Seasons Change, Northeastern Exposure

 

Through spring and summer
The leaves on our trees
Don masks of splendor
Boldly displayed thickets
Fragile chameleons of life
Poised in veils of chlorophyll
Hiding their true colors until Autumn
When the weather commands them
Strip off their sleek jade facades
Allow the leaves to glow true
In their natural nakedness
Astounding crisp colors
Emblazoned in fiery reds
Dazzled with robust yellows
Tickled with inspirational oranges
Natures fireworks to rival our own
Until the trumpet of ice chill wind
Blows its harsh cacophony
Enticing the leaves to dance and slip free
An exodus from their branches
Spinning and tumbling towards earth
Determined to enrich the soil
While the tree’s skeletal remains
Stand in defiance of the cold air
Unafraid of the contemptuous freeze
Ready to bear the weights of winter
With it’s biting chill of snow and ice
Vowing to return fully clothed
Come the loving warmth of Spring
Yet each season bears its mysteries
Autumn owning one of the best
Over the last few weeks
The oaks dropped their seedlings
A treat for the hungry squirrel
In response the grey playmates
Plant acorns across the land
Hiding them for the future
But who’s future?
In the haste of the cold
The little creatures forget
The home of their hidden treasures
Where seeds are given a chance to grow
One day a mighty oak itself
A long lasting stanchion of life
Home to generations of birds
As well as small animals
And an ecosystem of insects
Sacrificing themselves to Mother Nature
With nary a complaint they join the seasonal displays of Mother Natures Beauty, offer food and homes to any and all creatures, give us oxygen, stand tall and glorious for our ocular pleasures, and entertain us with the mystery ff the cycles of life. That’s one of the perks of living where seasons change…Live and Love in Peace

Advertisements

JT’s Culinary Career Becomes A Pile Of Crap

 

 

J.T. Hilltop… (From Zen and the Art of Culinary Maintenance)
The freaking manager and Maitre D’ of Cavarleiri’s Restaurant ran off with the Payroll and my hopeful culinary career was cut short. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to the fecal matter hitting the rotary oscillator but Cavalieris closing was a lot to deal with. I thought I had found my calling in the restaurant industry and the furthest thing from my mind was not being part of the gastronomic cosmic enlightenment enhanced with copious amounts of weed. No longer was I an apostle to a culinary madman, no more waitresses to flirt with, no more free beers, no more sneaking joints in the basement. I was now saturated with disappointment and disillusionment. I guess that’s how my Dad felt about me, but I’m not here to wallow in self pity, I’m here to tell my story. No money meant no weed and no weed meant I needed to seek another avenue of employment. Fast! I needed to shed the dry burnt out snakeskin of the restaurant industry and turn on to some other form of capitalism. I needed to get far away from any kitchen, any Chef or any sexy damn waitress. I need a sacrificial rack of lamb so to speak. I should do what James did when he was here, some fast money landscaping. So it came to pass that I had became the new landscaper for James olf boss Muncie at Muncies Field of Dreams. More accurately put, I had left the bottom rung of dishwashing to join the bottom rung of lawn mowing leaf raking topsoil carrying shit spreaders. I had chosen to become a hard working laborer and have my skin scorched everyday by burning threats the summer sun makes good on while enjoying the hearty aroma of freshly decayed organic manure. Enough about the perks though; let me tell you about the downside. Everyday ended the same, my arm and back muscles pound out a rebellious beat building to a painful crescendo. As I reach to cool my aches and pains with a cold beer it seem as though all my muscles tightened up into ball of overworked subdermal tissues and tendons screaming at every movement. My skin radiates a pinkish aura from hours spent unprotected by those relentless threats of the harsh sun. It left my neck and shoulders feeling like James gave them an Indian neck burn adding to my misery. As if that weren’t enough, the omnipresent stench of decaying crap had implanted its neverending stink carousel deep into my nasal cavity. Olfactory nirvana! Out on the field one of my less enviable jobs, if that’s even possible, was to take compost which was Muncies name for decayed animal shit, and spread it across a field. At first the smell of evaporating morning dew so earthy and rich comes rising up off the ground like a wisp of warm steam in a tease just waiting for its vile replacement. Breathe deep and enjoy the best of nature while it lasts because within seconds comes the dank aroma of compost. Its a blend of some of the most offensive smells I could ever have imagined. Horse shit, cut grass, worm infested leaves, and decaying matter are the less offensive stench. Once dumped on the ground the aromas of a horse stable had a meeting with a quarantined rest stop bathroom, and then joined forces with spoiled milk and dead mouse body to create a cacophony of disgust that slowly crept up my nasal passage and made an all out assault on all five of my senses. There it would stay to hang out for hours even after my day was long over. A rank reminder of my newly acquired hopelessness that was eased, but not eradicated by the beer. With a cannabis chaser of course.
Partying had come to a new intersection as well. Turn right and head up the morphine highway that was one step away from the dreaded H. Heroin, horse, dope. A dangerous path to be sure but as long as we kept just to the pills it seemed okay. To the left was an array of uppers and downers that had become much too routine for us. From the ritual of lighting up to the ritual of popping pills. Ken the salesman was in big demand and was spending way way too much time with the low life dealer Arthur. As for me I was required to wake up early 6 mornings a week and work my body into a pile of mush. But I had every night free to do whatever I chose. I had begun spending more and more money on drinking and drugs, supplying not only my head but Carries as well. And many evenings I took care of Sue as well because my best friend Ken was always out copping drugs to sell. I had begun doing diet pills every morning to keep me awake and give me the energy to bust my ass out in the shit fields and then popping downers to take off the edge of diet pills so I could sleep. As if that didn’t suck enough on days when it rained I would be sent home and not make any money for the day. I quickly went through my head money after a week of solid rain. The summer was coming to an end and I was making less money. Soon it would be too cold to do landscaping and I would be out of work again. Fuckin A man! I couldn’t remember how the fuck I got here but I knew I needed to get the fuck out real soon.
As if on cue that week of rain and crappy weather had set me in search of a new destiny. Again fate reared its ugly head and out of the blue came an offer to become an assistant groundskeeper at a local Nursing Home. How cool to be able to use my newly acquired skills on three locations and get paid even if it rains. That’s how it was that I became something different. Now I was a shit spreader with a title. The assistant groundskeeper with a special attribute. I was in charge of manure movement. Whatever, I was working and making money on a regular basis again. And the work wasn’t nearly as exhausting. Life was good again. Now I could concentrate on saving up my money. I began working in the yards of the three nursing home properties at Vierno’s Nursing Homes Inc.

To Be Continued

October Blue (Why Take The Children)

 

 

Grief is a bomb
It never stops exploding
Fills our worlds with chaos
Unrelenting and uncaring
Constant burning flames
Entering out souls
Our hearts
Reminding us how weak we are
Today I remember myself at my weakest
My baby girl
Taken away on this day
A beautiful shining star
Extinguished
It’s so unfair
I was supposed to be her strength
Hold her up with all my might
I held her so hard
I tried so much
I believed so strong
Poured my entire soul into my baby
Yet I failed
Still Megan I hold you in my heart
Every aching second
Of every single day
Time never passes
Not one single tick
Without a thought of you
I still don’t understand why
Many have reasoned
That you have gone with God
My baby is an angel at his side
But what need has any god of a child?
Who but the cruel and ruthless
Would erase the innocent
Not any God I can accept
We needed you here
But this isn’t about me
This isn’t about God
It’s about you
Yet still people have suggested
Perhaps God broke me to be rebuilt me
I never asked to be rebuilt
If true he took from my inner self
The most important part of me
The most true and honorable piece of me
My attempt to be her Dad
Is not unconditional love the most true?
But their God left a gaping abyss
An endless hole in my heart
No way to fill a hole that has no end
Yet on some arcane level
It was losing you that brought me to my awakening
Suffering…
Suffering is what made me who I am
All that remains now
Is my memory and
An existential mystery forever unsolved
An unanswered question asked for eternity
Why take the guiltless children?
Used as an innocent pawn
Why my baby?
She was not born to us of mere flesh
But of a longing of life
A desire to spread her wings and soar
An opportunity to exist
A chance to shine bright
Why was she deprived of life
Deprived of her own Goddam fate
Taken from us in a single morrow
I could drown in my tears
So many have I cried
Be lost in the light
So dark had my soul become
Been lost forever in the pain
So deep was my anger
Yet each day I must rise
Without your smile
Each day goes on
Without you
Everyday I struggle to wake
For without my child
I had no reason to exist
I would gladly perish
To give you a shining chance
One chance at living
But if living means this pain
I wish it not for you my Megan
For those who I share love
I continue on wounded forever
Now every earthly rotation hence
October comes at me hard
Stalking me like a villain
Reminding me of it’s power
The dominance it holds o’er me
Even with all its beautiful colors
With it’s clean crisp morning air
October darkens my doorstep with gloom
Obscuring my memories of what could have been
My Megan
Leaving me scarred
Tattoos carved deeply in my heart
All I have left now are those memories
Of a profound innocent loved shared
And the pinwheel above your new room
Which spins wild upon each visit I make
Each silent visit
Though I want to join you
I can’t sleep beside you yet
For there are others that still need me here
So sleep now my “Little Little”
I can celebrate not this October
For our memories can ease our pains
Or they can devour us
I hope for the former
The anniversary this month brings
Is forever unwanted
Yet this horrible pain
Is all I have left……
I never sleep during October
I only cry

Live and Love in Peace

GO TO HELL

 

 

Truth be told I will be seriously disappointed if once dead we are reduced to two options, either go to heaven and live in boredom or go to Hell and live in flames. Frankly the repetitious and cloying sweetness of doing nothing for eternity would drive me to Hell, which begs the question…..What happens when one goes to Hell?

 

Once I’m passed my expiration date
Where shall I dwell
Will I be delivered unto heaven
Or will I end up in HELL
In the world of Satan
Where nothing gets healed
Burning in eternal fire
Or in damnation my true self revealed
Like Dante traversing the 7 burning rings
Where consequence causes the fiery stings
No more in aimless pursuit
Of pleasures of flesh
But buried in torture
Without any rest
Kick it……

I’m a Goddam Irie ite, trying to do it right, a precious bird in flight who never learned wrong from right yet still somehow my star shines bright despite the shite….so out of spite I got into a fight crushing some poor bastard with all my might, took his life and ended his plight and that’ how I ended up a hellbound blight
So now the bitch is deceased.
His soul has been released and my chances of hell are ten times increased yet I’m at peace cause in my mind he deserved to be fleeced ….Or at least uncreased. So now my life is on lease to the devilish priest. So I deserved what I earned when my ass got burned, that’s how I learned to give up my turn and here in Hell is where I burn

 

 

The world of Satan
Where nothing gets healed
The rings of flames
Where the truth is revealed.
Find your real self in the Valley of hate
The very first second you get passed the gate
Abandon all hope ye who enter here
Surrender to me, surrender to fear
Beelzebub conquers Beelzebub wins
Happy to watch us devour our sins
Laughing and chuckling in the house that he built
Snickering at us as we choke on our guilt
Pursuing our pleasures that make us all moan
While seeking the answers best left alone
This is the sad tale the only one I can tell
If Jesus ever saw me he’d say… “Go To Hell!”
Kick it

The devil seduces us and introduces us to shit there is no use for us the he reduces us. Turns us to dust while we choke on our lust losing all trust in a fit of disgust.
Who can we turn to who to believe? We kneel and we pray as we weep we’re deceived. Here we receive the troubles we perceive and the sins we conceived. I’m going to Hell to learn and to grow, try to be pure as the new driven snow but Fuck it man I died a long time ago…… I just didn’t know

 

Live and Love in Peace

Shadows in the rocks

 

I love music but can’t sing or play a note, but as I’ve said sometimes a rhythm or melody worms it’s way inside my head asking for some lyrics, so from time to time I attempt to write some lyrics, for better or worse…

 

Scratch armed bandit
Collecting junk at night
Trying to find a balance
Get himself feelin’ right
Running with his best friend
Baby girl in flight
Shooting powdered milk
In the darkness of the light

Shadow children
Shadow chill-ill-dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Beat up little urchin
Sneaking out the back
Satisfied Uncle Aaron
Still moaning in her sack
Never got invited
Still he has a knack
Of using teenage sweeties
Afraid to tell the facts
Meets her superhero
Captain America on crack
Both sinking down the drain
Victims of the smack
They don’t need food or money
Its life the really lack

 

 

 

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick
Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick
If they make to their 40’s they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

Everybody hates him
Wants to see him harmed
He needs to take his handgun
Just to stick it in his arm
Little girl abandoned searching for a friend
No one see’s a child no one raises an alarm
She’s just a geisha of the poppy
Hiding from the storm
Hopes to be a grandma
But her life won’t last that long

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow of the rocks

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick
Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick
If they make to their 40’s they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

Madmen Have No Remorse

 

From high in the treetop
The vulture viewed the lambs
Innocent thought the predator
Who but me is truly innocent
I hold all the power in my arms
I need release
The wondrous smell of gunpowder
The echoing pops of rapid fire
The scattering of the sheep
Some fall some ramble chaotic
But all are stricken with panic
It is I who holds the power
They bleat and whine below me
Only I can stop the killing
I wish this could last forever
But someone is at the door
It is time for me to worship
Holding the holy death stick
I point it to my head and pull
My power to you I commend
I join you my lord
Take me in your forgiving arms

Waiter, There’s A Fly In My Administration, (a flies eye view of Watergate)

 

Prelude
I swear sometimes its like they don’t even know I exist. Well that’s fine with me because my Dad always told me its better to keep your mandibles shut and be considered a fool than to make some buzzing noise and remove all doubt. Besides, with those new fangled fly swatters and bug zappers my species has been taking a huge hit in the census reports. I prefer to just sit on the wall and quietly listen to these humans ramble on about all their petty nonsense. Interesting surroundings here I must say, much too clean for this flies taste with not even a crumb or juice spill for me nibble on, but I am in The White House and this is The Oval Office so its only a matter of time until I come across a big pile of bullshit.

My Confession, I Was The Fly On Nixon’s Wall

 

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have much in the way of excitement so when I woke up in the oval office of The White House I knew I had a good story to tell my grand-flies next week. You know it must have been quite a ride landing me here in DC with Richard Milhous and his cronies but truth be told I don’t remember much of it. Oh yea I get it, you se me rubbing my hands together in a devious manner and think I have been making plans to take over the world but no, I am just cleaning the ah…. Puke of my arms. Anyway, more on that later. First a little background about the life and times of a short lived pesky fly who ended up on the wall of Richard Nixon’s oval office..
All in all a fly life is boring. Oh sure if we find some dead body and its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but that’s just a night out to binge and purge. There’s not a whole lot of exciting occurrences for a fly. Avoid that sticky gooey tape thing, play dive bomb at people heads while they try and swat us, and wait around to find some tasty shit. Literally shit. We live short simple lives and have very few needs. Air traffic patterns to confuse predators, anti-web maneuvers which, by the way seldom work, friggen spider bitches, and some good rotting flesh or defecation. Basically we eat, puke, and eat again. Not your fabulous eat pray and love idiom but what the fuck, we’re only flies.
Oh yea, about that fly paper. That’s my pet peeve man its a real bitch because you use fly pheromones so we think we’re gonna fly united and get laid when all of a sudden glop! Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend die thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess with a dozen other would be amorous fly boys. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly I came here to share the interesting conversations I was privy to while I was hanging out in the oval office here in the Whitehouse during the days of what you humans call the Watergate scandal. From my vantage point on the wall I was able to hear quite a tale with a cast of characters that, well lets just say for them to call our larvae maggots is extremely hypocritical. They think their fecal matter isn’t odiferous but any fly worth its proboscis can smell a politician miles from the beltway. But how did I get here? Listen up man, I’ll walk you through it.
The last thing I remember from last night was falling asleep all snug in the hidden hair region of a women that I picked up bar. I had just flown in from Boston and man were my wings tired. It was pouring rain so I found this cozy little bar in Washington DC looking for a safe place to rest when I saw Destiny. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm pubic bed which is exactly what I did.
Destiny was at the bar drinking and when some dude started hitting on her it woke me up. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing back off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere with that weak ass rap so I cuddled up near my curly hair snuggle mattress. Not much to worry about with an opening line like that.
But apparently the dude was persistent. He told my cooch ride his name was George and he claimed he was some powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. Small talk? That was microscopic talk man, this dude was going nowhere. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any sugar on this night. I got the feeling the asshole was married anyway and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong.
I woke up and found myself not in a soft perfumed curly muff mattress but in a dark coarse long brittle hair bed that smelled of cheap scotch and stale cigarettes. I found myself sleeping in the thick ugly mustache of none other than G. Gordon Liddy. How the blowfly did I get here? Seems somehow Georgie Porgie got lucky at some point last night and I was given a transfer to the thick Liddy Lip Central which gave me a bristly ride here right to the oval office of The Nixon White House.
Believe me folks, G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass lip rug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He made puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for quite some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Think I’m bullshitting? Well I shit you not my friends because Tricky Dicky here taped the whole thing which will validate my tale so listen to my story as they play the taped conversation and you’ll see what I mean.
“George, did you read what those Godless bastards at the Times wrote about me last night?” Even a fly can detect paranoia, and man did Nixon have a real bad case. George started rubbing his lip (yup, the infamous rug transferring lip) which is what caused me to relocate to the west wall. “Dick, I’m telling you, some sonava bitch is leaking stories to those damn reporters and they want to print whatever they can to discredit me.. And The Whitehouse. What you need is an experienced, ah, um, plumber, a sneaky plumber to find the leaks and eliminate them.” Nixon was clearly angry and interested, “Your right George, those pricks are out to destroy me, to take me down. Every chance they get The post, The Times, those pricks Severid and Reasoner, they’re all trying to screw Richard Nixon. Let me tell you George Richard Nixon will not be taken down by some leftist liberal atheist commie shithead. So man, what’d you have in mind?” George shuffled a little as Richard stared out the window. “Look, I have a source who tells me the Pentagon Papers were released by someone working for General McNamara. I have a name. The sonova bitch copied classified files and now wants to leak them for his own agenda. There’s something I want to try. This asshole goes to a psychiatrist and I’m going to liberate the files of this ratfink bastard from the shrinks office for proof. Then we’ll nail his communist ass to the fucking wall! No one will believe a word he says. Listen, I know a few guys from the organization I can still trust, and with me as their chief I’ll find him and any other scumbag commie leaker and get rid of them all. You’ll never be implicated in anything, It’ll be my operation and I’ll run it. Of course I’ll keep you informed but this will give you plausible deniability.” Nixon smiled, “Plausible deniability? I love it George, okay lets go with that. You head up my group, the Whitehouse plumbers.” George was one of those control freaks who need to assert his dominance and replied, “Operation Odessa Mr. President, in here we can be called the plumbers but officially we’re Odessa, part of the Committee To Reelect the best President our fair country has ever had. I’m gonna get my guys together and I’ll report to you in two days. I already have my lead and he’ll be the first sonava bitch to go.” Nixon shook Georges hand and said, “No names George, not yet. These prick liberals are trying to ruin me, ya know? They want to bring down America, become commies and make it normal for our kids to be homos. I don’t think they even believe in God. You bring me some results and I’ll make sure you get rewarded.” George shook Dicks hand, “My reward will be serving you Mr. President, just leave things to me. I have the way to deal with the unpatriotic hippies. I’ll get rid of all your problems Dick.” George left and Dick opened a drawer of his desk picked up a microphone and softly spoke, “G. Gordon Liddy and President Richard Milhous Nixon, June 18th 1971.” and closed the drawer. Hmmm, odd these humans, they seem to secretly tape record conversations. I wonder why?
To Be Continued………..

Night Tremors

 

I awoke in the eerie dark
Or maybe I was still asleep
It was far too dark to tell
Too quiet to understand
Arcane and unsettling
Something or someone
Was in my room with me
WHAT WAS THAT?
Has fear taken ownership
Am I paranoid or in a dream
Sweating from the paralyzing fear
Droplets begin to roll off my forehead
So fucking scared
FEAR
Am I gonna die!!
Oh……my……god

 

Kick it
This fear has fermented I’m mentally tormented cause the visions I’ve invented
Are relentlessly depressing
A life form unscented from someone’s Hell has ascended it may not be documented but
…..I think that I’m demented….
I’m so tempted to pray to please be represented
But my God is discontented with the sins which I’ve presented
My life is at stake
My soul to take while I’m awake for goodness sake
We all make a mistake
Go away
Let me wake
Slow it down now

 

Perhaps I was dreaming
Dark theater of the brain
Strange noises in my sanctuary
Am I alone or is someone here
My cranium keeps shaking
Tears pool down my cheeks
My reflection in the droplets
I see some movement
A tree branch? No a shadow!
Paralyzed in my bed
Make this end
Please let this be a dream but if it is a dream
What does that mean?
Are dreams simple stories our minds make up
Or are they the realties of what could be?
Why do our dreams never seem to have a beginning
Why do they never have an end….or a taste of the reality
How can they be so vivid and true yet so surreal
I don’t think I like dreams
I don’t want to have them anymore
Please get me out of here or wake me up
I want to be me….to be free
Kick it once more

 

They are a malady of the banality someone’s misplaced morality
Worming its way into my concept of reality
Oh the fucking brutality the Dream Police finding criminality
Crimes against humanity my lack of sanity has to be what it is to be
To bring me to serenity
Stripping away the inside of me a paranoid fragility
My head hurts….just let me be
In the dark absence of light so filled with fright
My heads not right
I hate those fucking tremors in the night