Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

 

 

Death is the eater of time, and in the end, no one escapes time

Death knows not discrimination
It’s sojourner paid me a visit
Frigid fingers of finality
Toying with my bones
Sending chills to my marrow
Tapping into my syrup of life
Glaring his anxious eyes perniciously
Leering mockingly a disdainful smirk
Baited breath of icy anticipation
Whispering “Surrender and succumb.”

I will not surrender my memories
Attempting to soothe and assure
With words bluntly lacking hope
Is this it?
Is this when it ends?
My mind keeps on fighting
But my body betrays my aim
I turned to my center of strength
Found it full of positive energy
From sparks begun at my sacred hunting grounds
Through the ancient gallery of friendship
Up through years of developing the love
A wave of love and support
My army of love
With weakened élan I addressed him
“Not this time Death!”
Death moved slowly backward
Smirking with deep disdain
With a stinging smile replied
“When you’re time has come I will visit longer…

Life can change in an eye blink. When we are forced to deal with the loss of a loved one we are also forced to imagine life without them around. When it’s, you that may be the one lost you are forced to wonder how you can live without everybody you love or care about. It’s a far different occurrence to confront your past than to have your history facing you, but in the end, The love you make is equal to the love you take. I want to thank my army of love for lifting me through the first stage of this struggle, and for assuring me, you will always be there to help me through.

I’ve been through a multitude of experiences, and lately, it occurs to me….What a Long, Strange Trip It has Been….LOVE YOU ALL!
Live and Love in Peace

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

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

THE STORYTELLER

 

The storyteller unlocks the subconscious
A locksmith using memories as his tool
Reminding us knowledge which lay dormant
Sleeping in the memories of our own hearts
Wishing one day to sort out real from imagined
So we listen with intent hoping to be free
Because feelings that lay frozen in our minds
Plead day to day that they be un-manacled
Free of the fears which lock our hope away
Holding hostage that which we already know
The knowledge that dawned with our births
Stored in the vastness of our repressive minds
Inside the temples of the storytellers graveyard
Where secret knowledge is preached in solitude
So we listen

 

 

The storyteller he makes no claims nor judgments
His tales are the dreams of visitors from the night
Imaginary and manifested friends of midnight lore
Some welcome some unwanted but all unfiltered
Preying on our eager and vivid imaginations
Reaching in to unleash our suppressed emotions
To strip them naked exposed unto ourselves
He asks not to be paid in silver nor gold
Only hopes to enter into our hearts and minds
And allow his words soothe or injure wakefulness
Offering no direction nor instruction be followed
Exposing incognito the paths of our choosing
Oftentimes he tell stories of profound love
Allowing many to reflect fondly of experience
So we believe

 

 

Yet for others love never seems to be enough
So he recalls stories of deep pain and loss
Sharing the pains he lived through and died from
Exposing himself while revealing our profound grief
And in the end with the many tales he’s woven for us
He blankets us all from that darkness which resides
Obscuring from inside the desires of the incendiary
Coaxing emotions to come bubbling to the surface
In a desperate search to find our own reflection
And fix the broken parts we tried to forget
Whether memories make you sad or glad matters not
It bears no significance once the story comes to end
The teller leaves carrying our hurts without reward
Upon his shoulders to cast into his healing heart
A mutual exchange of what is and what should be
As it was intended

 

The biggest fish of the fishing rod, a thousand tales from Scheherazade
Saviors of the suicide squad that make us stop and think so hard
Should we disregard our own backyard or traipse on down the boulevard
Scary streets abandoned yards, play at risk of being scarred
Don’t blame the words of the traveling bard its only a tale
The storytellers veil to hide his wails
Be he poet or prophet or teller true
He gives freely of words to me and you
Words plucked from his heart become his art
Right from the start
He writes them down not for glory
Only wants to tell a story
To reveals our eyes to our mirror
Put perspective little bit clearer
So gather round come in nearer
Stand naked before his story moral
Thank him for his message oral
Once he’s gone only words remain
Because no one notices his barrel of pain
They only ask him to tell it again and again
Until he has no story left

 

 

Fractured Soul

 

When the soul is fractured it’s fractured forever. We try and put braces on our fractured souls, people come into our lives that make it easier for us to function with the fractures, to love and laugh, but the fracture always remains. We only learn to carry on as if there were no cracks whatsoever. That’s a fucking lie!

 

My soul became fractured in one moment
My dreams turned into icy memories
Hope snuck out the bathroom window
Taking my will to survive on its back
That horrible moment I had to be strong
I needed to assure baby girl it was okay
Not that everything was going to be fine
But that it was okay to let go of the pain
She couldn’t speak so she nodded
Told me she loved me with a blink
The machines went silent
My heart fell apart
My soul fractured
Only one questioned remained
Do I live on or die

 

Fractured soul a life corrodes broken heart as black as coal
Free me now let me explode unpack my sorrow and unload
You can’t console a fractured soul
You can’t control the Reapers role
So take me down that lonely road
Back to my home
Where I always travel alone
My soul disqualified and compromised
Modified to be unoccupied minimized and oxidized
Rust and dust the tears I cried
Begging and pleading tell me why..
Nothing matters when your soul is fractured
Living life backward like a tortured actor
My essence smoldering in a nuclear reactor
That’s how it feels when the soul is fractured
Filled with all the hurt that I can manufacture
Like a homeless soldier stripped of stature
Left in the rain to scrap and forage
Thrown to the wind left unsupported
Purple hearts don’t pay their mortgage
Forgotten heroes packaged in cardboard storage
Alongside fractured souls of the morbid orphans

 

 

Our lives are made up of memory experiences
Big piles of good reflections and big piles of bad
Hopefully the bad pile is far lower than the good
But even if it’s not we mustn’t let the bad
Infect all the wonderful good things we have
Both piles make us up to who we’ve become
And who we are now comes down to one decision
Which pile to ignore and which to climb high
From my first memory I set out running
In a fervor to find what’s beyond the light
I didn’t realize when I was a young man
That I wasn’t running towards life but away
All along I was being chased by the ravager
If time ever catches up to me all I can do
Is surrender my fractured soul
And accept my final fate…..
I’m running as fast as I can

 

Live and Love in Peace

Stay The Night

 

 

I can’t sing and have zero musical ability but once in a while a melody gets stuck in my head wishing it had some lyrics. This is one of those times, an unusual trip into lyrics without a note. whatev….

 

 

 

My tender heart caressed so gentle
Makes me quiver in passions glow
Lighting me up in flames of love
Teaching me all I wished to know
Love means not possessive hearts
But to surrender unto desires
Sharing at will each others soul
As it stokes the passionate fires

 

 

Our very first date
Went so damn great
Everything seemed so right
A goodnight kiss
Became passionate bliss
Made love and stayed the night

 

 

Love had beckoned I had followed
Lusty wings embraced my soul
But her sword I never noticed
Until the stabbing took its toll
I believed every lie she told me
Her voice shattered all my dreams
Crucified me in my lonely room
Nothing is ever what it seems

 

 

Love comes and love goes
But once in a while love see’s the light
Passions bliss and a goodnight kiss
When you stayed the night

 

 

Tenderness can cause such pain
Like an open wound love bleeds
Coursing out to make me weak
With severed soul I make a plea
Stay with me wrapped in my arm
Heal our wounds and rub the scars
Her love no longer calling out for me
What she has with him is ecstasy,
An ecstasy that’s no longer ours

 

 

 

I call your name I hear no response
Something once spoken just doesn’t seem right
We promised we would never cheat
But you’re in his arms and in his sheets
Why don’t you stay the night

 

 

Stay the night
Stay the night
Its only right
I just can’t take
Another fight
So stay he night
Just shut the light
Don’t tell me another lie
Spoken out of spite
Then just stay with him
Stay the night
But don’t come back
On next daylight
Go to him and
Stay the night
Forget my name
I’ll be all right
So you should stay the night

 

 

 

Death In Fibonacci Sequence

 

Death
It knocks
You hear it
It stands at your door
Waiting for you to open up
The Grim Reaper comes whether you are ready or not

 

Sleep
The end
Gone for good
Never to return
Death stands outside waiting for us
Everyone has one you just have to figure out where

 

Grave
Endless
forever
Eternal dreaming
The sunshine of the spotless mind
An eclipsing shadow of the obscured fading moon

 

Death
Rising
Not afraid
Standing in the hall
Waiting for its moment to rise
Knowing that it has found what it has been looking for

 

Fibonacci figured out a mathematical pattern that repeats itself so often in nature that it becomes one of those mysterious occurrences in the Universe that defy explanation.  I can’t profess to understand even an inkling of his genius, but that does not prevent me from appreciating it and giving a genius mind some props…….Live and Lover in Peace