A couple of days ago there was a small tent city on 9th by the U.S. Post office.
Today, the tent city, gone.
Now there is a memorial there were
someone has died.
It’s like living in Europe in the 1930’s, seeing people rounded up and taken somewhere else.
But for what it’s worth: it’s a symptom of the cancer in America.
I often wondered how I would die.
Like, when I was a younger man I ‘d think of joining the army, only to die in battle.
Or being hit by a city bus.
Or maybe a lingering death.
I do one thing: I will not regret how I lived.
Your boot on your,
enemy’s neck,
feeling it’s
life breath
leave….
The dying
face suddenly
Changes….
to someone weak,
or
You trruly loved.
Does your boot
waver or
slacken?
Or keep
the pressure on
Until dead?
Good morning.
I’ve been crying for the last ten minutes about Queen Elizabeth II, in fear of her death.
No, I’m not British or a member of the Commonwealth.
I was born and raise in the Midwest.
I’m also crying for my country, the US of A, with the feelings that my country died awhile ago on some unknown date later to be determined by a future historian.
I’m crying about my own death, that I myself may be laying somewhere on a battlefield, comatose having failed in my duties as a human being.
Long live the Queen.
I guess I’m in a mourning state of mind.
I have to decide what to keep in my life, and those things that needs to be left at the curb.
For instance, yesterday I pickup a heater from curb, it bigger than my current heater.
Only, it didn’t work.
And when I’m done writing this I will return this heater to curb.
But, that’s personal growth for you, sometimes the junk you pick,(how you think, evolve, grow, etc.) is just that: junk.
I think how you grow as an individual means that little ‘deaths’, or pieces of your personality and psyche that you willingly delete.
Sounds like some dreamtime is in order….
I am not George Floyd,
or anyone who
Died violently
because of their
Color.
Yet I died
when they died.
I’m not the
Caucasians
or Asians
who lived and
died
in
Poverty,
lacking books
or means.
Dying
unfulfilled,
buried in
mass graves.
Pathetic humans!
Why would another
star talk to
you?
We…..
….get up before dawn,
eat, shower and take mass transit
to work, if we are lucky….
We….
cannot work in the safety of our homes,
Working for the minimum wage.
No hazard pay or wealth incentives or
federal/state support,
always exposed to Covid_19.
We could die leaving our families and estates
poorer for patriotism?
We work because we are poor, entrapped.
They pat us on the back,
and two weeks later we die,
then our wives and husbands in another two weeks….
….to support a society that miss treat us.
That is the good old United States of America.
Where we are not free….
One good lie….
Can make your day
And existence.
Put a smirk in
Your smile.
Walking through
The valley of death becomes a
Well travelled commute
While living.
All ya’ need to know now
Is which way and
How you walk.
Any day you are alive, is a good day.
I try not to believe in “bad” days, and instead call them “interesting”, because if I’m alive I can look at the silver linings of the clouds, and admire the beauty of life.
And if you’re dead it’s over, no worries!
You get to know the true meaning of life, and therefore have nothing to fear….
Why have all sexy whores gone? Have they aged away to some fairytale?
The bars are empty of them, only polite folks there,
(football plays on the tele,
all of them fans with good
cheer….)
At night,
there are no shaded lamps in the windows
And nights
have grown colder.
Sex, no longer in schools
because they put saltpeter in
the food with a side of
shock therapy.
(but there are bloodied wire
hangers in back alleys)
Sex, sterile, lacking life, lacking soul, procreation only please.
Rumor has they all went to….Vegas?
Life Raft In The Abyss 