I've never ridden on a dirt bike before
I think I could do it
Just put gas in the tank and turn it on
Rev the engine a bit and get going
then you go off a jump
Do a sweet twist in the air
Maybe some donuts in the dirt
Cause a dust storm, a mini one anyway
I guess that's how you do it
Do a sick jump on a dirt bike...
Maybe...
And now I shall say something illogically logical.
If you could go back in time to the past and change the future, could you go forward in time and change the past?
Think about that while you're eating your fruit rollups and drinking sodi-pop.
Also I can't count to like twenty in Spanish.
Also I like dogs. And cats sometimes.
Ok I'm done.
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Friday, August 25, 2017
This Is Goodbye
He stood on the edge of the bridge. It was late. Past midnight. There were no cars coming by and no one saw him. No one would stop him. He wanted someone to stop him, deep down. But no one was there. Not a soul. Just the empty road below him and the empty road behind him.
No street lamps either. Well there was one, but it was out. Typical. Typical for his city. Such a crap-hole. Whatever, it wasn't his problem anymore. He looked down. The cool night air gently rustled past his hair. He needed a haircut. Maybe he'd get one tomorrow. Or not.
He looked up at the stars. So many stars. Just a crescent moon, smiling at him all lopsided like. So many stars. The air brushed past him again, seemingly colder than before. It was nice though. The day had been hot and muggy. Now it was cool and crisp out. The day. Oh man.
What a day. Late to work do to a flat tire for the first time in his life. Yeah, he'd never been late to work before, ever. But that didn't stop his boss from yelling at him in front of the whole darn office. Making him looking like a fool. Like an idiot, like it was his fault he had gotten a flat tire of the way to work and had to change it on the side of the stupid freeway. Everything went wrong that day.
Every day was a living hell for him but today had been the last straw, which was why he was here. Not only had his boss yelled at him but an hour later a meeting was calling listing all the employees being laid off in a month. He was on the list. Oh joy, now to look for another job. He'd been laid off more times than he could count in the past few years. It wasn't his work, he was a great employee. It was economy. The crappy economy in his crap-hole city. Then on his lunch break he spilled coffee all over himself. Not a big deal, except he was yelled at again for not having a clean suit in the office. Again, like it was his fault. Stupid Debrah had bumped into him. So that was his day at work. When he got home he had a lovely eviction notice on his door. Some bull crap about the neighbors complaining about his piano playing. This was not possible since he had an electric piano which he used headphones for. There was no way. No way the neighbors could hear him playing. Not only that but he had never even received any complaints personally. It was all bull crap.
Things just weren't working out for him. They never had. From his dad leaving the family at the age of seven to his mom becoming an abusive alcoholic shortly after, and then being bullied all through school up until college. College wasn't much better. He did great in his classes but he had no friends, and no one wanted to be his friend it seemed.
Except her. Emily. She was a God-send. She was the only good thing...and THE ONLY good thing in his life. She's been there for him through most of his college, through most of his career life, and she was with him now. He was going to marry her some day. He was. Not anymore. That was the last thing he had to do. He had to call Emily. Just hear her voice one last time.
He dialed her number and stared up into the sky again as the phone rang. He was afraid she wouldn't pick up but then...
"Hello?"
"Emily..."
"Hey honey, how are you?"
"Emily...I'm so sorry..."
"What? What are you sorry for?"
"Emily...this is goodbye..."
"What? What are you talking abo-"
The stars twinkled down and the moon kept smiling sideways. The gentle breeze blew and the night went on. His body lay almost peacefully on the blacktop below the bridge. His shattered phone lay next to him, the cracked screen displaying a picture of him and Emily. They were both smiling.
No street lamps either. Well there was one, but it was out. Typical. Typical for his city. Such a crap-hole. Whatever, it wasn't his problem anymore. He looked down. The cool night air gently rustled past his hair. He needed a haircut. Maybe he'd get one tomorrow. Or not.
He looked up at the stars. So many stars. Just a crescent moon, smiling at him all lopsided like. So many stars. The air brushed past him again, seemingly colder than before. It was nice though. The day had been hot and muggy. Now it was cool and crisp out. The day. Oh man.
What a day. Late to work do to a flat tire for the first time in his life. Yeah, he'd never been late to work before, ever. But that didn't stop his boss from yelling at him in front of the whole darn office. Making him looking like a fool. Like an idiot, like it was his fault he had gotten a flat tire of the way to work and had to change it on the side of the stupid freeway. Everything went wrong that day.
Every day was a living hell for him but today had been the last straw, which was why he was here. Not only had his boss yelled at him but an hour later a meeting was calling listing all the employees being laid off in a month. He was on the list. Oh joy, now to look for another job. He'd been laid off more times than he could count in the past few years. It wasn't his work, he was a great employee. It was economy. The crappy economy in his crap-hole city. Then on his lunch break he spilled coffee all over himself. Not a big deal, except he was yelled at again for not having a clean suit in the office. Again, like it was his fault. Stupid Debrah had bumped into him. So that was his day at work. When he got home he had a lovely eviction notice on his door. Some bull crap about the neighbors complaining about his piano playing. This was not possible since he had an electric piano which he used headphones for. There was no way. No way the neighbors could hear him playing. Not only that but he had never even received any complaints personally. It was all bull crap.
Things just weren't working out for him. They never had. From his dad leaving the family at the age of seven to his mom becoming an abusive alcoholic shortly after, and then being bullied all through school up until college. College wasn't much better. He did great in his classes but he had no friends, and no one wanted to be his friend it seemed.
Except her. Emily. She was a God-send. She was the only good thing...and THE ONLY good thing in his life. She's been there for him through most of his college, through most of his career life, and she was with him now. He was going to marry her some day. He was. Not anymore. That was the last thing he had to do. He had to call Emily. Just hear her voice one last time.
He dialed her number and stared up into the sky again as the phone rang. He was afraid she wouldn't pick up but then...
"Hello?"
"Emily..."
"Hey honey, how are you?"
"Emily...I'm so sorry..."
"What? What are you sorry for?"
"Emily...this is goodbye..."
"What? What are you talking abo-"
The stars twinkled down and the moon kept smiling sideways. The gentle breeze blew and the night went on. His body lay almost peacefully on the blacktop below the bridge. His shattered phone lay next to him, the cracked screen displaying a picture of him and Emily. They were both smiling.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Caddlemen Estate
Rain splattered the muddy ground relentlessly. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped and the horses reared their heads in anger as the drive whipped them endlessly, urging them forward down the road. Inside the carriage sat a man whose name had not been heard in those parts for a decade. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and a long dark beard. He was young, but his face was worn, as though he were older. He had seen many a rough time in his life, even though he was in fact young. He was but twenty-five years of age. His name was Ashton. He was the last surviving heir of the Caddlemen family. He had left when he was fifteen to work in the city. Upon hearing of his parents death, and that their mansion was granted to him along with their fortune he was returning to his home town of Crem to settle the business with the estate.
And he arrived. The front gates were blowing around in the wind and creaking eerily. The great mansion looked disturbingly haunted in the dark stormy weather. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows. Ashton thought this was strange as there wasn't supposed to be anyone in the house. He approached the door, and as he did so the light upstairs went out. He took out the key and unlocked the front door. It opened with a loud groan of old wood and hinges. He stepped inside and took off his coat and hung it on the coat hanger next to the entrance. He squinted around in the dark and spotted a candle sitting on the center table in the middle of the room. He approached it and took out his matchbook and lit the candle. The flame flickered to life and settled warmly as he raised the candle above his head to see a view of the room. It was a large entry with the center table in the middle, two tables against the side walls and two sets of stairs leading up to the second and third levels. Lighting lit up the inside of the house here and there, and thunder continued to grumble and rumble outside.
"Hello?" Ashton called out. "Is anyone here?"
He made his way upstairs, holding the candle out in front of him.
Outside the driver unloaded his luggage and then left, heading back towards town.
Inside there was silence.
Caddlemen estate stayed silent forever more. Talk of what happened to Ashton stirred in Crem for decades after that. But no one knew for certain. Lights went on and off in the house, shadowy figures were seen through the windows and someone said they saw Ashton walking the grounds one early, foggy morning. Some said they heard screams coming from the mansion at night or during the day. But ivy slowly enveloped the mansion and windows were covered in dust and dirt. Kids would dare each other to get close to the house. But that ended when a child entered the house and never came back. The parents begged the police to search the house but the police insisted the child and simply run away from home. In reality everyone knew even the police were to afraid of the house to search it.
Ashton sat in his chair up on the second level. It was a large chair, leather bound and quite comfortable. He sat next to the fire. His body was all but lifeless it seemed. Deep sunken eyes, long gray, stringy hair and beard, and his clothes torn and his skin gray and rotting. He mumbled to himself as he stared into the fire. The dead child's skin lay on the ground on front of the fire as a rug. The unholy spirits circled Ashton as he smirked and mumbled as he stared at the flames. This was his estate, and his rules. The spirits made him. They knew him, and he knew them. This was Caddlemen Estate.
And he arrived. The front gates were blowing around in the wind and creaking eerily. The great mansion looked disturbingly haunted in the dark stormy weather. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows. Ashton thought this was strange as there wasn't supposed to be anyone in the house. He approached the door, and as he did so the light upstairs went out. He took out the key and unlocked the front door. It opened with a loud groan of old wood and hinges. He stepped inside and took off his coat and hung it on the coat hanger next to the entrance. He squinted around in the dark and spotted a candle sitting on the center table in the middle of the room. He approached it and took out his matchbook and lit the candle. The flame flickered to life and settled warmly as he raised the candle above his head to see a view of the room. It was a large entry with the center table in the middle, two tables against the side walls and two sets of stairs leading up to the second and third levels. Lighting lit up the inside of the house here and there, and thunder continued to grumble and rumble outside.
"Hello?" Ashton called out. "Is anyone here?"
He made his way upstairs, holding the candle out in front of him.
Outside the driver unloaded his luggage and then left, heading back towards town.
Inside there was silence.
Caddlemen estate stayed silent forever more. Talk of what happened to Ashton stirred in Crem for decades after that. But no one knew for certain. Lights went on and off in the house, shadowy figures were seen through the windows and someone said they saw Ashton walking the grounds one early, foggy morning. Some said they heard screams coming from the mansion at night or during the day. But ivy slowly enveloped the mansion and windows were covered in dust and dirt. Kids would dare each other to get close to the house. But that ended when a child entered the house and never came back. The parents begged the police to search the house but the police insisted the child and simply run away from home. In reality everyone knew even the police were to afraid of the house to search it.
Ashton sat in his chair up on the second level. It was a large chair, leather bound and quite comfortable. He sat next to the fire. His body was all but lifeless it seemed. Deep sunken eyes, long gray, stringy hair and beard, and his clothes torn and his skin gray and rotting. He mumbled to himself as he stared into the fire. The dead child's skin lay on the ground on front of the fire as a rug. The unholy spirits circled Ashton as he smirked and mumbled as he stared at the flames. This was his estate, and his rules. The spirits made him. They knew him, and he knew them. This was Caddlemen Estate.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
People Like That
They're angry, they're mad, they're scared
There's people like that
They're happy and glad, and exhausted with life
There's people like that
He's a coward, she's a wimp, they're just afraid
There's people like that
He's a hero, she's a champion, they're overcomers
There's people like that
He's a psycho, she's a freak, they're a little messed up
Yeah there's people like that
He's a murderer, she's a thief, they're criminals
Yeah there's people like that
He's a straight, she's gay, they're homosexuals
There's people like that
He's religious, she's an atheist, they have their differences
Yeah there's people like that
He's black, she's white, there's different color skin
Yes, there are people like that
And so what? Who cares? Aren't we all people, made in His image?
Yes there are all sorts of people
And God loves them all
He's loved, she's loved, we're all loved
Yes, we're people like that
There's people like that
They're happy and glad, and exhausted with life
There's people like that
He's a coward, she's a wimp, they're just afraid
There's people like that
He's a hero, she's a champion, they're overcomers
There's people like that
He's a psycho, she's a freak, they're a little messed up
Yeah there's people like that
He's a murderer, she's a thief, they're criminals
Yeah there's people like that
He's a straight, she's gay, they're homosexuals
There's people like that
He's religious, she's an atheist, they have their differences
Yeah there's people like that
He's black, she's white, there's different color skin
Yes, there are people like that
And so what? Who cares? Aren't we all people, made in His image?
Yes there are all sorts of people
And God loves them all
He's loved, she's loved, we're all loved
Yes, we're people like that
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Epitome
A.
B.
C.
The very first three
Reasons why
1.
2.
3.
Trying to set you free
And I'm alive
So an animal can drink from the river
But I can't, my mouth is sealed shut
Stricken down by a single blow to the mind
Of another kind, from somewhere far away
And if a man can't find himself
What does he have left?
An empty shell, of knowledge and pain
Planning to dispute the epitome of anger
B.
C.
The very first three
Reasons why
1.
2.
3.
Trying to set you free
And I'm alive
So an animal can drink from the river
But I can't, my mouth is sealed shut
Stricken down by a single blow to the mind
Of another kind, from somewhere far away
And if a man can't find himself
What does he have left?
An empty shell, of knowledge and pain
Planning to dispute the epitome of anger
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Bless the Lord
Crawling up my spine
Like a spider up its web
These chills up and down
Separating truth from doubt
And the purpose of it all
Is to end what pain has given
In the end who matters
Is the beginning of who doesn't
Every breath is a gift
Every death is a blessing
All this pain is your fault
And the scars are there to bare
But the chills render me useless
As I fall to my bloodied knees
I speak to myself
I know the truth is real
And I bless the Lord
O my soul
Bless the Lord
Who brought me here
Like a spider up its web
These chills up and down
Separating truth from doubt
And the purpose of it all
Is to end what pain has given
In the end who matters
Is the beginning of who doesn't
Every breath is a gift
Every death is a blessing
All this pain is your fault
And the scars are there to bare
But the chills render me useless
As I fall to my bloodied knees
I speak to myself
I know the truth is real
And I bless the Lord
O my soul
Bless the Lord
Who brought me here
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