Comfort

Got to love this as an option.  Yep, never the type of choice most will complain about.  Unless it is for somebody else.

 

Then it might upset a person or two.  You can never say for sure.  People can be so unpredictable at times. 

 

But that is okay.  Providing they do it in a good way.  Then it isn’t so bad.  Yep you can be so happy.

 

Well in theory you can be.  Otherwise it will be something that doesn’t necessarily end up being helpful.

 

So this is when you really need to take time to be careful on this subject.  I mean to just be sure you aren’t dealing with people who are not realistic.

 

They will have a very insane idea of comfort.  And you can be sure it will not end up with a smile.

 

But that is why we have to make sure we have all the facts.  It is so very important.  Because if the person is too out there they will be no help.

 

So that is one little detail you have to work on.  Which is a nice way of saying your screwed.

 

Only we don’t put it that way.  Because the truth really can suck at times and nobody enjoys when that happens.

 

So in order to avoid this problem I just learn to lie a lot.  I know that sounds crappy, but really it is important.  So one way of dealing with it is to fake it.

 

Yep, that is always one of making things seem to work better.  Well at least to me.  I know some will say that sucks, but we do the best we can.

 

Well I guess we don’t do the best.  If we did then we would no doubt act more sane at times.

 

But then shoot, you got to have those options right?  And that includes being totally insane.

 

Okay maybe some won’t agree.  I can appreciate that might cause problems.  But then you just have to watch for it.

 

My secret code for saying I could care less, but don’t want to admit it. And then that is my comfort too.

 

Isn’t that special.  Okay don’t answer that.

 

 

All The Frozen Fun

Sliding down

a winter’s icy hill

on an inner tube

using a snow bank

for brakes.

 

Slush in the boots

such a good reason

to head for a fireplace,

sip on hot chocolate

until the socks dry,

then back for more fun

happy to know

there is always

more coco

and extra socks

for the rest of the day.

Charters

Sometimes the spirit begs to sail
beyond the shores of surety,
to dare a test of the currents
and spread the cerebral canvas
catching creativity’s zephyr wind.
Voyaging upon a vessel in the mind
towards those isles embedded in dreams,
explore the shoals of circumspection
heard from a siren in sagacity
amid the splash of sanguine swells in serenity.

Leaving behind the seaman of excuses
who sit in their dark lighthouses,
refusing to even look
for any ships of deliverance.

At last floating on the smooth sea of discovery
washed by tranquility’s tides,
finding the captain of the heart,
having chartered one’s thinking
upon a passage towards the truth.

Sunset comes with its tangerine tease
amid the calm cerulean skies of clarity,
happy to face the new horizon
where one holds the rudder of veracity,
alone at times in unmapped oceans
yet feeling the ecstasy swim inside,
because you stopped walking on the sand
and for once following the call of a sailor within
unto those waters that add magic and mermaids
to a life otherwise landlocked by doubts.

Messenger Moans

Was just to be a cyber hello on yahoo,

nothing intended or suggested,

unto that coworker in the next cubicle,

merely a few words of informality,

 using mere customary phrases.

 

But she mentioned her child’s sickness,

I spoke of my wife’s distance,

suddenly loneliness came up,

two lives trapped in sterilized dreams,

snared in box with a wedding ring.

 

Can’t recall what made the fingers type,

that provocative hint,

then shocked by her reply.

 

In the middle of the day

deadlines breathing on the neck,

our keyboard became our mattress,

words burned their desires,

faces growing red with lust,

sweat starting to form beads,

squirming in the seat

from the flames in images.

 

How she added those emoticons

the type on those adult sites,

was something I couldn’t say,

but the pure agony of craving steamed in the view.

 

What game we played,

intimacy to the raw level,

just to see which of us might groan out loud

and expose our secret.

 

Mind so lightheaded with the inferno created

hunger so in dire need of satisfaction,

afternoon spent simmering,

our spouses both surprised

why work had inspired

a ravenous gaze in greeting at home.

 

because sometimes mirrors lie

I looked at the reflection

listening to her describe

what she saw in that silvery sheet.

 

Her interpretation,

the words her mouth expressed

didn’t seem at all like what I observed,

for her truth was a wretched, hideous creature

that nobody could love,

somebody without any beauty

nothing worthwhile slightly dwelling

in the heart she saw as ugly.

 

How could I get this goddess

of such a sweet spirit and exquisite features

to truly see what that image had shown me?

 

So often I had tried to assure her

what she thought was her image

only existed in her brain and never in any way

cast the portrait anyone else had seen.

 

It was a conversation we had too many times,

even after she won a beauty contest,

still insisting that picture in her head

was the truth and that the mirror was distorted,

remembering what she has mentioned

about as a child her mother always criticized

until all she could envision in any glance

during those looking glass glimpses

just matched the mom’s invention.

 

Somehow we both muddied along in life,

disagreeing with what was seen,

still holding onto the hope

we would find a reason to think otherwise,

knowing everything changes

and even a mirror can be other than accurate

if your mind have vision problems.

 

The Day The Rock Broke

 

Mike was our hero whose courage made us drool

a boss who was so admired for never losing his cool,

always calm and solid as a rock was his special fame

regardless of how bad any situation ever became.

 

Then he one morning he came into work,

not looking quite as stable with a bleary eyed quirk,

tried to downplay how his wife had just left him

doing his best to smile with clenched teeth chagrin,

casually adding in soft tones how she had moved in

with a salesman on our staff with a seductive grin

who had conned many a gal with the charms he did spin.

 

Even succeeded in avoiding going utterly berserk

while mentioning how some drunk stupid jerk,

had manage to rear end his car with inebriated desire

as it was parked while he was changing a flat tire.

 

Still able to drive it, but then ended up running out of gas,

getting soaked by a truck running through a puddle too fast

while he was walking down the road to station he had past.

 

He really didn’t look that bad despite being kick by fate’s boot,

though admittedly the water dripping from him drenched suit

guaranteed how for him this wasn’t a day of any good repute,

 

After he got dried off in bathroom by blow dryer

was time to try again to manage and so inspire,

only everyone who called was pissed about something

how he tried so hard not to wince when the phone would ring.

 

I think it was when he spilled his cup of coffee

over reports and turned them into soggy paper toffee,

which he didn’t have copy and would have to redo

that his face started to twitch and he started to unglue,

there was added also an uncontrollable chuckle to his voice

before he walked out to the break room to buy a candy bar of choice.

 

It took his money without giving him his desired selection

definitely was too much for one days rejection.

 

First time we ever saw him erupt into uncontrollably scream

beating on that machine, trying to rip the door’s from its seams.

Oh we all gathered around and watched him lose it

took a while before he noticed his momentary fit,

straightening his tie and trying to regain his composure

but it was too late to deny what he did in that enclosure,

between the twitches and mumbling some rambling request

they escorted him to a nice quiet room for plenty of rest.

Where he spent the rest of the day alone without taking a call

shouting and occasionally hitting his head against the wall,

next day he was back to work being free from any chaotic thrills

all with the help of that therapist’s session and a bottle of pills.

 

Slipping Away

It was like losing your grip

when the relationship ended,

no big speeches or long good-byes,

silence just swallowing

any embers of friendship.

 

So many questions trapped in the quiet,

a bag of regrets kept under the bed,

yet what seems to last

was the constant replay of memories

and all the words that were never said,

then there swells the thoughts you had ignored,

realizing there were more resentments

lurking in the bond

than you really cared to admit.

 

Sometimes urged to try and make contact,

but accepting there were so many wounds

that bleed and brought pain, which you ignored,

suddenly accepting it wasn’t a true friendship,

one more connection that was an illusion

time and distance awakening the truth,

exhaling the sadness of feeling used,

inhaling the future with hope

perhaps somewhere there remains

another life you can trust,

looking ahead with more anticipation,

because deep down you still believe

there are hearts you’ll meet

who don’t have only lies in their blood.

 

Thinking Happy Thoughts

Now the problem with this is based on your idea of what makes you happy. And that is never a single thing.

Well that is the struggle. So for example maybe happy thoughts for you involve misery for somebody else.

Now that means naturally that some will get a smile out of another’s misery. Sorry this concept of peace and love is great, but not realistic.

Just stating the truth. Okay that isn’t my reputation all the times, but what the heck I do have my moments.

And that is what I try to focus on. So true maybe I don’t quite impress with my truthfulness all time, once and a while should count.

In any event on this issue I think my position is that most people are liars. Yep, that is what I said.

Oh you can find plenty to pretend they are happy and caring. Even offer you some kind of proof.

Which is great as long as you don’t check beyond the obvious. Because that could end up depressing.

Now I hate to like dangling the reality out there for some, but really too many seem intent on making this a game. Which is boring.

Because nobody wins. It is all crap. The kind of baloney that never leads to anything good.

But you can’t always get some to appreciate that fact. They will be inclined to say it is better to make it sound all good.

The whole time they are being a fart. Acting one way and being another. It is downright boring.

And trust me it will never get any better. So go ahead and pretend you only have good thoughts.

I will pretend to believe you. Well I will say I will. In reality I know it is just stroke job and that is the reality.

So in the meantime the sane among us just try to adjust to the reality. Which is that it doesn’t work to act like you never love bad thoughts.

Yep something to enjoy.

Diaries

Penned elations scrawled in fancy’s lines

and dipped into a caffeine well

come during the first tick of the time clock’s clarion call

when freedom is stapled to a form

stuffed in an outbox,

waiting for messenger with a miracle

that is imprisoned in a memo’s paper jail.

 

Posting the cerebral collage

of exits taken by the head

upon a wall of the travel agency

whose location in preserved on a scroll

kept in that drawer were screams die.

 

Parades of knights, fairies and sirens

drift in their apparition presence

across the tapestry of reveries

hung in the mind

and viewed each time

the anvils of demand

pound their melancholy melody

upon the desk that is a cell

with passes granted for weekends.

 

Scripting the present

in that journal nobody is allowed to read,

where the cavalcade of paradise glimpses

and passion’s phantom paramours

passes on the mental meadows

expressed as the muffled sighs

over the places one wishes were home.

 

Surviving by sipping that black nectar

of morning’s revival

as the elixir that lets the images of what eludes

keep one alive during hours

one’s heart is mortgaged to reality’s keeper.

 

January's Fire

When winter’s chill besets its silent icy spell
over the day of longing
spent alone in constant snow upon the heart
there is no deeper thoughts of fire,
with the greater wish than a flame from another’s arms.

The drifts of emptiness freeze the soul
trapped in the January of life,
far from the months filled with unions,
a wilderness so cold because
no one else is there to share the quiet,
as the void creates a refrigerator
over every single moment spent,
aching so much from the lack of another,
it hurts to the bone
crippling in the frosty awareness
tomorrow is without a promise of spring
or a fireplace built to warm two.

Feeling that blizzard blow like an endless storm,
knowing it will never stop
until you finally rise and walk
out of that tundra live in your mental cave,
unto an outpost where others dwell
to sit and sip the ambience
of smiles that remind oneness
isn’t a blessing
because you feel like a snowman
always dreaming of infernos
for melting your misery.

Hour Glasses

I held that delicate device in my hands
watching the grains pour out my life,
knowing I couldn’t control their flow,
aware they moved so steadily,
slowly keeping tract
of the falling seconds in my existence.

Yet, I felt a certain illusion of power
just keeping that timepiece in my fingers
as if not letting go might prevent
my rendezvous with the hour
those sands stopped moving in my heart.

Wasn’t enough to keep it in my clutches
so I reached over to set it on a shelf,
but accidentally let go before
it was completely on the wood.

Then it hit the floor and shattered
my eyes couldn’t change that image,
aware there was no way to undo
what gravity had turned into trash.

All I could do was watch
unable to alter that reality,
inside I might forget the memory,
but never the guilt over my carelessness.

Notifications

Ah yes the wonderful world of communication that is intended to be helpful. And would that it really was.

But naturally this all is based on the silly notion somebody really wants to improve your situation. Nice illusion.

Sometimes I know it is true. But to often I don’t think so. I believe it is more a matter of fantasy.

I do think it would be nice if this was not the norm in terms of disappointments. Really is such a pain.

But then since more types of notifications come from government agencies you can be sure they will be burdened by regulations. Which can really cause problems.

Because you do know if the government is involved it will be complicated and vague. Which means confusing.

Now I do try to avoid that if possible. Only as a Mayor it can be hard. I do have to rely upon my help for some of the process.

And the one problem is that this never ends with anything helpful. Oh you get lots of paranoia.

This is never an improvement. Well not in a way that I enjoy. People are insane enough as it is.

Still I can’t do this all by myself. So I have to allow the anal retentive types a little option in that regard.

Which gets the job done. Normally in triplicate even if it isn’t needed. I call it being a pain in the butt.

They call it being thorough. But in the end everyone goes nuts. And that is not quite the effect I’m striving for.

Unless I’m trying to fake something. Then it is a good thing. But you know I really don’t need them for that option.

I can inspire all kinds of paranoia without much help. Gossip works great. Really is such a great tool.

Well when you can get enough people to cooperate. And let me tell you it is amazing when that doesn’t work.

Just a matter of timing and the right lie.

This Old House

The place that we abide
in such tranquility and ease
as the chamber we feel free to undress
like sacred nest of pure contentment,
built within our mind
not bound by walls or maps,
but the shelter of our thoughts.

It is an address we create
while searching for a house
shaped by the one we envisioned
as a hearth for mirrors,
reflecting who we really are
without someone to shattered into shards
by criticism’s hammer
any peace we gained from the occupancy.

To outside eyes this residence is hard to perceive
having no form except in our head
that we erect by our words
using the timbers of our hearts.

Though it may never seem a mansion or castle,
might even appear as a shack to others,
but when it is that domicile within
totally true to what we love
then it an utopia
unconcerned the opinions of inspectors
because we call it home.

Liars! Liars!

I wanted revenge,
the blood of my abusers poured out slowly,
letting them bleed to death
for this unpardonable crime
against the unfortunate
bowel movement crowd.
Here I was in the midst of such crisis
my laxatives had finally kicked in
that dam of constipation about to erupt
at the moment I had gone to the movies,
in hopes of letting the flick
get my mind off what wasn’t
coming out of my behind.

Then it hit me,
first that rumbling inside
before I felt the pressure in my rear end
like a bomb was about to explode.
Rushing to the bathroom,
reaching that stall and sitting down
relieved to see the words
on that huge gray come
“the never out toilet paper dispenser.”

Liars, liars! Is all I could think
here I was about to gusher
and there wasn’t a darn sheet
on either of those tubes!

One groan and the stuff was showering from my behind,
I was stuck and couldn’t move.

The guy by the sinks nearly gagging from the smell,
he rushed out moaning, “oh my god,”
while my own eyes watering so bad.

In my desperation I grabbed
a handful of those paper toilet seat covers,
no way was it other than a rough substitute
for that two ply.

Leaving having to walk bow legged
thinking I would have called that episode
after the television show, “Rawhide.”

Practice makes more practice

If today is the first day of the rest of my life

then it means everything up till now

was only for practice and doesn’t count,

tomorrow will be when the score starts,

unless I make it another today

in order to be sure I can still call it practice,

which is so much nicer

than to look at my blunders I did later

following claiming I was improved

while vowing I said I had polished my performance

and then have to say,

oh my god did I really do that again?

 

Now I have decided to put my life

into a computer program

store the edited version as I need it to read,

able to really make some progress

since I will type it in as I prefect

whether I did it or not.

 

Ah, the joy when I have come

unto that crossroads of choice,

basking in the joy of knowing

it can only get better

since I’ll rewrite it that way

no matter what actually happen.

 

The nice thing about rehearsing

a life time hobby of dementia

is you always end up a winner

because lunacy is ageless,

never having to worry about facing senility

since you had that part down pat

so won’t even notice the difference

when the real thing kicks in.

 

Two Minutes In Paradise

Her tongue twisted thrill packed teases in slow seductive streaks,
while I felt spellbound by such stunning sayings
taking me on a trip towards two minutes in paradise.

Rising relentlessly upon that track she laid,
each word building unto the heights of expectation,
knowing once my car of desire reached that zenith
her precarious promises would plunged me in their plummeting power,
racing out of control to reality’s bottom
intensely aware she only guaranteed a precious par sec in pleasure,
while I was strapped into my seat by her racing rhythm,
brought to a summit of heart throbbing tension
before she pushed me off feeling that pure panicked pounding.

And when it was over, I had no real regrets over its fleeting fire,
for by her charms I hit the sky then crashed into the earth,
still it was worth every second spent in her care and salacious sorcery.

Because the time on that ride earned me the prize I lusted so much,
a gift of six boxes in chocolate covered Macadamia nuts
in return for listening to her time share spiel,
what a rush it was even though I got high on the candy later
instead of accepting her contract.

Car Pools

I envisioned being a race car driver

and speeding on roads without construction,

roaring in the red line,

heart pounding from the power,

heading for the finish line

trophy waiting as my reward.

 

No way I was going to join a car pool,

be another passenger without control

headed to the same place

without hope or freedom.

 

But race cars cost more than I could dream

plus they didn’t look for new recruits

among the tracks where such wheels spun.

 

Still I refuse the car pool option

my life mean something more than that,

freedom was my destiny

never going to surrender

to a stale and dull fate.

 

So I tried to take an economy car

add some decals and paint job,

big tires and even bought a helmet,

zipping down the freeway

past that commuter van

felt so different and special,

at least while seeing them in the rear view mirror.

 

Inside the truth ate at my spirit

it was all an illusion and I really wasn’t different

than all those lives sharing the same vehicle.

 

One day after my motorized chariot died,

just decided to join the others

and amazingly I felt a special harmony

that didn’t come from going alone.

 

Was then it occurred too me

how we all have to travel,

but doing it in a way that gave encouragement

meant so much more on the journey

instead of getting lost from my destination

by just thinking about myself.