After My First Kiss A Punch to The Heart

 

(from The continuing stories of JT and his quest for Culinary Nirvana)
I stopped off to see Kathy and bought a nickel of gold weed then went to the magazine store to buy a pack of big bamboo rolling papers. I was feeling a bit frisky, which is adolescent code for horny, so I decided I was the one who would set the tone tonight. The four musketeers met up by the corner of the schoolyard near the woods where many of us underage derelicts quench our mind thirsts with beer or wine or sometimes both. I hoped Ken would get out of being grounded, he almost always did, but this time he was busted with weed which was like the ultimate crime of the century or something. Felony pot smoking! Every suburban parent’s nightmare, a child that has been turned into a stoned out zombie from doing the “reefer madness.” Maybe his old man was just too drunk to remember what happened. Or maybe just beating Ken was lesson enough. I flipped when he showed up carrying a six-pack. “ Hey Ken man, give me the cardboard from the six pack, I gotta clean some weed.” This was a ritual in the neighborhood, copping some beer from an older brother of a friend outside the stores then rolling a few joints to get even higher. It was just another night in the land they call suburbia. On this eve we were a group of 12 strong all pounding down alcohol and puffing away on yellow gold high-quality marijuana. Someone suggested heading over to Beth’s because she was having a party and there in an instant and unanimous agreement. Ken grabbed me and pulled me to the side. “JT, did you take those pills I gave you last night?” “Of course I did bro it was awesome. I did the red ones and brought the other 4 with me. I figure I’ll do one and give one to Carrie and you and Sue can have the other two” Ken thought for a moment then said “Lets you and me do the tuies and give the girls one yellow each. The tuies are a lot stronger.” It was decided. We called over the ditz sisters and offered them each a Nembutal. Carrie took it without question and washed it down with some of my beer. A foreign feeling came over me, and somehow I just knew the moment was now. I grabbed her hand and held it like a boyfriend would feeling the sparks instantly. I knew Carrie could sense it too by the smile on her face and the odd twinkle in her eyes. I pulled Carrie in front of me and peered into her soul through her beautiful ocular portals. Without one single word spoken, with just one seemingly small act of mysterious energy, the whole of the cosmos shifted to a slightly uncomfortably yet fully confident and happy alignment. We exchanged nervous glances at first, and then looked deeply into each other’s eyes searching each other desires. Our eyes engaged in the only conversation necessary. With a sensuous and tender movement, our faces shifted slightly and slowly, very very gradually as we moved closer to each other. Maybe she was born with it, or perhaps it was Maybelline, but at that moment no other female had ever looked so amazingly beautiful, and for a brief few moments, no one else in the world existed. I felt a tingling that emanated from my groin and echoed through my entire body out through my fingertips as our mouths opened and our lips met with a furious and gentle tango explosion. All the blood in my body seemed to take the elevator straight to the top and made me wobble so that I nearly lost my balance. With our mouths locked tightly to each other, our tongues danced that tango, tossing and toggling inside each other’s mouths in a desperate search of our new raison d’etre. With slippery hormonal precision, our mouths performed the minute waltz in ten seconds as our tongues danced the entire Swan Lake to artistic perfection. Jesus shit man we were embracing in a wet and desperate lovelock of synergetic bliss. Eyes closed and mouths now hermetically sealed to each other our faces rocked gently as we both drank in the most incredible love infected chemical secretion either of us had ever experienced. We kissed and swapped salivary gland fluids for four or five minutes utterly oblivious to any lifeform outside are now combined nucleus.

My endoreticulum was running amok and scratching my back while it tickled my soul. I loved it! (see? I did pay attention in biology) The only sound in the universe was the soft panting and moaning of Carrie’s throat and the slightly louder moaning of mine. After what seemed like two lifetimes the magic was shattered by a familiar voice when Ken broke up the vibe. “Well, it’s about fucking time you guys.” We broke our lip lock and looked at each other knowing exactly what he meant, and we knew he was right. I think we both felt glad we waited because that was the most perfect kiss and saliva exchange in the history of Cupidon.
From that moment on Carrie and I would become inseparable, holding hands or walking with my arm around her shoulder. We were high from weed and beer, and soon the pills would be kicking in, and even if they didn’t fuck it, I’m in love which as of right now is the best high I have ever felt. Our friends looked at us as if this was how it had always been, no one even seemed to notice how different we felt. We, however, could not stop looking at each other, smiling and kissing the night away. The music was loud, the party was crowded, yet nothing existed outside of Carrie and me. We continued drinking and smoking whenever something came our way, and I gave the weed and papers to Ken and left him in charge. It was getting late, and we were very stoned and delighted. But time was running out in the evening.
No sooner did we decide to leave than a strange tension built up between us. Well not really between us but more like inside the both of us. A sense of anticipation and curiosity filled the small portion of our private universe. Ah, the moment of truth. Should we continue our adventure into adulthood or just take it easy? I felt that awkward feeling because we were headed to that moment we would say goodnight to each other and figure out what the next step of our relationship was going to be. Should I try to cop a feel and touch her breast, maybe take it further tonight or be happy where we are and wait? Suave and cool operator or caring respectful dude? The pills had one scenario and my mind had another. Should I make a move? Fuck man, what if I try for the tit and she gets pissed? Oh my god so much fucking pressure. Tuinols on one shoulder and my conscience on the other. As we walked closer to her house we chatted nervously and pointlessly about nothing. That’s when I realized she was sweating it out too. Well its time to make my move, be a man, do what a real man would do. But what man? Be like my asshole Dad? I’ll never get laid if I’m like him. Like Artie, the scumbag? No, he would probably rape her though I would never say that in front of Ken. Fuck man I have no role model since James got drafted. That’s it. What the fuck would Jameson do? He was caught having sex with his girlfriend once when her old man came home unexpectedly and caught them. They had to break up and James was a mess for months afterward. They got back together of course because they really do love each other but they had to steer clear of her parents. What kind of shit is that? He’s in the army defending I don’t know what an has to hide his relationship. What bullshit! But James was my hero so that was it. I’ll do like James would do. I stopped walking, grabbed Carrie and pulled her close to me. Our eyes met and I could see the look she had was curiosity with a side order of apprehension. “Carrie, I really dig you a lot, and I want us to have a long relationship. This love shit is so fucking confusing! Well if it is love we should be able to talk about shit like this so here it goes. “I want to have sex with you really bad right here and right now.” Her eyes narrowed and she seemed to be contemplating what would be next. I took a deep breath and continued. “But I want it to be right, the right place and time and the right reason. I just don’t think tonight is that time.” Now her eyes began to smile and I think I heard a breath of relief. She smiled the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. Without a single word we both knew it was the perfect choice. “Jesus shit JT, I want to have sex with you right now too but I don’t think, no, I know I’m not ready. But I would have if you asked me to.”

My relief was evident too, and I smiled and said “You would have?? God damn it, now you tell me.” We laughed and embraced each other holding tightly, and I am pretty sure she felt that uncontrollable male muscle pulsating slow and hard up against her hip. Life was beautiful, we were in love, and this new high we found was the best ever. We walked up to her house and stopped just out of sight should anyone be spying on us. We swapped spit, sucked face, made out, French kissed, toggled tongues, whatever the fuck you want to call it for 15 minutes before we said good night. I walked home like each step was taken on a carpet of foam rubber with my head so high in the clouds it took a special request from gravity to keep me on earth. I can’t wait to tell Ken. Jesus shit I hope this lasts.
I’m not sure if the incredible feelings I was experiencing was from love, beer, pot or pills. Most likely it was a combination of all the above but to say my head was spinning would be an understatement. I could feel the effects of all of them having a group hug in my cerebellum, but all I could think about was Carrie. Damn man, I hung out with her as friends almost every day and now all of a sudden I can’t stop thinking about her. I walked straight into my special little spot in the universe past my Mom who was mumbling something about the time, past the dinner table which generally beckoned me over for a tempting bowl of cocoa puffs, utterly oblivious to all the sights and sounds surrounding me. It felt like the giant smile not only went from ear to ear but wrapped around my head a few times. Fuck man, I’m in love!

For the first time in ever, I woke up happy and wide awake. I am ready to start the day a teenager in love. Think I’ll go into the kitchen and surprise my Mom with a kiss. The surprise was on me though because as soon as I got to the kitchen my dear mom was sitting at the table with a bucketload of tears in her eyes and my dickhead old man pacing and just mumbling over and over how “Everything’s gonna be alright.” Mom’s head was shaking, and all she could let out was a desperate sounding sob. She kept trying to catch her breath but sounded like she was going to choke. I looked at my mom, but my words were directed at my Dad. “What’s going on?” My old man looked at me with a shut the fuck up look on his face and spoke forcefully when he said, “Its not a big deal. Jameson has been shipped off to Viet Nam and is headed to a place called Quang Tri. He will be defending the honor of the entire country and our family because he is a brave son doing the right thing.” I knew it was half trying to convince mom, validate his hawkish war stance, and most importantly to him send a dig at my anti-war friends and me.

Mom was becoming increasingly more hysterical, so I chose to let that shit slide for the time being. In the calmest voice I had used with my Dad in some time I intoned outside of Moms audible range, “Dad, Jameson is going to Nam. He is going to risk his life for nothing. Not a big deal? No big deal?” Unfortunately my brazen in love self-began growing balls and my voice raised a few octaves. “ What the hell do you mean no big deal? James is going to fight in a bloody and senseless war halfway around the world.” I was using every ounce of Zen energy to remain composed, but the old shit was feeling guilty and believed increasing his own volume gave him some warped sense of authority. “First of all watch your language young man, you’re still living under my roof. We live in the United States of America and our country needs our help.” I rolled my eyes, yet he continued, “Just because you are a pansy ass chicken who’s afraid to fight doesn’t mean both my sons have to be.” The Old shit felt that his drunken slurring statement was in need of an exclamation point, so he slapped me hard in my face. I was stunned.

The shock converted quickly to anger, and it took every ounce Karma I had to not punch the shit out of his old drunk ass. Mom let out a little scream as my eyes burned holes in the wallpaper and my fingers began to ache from clenching. Being the better person, I headed back to my sanctuary to worship my stereo headphones and pretend I didn’t live in this hell hole of a house. My dickhead father, my wailing mother, and the thought of my brother shipping off to Vietnam for real had completely destroyed the fantastic feeling of love from my first kiss. Fuck them, I’m outta here on my eighteenth birthday!
TBC

War Is Unhealthy For Children And other Living Things

 

 

 

 

 

J.T. HILLTOP

 

The effects of the booze and drugs didn’t manage to dull the fact that my brother is dead in some country called Vietnam! It did however manage to leave me an ass kicking hangover teamed up with emotional overload. Jameson’s body, or what’s left of it, is being flown home tomorrow from Vietnam. So now what? Time to make preparations Old man war lover said of his son’s death . Just what in the fuck did that mean? How am I supposed to cope with losing my mentor, my big brother?
Kids in school barely spoke a word to me, afraid I had a dozen eggs hanging precariously around my heart. Maybe I did. I told them at work I needed a little more time off which of course was not a problem. Mom was in her denial stage wearing a fake smile but her vacant eyes betrayed the true feelings. One look at the hollow abyss of her glazed orb sockets and the masquerading smile fooled no one. Dad had spiraled downward and was drinking way too much, which for him was quite a feat. His precious fucking reputation around town had now become the poor martyr that sacrificed his son. Bullshit on that. Jameson was the one who fucking gave his life and Mr. well respected man about town was soaking up the sympathy like it was he himself that had fought in Viet fucking Nam. The only possible good side to all the bullshit was that my sister Mandy was coming home. Mandy sweet and innocent Mandy my older “true hippie” sister who had left home. I had always suspected my father of kicking her out of the house but Amanda maintained she left on her own. At the very least I was sure Dad had made living here impossible for her. Mandy had left and moved in with her boyfriend upstate New York in a town called South Fallsburg. I had been to visit them once when Ken and I drove up to the Catskill Mountains town to get away for a week two summers ago. Her boyfriend Todd had studied Club Management at Sullivan County Community College while Mandy took some photography classes and worked part time as a bartender at the Bending Elbow. Todd finished his two years and landed a job at a resort club in Monticello as assistant manager. The last time I heard from her she was still working and was trying to find work as a nature photographer. I would find out soon enough because part of the preparation was getting a room ready. I really missed her.
Dad was too drunk so I had to bring Mom to the Funeral Home to make arrangements. Jesus shit this must have been the hardest thing I ever did. Mom sat and nodded her head as a sleazy mortician described what services they offered. It was downright offensive that he was asking my Mom about tips for the gravediggers, and did she want to spray some air freshener in the casket. I mean I know it needs to be done, but all we were getting from the US Army as I understood it was an American flag and a uniform once worn by my brother and his remains. Remains? He died in a fucking bomb massacre and truth is I have always had a distrust of the military but give me a break. They most likely scrapped together whatever organic shit was left of the troop that were killed and shared it among the families of all the deceased. Who really gives a shit if it smells nice anyway? The fucking topper was getting her to buy a vault so the “a umm, bio-organic scavengers don’t infiltrate the casket.” Oh, do you mean so the worms, maggots, and grubs don’t eat his body? There is no God damn body you scumbag, only remains! But again, I guess he had to do what he had to do. I would absolutely hate a job like that. The memories of all the bodies being discreetly removed from the Nursing Home patients that died flooded my mind. I imagined a similar conversation took place with their families and thought how many of them wouldn’t have even cared about the worms and such. But Mom did, and I knew it was all about her and not me. My loser old man couldn’t even make it to the funeral home. All that did was added to my already boiling distain for his sorry self-pitying ass.
On the ride home I knew I needed to get Mom talking. “When is Mandy getting home?” As if on cue Mom broke out of her desperate trance. “She is coming in Sunday night. I can’t wait to see her Can you pick her up at the train station JT?.” I was going to respond but she immediately regressed back into her sad and morose meditation. Jesus shit this was tough, and I have no idea what to do. I let Mom wallow through the five steps of mourning as I continued to attempt to make sense of the world. This fucked up Jameson free world. I can’t handle all this death shit man, I gotta do something!

 

 

 

When we got home from the funeral sales floor the old man was sitting in his recliner and was clearly out of it. My anger began to gather in the pit of my stomach and work its way up into my overloaded brain. I looked at that sorry excuse of a man and decided that this was the time. I got right up in his face. “Why don’t you get up off of your self-centered pitiful ass and go comfort my Mom? She is in so much more pain and all you do is sit your worthless ass here and get drunk and feel sorry for yourself. Where are your patriotic self righteous principles now? Jameson is fucking dead! Dead! I told you this war would kill him and now it has. Mom cries every god damn night and all you can do is drink beer. You call me worthless well what the fuck are you?” It was the first time I ever cursed in front of my Dad and it felt strangely good. The only thing that could have possibly felt better was if I had a picture of the look on his stunned face. He had no clue what to do because in his cold heart he knew I was right. I just read that asshole his rights and I liked it! He was speechless and I sensed his angst not directed at me for a change but at himself. He looked sheepishly toward my Mom, looked at me and then back at her again. I believe he was debating whether he should try and beat me to a pulp or go and comfort his wife but surprisingly after a short deliberation he chose to do the right thing. As soon as they embraced I knew it was time for me to head to my room, my fucking sanctuary. I needed some comforting too! I also realized that things had changed profoundly here at home and nothing will ever be the same. Sometimes my life is just so fucked up I am not sure what I should do.
As fucked up as it was though as soon as I walked through the door I knew what I was going to do. I knew that I was gonna snort some morphine pills. The twin tablets Ken had left me had been singing a sweet love song to me ever since they made it into my pocket. I grabbed my stash, a cleverly hollowed out bible, and grabbed the pills. Next I pulled out my new Grateful Dead Album. It was a live double album of the Dead who are by far my favorite band. Not a Deadhead yet but I have seen them quite a few times and I own every album they have made so far. But today this album would serve double purpose. Music to soothe my soul as well as “drug paraphernalia” to soothe my brain. I opened the album cover and placed the pills in the center of one side. With the back of a soup spoon I crushed the 2 pills into a pile of powder. I had seen movies so I knew what to do and I took out a razor blade so I could chop up the pills even finer. Then out came my driver’s license and I formed two long lines of white powder. I rolled up a 20 dollar bill, put one end in one nostril and closed the other with my finger. I sniffed hard and fast as if I were a Hoover vacuum cleaner until both of the lines had gone deep into my sinus cavity. It burnt so much I thought I would get a nosebleed but I immediately clasped my nostrils shut so nothing would escape. Next I drew in a hard breath through my nose like a strong sniffle. Jesus shit it was like I could feel it making its way up my nose and into my brain. I looked up feeling like I was going to sneeze, my eyes began to water, but within 15 seconds a new sensation set across my whole body. Wow, a warm and fuzzy! It really is warm and fuzzy, and as if by magic every bad thing in the universe disappeared. Not gone but certainly forgotten, at least for a short while. I whispered to myself intending it for Ken. “This shit is like 10 times better than ludes man, you were right! I felt good.” Not just good man, great. Fuck everything man. James is still dead, my old man is still an asshole, my Mom cries all the time, but at the same time, everything is okay. Not gone, but okay! Holy shit, I think I just found a new religion. I will now become a morphine-ite and worship the serenity it has bathed me in. And the music was perfect, I had chosen side 3, an18 minute jam called “The Other One” and I closed my eyes and drifted. Praise Jerry. It was Jerry Garcia’s guitar that scooped me up in a magic carpet and set me on a course to wonderland. I was chasing Grace Slicks White Rabbit and feeling great. I plopped on the headphones to help drown out the sobbing and reconciliation of Mom and Dad. I wondered for a second if they were going to have sex, and nearly threw up in my mouth a bit at the thought. Fuck this man, I need to drift off in this music. Take me away Jerry. So Jerry and Sister Morphine took me by the hand and walked me down into the garden of serenity, hoping the piper will lead me to reason. And a new day will dawn, if I can only stand long, and the forests will echo with laughter. I really love laughter. As always the drugs took me away, so very far away from this mad fucking world! Knowing it was Dangerous didn’t make me more cautious, it made me want to continue doing it forever.

Continued Tomorrow

 

Children Want To Know Why

 

Why is there war?
What is it for?
Do the rich simply want to have more?
Is that what we have politics for?
Somebody profits that’s for sure
Open your eyes, take the tour
Lost in the street with hunger pains
Clouds crying down in apocalyptic rains
Families sifting through the remains
Searching for their kin
Finding pelts of burnt skin
Like it’s a win
Fracking for the truth
Only to find destroyed youth
And the children just keep on asking
Why?
Why did my parents have to die
What makes them kill what makes them cry?
Hatred spreads like a plague
The truth is far too vague
Children beg
Pray each night to see light
But what they get is fright
Skies explode in burning glory
Streets littered in deaths blood so gory
Wishing mom would read a story
But she’s not home
Agents of war left our world so torn
What shall they leave for our kin yet unborn
A world of scorn? A world forlorn?
Or a nation reborn!
Do children need to die?
Why?
What does is bring save an unbroken chain
Of misery and loss followed by pain
At what cost?
Playgrounds of frost
Balls left untossed
Motherless children wandering lost
For what?
Belief in the Pentecost?
Ignoring lines that adults have crossed
Bombing for serenity
To execute their enemy
Kill one of them kill ten of me
I still don’t see
The children want to know who
Who sends their parents into death
Who sends the bombs from the Ivory tower
Having an orgasm while rolling in power
Far from the battles where puppets die
You’re the one who burnt their sky
Put the tears into their eyes
Filled them with your freedom lie
You destroyed them so you tell them why

So I asked This God A Question…Why Wars?

 

(excerpt from Cosmo and The Garden Earth) J.T. Hilltop
I do admit I was quite impressed by Cosmo, this God or Galactic Garden Creator, this claimer of Universal Existential Knowledge, this mindfuck Guru who had snatched me into some cyber world he called his garden Earth. A cosmic gardener he claimed, one of many each tending to gardens in their own galaxies. He had explained many basics of how humanity came to be what it is but left a glaring omission without explanation……

What’s the matter JT, did you not understand?” I reflected a moment before responding. “No, I think I understand our evolution on a certain level, something like fate and survival strategies determined our paths and the consequences on earth but something still bugs me.” So I asked this God a question, “Why wars? Why were so many wars necessary? Did we need to kill each other without even knowing who we killed or why we killed them? Is it to fulfill some cosmic prophecy? I mean it’s like the history of humanity was written in blood and not ink. Why do we need to constantly be at war somewhere with someone to continue evolving?”
I watched intently as Cosmo thought deeply before answering. He was calculating the appropriate assessment. “War is a complicated existential concept JT, and the state of what it has come to be is a bit hard to explain because like humans, war evolved. If you think about it you‘re involved in a war the very second you leave the womb. There is a war between bacteria and antibodies that begin with your first breath and continue for years. But you ask of human participation in wars so let me start at its beginning and see if I can outline it for you.
When the garden Earth was still very young I tended to various growth beds of life. It was concentric, my pride and joy I called the cycle of life. The insects ate vegetation, birds ate the insects, the small animals ate the birds, and the apex predators ate the small animals. When they died the replenished the garden in many ways. Feeding scavengers, enriching the soil, everything contributed to the garden and nothing went to waste. The decaying bodies fed the vegetation, all the basic cycle of life. As for humans though a new phenomenon appeared sometime in the early portion of your civilization. Greed, and vanity. Both attributes greatly disturbed the garden’s cycle. Through vanity the humans began burying their dead, so they wouldn’t be disfigured if there was an afterlife. There is no after, there is just life. They were supposed give back to the garden but their new beliefs prevented that from happening. You see in the beginning many different tribes were forming who shared my one common concept. They understood and observed a basic law of Garden Earth. A law was quite simply that every creature has the right to achieve its survival in the garden. What a creature cannot do is deny any other creature its right to its own survival strategies without benefit. But in one little corner, or more accurately a crescent, of the garden a certain species became greedy, felt empowered. They figured out a way to manufacture and horde food withholding it from smaller species. They penned animals behind fences for milk and eggs, and eventually family meals and learned how to cultivate and manipulate vegetation. This would eventually become known as the agricultural revolution. Why they horded so much food that no one in the tribes ever went hungry. From this surplus the species prospered, and when a species prospers that much it has growth spurts. Did they ever! They were eating and fornicating so much that the population doubled, then tripled. This created two major problems. First it was getting too crowded, and second by hording so much food it was depriving other creatures of an opportunity to feed causing some species to die out. To make shit worse, if a fox or a gopher or a crow or any other creature tried to eat the horded food, they not only killed the hungry thief, but they attempted to annihilate that entire species of the hungry creatures to prevent future thievery. Just because they MIGHT take some food at some point. But it was the overcrowding that really set the fecal matter hurling towards the rotary windmill.
The tribes began forming imaginary lines and began laying ownership claim to the land, and all the animals and vegetation on that land. As a few generations passed by the people began forgetting the time when the garden belonged to everything and soon the people were growing up with the notion that their parts of the garden actually belonged to them by virtue of their imaginary lines. As they worked the land they tried to figure out why some harvests would suffer droughts or flooding storms. They began to fear that a higher power was responsible so they invented more gods. Oh mercy did they invent gods. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. A god that made it rain, or a god that controlled the wind. Even the big beautiful sun was a god. They began making sacrifices to these gods. Animals, other humans, whatever they felt would make the gods happy so they could continue to horde food and land. Somewhere along the line one culture came up with the concept that there is only one god, the true god. This somehow gave them superiority because they were the culture that knew the truth. When other cultures challenged that belief they would destroy the threateners so their god wouldn’t think them wimps. They began building armies to protect their belief and to protect their imaginary lines. The weapons they once hunted with now became instruments of destruction used on any human that challenged their land ownership or their one true god. So the armies began killing in the name of god and they began killing any who trespassed their land. Their land! Oh that makes me laugh. No, it makes me angry. The ones in authority were charging people money to live on my land which they called their own because of some stupid imaginary lines. They wanted more land, they made the imaginary lines longer and wider.” Cosmo stopped to catch his breath as he was visibly upset. I wanted to change the mood so I asked, “You keep saying imaginary lines, are you talking about borders? Borders are important because they separate areas of land.” A funny sound came from his nose like a nasal windstorm or something, and I wasn’t sure if the smile on his face was sincere or sarcastic. Maybe both. “Where do you live JT?” I proudly informed him I was born and bred in New York. “And what makes you so different form someone born and bred in Connecticut, or New Jersey? Or even Oklahoma for that matter? Do they have three arms in New Jersey? Five legs in Connecticut? Perhaps they are half bovine half human in Oklahoma! Of course not. Aside from a slight difference in the way they pronounce words, or the words they use to describe things like soda in New York, or pop in Oklahoma, you are all the same. You see JT, borders don’t separate people from other species of people, they are just arbitrary lines that make you think you belong to something. Like New York which you so proudly proclaim. You are no different from a JT from Oklahoma, except maybe a bit different in a cultural sense . You can’t step over a line somewhere and not find people similar to the one on the other side. We look for the differences in each other instead of the similarities. If you look closely at other races you will find far more similarities than differences. You bleed the same, cry the same, even laugh the same. That’s part of the problem. You have forgotten that in the end you are all human. You all want to love and be loved, you all want to live a happy and healthy life, you all get sick or injured and you will all eventually die. When you really think about it there are much more traits you have in common to others than there are that make you different. Why even more similar if you take religion out of the equation. If there were no Jews, or Muslims, or Hindis, or Christians how would you define your differences? But I suppose you will go on believing that it is important to consider yourself in some way better than other humans. That’s why war JT. That was how it began, war was a child protecting its ego from the rest of the world.”
“And the armies got bigger and stronger, and the weapons more and more advanced to give whoever had the most money to pay for the best equipment. Ah yes, once greed reared its ugly head humanity was done for. The larger landowners had better weapons and machinery and therefore built stronger and deadlier armies to protect them. It wasn’t enough to have more than enough food, they wanted to have it all. Control the food and you will control the world. Wars raged on in a struggle to control the food and hence the people, and to keep everyone in line it was important that everyone believed the armies had god on their side. Sounds a bit ridiculous when you think about it. All loving God wants you to kill or maim other humans. In the name of God my ass, it is clearly in the name of gold, or oil, or rubber, or anything else that can make one rich with the false perception of power. War had and has terrible consequences. Death and destruction resulted in a bid for the powerful to become even more powerful. It’s easy to see what horrible atrocities could come out of war but there were unintended consequences occurring as well.. The most hideous was the buying and selling of other humans. Slavery was a direct result of war. When one army decimated another those unfortunate enough to live were turned into slaves. Why? To work the land so the owners could own more and not have to pay. Buying another human being. Despicable, yet an accepted practice everywhere. Now they owned the land, the food, some of the animals and even other humans and industry flourished. War had become a teenager feeding on greed and lust for power. Yea, things were out of control, people killing in my name, killing for power, killing out of lust. That’s why I sent my son down in the garden, to put them back on track. To get them to understand that they should worship no one but accept everyone. They needed to revert back to a culture of existing with the rest of the garden”
Cosmo paused here as though reflecting on sad moment or maybe a happy moment he could never relive in his past. I know the look because I feel it myself so often. Call it melancholy, or nostalgia, it’s a feeling that can drive someone mad if they keep trying to find it. That was okay with me, I needed a break from this heavy discussion because my head was spinning. After a five minute pause, Cosmo continued.
“ Well that sure didn’t work out too well. When my son witnessed so much greed and lust and crime and trickery it pissed him off. He began to use my name to warn them of my fury so instead of a message being go back to living together and love all it became do as I say or deal with the wrath of Cosmo, who they renamed Jehovah, Yahweh, Allah, or God. They gave my son so much shit he changed his message. Out of anger it became follow me and do as I say or my Dad will kick your ass. Just as quick as a nuclear fission things turned from bad to worse and religion split off into a few different major groups, all agreeing on only one thing. That their religion is the one and only true religion and all others must be killed. That God created earth for humans but only for the humans that know and understand true religion. Bah!. So they did what they always do to a threat to their egos, they killed my son to erase his message. A horrible way too. It’s almost like they had to think of the most heinous way for him to die. I guess it made them feel all chest puffy or something. They had no idea how little and insignificant they were. Like any other gnat in this galaxy, their entire species could be wiped out in one giant swat and the universe would continue as though they never existed. But war was now becoming a young adult, and the weaponry just got more and more advanced. Bombs, missiles, planes, tanks, all the best and biggest in high tech murdering. Not that they should stop there, why of course there would be biological and chemical weapons as well. All the way up to the ultimate bomb. The atom bomb. The garden was taken over by the most destructive species that ever roamed the planet. Humans!”
TBC

 

Whirlpool of Worries

whirlpool

 

(Freestyle Beat Poetry)
Shit is spinning concentric, we all sound eccentric
Without evidence forensic are we still geocentric?
Cause The American dream fell apart at the seams
No more it seems of Norman Rockwell scenes
Scientists tell us to hurry before we get lost in the flurry
Religion says don’t worry, god will clear up what’s blurry
Its not celestial storming
Its just Global warming, go ahead and drill don’t heed the warnings
Oil money will be swarming now that DC reforming
Big business thriving, species struggle at surviving
Environment corroding covered in grease its foreboding
My head explodes across aimless roads
As the earth erodes and our world implodes
Feel the destruction due to the mayhem it knows
With electronic devices recruiters entice us
To kill dice and slice us, with a fucking crisis called Isis
And the deliria in Syria causing bedlam hysteria
A myriad of bacteria, Ebola growing like wisteria
Gives us early dismissals
Turncoats are blowing their whistles, Little countries are firing missiles
Nuclear expansion despite the objection of global officials
Rivers burning in flames, charcoal dark skies
Endless White House lies put fear in kids eyes
Governments using their spies until all justice dies
Fuck it all lets build a wall
The Immigrants are classless, huddled in masses
The tired and poor say a few refugees more
While back in our homes we buy new iPhones
Just leave it alone, this useless stalling
WWIII comes a calling the walking dead begin crawling
Our Democracy is falling!
Plutonium enrichment is causing world wide friction
The president has a predilection, his nuclear code fingers itching
To blow up the obstructions mass killing is seduction
Magnetic conduction, global temperature reduction
Stalling reproduction until nothing is born
It’s all too insane
Circling the drain in a vortex of pain
This “Ball of Confusion” ain’t an illusion
The whirlpool of worrying has us all scurrying
Trying to make sense of this shit we keep getting buried in
Scratch and claw, shock and awe
No order no law an anarchists construction
Mutually assured mass destruction
One big Mother Fucktion
But I’m not worried
I’ll just be one more deduction

Is Anyone listening?

aleppo

 

Unacceptable Casualties
No its not tears of hurt I’m crying
The droplets come from the acrid smoke
A metaphoric world burning to the ground
My eyes glazed in saline apathy from
All the heads that simply turn away
Ignoring the screams of the children lost
The shame of the inhumane brutality ignored
Pretending that the importance of their own lives
Their bubble of social or political discord
Carries a greater weight of relevance
Than a little boy who gave away his shoes
Because he no longer had feet
Or the sobbing little girl clutching her doll
To protect it from flames of home on fire
The microcosm of global destruction called Aleppo
Where all the people stopped praying when
They believed their God stopped listening
Why should I care?
I want to help but Monday Night Football is on
And apparently Jesus is busy making touchdowns
Besides I have my own war to fight of Facebook
And I have so many excessive things to buy because
That’s the best way to honor the Lords natal occurrence
He never wanted us to help the helpless did he?
My apologies for the sarcasm, its all I have left
I’m all out of tears
Live and Love in Peace

SHOCK AND AWE

shock

 

Bombs seared the evening sky
Pounding my ears in beats of death
Like stars exploding to the rhythm
Smell of burnt smoke permeates the sky
While flesh is curdled and disappears
The dermal covering dissolving into skull
Limb and life disintegrated to dust and ash
Blood oozes out from the stones themselves
While the moon closes her tear soaked eyes
Allowing the surviving to attempt broken sleep
No one that slept dared to dream that night
For when a dream ends in war it takes a life
Unable to sleep I counted the number of children
Guilt and pity were my personal insomnia
I now pronounce this inhumane to life
Till death do us part
War, humph, what is it good for?
Absolutely nothing!
Take this war and shove it

One battle is all it takes to create war
Yet it takes centuries to create peace
Why must that process always involve death
How does anger transform into a militia
It takes merely one bullet to start an avalanche
One avalanche is all it takes to dissolve a race
It takes far more than just a village to create a Peace
A climate of peace isn’t merely the absence of war
Peace is the obliteration of hate, anger, and greed
You can choose peace or you can choose war
But pull the trigger you pay the consequence
Because when you fire that first shot
No matter how justified you may feel
The dominoes of destruction begin to fall
You have no idea how many will die
Who’s child or mother will burn in anguish
You’ll never be able count the quarts of tears
Nor comprehend the gallons of blood splattered
War is a tantruming child full of cruelty and power
With no clue what to do when it gets its way
After all the blood is spilled and lives destroyed
It ends in profound discussion and compromise
Which is what they all wanted to begin with

Peace my friends is not a concept but a way of life, a culture of co-existence that can enable us to evolve as humans much more efficiently. Today we have an enormous amount of brilliant minds that can lead our species into a brave new future, but we also have an enormous amount of brilliant minds that would prefer destruction and domination. John Lennon was a dreamer, I am a dreamer, and hopefully you will never stop dreaming of Peace either. Love is love is love is love…… Thank you Lin-Manuel, for the most profound statement made so simple…..Live and Love in Peace