of watching me desperately hiding acorns only to forget where I put them when it warms up again. So at 16 I still live at home with my Mom and Dad, eight brothers and three sisters. I’m writing this day in the life story because this is Road Kill awareness week. In an effort to make you humans more aware of us squirrels because we are the motorcycle riders of your highways, people often don’t see us until its too late. So this is a typical day for me, starting from the rude wake up call out of our treehouse by the pesky woodpecker.
“Mom, make him stop, he’s giving me a headache!” POP POP POPPITY POP POP. “Relax Gary, its time to get up anyway, you shouldn‘t have been up all night running on the telephone wires.” “Oh Ma, all the other squirrels play there. Hey Pops, can I borrow a few acorns?” “Now how are you going to learn anything if I just give them to you? Acorns don’t grow in banks ya know! Take your brothers out and grab a bunch for all of us.” But Daaaaad, I hate taking them along, its dangerous enough going to the lane without having to worry about my younger brothers.” “Just do as I say son, someday when you have squirrels of your own you’ll understand.” So that’s a pretty typical start to my day, the annoying rat-a-tat-tat from the damn birds reminding me that there are no loner any worms available because they were out at the crack of dawn for the early bird specials. But fuck it we don’t care, we prefer these future oak trees anyways, my whole family is vegan. But being the oldest boy I have to take the other males out and teach them how to avoid your speeding cars to acquire our bounty.
For the most part we are all indecisive. Well not so much indecisive as….well yea indecisive describes it really well. Maybe not really well, maybe only sort of pretty well and…..well we change our little tiny minds a lot, it’s a lot of world for our miniscule brains to process. That’s why when you guys come barreling around those corners an catch us crossing in the middle we seem to dart back and forth in a random pattern. Well that and sometimes we just like to fuck with you. What happens is our little brains think back to a time when one of your rolling metal murder machines left a friend or family member squished on the road and we either get pissed or we panic. I don’t want to get all squirrel politics on you but you are our number one threat. I mean wolves, foxes, snakes, hawks, and even those bandito raccoons try to make us dinner but at least they give us a chance to run away. And even when they do kill us they don’t leave our bodies lying on the roadside stripped of any dignity whatsoever. But like I said, no politics, I just want you to know how hard it is to be a squirrel.
Us squirrels enjoy many of the things you guys do. I mean I have a girlfriend and my main focus in the day is to score a bunch of acorns and then go over to Sally and do what comes natural, if you catch my drift. A little squirrely booty call is a great motivator because we make love the way we run, fast, furious and for great lengths of time. So when we head out to get our freaking acorns we have something to look forwards to. Today I have four of my little brothers, the other four are too young to go nut hunting. “Hey Gary, can you teach us how to play chicken again?” Kids these days, always looking for kicks. They ask about every time to learn to play chicken so today I decided it was a good day for some lessons. “Okay guys, lets go down the lane where it’s a bit more clear. You guys go up on that grassy knoll there an watch as I cross street.” I positioned them so they could watch and learn away from the danger of auto ass-crushiation. “Okay first thing is always know your opponent. See that big rolling thing own there? That’s a Volkswagen beetle complete with peace sign so its most likely a hippie. I can just go straight because the hippies always stop.” As they looked on I just ran straight across the road and the car slammed on its brakes. That’s when I scrambled but just for effect, it always get the young ones laughing. “Okay, here comes a fast one. I’m gonna play the pick an roll with this one. I run right in front of it, stop short then turn around running back as soon as the first tire passes me. Gets them every time.” I performed it textbook style, forcing the speeding car to veer off a bit and most likely check its rear view to see if it got me. It was pretty close though, “this time I do the stop, stutter, and go. Here comes a big Cadillac, probably one of the real old humans the way he’s driving.” As the caddy pulled up I ran in front of it, stopped and gave a head fake like I was going back, then peeled as across the street. The kids were rolling in laughter because they saw the look of confused terror on the driver. “That’s enough for today guys, come on across the street and lets get some acorns now.”
I waited for all four of them as they came across without any traffic coming until Chet, the youngest and most brazen made his attempt. Trying to show off he waited until he saw something coming, a pick up truck in super sonic mode. “Chet, NO!!” Too late, he ran out yelling, “The stop and stutter.” Of all the moves he tries to make the hardest one first and on a pick up no less. Pick ups don’t care about us at all and some of them actually try to run us over on purpose. To make matters even worse coming the other way was a young kid in the Beamer his parents bought him for graduation. Great! A kid in a car who has no sense of car ownership or road rules but a sense of entitlement. Chet ran out doing the stop and stutter pretty good but panicked starting to run in circles from car to truck. The pick up drove directly at him but the Beamer kid was totally unaware, probably texting or instagramming or something, and clipped the back of the pick up as it ran over Chets tail. “Ouch, fucking goddamit he got my tail Gary! He got my tail!” I ran out and pulled him to the other side as the humans got out yelling and blaming each other. “Just be glad its just your tail you idiot. What were you thinking? Moms gonna fucking kill me man, how my gonna explain this?” Chet was in pain but it was just a crushed tail. This Time!!
We went about collecting more acorns in reletive silence, me angry and the others upset. Hopefully this little incident will scare them straight. As the day wore on the anger subsided so I remarked, “I thought that mean truck dude was gonna crush the kid in the beamers tail too!” One of the kids said, “You shoulda seen the look on that kids face, like we took away his nuts.” We began to laugh at the humans for acting like idiots after getting in an accident, but the truth is it seldom works out this way. All too often one or more of us never return home because there are people who will run us over without a second thought to our families or girlfriends back at home. So next time you see one of us, whether we’re playing chicken or really panicked, try to avoid running us over. Drive carefully, the squirrels life you save my be my own…..Peace

Enter The Void


His search saw him travel across the great sea
Sharp oars in his eyes as he rowed out to me
Where shall we venture I wondered inside
He said come on board so I went for the ride

So stealth was the smirk I mistook it a grin
In voice oh so pleasant he begged come on in
I’ve waited many an hour to take you abroad
Tears filled my eye as my memories roared

My ghosts were battered and bruised barely no breath
I objected to marching head first into death
But we entered the hallways where life dare not tread
I knew in that instant the boatman was dead

My destination arrived it was time to depart
The redeemer in front of me pulling a cart
The cart it was full of clay, flesh, and bone
Into the dark hallway I entered alone

Subversive Suburbia


Suburban Subversive

They cut the rug on an asphalt dance floor
Two flames alight in a municipal nation
Dodging trolleys ducking crowed halls
Prompting massive suburban migration

Too many travelers in subterranean bus stops
They hitched their hopes to an old coal steam
Sprouting out into a pasture of grassy promise
In search of their piece of the American dream

White picket fence of successful employment
Prosperity rains down with every promotion
Raising some kids climbing trees not a lamp post
Accomplishing wealth’s an achievable notion

Like urban sardines packed too tight
People escaping the urban plight
But danger exists under the covers
In this story of two fleeing lovers

Papa was a natural born traveling salesman
Momma went and joined the community drones
I was born from the small town boredom
Merely a result of their late night moans

Mom stayed alone near about every evening
Purling and knitting sweaters for her sanity
Old man went out to make last call in taverns
Drinking vodka and tonic to pedal his vanity

Routine ruts breed corrosion
Rusting matrimony implosion
Stretching pledged an dutiful bonds
In betrayal is how Suburbia responds

No tell motel underground
On the cheating side of town
In a hospital mom in labor
Darkened room Dad and neighbor

Now with a child Mom switches in focus
Dad bragging the status of a job he landed
But one overtime visit Mom ha a surprise
Caught Dad and his secretary hand in red handed

Typical story of typical suburban hometowns
Structuring successes for the corporate winners
But the motels are filled with disloyal couples
Sunday churches filled to the rafter of suburban sinner

Homes and their families are failing or broken
Passionate moans now transform into tears
Dad took the rent out to buy a pack of smokes
Leaving stains on our lives the rest of our years