The script was written long ago

And the cast chosen well before the play

The lead, a charmer , glib and comely

Delighted in the role and played to the house.

“Packed to the the rafters’ , the agents would remark,

And adoration poured cross the boards.

For many years this blockbuster ran

It seemed the audience would never  bore

Of watching the magic that flowed, or hearing

the words that flowed so well with the score.

Till one gray afternoon while playing the matinee

One grizzled old actor realized with dismay

That the picture presented had grown so large

That his part had grown less than the life


And realized that all the energy imparted had taken its toll

So he stepped back and relished

And tried to embellish

What once was all about him

But now merely reflected that once was all he knew.


Please,be Careful

Far below where the common-folks go
Are basements and caverns and holes
Barred and chained at the top
Meant to keep prying eyes out
For the safety
of the wives and children

But curiosity kills the cat
So crafty minds pick and pry
Try to loosen chains
and unlock locks
And attempt to peek
behind the walls
That forbid the seeing.

When the maelstrom rises
And dismay abounds
When the dust has settled
And order resounds
The clear eyed sleuth
Can then clearly tell
The abyss was secured
From below, from hell.

Start Over

Ahh, the stroke of the keypad feels rusty. The rhythym of the letters does not exist as a beat, a count, but rather as a rush and a rest, a starting and stopping.

My point of view has shifted so imperceptively but so very definitely, I suppose there should not be any wonder at the confusion that exists in my mind. I mean it IS still from behind the same eyes and from within the same mind I compose but with the emergence of a new facet built into wall of logic from whence the ideas flow it seems that the pull of the current steers the flow of the words onto and over the banks of the old stream of thought and begins cutting new channels that guide the impetus of expressed ideas and mores.

It really seems odd to me that the realization of what physical health means to the thinking being should change so much how that being expresses itself. Having come to that point I cannot deny what is so obviously true….I am not the same man I was two weeks ago. And that being said, even though my main thoughts and outlooks remain the same, enough variance exists that expressing those feelings is equal to revealing the thoughts of a comparative stranger.

When one declares from a platform familiar and steady the power of the words reflects the stability of the platform and when the platform exists in a state of flux the resolve of the words seems unsteady even to the hand that wields them.

Enough of self-revelation, for now it is enough to have restarted the engine and having goosed the throttle a little it is enough to have committed these few words to paper, it is enough to have acknowledged a new beginning.

Right ? Wrong ! Right?

In the process of maintaining a blog and in the reading of blogs maintained by others I get to express my  views, beliefs, dreams and nightmares ,  real or imagined, and experience the varied talents of many different artists who hail from countries around the world and who adhere to religious and ethnic beliefs foreign to me. I find this opportunity to be both enlightening and humbling. When an author chooses to imagine the boundaries of his particular society, then expand the parameters of his written work, I get to glimpse one of the individual minds that populate this “blogosphere.” At times I read composed thoughts that I recognize as “normal”, at other times I read stories that either pall my sensibilities or delight my senses with mental images wonderously and delightfully “abnormal”. I find the differences between the two generally to be based on the perception of reality and what “real” means to me. During the course of my reading I have realized that even the “facts”of living change depending on factors such as socio-economic background, religious-political affiliations, personal-familial ties and the importance each individual places upon the various aspects of his/her own life. Thus the “facts ” of even one, single, persons life are widely variable and when multiplied  several billion times , the ideas of “normal” and “factual” reveal themselves to be merely conceptual idioms of what I might believe to be “truth”. All of the preceding commentary leads me to certain conclusions and questions. The conclusions are mine and most likely subject to change so please allow me to address a question; a question I believe to have more relevance to the import of human coexistence than “facts” or “norms.” How do I determine the differences between “right” and “wrong” as pertains to the human race?

At this point in time I really wish for the existence of a formula, one that I could plug  “facts” and “norms” and “realities” into and , after completing a few predetermined actions, the “rights” would drop into a column on one side of the equation and “wrongs” would drop into a column on the other.[ I also wish that pigs could fly so that I might be entertained for as long as it took for me to get used to them, but I digress.] I think that the first step to be taken in determining “right” should be taken in the direction of, “what are the ramifications of a particular action in regard to the least common denominator.” Do the results of this action determine a positive impact to the majority of those affected? Are these results consistent over time ? How will the adaptation of this “right” affect the “norms” and “facts” of the greatest possible society?  Where have all these questions come from and how can I as an individual determine the proper answers for all of mankind ?

I seem to have suffered an epiphany. Suddenly I seem to realize that the entire output of a single mind does not carry much leverage in determining what would be the best course of action for the human race to take in determining such basic things as what is right for all, or what is wrong for all. It seems to me now that I must rely on the consciences’ of the masses to determine what is best for those within the norms of their various societies and situations.  I think that I should probably learn to take others opinions and thoughts of these serious matters with a grain of salt, and a sense of the variety that exists in this world! Maybe I could determine the best of and for folks by finding the common grounds that lay in their minds and falls into the space between what I consider to be right or wrong !                 Then again, maybe not.

Only in my dreams

There is a place in my dreams where I end up sometimes and visit with people who I have known or know or, sometimes, just met. A kind of a shop space where “work” may be done, or projects of ambiguous nature started. [since nothing there ever seems to get finished]. This is a place open to any be they alive or departed or once forgotten.[ A few I have seen who I do not remember having met ! ]

My Dad shows up from time to time and advises me when things do not seem to be working out well. In retrospect it is an amazing thing that he can speak and converse with me. Odd, because before he passed he had no voice, as cancer had taken his larynx. My Mother does not stop by too often and I do not know why, She is welcome whenever she has time to pop in. I suppose she must be too busy singing hymns somewhere [ she really enjoyed that on Earth] to mess with someone on the temporal plane.

I have an old boss who pops in occasionally and though I respect his opinions of the work being done, we generally just talk about other workers proclivities toward the labor and discuss fishing and weather. Brothers and friends yet living stop by and no small number of folks it seems, who have since moved on to more permanent pastures and amazingly lucid [at times much confusing] conversations are had; subjects and conclusions of which had never before been discussed are batted about in ways that had never happened in the real world.

Of course the weather greatly affects the way business is conducted around this garage, especially since the structure is constantly undergoing construction or reconstruction. [ the weather can have ideas of its own] Sometimes damages get fixed or remodels finished but many times an exit is as likely to be a window opening that is never quite the same size or a gap between the roof and the walls may have to suffice when egress or exit is required in a thrice.Stairs and hallways constantly  get repositioned  there!

Transportation comes in all possible and impossible configurations and mutations, and folks do not always appear to be as I had remembered them , but the space is mine, and though I never get to choose when the place will be in use, I am always happy when I awake and realize We had spent time together there !


The essence of the thing seemed to be that of a cat, and indeed I had even seen it in that exact form at one time. We had been patrolling aboard a dated bi engine airplane and had encountered a sprite, you could call it, a powerful being whos’ form at that time was of a huge person like apparition cloaked in a large loose overcoat, making his deviltry out on a dusty swirling plain , so we approached rather naively, head on, for an investigation.

The shuddering blow  nearly swept us from the sky, but with dogged, though ignorant, persistence we soared 180 degrees around and made our approach from a lower vantage point than before; starting our run relatively low to the behemoth and rising into what could be called his , I had supposed the thing to be a him at least; groin region and came on with our guns blazing as would be said in an old time western. At any rate our rounds seemed to be making some effect for the apparition suddenly coalesced itself into an aeroplane similar to our own and soared away from us, beginning evasive maneuvers immediately.

We continued the pursuit while maintaining our advantageous offensive position and continued firing on the transformed entity until finally we “smoked ” one of the engines of the craft.

The pilot quickly made one final diversionary run then sidled toward the ground and brushing back the trees, lost himself in the vegetation alongside the dusty forest.

I found myself trailing who or what I did not know, even though I had seen, imagined, my quarry through the limbs and leaves ahead, but had lost all sign until I rather abruptly popped out of the trees into the expanse of an old homestead or farm.

Resting now a bit, I spied a rather curious looking cat or bird, perhaps a bit of both in an obscene sense, filtering about the residence and while it seemed to lead me about, at the same time it appeared to be looking for something, or someone. Eventually I realized that as the daylight was receding the thing,  now definitely catlike had turned the tables and was  stalking me!.. A cold chill rose up my spine though silly it seemed to me that a mere feline, and a housecat sized one at that, would instill such fear in me.  An ancient, evisceral fear it was and as we played the cat and mouse game until evening, I became aware that it indeed was I playing the role of mouse.

It was nearly dark and I had taken to using my flash and magnopellet gun trying at first to kill but failing that, to at least repel the critter, when I heard a noise indicating the arrival of a compadre and soon found myself within the confines and relative, I thought, safety of the old farmhouse with my lieutenant from the plane and soon we were discussing our situation in earnest.

It seemed then that bill had more knowledge of our adversary than I and I am not too sure that his knowledge was not somehow inherent  to his genetic pool. IN fact, later that night we found ourselves to be calmly though emphatically challenged by fear, discussing a feat that we must attempt even though it was understood that our chances of making it out alive were for all practical purposes. slim to none. The shapeshifter  I had come to realize as a nearly omnipotent source of power, but you must understand that the term shapeshifter does not really express the notion or picture I held in my head, although for now the idea is as near as I can iterate. The gist of the situation resolved itself to be that we, at least there was a we, in no guaranteed amount of time, would engage in a  jaunt that would express from us all the courage and innate ability we had to complete a task that even now I am not sure how it can be, or will be accomplished, Or even on what plane of existence we might end .

It occurs to me now that the creature was involved in the parameters of this discussion directly. It was with us in the house





This writing is the result of dreaming and then, immediately upon waking, sitting at my keyboard and pounding out words until the memories of said dream began to fade. The only editing done on this piece entailed my correcting spelling and spacing errors and completing malformed sentences. This could be the beginning of a solid story if I can a. Dream more of the dream in order to continue the plot, or b. Rely on my imagination and the emotion that I felt while experiencing said dream to continue and flesh out the drama. I will let you all know the results at a future date. Thank you for reading !     ; )

Spring Looms

The days stay longer and warmer now

And even though winters nights still retain the chill

Springtime looms, flowers bloom, and as the grass begins to grow

The season ignites my soul ; I feel the annual  thrill

As the resonating  outdoors calls to me so very strongly

And the wildlife and greenery for which I have yearned all winter long

Sets the stage and makes the entrance onto my favorite stage of life !


I am floating in water so calm the lack of current leaves me sitting still and drives me nowhere. Even treading to hold my head above results in almost nothing doing  and the settling leads to stagnation of the surroundings. A small move forward and a little move back leaves no mark to trace in this calmest of seas. No destination, no point to steer, indicates the laziness or fear of moving forward. Stagnation occurs when oxygen and life is not pumped into the environment, so if I do not dare do something, there will soon be none to welcome me ; all others will have passed. I gotta try to move before its too late, else living in the past will be my fate.


I have carried with me for the past few days a feeling that I was forgetting something.  I have been checking my pockets, Searching through my pickup, Looking in my drawers, [ My dresser drawers ! ], etc.  Today I realized that one year ago I dreamed up a name, filed a password and wrote my very first blog.

One year in the life of a man is a very short time so making a big deal of such a minor event seems to me a bit pretentious. So why is it that as I write these words, right now , my eyes well with tears and all the memories of the blogs, and the feedback and the sharing, overwhelm my senses ?

Could it be that the folks who have read me, communicated with me, disagreed with me and smiled with me are really REAL people ?

Thank you all from the depths of my very soul for inviting me and my ideas into your den. I refer to the blog as my den for here I am free to acknowledge my every whim, to vent my every frustration, to match hearts with some of the most giving REAL souls I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

Fellow READERS, and I say this because anyone who writes must therefore read, Thank you all for sharing your feelings, thoughts , fears and celebrations with me ! I am a better person for having met you all .

BTW    I do not intend to go anywhere that I cannot climb into the ‘net, so You will all have to put up with me for the forseeable future. [or not] Damned philosophy!