Tuesday, June 23, 2015

My life in the checkout line

     

     I'm standing in the checkout line in the grocery store. It's a temporary escape from the oppressive, late June southern heat. An old man on a scooter is writing a check in matrix slow motion, and I am beginning to wish death upon him as he messes up his check, and has to have a manager come help. I think when the outside temperature exceeds our body temperature, we become irritable and sometimes even have murderous thoughts in the checkout line.
     When did I become the old guy with deep lines in his face and forehead; with a pot-belly and a bad buzz cut that he insisted his daughter do? I mean come on! How the hell did this happen? And when did I look around in the grocery store; surmising what kind of people are surrounding me in some judgmental, superior way? When did I start buying mustard? Why can't these two idiots in front of me stop talking about how damn hot it is outside? Move along... I have things to pay for. $23.45 in my account? Perfect...
     I look around at the carefree people buying charcoal and hamburger meat. What kind of darkness looms behind their clear eyes? Let me tell you they probably have a pretty stable life and grasp on reality. Watching normal people really makes me take pause and look at my own fucked up life. 
     I lost my drivers license. Lost isn't quite the word. Taken buy a judge is a little more accurate. Yes I made a few mistakes back in November, but I'm over it now. Don't get me wrong. I messed up in a major way. I totally deserve all of this. 99% of all my problems are self-induced. It doesn't make things suck any less. So,when I look at the well-dressed man holding a bottle of wine and an uncut loaf of bread, I envy his apparent "normal", non-dumbass life... And the murderous thoughts return in the checkout line...
     
      

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Father's Day

For all those who still have dads, cherish them everyday. They won't be around forever. I miss mine daily. He taught me a lot, and would kick my ass if he was still here. I've made several mistakes since he's been gone, but I am trying to not make anymore. My kids love me and I am going to do my best to be the father to them that mine was to me.
Happy Father's Day!
Miss you dad! 

Friday, June 19, 2015

Fly


My soul bleeds on the gently unfolding leaves of morning.
Shaking off the nightmares and sighing with an urgency of escape...
My dirty wings can't fly anymore; and even if they could, where would I go?
If I could, I would fly back into the loving arms of my childhood; where those innocemt dreams would drip from my eyes on Christmas morning.
I would fly away from these dreadful responsibilities and the damp, repressive reality of my many legendary mistakes.
I would fly anywhere away from this dark cavern I have created for myself.
If only I could fly...
 

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Down


Always on the edge of tomorrow; terrified to fall awake...
The medicine and music; losing their effect...
The stench of summer permeates the still, heavy air...
Her eyes pull me in like yesterday; like always...
The loud screech of my brakes echoing in my numb head...
The light was green. Or was it red?
Days all running together; looking out the window with a frown...
A jungle of tubes, wires and a faded hospital gown...
Lost within my salvation never to be found...
Sometimes you luck up, and other times you fall down...

 

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Good Mourning


The white hot light of day abruptly tears me from my dreams...
Like troops dispersing an unruly crowd...
Violently removing my sleepy shroud...
Rigid yet magnanimous, reality forcing my eyes open to the humid, ugly day...
I stumble barefoot out onto the dew-drenched grass...
Coherent thoughts seeping through merely to harass...
My obese friend, worry, runs and jumps on my chest...
"You've gotten heavier since yesterday", I said in muffled protest...
I begrudgingly pick the fond sleep from my eyes, and turn to face my day...
I look forward to my sweet night, and my dreams made of paper-mache...







 

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

96 Steps



There are 96 steps up to my office...
The stale stairway beckons me...
8 flights of 12 steps...
Run to the bottom, and I'll be free...
The hot, June air greets my face
every morning around 10 o' clock...
I place a pen in the heavy metal door,
as for it not to lock...
I'm appreciating my freedom these days,
for I am but a vagabond...
Pretending I am just another guy,
they don't know I'm out on bond...
I run up the stairs, taking two at a time...
Out of breath at the top... Trying to forget my crimes...
Don't know how long I'll be here, and I'll probably miss these stairs...
Everything is a temporary daydream, until there's nothing but nightmares...




 

Thursday, June 04, 2015

Old band memories

 
Listen to Kustom Made Schoolgirl by Cathead Biscuit on Rhapsody:
 

I am reminiscing about playing drums back in the day. How things have changed...

No Sleep Podcast

I've been addicted to this podcast for the past year or so. If you like horror/drama, you will LOVE this!
http://www.thenosleeppodcast.com/
My goal is to someday write a short story that would be read on this podcast. I am working on some ideas. You never know...

 

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I am student of life, poet, published author,musician, and a part-time philosopher. I have four daughters and a son. Twitter@dhoover2112