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We were young and immortal
Melancholy of what might be.
Is his experience different than mine?
I can't shake what surrounds me like a fog.
It's to close, fantasies fail me.
An old man once said in tears, all my friends are gone.
The meaning of his words roll in like the tide.
I've been shielded from things I can no longer avoid.
This isn't about me, just an echo from the future.
My reality is now things I can't bare to think.
I find no solace in trite words meant to comfort.
This is not about me but I fear it's presence around me.
There are no words, so I won't try.
Gerald, I'm sorry.
These words bare repeating.
Kindness is given gently by a generous heart
Alone in the darkness, you hear it's voice
It's warmth washes over you
I already miss the light she shared
Just got to sneezing so hard I had to grab the back of my head to keep it from fallin off.
Outhouse by Willie Makit
Desert Crossing by I. Rhoda Camel
School Truancy by Marcus Absent
Rusty Bedsprings by I. P. Freely
Under The Bleachers by Seymour Butts
These jokes are not new.
As a matter of fact these jokes are probably older than I am.
I also find that I have a renewed appreciation for Knock Knock Jokes.
My grandchildren can tell me the stupidest joke n I'll think it's just great.
As a matter of fact the stupider a joke is, the more I like it.
These jokes made me laugh when I was 8 years old n they make me laugh today.
Which hasta make you wonder.
Why is it that Old Men have the same sense of humor as there 8yr old self's did?
Does it have something to do with having seen a lot n yearning for a simpler time?
When did it get so complicated n who's driving.
My inner child had a better grip.
When you're young you want to be older so you can get on with it.
When you're older you wish for the grace of innocence.
If it wasn't so sad it would be funny.
Then you push on, with hope for the future.
To My Father
I've been thinking a lot about my father lately and how my family viewed him.
I don't know the facts as well as I should but I'll come as close as I can.
My father was born in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan in 1931 to my best guess.
That means he spent his childhood in the midst of the great depression.
The fact that Farwell Michigan back then was poor to begin with made life for him double difficult.
My father was born into a family of 7 or 8 children.
His father, my grandfather according to family history was 1/2 American Indian.
His mother died when he was 10-12 years old n his father became the town drunk very soon after that.
The children scattered, 1 to Canada to live with aunts, to the state n my father found shelter at 12 working on a farm.
His oldest sister Helen married as soon as she could to provide a home for as many of the children as she could.
By the end of WW2 my father was 14yrs old, somewhere between then n when he became a factory worker at Fisher Body in Lansing Michigan he served in the Coast Guard.
To me his life up to that point was pretty damn amazing life to have survived.
After finding work at Fisher Body my father met my mother, a Lansing girl.
I say it that way because my father was a Hill-Billy for lack of a better term with an education that ended at about the age of 12 n he had won the lottery by soon marrying a pretty city girl.
Don't think for a minute that her family thought much of him because they did not.
Once married my mother gave my father 5 sons of which I'm the second oldest.
After the childhood my father somehow managed to survive, this believe it or not is when my his life got complicated.
I believe now looking back at the behavior my father exhibited that he had the same shit going on in his brain that I do.
My Grandfather - Town Drunk who died from Alcoholism.
Three of the boys including my father plus one of his sisters, all Alcoholics.
My father got drunk ussually on wine every friday n saturday from the time I was about 12.
I believe my fathers Alcoholism was a direct result of him just trying to be happy.
Let's start with me, in 1969 I was diagnosed by a Navy Doctor as Schizophrenic with Masochistic tendencies.
Back in 69 that's what they called it, today I'd be labeled Bipolar, obsessive compulsive with dyslexia.
By the age of 19 I was an alcoholic n drug addict, like my father n my ancestors I was just trying to find happiness.
High Highs n low lows, for the next 25yrs I was like a yo-yo.
I didn't understand my illness like I do today.
Characteristics I now see that I shared with my father n to some extent my mother also are many.
My father loved creating crazy things, 2 into 1 was his favorite.
2 trucks make 1 truck n a fixation on lawn mowers, mine is plastic barrels.
He also once turned a 1956-58 ford station wagon into a truck by cutting it in half.
This trait that I share with him was so pronounced that it was a big part of his eulogy after his death from Alzheimer's.
It has taken most of my life to realize that I won't ever understand being happy like you do.
If I find myself happy I become filled with the dreadful knowledge that very soon I will be very depressed.
Happy to me is something you all get, my goal is steady in the middle, not happy n not depressed.
I call it 51/49, one bump over the line.
To put it mildly, my father is not well thought of by most of my brothers n family.
I believe that this is a huge lack of understanding for the life he lived n I believe the mental problems that he was trying to deal with in a time that didn't understand them.
Hell, in my lifetime alone these things are just starting to be understood.
My father n his family turned to a lifetime of alcohol like I once did.
It's the only thing they knew to try n find peace.
At 20yrs old I started a 25yr journey to sort myself out without alcohol or doctors.
So far so good.
ps to the young folk that might read this.
Psychedelics, LSD n Magic Mushrooms are not the answer for people with mental issues.
The last thing a trouble mind needs is to be screwed with by mind altering drugs, trust me I tried it a lot. It only made my journey longer.
After Pez Outlaw, I intend to retire.
