blather.

It is something in the pit of my stomach that has this happy buzz about it.
It makes me want to run, to leap, to splash.
So, I run, I leap, I splash.
My head tilted to the sky, the grey mass above me not doing anything to damper my mood.
I squeal as my toes hit the cold surface of the water, and shout with glee as the slight trickle of rain becomes incessant downpour.
Sometimes, I talk like a child, I think like a child, I act like a child.
Strange? No.
Because, usually it's under the influence of coffee.

Don't Touch Me

Bullets cascade around me, explosions echo, dirt flies into my face

But I’ve got him, my brother

My arms are clinging tight

I see beyond his bloody face, soldiers in grey camo

running toward me, shooting faceless as they come

But then their hands are on my back, pulling me away. “He’s already dead, soldier, let’s go!”

But I’m screaming, thrashing, “Don’t touch me!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, buddy,” one shouts into my ear.

They pry me away.

I’m weeping. Like a baby.

“Let me go!”
They hold tight.

But my brother, don’t fear.

I swear we’ll meet again

Cogito

I am the telltale heart.

I am the monster under your floorboards.

I am that ghost you hear crying.

I am that child you ignored.

I am that man in the night-the one that takes control.

I am that face in the painting.

I am that villain seeing green.

I am that death that served your loved one. 

I am the authors conscience.

I am what drives their minds. 

I am what makes them lose their sanity. 

Without me, the famous ones wouldn’t not have existed. 

Without me, there would be no literary genius.

I am the hidden puppeteer. 

Autumn of Life

He laid his head back on the pillow with a sigh. It was a crisp autumn morning and he had wakened earlier than he had anticipated. But then, since his wife died, his schedule became much looser. His wife would always wake him earlier than he wanted. Now she was gone, he couldn’t stay asleep. He reached to the nightstand and retrieved his glasses.

He gave an arthritic grunt as he rose from bed.

Another day, another day, we all arise for another day, the thought echoed through his brain.

And as he got ready, he thought of his wife.

Missed in the Morning

I woke up to a gray everywhere, a half hour after my alarm sang me awake the first time. I took vitamins, made coffee, i.e. only the essentials.

Forgot something? Lunch.

I couldn’t miss the droplets in the air, suspended, no dodging between those.

But you, I miss you every morning. It isn’t right or natural.

It ought to be you to make up for my clumsy morning brain. You ought to kiss me goodbye before the separation of the day begins, and we don’t even mind because every day we know that we are coming home to each other.

super

Excuse me, sir? Do you ever get tired of this? Do you ever become weary of being the good guy? I saw the montage. I know how you became this way. I know why you fight.

Doesn’t it become exhausting? How do you get up every morning, knowing that again you’ll sacrifice your body and possibly even your life to save the people?        

Because someone has to fight the villains we aren’t strong enough to battle.

Because someone has to take the punches that would kill us.

Because someone has to rise above.

I’m just glad it’s you, not me.

The traveling log {part 2}

Day 14: Two weeks into this trip. Realized this morning that my boat was still tethered to the dock. That explains a lot.

Day 15: Finally making some progress here. I’m about half way to the middle of the lake. The wind is helping a lot.

Day 16: made it! The view from out here is amazing. So glad to be safe from the people who burn.

Day 17: Enjoying freedom.

Day 18: Having some trouble sleeping. The weather has been decent, rain when I’m thirsty, sun when I’m cold.

Day 19: Feeling more rested today. I’ve never been happier.

Peter (for 5.21.13)

Jesus rebuked me today. It was just that he was talking about how he was going to die and be murdered and he can’t die! He told me I didn’t understand, that I was setting my mind on things of man. But doesn’t he understand? I left everything. There is no going back. If he dies that’s the end for all the others and me. He can’t leave us now. Doesn’t he see all he’s doing? All the good that is happening through him?

“Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

(1 Corinthians 13:12)