Keep It Real


Questions abound, yeah they swirl about like trash blown before a whirlwind. Who are we? and why? and How in the world? They make passes and orbits around and through our minds. How indeed did we come to be?. Where we are heading as a human species can be answered only in our minds, and confusion reigns among the people.

So what will we say to pacify our innate curiosity; our fear of the unknown. Science I trust to explain how our bodies live, and how our race can perpetuate. Yes, genetic codes have been read, impossible biologic deeds have been made possible and even, at times the near dead are kept alive. Science explains well, if not completely, the physical self. Can it satisfactorily explain our beginning?

The physical bodies of all flora and fauna of the world have been proven, to all who can see, to be adaptable in changing climates and conditions. Gradual change over time is a necessary and desirable trait that leads to survival of all living things. Is this a definitive clue to our beginning?

Frustrating to me are questions pertaining to emotion, feelings of love and hate, forgiveness and revenge. So instruments can be and are made to read brainwaves and reveal the sections of the brain activated while the person feels such things. Can they reveal why these reactions are evolutionarily necessary for species survival? They cannot, but these phenomena are as real as the physical being. Science is not good at explaining emotion.

So we contemplate reason, the tool that enables us to determine a possible outcome sans all the pertinent facts. We love, admire, create, and hate with no particular goal in sight.  We are given free will, if you will, to determine within ourselves what may be wrong or right, regardless of outside stimuli.Science struggles to explain reason except through scientific reasoning which is determined by facts, or evidence when it is available.

We arrive at the feet of faith.  Faith in our fellow man, faith in our growing knowledge of the world, faith in our limited knowledge of the past, and faith ,for some,in a greater being than ourselves to watch over and guide us, or welcome us home after a life spent in the physical world. Faith allows an individual to concentrate upon his daily endeavours without worrying for a while of pain or death . Faith allows a sort of normalcy in the mind when the atrocities of life rage around the physical being. Science cannot explain faith, even though many place all their faith in science.

For me at least, I wonder why so much controversy stirs the populations of the world to debates and arguments and wars over what religion and/or  who’s science is real and necessary,  when reason dictates that learning and caring and living are all we need to survive.  Keep the faith, baby!

Happy holidays !


I really do not know if this is the proper season for this discussion but it is on my mind ; so before I forget about it, I open with [ “our baser sensibilities ” ] !

Humans will try to breath anything .  If you do not believe this, just try not to !

We will try to drink anything ! If one does not think so, one should look around in the bars, in the fields, in the homes, in our cars. I do not say this bodes well for the human race.

People have tried to eat every substance on Earth ! and probably a few things from beyond !  How else would we know what poisons our system?

EVERY body thinks about sex. Even when the chaste deny, when the bohemian acts, when the ignorant wonder, when the school children experiment, with or without shame; in the oceans, skies, caves,cars,houses hotels and barns, people think, wonder, dream, philosophise and talk about it. There is no escaping the world without having had some sort of thought, misgiving, aspiration or repulsion, reaction or proaction to sex! So that having been said, I am back off to bed and try to recover my dreams.  Good night !

Good morning !


“Hello”, I cried out to the morning sun !  ” Are there any who wish to play today ? ”  echoed back to me from stone walls of umber. ” Awhile we have before the rain ! ,” rebounded along with the rumble of thunder. The soft warm breeze picked up the refrain, “Drop your cocks and grab your socks, Come on out, brush your hair and dry your eyes, be prepared to laugh and shout! ” , and merriment swept through the air !

threehundredandsixtyfivedaysandsomehours


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!

 

Autumn in the Ozarks


Bittersweet season approaches the Ozarks, that is , bittersweet emotionally for me. The leaves have turned and mostly dropped from the deciduous trees , leaving only the green of the eastern cedars , and the few pines and other evergreens native to our forest. While the landscape is decidedly a bit forlorn though, the forest creatures pop into view , [ especially into the roads ] creating the late autumn – early winter mosaic of what many of us hillbillys call “the road kill cafe”.

“Look there,” calls little Billy from the back seat as Daddy swerves to miss the carcass of a big buck whitetail lying halfway in the road. ” Man, I bet he had at least a ten point rack ! Look out for the broken glass, Daddy ! Do you think that car had to be towed from the ditch? ,” he remarked excitedly upon the sight of the skid marks crossing the lane of pavement and ending in the dirt shoulder of the road. And so the afternoon ride through the woods proceeds, with the children [ and adults , too ] remarking upon the various fauna of the forest lying at various points in the road having met their match on the highway and thusly left in ignoble, frozen, various poses for the wandering eye to see .

Along the twisting, curving way drivers might see squirrels flattened or armadilloes rolled and lying with their four feet pointing up to the heavens. And some of them, the armadilloes, will have a carefully placed beer can or bottle placed between their front paws, making it seem that they had drunk themselves into a stupor !  Skunks abound, and careful manuvering should be taken in avoiding these little stinkbombs of the journey, lest in death they accomplish what they were feared for in life and leave an unpleasant reminder of this journey in ones automobile for awhile !  ” Dad ! ” yells little Susie from across the car. ” You hit him on purpose !  Whew ! ” she screams while Billy laughs and chokes from his end of the seat.

After some miles and waning smiles, when the setting sun shines through the windshield blinding Daddys’eyes and causing him to swerve into the opposite lane of traffic and swear, the end of the roadtrip draws near, and the recollections of the buzzards lunching, and the coyotes wolfing the remains of the roadkill cafe , [sometimes becoming dinner themselves ! ] begin to fade with the grins of the sleepy children , Daddy pulls in to the end of the driveway and says to Mommy, “What’s for supper , dear ? “

Strange Bedfellows !


How many times have you been to a barbeque

And seen the men drinking beer by the pit and the women

gathered to themselves, remarking to one another

Of the silly mindless things  their husbands do expound?

How often when, at a family meal do the females bounce up and powder their noses and thusly go together and leave the table unattended? Do not men tend to gather and watch violent sports only to reminesce of the time .. { That was not bad, but I was better when… }

Like the deer in the herds and the wolves in the pack; like the sheep in the herds, and the teachers with words; Biology tricks the brain and causes pain because the sexes fail equality.

About the system there is nothing wrong, And nothing is amiss in the quality, except that the failure to acknowledge the difference, equals a subliminal lack of intelligence. Male or female who not recognize their strengths can [ and do ] make more of this difference ; ultimately to the demise of the relationship.

I am not singing a song of equal rights, but I guarantee I would try to be sure that I am Catholic before I decided to become a nun; And I WILL know that I have a prostate before I submit to the test. !

Roses and weeds !


The rose in itself became the object of ,in all who beheld it, dreams, and for those who had not seen but heard , the flower became a part of their wonderment. So glorious to behold, with blossoms so thick the mind compared it to a luxurious carpet so soft to see and touch, yet noble enough to stand on its own. The stem, so graceful and green yet hardy enough to support the weight of this eighth wonder of the world, emerged from soil so rocky , so weak in nutrients, that botanists declared it a miracle species, and theologists swore it to be a miracle formed above, designed to bring the people of the earth together that they could admire the splendid grace and thus find human commonality in this faraway desolate place.

Time passed on and attempts were made to duplicate this “rosa superior grand” but nought but failure followed the careful cuttings and clonings and fertilizings endeavored upon this all encompassing ideal. Time is time and different for all, so when the greenery of a shoot materialised so near to the stem in this desolate soil, near panic ensued among the appointed caretakers  who, bewildered from fear of losing their idol, gathered with experts from the botanical fields; they hobnobbed with priests and thespians, yea sought feelings and thoughts from any who may, decide whether obnoxious weed or indeed  duplicate saviour grew there.

Twas decided finally, to take the chance at last , so the sprout was allowed to grow. Lo and behold the signs of impending greatness flowered before the eyes of a desperate world, so conferences were held , a garden selected, preparations were made for expected attendance, and with tremendous fanfare, the roots soon laid in freshly laid stone, all ph balanced, so much like home , verduous limbs and wonderful petals quickly encompassed that blessed bed. And the world, at peace, celebrated ! With the knowledge accrued, and the patience required, plans were laid, and flower beds started in anticipation of this roses’ next phase.

So over the years and decades that passed, the allure and the elegance of the elite rosa spread over all lands and so holy was its being, that to defile or harm it was simply beyond thinking! In manicured cropland , on svelte fairways green, in greenways verdant, along freeways and fence, in pots made for flowers, on dirty carpets, down alley ways, byways, thruways, and paths, one could not miss the glorious beauty of this tremendous plant . Eventually it came to pass, after the contests of yore, where judgements were passed praising expert growers of this ignominous flower, that this world wide treasure was seen as merely a weed ; the bane of farmers and gardeners alike, the cause of starvation for many folks so the peoples, divided, were forced to decide how to survive the menace society had brought on themselves. Some wished to poison, some wished to burn, some wished this maladies’ face had never turned. The humans lived on, though society cracked and  ,” rosa superior grand” was eventually stopped in its tracks !!   Except one that grew in desolation, in a rocky soil deemed unable to support such a wondrous plant!

A bit of imagination


The filtered sunshine dropped around like raindrops falling to the ground while the leafy canopy high above, waved hellos to those far down below and breeze blown willowy boughs shifted the buds toward and fro, breaking the light into glowing dots that seemed to rain onto the forest floor.

I searched all through that wonderful day, wandering past leviathans of stalwart oaks, wading bubbling streams so aching feet could soak and not hinder my passing while looking for, I knew not what; though I understood recognition would come to me when perchance the object sought would reveal itself.

Evening fell like a velvety curtain over the transforming sky while the crescent moon and glittering stars took their place against the background of deep dark space and made my shivering soul feel a little bit less alone. Plodding along and taking the trek slow, reserving my energy cause  my destination clearly still was not known.

Just before dawn-break , after clambering down a rock strewn fall , by the gathering pool of clear, chilly streams a magnificent, paint horse idled by on the gravel edge, looking more out of place than even I felt. The muted snort and muffled whinny as I softly approached told me that the equine majesty did not mind my stopping or company.

After drinking full of champagne from the mountain lake, with giddy feet and light headed gait my wandering led me away from the hills till the forest I left behind. The coarse, green grass spread before me then and time stretched her arms so that I could not recall when the mounted patrol crossed over a hill and shouting stampeded straight into my path and the thought suddenly occurred to me that my lengthy journey would soon be past..

So running now, desperation eating my mind, and the sedges pulling at my legs while I tried to race away from my persuers, the time seemingly slowed for me but not them, and near I was to passing cold out when I heard from behind a victorious shout and I fell to the ground and looked around, expecting my doom. I saw the horsemen roping the steed of the stream. Unbeknownst to me a follower he was and the riders retrieved their property.

Foolishness flushed my hot, reddened face, so to escape the feeling I began to race, nay fly,across the verdant prairie, seeking now nothing but space and wind in my hair and a feyness lingered in the crisp morning air. Then the well opened beneath my shoes and forward pace turned into a deep dark place.

Falling took forever it seemed with the time now playing tricks on my sanity, and when by chance I could look up to the rim from which I had fallen, the sun faded from before my very eyes and the moon peered down into the shaft and followed me with a splintering laugh, so I turned away and saw below licking flames crawling the side of the hole, and screaming full throated I was when I woke in my bed;sweating, trembling and hot.

Weakly peering about the room, I quickly assayed my situation was quite normal with my wife and our dog sleeping deeply in the evening gloom. I grabbed up my robe, then poured a stiff drink and stepped out he door so that I could clear my mind and think of how silly it seemed to feel such a dream, and finally smiling I turned back to my house but in the corner of my weary eye; by the pond near the shadows stood a magnificent, paint horse!

My Room


My room of lifes’ floor lay covered in carpet and rugs scattered

Whole and tattered, yet soaking the warmth from the door,

Where I stand looking out to the street,

Hoping for friends, or wishing strangers to meet!

My entranceway respects all who enter my place,

Till I determine how much humaness they wear on their faces.

Walls covered in drapes and highlighted by hangings greet all the souls,

And soak up the heat radiated from warm, caring folks.

I bask in the glow of the smiles and the laughter

Left after, the people have gone back to from whereever they came.

The couches recall long, all the pleasant repose

And comfort I glean when I recline back on the pillows,

While gazing to the rafters and roof made of leather

Below where soft cobwebs catch dust rattled down by evenings thunder.

My cozy hiding nest though can get very cold

If the draughts brought in by frigid , hard feeling asses

Cannot be warmed by the candles left by the masses.

So, no matter what my overall vision,

I stand at the door guarding my comfort, my warm, glowing prison!