a Writer’s Block

I’ve not felt like writing much lately.  Distracted by passing obsessions and fading vices.  The muse inside is asleep.  I fear it would fade entirely, then I remember my life long curse.  When an obsession takes hold through OCD, the hold is firm and unrelenting.  It threatens several aspects of myself, such as writing and poetry.  Words will fleeting dash across my mind, vanishing like a dream when I try and recall the ideas.  Only the current, hopefully temporary, obsession remains.  What will I do about this and that.  How will I handle each situation regarding anything other than the pressing need to do a thing.  I keep these “things” to myself, they are my burden to bear.  So while you might see a sneer or a glare, know that it’s only temporary.  Something has a hold on me again, and the battle is reinstated.  I often hope that I’m the only one with struggles like these, again I would never wish this on anther human being.  Consumed so fully by a task, habit, show, game, etc.  Thanks for listening, until next time.  Peace to you and yours.

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Scary

Why is it so scary to feel good,

What is it I misunderstood,

Wave of happy we never want to stop,

Gotta remember can’t live at the top,

The low and highs are all part and partial,

Feeling happy, we just can’t marshall,

Our internal light was growing neigh,

If we can’t be happy, we just want to die,

But it’s all in the balance, I hope you can see,

Relish the light of creativity,

Enduring the lows became the normal,

Feeling the highs is feeling formal,

Denying ourselves the basic desires,

Not letting it out, just stoking the fires,

Living in rage,

No more on stage,

Life in a cage,

Seeking a sage,

Seething in rage,

Not turning the page

Found only a maze,

Looking inwards a haze,

Past memories a blaze,

My mind in a craze,

But pardon my phrase,

I speak out of phase,

Overwhelming malaise,

Felt lost in that maze,

My minotaur would enrage,

Past memories were now pyres,

Creativity re-inspires,

Life changed from uniformal,

To nearly paranormal,

Nor more passivity,

More clearly now I can see,

There is so much more behind my eye,

I can now permit myself to cry,

No longer now shall I stall,

This life to give must get it all,

I must discard my prop,

One more habit I must drop,

It is no longer misunderstood,

We are allowed to feel good.

 

 

Curses foiled again, or not

In the past week I have been personally reconciling my inner self.  Sounds weird, but I have been at odds with myself for some time.  After drudging up so many painful memories I cast myself into deep sadness, regret, and even anger.  It’s been very difficult for me cast aside the things in my life that don’t belong.  Things such as the feeling of not belonging where I am.  I have spent a lot of time just thinking and planning and not really acting.  So I have decided to take on a new hobby, candle making.  The funny part to me is that I have been a butcher, a baker, and now…you see the punchline.

Normally in my past I would have simply gone back to my routine, but I know I have to alter it just a little bit.  I first believed that I needed to shake up everything about myself and my life so that I was not so depressed all the time.  Along that path I have really started to put more effort into where I am.  Dedicating myself to my workplace, doing more activities with my family, and finding a healthier balance of my previous hobbies.  It’s been a real challenge changing internally while causing so much discord with those around me.  I hope they can all forgive me.  I am sorry for all the trouble.

No one ever said having a mid life crisis was easy.  The crisis is over, now I have to clean up my own mess.  Thanks for listening.  Until next time, peace to you and yours.

Say When

When will I be free of the chains that shackle me,

Invisible lines that keep holding me,

Back from the world I want to see,

When is it ok to be,

All the things I love in me,

When can I shake off the shroud of internal anonymity,

See myself able to be free,

The fragments of sanity in a sea of failed sobriety,

Is my world really that dreary,

Once I hear the word maybe,

Stuck in binds I can clearly see,

I put them there, you see,

These bonds I wear are part of me,

The wounds that cut so deeply,

Make me cry internally,

My battles scars are here eternally,

I have to learn it’s ok to be,

Damaged, not permanently,

Just marks with personality,

The game started prematurely,

I wasn’t ready, I tell myself sadly,

The person I was fades into obscurity,

Now it’s time, tomorrow might never be,

Can I, I ask, I guess time will see.

 

 

 

 

Back to School

Today was a bitter sweet day

The children return to school to play

Summer is our time to shine, wish it would stay

But life must move forward can’t remain that way

Some parents relish this time, for me is causes dismay

I give myself to the evenings, my mornings are gray

Why speak in poetry, I ask myself, to convey

The exercise is good, a different way to parlay

I change the tempo and scheme, even the delay

But keep moving forward, try and cast away

The troubled time my mind brings, so they can’t out weigh

I ask myself lately, what do I do, to keep in the fray

Fight the good fight, be a good person, a good father everyday

My soul has scars, my heart is heavy, I just want to lay

Sleep, no more sadness and pain, I know it’s cliche

But I will not falter, only stumble along, make way

I kinda like my scar now, all the miles on my highway

To we celebrated my wife’s birthday

She deserves much more than I can purvey

Happiness is my the gift I choose to spray

The next poem will I write I’ll have to sway

I hope my next round won’t be so passe

All the pieces

Not sure they’ll all fit

So many parts, so little space

Fragmented self, needed a hit

Wasn’t sure I could keep pace

A mental knock on the noggin, a little wit

Mix with music and family, she’s truly my ace

Do I leave out the parts that make me want to quit

Keep them I say, they keep me in my place

A place I belong, the place I commit

A state of mind so far from this race

The rats almost won, I felt so unfit

I hated so many memories, lost color in my face

Almost thought I was gone, a few steps from split

I write my story, place it in a showcase

So that other won’t feel counterfeit

Our stories only differ in the details, our human race

But we’re all the same, you have to admit

Your pain is my pain, I would embrace

Any person who felt the need to submit

We stand united, the wounded who feel disgrace

Pick your head up with mine, this is it

Don’t relent to the coup de grace

You’re not alone in all this shit

The moral of the story is not common place

We need to heal depression, lickety split

 

 

 

My fear

Every single person feels fear.  No one is immune.  Most animals understand fear.  It is what keeps us alive.  What happens when that fight or flight instinct “stays on” and a person constantly feels the need to fight or flee?  Anxiety happens.

My mental disorder is not unique.  OCD and depression are not my burden alone to bear.  Being abused a child is not unique.  So why is it I get wrapped around the axel about all of this lately?  Because I have buried everything instead of dealing with it.  The years of anger, sadness, and fear were bottled up.  I’m trying to empty that bottle and fill it back up with much better stuff.  In the mean time I have to constantly search for better ways to cope with each stressor.  I used to use tobacco and alcohol as my coping methods, but those were worse than the depression itself.  Then came the medications.  Lately I have been searching for better methods.

The best part of dealing with everything is that my creativity is at an all time high.  From song lyrics and poems to retail ideas for our little shop in Garner, IA.

If you are going through tough times, please don’t give up on yourself.

Once I get through all of this, I hope things clear up inside.  Until then, thanks for listening.  Peace to you and your.

American Lie

DSCF0313This is gonna be a weird one, a simple parody using Don McLean’s American Pie song as the skeletal framework.

A long long time ago, I can still remember how the music used to make you cry

and you knew if you had once chance, you would stop the people’s dance, and make them believe they where happy for a while

The rap music made you shiver, with every curse word they delivered

Bad news on your door step; we cannot take one more step.

I can remember all the times I cried, when  I read about those blatant lies

But something touched me deep inside, the day the music cried

so bye bye, this American Lie, drive your Chevy round the country ’til the your gas tank runs dry,

Them good ole boys who said you should stay inside, singing that will be the day when you die.

That will be the day that you die.

You click on Facebook things you love, it could be a face upon a glove,

If the media tells you so.

Don’t listen to those frikken trolls, this product saves your immoral soul,

and we sell pills to “make you grow”,

Cause I know that you’re in love with thin, and don’t want to be in a gym

Just kick off your shoes, and take these pills of blue,

You’re a lonely teen feeling out of touch, just take these pills they’re a pick-me-up,

But then we all ran out of luck, the day we allowed them to lie.

Now for some singing,

Bye Bye this America Lie, drive your Chevy ’round the country till the gas tank runs dry,

Them good ole boys are banking that you will die, and singing “this will be the day no one cried”

This will be the day no one cried.

Now for some years we’ve been on our own,

the cats grew fat on your kidney stone,

But that’s not how it’s ‘Sposed to be,

When the jester became the king of mean,

raised the price of his product really obscene,

and a voice that came from Dre and ‘Sky

While The People were feeling down,

they gave us pills to steal that frown,

Our minds started to burn,

Our faith’s been overturned,

and while we learn about the Starks,

the music’s tryin to start a spark

and they spout rhymes to make us arc,

They rap so we can cry.

Even more singing,

bye bye, this American Lie, drive your Chevy ’round the country ’til the gas tank runs dry,

Them good ole’ boys know now that we will not die,

singing “This Won’t be the day that we die”

This won’t be the day that we die.

They made us zombies like horror shamblers,

no cure in sight only brain scramblers,

Eight Mile was a good movie, a blast!

They’ve killed criminals with gas,

even unborn babies don’t get a pass,

feels like we’re next and I think it’s ass.

I think for some it’s now high noon,

Our voices will been heard soon.

This will be our stance,

Oh, this time, there’s a chance,

They will try and make us yield,

But it’s our time on this field,

The world will know what’s been reveal,

The day, we stop these lies.

Yet again sining,

Bye bye, this American Lie, drive your Chevy ’round the country ’till the gas tank runs dry.

Them good ole boys will be the ones who will cry,

singing “This will be the day no one died”

This will be the day no one died.

Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with no time left to start again (this line transcends itself from song to song)

So come on: lets get nimble, must help the sick!

You gave us drugs that broke us, dick

Soon you will be out of friends.

Oh, and as you watch Trump on the stage, your hands all clenched in fists of rage

He was not born in hell, wake up from the spell,

Now that you can see it is time to fight to stop sacrificing our health for pyrite,

We’ll all be laughing with delight,

The day they were allowed to cry.

Jeez more singing,

Bye Bye, this American Lie, the price is to heavy and we don’t want to die.

You good ole boys take a bow swallow your pride.

singing “this will be the day Pharma died”

This will be the day Pharma died.

We ALL have so many blues

we’re ready for some happy news

this time no one turns away.

Now listen to your favorite score,

hear their songs like never before,

No one should tell you what you can play,

Start taking walks, let your smile beam

Watch lovers smile, and share your dream

Where they are spoken,

or rapped or sung while tokin’

You’ll find who you admire most,

Maybe father, son, or the holy ghost,

This is your shot, not a hoax,

The day, you let lies die.

one last time singing,

Bye Bye, this American Lie, no more bullshit claims, even when we drive by.

So good ole boys now it’s time to let fly,

The poisons that made us all blind

The poisons that made us all blind.

Bye Bye, this American Lie, we have suffered long enough and now it’s time so say Bye.

them good ole boys cashing in now should fry,

but we’re not them, it’s time to rest.  bye

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Wonderful Memory

Today, as I enjoyed a variety of songs on Pandora on my Watsky channel I was able to recall 2 very distinct memories.  I would like to share them.

The first was my first kiss, I was rather young, her name was Penny Trip.  I had just moved from my home in Iowa, to a trailer park in Kansas.  She made the move and I was surprised.  She smiled, saying she wanted to know what it was like.  I’m glad she chose me, it was a nice pleasant memory.

The other was the start of my current state of mental chaos and ruin.  Her name will not be spoken.  It was the dawn of internet communication.  I had come to know a girl, totally different than any I had ever met.  The poetic details of this memory could roll on and on.  Mistakes were made, I was betrayed, a debt never repaid, I really got played, sadness in spades.

While working through my depression and learning to get control of my OCD I have had the pleasure/horror of discovering my memory is far too accurate to try and keep anything bottled up.  Some form of eidetic memory that can recall emotional pain and empathy.  Trying to find healing is pushing my limits.  Thanks for listening.  Until next time, peace to you and yours.

One man, too many opinions

Many of us now feel far more free to share our internal thoughts and opinions.  In a society in which they were unwelcome, they are now embraced.  Maybe not widely embraced, but embraced none the less, by like minded people.

Our public school systems are a fantastic resource.  My question today is; Why don’t our schools teach our children how to learn?  Our system is based on teaching children what to know, not how to figure it out.  Teachers try, but are limited in what and how they are allowed to teach.  So many restrictions.

With parents having to work so much more, there is far less time for us to teach our children the important things like work ethic and a strong moral character.

Then comes the internet to just blast it’s brutal visage upon us all.  So few restrictions.

The moral of this who story is that maybe it’s time we look in to shifting how we teach our future.  How this is done I don’t rightly know.  Some nice ideas I have are;

Pay teachers more.  I would hope we love our teachers enough to pay them so they won’t have to get 2nd jobs.  Would they then have more time to dedicate to our children’s education?  Would more people be inspired to be teachers, to help guide our progeny.  We could then have more classes such as work ethic, morality, and even tax preparation, home upkeep, etc.

Maybe it’s time to put far more into education for everyone, instead of letting the internet spray it’s truth in our faces.

How to pay for it?  A special tax levied on insurance companies, bankers, politicians, hospitals, and pharmaceutical companies.  As well as the rest of the corporations and special interest groups that got us into this broken system to begin with.  Should have bailed out the people, not the banks.