Leathered up and prepped for Sunday
Ain’t you got no time to play?
I had hoped to see you one day,
But I shot myself today.
Sun is shining in this winter,
In this autumn of my time.
Dreaming on and toward the heaven
Crystal, crimsoned pantomimes.
Laid upon a bed of tulips
Raise me up to see me smile
I am leaving now, but trust we
All shall all meet there in a while.
Toughened up. So pleased it’s Sunday.
Lost, but now I've found my way.
I had hoped to see you one day,
But I shot myself today.
Nineteen bullets and nineteen cigarettes . . .
Where am I?
Looking up
I see my shadow in the stars.
I see my withering contempt
And I am fine.
Who’s got time
But then
Who’s got the time to waste?
And who can taste the rotted sunshine
In the crimson of his life?
And where am I?
And am I lost
Or have I found the peace
That’s fodder for a wing?
And what’s begot but sorrow
On the crowning of the morrow
And the selfless dignity
Of whispered dreams.
So shoot the ghost . . .
For nothing is
And nothing seems
But shadowed fallen stars
Afraid to shine
And rotted wasted time.
One beer.
One bullet.
One cigarette.
And nothing yet
And nothing's here. , ,
But time.
A short while ago a friend of mine died. He is dead. I don’t believe in mincing words. I never have. He has not “passed away” nor has he “gone on to a better place” nor “drifted on” nor “slipped away". He was alive one instant and dead the next. Dead. Period. Here one moment; then gone. Gone.
The best we can ever do is celebrate the life.
This dude was a goof ball. I do not know how I could better start this off. Every hour we spent together was games and mindless banter. He was a cool diversion from things. A diversion but more at the center of me than it seemed, if that makes sense. He taught me a lot about life that no else ever could. He was always there for me but I never appreciated it more than I do now. I suppose that is the shame of it.
I do hope I enriched his life as much as he did mine. But I may never know.
As much as he showed me about life, so did he about death. The former took a lifetime. The latter took an instant.
Friends really only teach about those two things: life and death. The problem is we never fully take to heart the first lessons until after we have learned the last.
Festus died in the middle of his years. I see him him everywhere. I hear him everywhere. I feel him everywhere.
But he is gone.
11-17-08
A short while ago a friend of mine died. He is dead. I don’t believe in mincing words. I never have. He has not “passed away” nor has he “gone on to a better place” nor “drifted on” nor “slipped away". He was alive one instant and dead the next. Dead. Period. Here one moment; then gone. Gone.
The best we can ever do is celebrate the life.
This dude was a goof ball. I do not know how I could better start this off. Every hour we spent together was games and mindless banter. He was a cool diversion from things. A diversion but more at the center of me than it seemed, if that makes sense. He taught me a lot about life that no else ever could. He was always there for me but I never appreciated it more than I do now. I suppose that is the shame of it.
I do hope I enriched his life as much as he did mine. But I may never know.
As much as he showed me about life, so did he about death. The former took a lifetime. The latter took an instant.
Friends really only teach about those two things: life and death. The problem is we never fully take to heart the first lessons until after we have learned the last.
Festus died in the middle of his years. I see him him everywhere. I hear him everywhere. I feel him everywhere.
But he is gone.
11-17-08
how well have we earned?
how long, though we try,
have we felt each whisper
and burned through each sigh?
and how many suns set
with life still at bay
with rivers so journeyed
and journeyed away?
what of the fair soldier
not waking to dream?
still there as a trooper
but lost to the seams.
what debt that we owe him
enjoyed in sweet breath
can pleasant him forward
this life to the next?
and then, have we earned
and, oh, have we tried
to feel us each whisper
that burns through each sigh?
written for SSG Chad Arthur Caldwell, k troop 3/3 ACR. May he rest in peace.
(Stepped on an IED while assisting Iraqi Police)
*The title "Earn This" is taken from the movie "Saving Private Ryan".
[ I saw some pictures just the other day of a couple of babies and a little girl who surely would have flown to America and tortured me had they not been valiantly exploded by our brave soldiers. Thanks to your effort, no one's going to torture me but my own government. I'll probably deserve it though, or at least I assume so since I don't have to be given a trial.
FREEDOM, FUCK YEAH, GOOD JOB BOYS
"All are excellent followers. "
I bet they are.
Quick, there are Iranians on the horizon who want to take more of my freedom, you better go kill them while the government further reduces my civil liberty to ensure I am free. And you keep killing, who knew there were so many countries out there who were just about to invade us, good thing we have you huh?
I come to graymatternotes every chance I get (internet connections are sometimes flaky). Why? Because I look for every bit of connection with you that I can find. I do love you very much. You please me, woman. You take care of what is mine and that is what a woman is for a man. You take care of Festus, the house and, most of all, yourself. You are the greatest that I have to call my own. You make me trust you and that is just fine.
I do not often write when I come here. I start to but then I get sort of emotional and I stop.
Things are not bad here. Or, rather, they could be worse. I feel safe. The men around me are very well trained at protecting themselves and, to some extent, me. We look out for each other and there are extraordinary measures in effect to keep harm from us.
My job here is a complicated one. When it is all said and done, there will be over ten people who work for me just to help me accomplish my mission. They are all smart. Some are brilliant. Most are leaders. All are excellent followers. We will each lean on one another to ensure success. That is how the Army works.
I have met many Iraqis already. They are a dignified people. I have also been in contact with those that would cause harm to the citizens here. I have never seen such evil in my life. It is all a part of duty. It all adds a perspective to life. It all helps us (soldiers) to appreciate the treasure that is America as no one who has not served can. I often say that if you want to understand Freedom, ask a battle-hardened marine who has had to fight for some else’s. He knows the true value.
I think of you often.
If you love your niece, she should come to you.
Any quintessence must be tested from time to time in order to prove the metal. Love must be tested for its trueness to be known. Consider this your test. Consider this my test. Consider this a test of love as a quintessence. Will we be stronger when I return? If not, were we ever strong at all?
I breeze to you as on a summer's morning. None but the ends of time can keep this soul at bay
With Love,
Graymatter / TPS
Red-Head by the River - 2004
She crowns herself, a burning red
And eyes, they dance like rivers
As she wafts her sweet perfume
Along the meadowland and way.
And, lo. But who forgives her?
Every reed that marks her path.
And whistle – ling, they speak
Her tune and loud as she, herself
Is burning red.
Is burning red and watching,
Whispering and who shall speak
But the yard bird in tuxedo
Sloshing whiskey in his feet?
But, red, she lights herself
Upon a fire and
Singes up the lawn.
Blows a kiss
Back to her shadow
And she’s gone. . .
Still by the river does
The Day Sun, feels her
Waft upon her way.
Still by the river does
She waft upon her way.
Hollywood
Bowed-legged babies
Picking up stars
Hollywood searching
Back end of bars
Pigeon-toed sweetness
Tasting the rain
Dancing a dove,
Horse with no name
Love struck and sorry
Woeful with wine
Twisted and gloried
Laughing the line
Kissed it and found it
Life is about
Poured upon smiles
Squeezing all out
Riddles are fine for
Wisdom one speaks
Listening's where is
Truth that one keeps
So,
Pick up your baby
Press back the rain
If Hollywood’s searching,
Stars know her name.
You drunk me up
With your sweet wine
Of shining moon
And mescaline.
Come sigh.
Come sigh.
Come whisper near.
Fall from your Self
And fly.
And fly.
Let’s dance upon an angel’s tear
Embraced against
The widowed sky.
Come drunk us up
With pleasured wine
Of shining moon
And mescaline.
And if our passion,
It don’t prove,
We’ll feather down
To sip and soothe
So twist a fever
Up and riled
And twist a river clear.
And sigh.
And sigh.
And fall from Self
And come, babe,
Whisper near.
Copyright: © 2006 All Rights Reserved.
Smashing Pumpkins with Cinderella
I kidnapped Cinderella
From the parlor
At the ball
We two went
Smashing pumpkins
Drinking whiskies at the mall
We danced a little.
Played a fiddle.
Screaming toward the dawn.
And turned a twiddle
Cross the middle
Of an iced up pond
Say, baby, get your coat
I’m gonna take you
For a ride
My limo
Pimps and floats
On all the velboa inside
Cinderella . . .
Ella’s kidnapped
And she's riding high with me.
And two went
Smashing pumpkins
On a crisping autumn’s eve.
I thought about for a day and did it. Am I wrong for blocking someone just because they annoy me? I feel like the soup nazi or something.
Ode to the Red-legged Stranger
Artillery
Is planting daisies
Far beyond
Where lilacs grow
Lanyard’s might
Does still amaze me
And it’s more
Than I should know
Sing for me
My red-legged stranger
Pave the way
That is my path
They won’t know
Just what did hit them
All they know
Is red-leg’s wrath
Crease the wind
With thunder
And let fire
Dance like rain
Leave them gazed
And wondered
At the swiftness
Of the pain
Artillery
Is pushing daisies.
Over yon,
No lilacs be.
Red-leg’s might
Is still amazing
Lanyard’s taut
And I’m still free
philosophySuppose Mr. A dislikes Ms. B and kills her for no reason other than he prefers to live in a world without her. Has Mr. A done anything "wrong", "bad", or "sinful"? Why? What do words like "wrong" really mean? What I'm trying to understand is: on what basis should Mr. A refrain from killing Ms. B?
- Phil Haverstick
philosophyOne day, you wake up in hospital. In the nearby bed lies a world famous violinist who is connected to you with various tubes and machines.
To your horror, you discover that you have been kidnapped by the Music Appreciation Society. Aware of the maestro's impending death, they hooked you up to the violinist.
If you stay in the hospital bed, connected to the violinist, he will be totally cured in a few months. You are unlikely to suffer harm. No one else can save him. Should you stay connected? Or should you let him die?
What (if anything) would you think of the person who would let him die?
True Love
and on we go....: /
(no subject)