Facebook Fighting

Everybody was Facebook fighting

Their fingers moved fast as lightning

The amount of hate they spewed was frightening

Those with knowledge were not uniting

Even friends became backbiting

Socializing is no longer inviting

Going outside is not enticing

Everything is viewed as just sufficing

This new word is not exciting

I’m going to turn my light off and stop writing

(Because)

Everybody is Facebook fighting

I Want A New Friend

Created in 2016 with credit to “I want a New Drug” by Huey Lewis & the News

I want a new friend
One that won’t make me sick
One that won’t leave a scar
Or make me feel like I’ve been hit with a brick
  
I want a new friend
One that won’t hurt my head
One that won’t make me frown
Or make my eyes too red
  
One that won’t make me nervous
Wondering what to do
One that makes me feel like I feel when I’m chillin’
When I’m chillin’ out happy and not blue
  
I want a new friend
One that is so chill
One that don’t bitch too much
Or becomes a big pill
 
I want a new friend
One that won't go away
One that won't want to fight 
One that won't find anything nasty to say
 
One that won’t make me nervous
Wondering what to do 
One that makes me feel like I feel when I’m chillin’
When I’m chillin’ out happy and not blue
 
I want a new friend
One that does what they say they would
One that won't make me feel too sad
One that won't make me feel too mad
 
I want a new friend
One with no doubt
One that won't make me cry too much
One that won’t spill all my secrets out

One that won’t make me nervous
Wondering what to do
One that makes me feel like I feel when I’m chillin’
When I’m chillin’ out happy and not blue

Rest

Now I lay me down to rest

I think about how I failed the test

Life tests me every day

From failure I can’t get away

It is the same thoughts every night

My mind is in a constant fight

To give up, to give in

I wish I could because I know I’ll never win

But that’s another failure of mine

Too chicken to end this daily grind

I muddle through daily tasks

Always wearing some sort of mask

No one knows the real me

Not even I can see

This limbo no one should endure

Melancholy has no cure

So when I put my head to rest

I can’t help but to think of all of life’s mess

I wonder if there’s anyone there

I wonder if anyone cares

I hope that I have a soul

And I’m not just an empty hole

I think about how life would be

And if anyone would really miss me

I shed a tear and close my eyes

I silently whisper my good byes

I hope death comes while I sleep

For this heartache I can no longer keep

Disowned

In all these years we barely spoke

I’m sure my life to you was a joke

Innocence I never claimed

But hatred was not my game

I wished you cared enough to clear the air

To explain how you thought you were fair

Yet you couldn’t cross the line you drew in the sand

‘Cause that would make you a different man

It was your line, you pushed me over

A little girls love you so easily rolled over

You broke my heart, tore it apart

You made sure there was nothing to restart

Your life there, mine here

Never holding out hope

That our family would reconstruct

I knew I was out of luck

The separation you wanted was the only thing that was clear

Making me wonder if you ever held me dear…….

Uncle

I remember the days when I was young

Going to your house was so much fun

Playing upstairs or in the yard

Having fun was never hard

The sleepovers and starry night adventures

Are memories I have always treasured

Then arrived the stormy weather

Those days I was too young to remember

The who’s, what’s, where’s, how’s, and why’s

Are all things I cannot recognize

What I do remember clearly

Is the feeling of being cast aside so severely

It wasn’t fast, but slow

It only made the pain grow

Gone was all the fun

Our starry night adventures were done

Everything disappeared

Including your smile, the twinkle in your eye when I neared

You chose someone else to take my place

You chose not to see my face

On a pedestal you put her

For me it was a painful blur

No one ever explained

To this day I don’t know the cause of your disdain

All I know is that you caused me pain

And that I have never been the same

I hope you’re at peace with your choices

Now that you can no longer hear any voices

For it is you that has to reconcile

The loss of family……………

………………………and my smile.

Looks And Whispers

Listen, I don’t have a problem with anyone.

Not you, or you, or even you!

But it’s obvious I don’t fit.

I feel ostracized where ever I sit.

A few roll their eyes when I talk.

Some bump me when they walk.

They turn their backs to me and whisper.

Snakes tongues – they slither.

Why are they so bitter?

Is it my looks, my tone, my color?

Am I sus in some way?

Is there anything reassuring I can say?

My mere presence seems to offend.

I really don’t understand.

I’m here the same as them.

No better – I feel – in opportunity.

To work hard and succeed in our community.

The takeaway, the gist.

The painful lesson that always seems to exist.

I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

Not everyone’s a friend to me.

She Stood

She stood in disbelief as he walked out the door. Tears streamed down her face. She paced. She had no clue what to do. She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room looking at the back door from which he just left.

She stood in disbelief as the policemen walked in her front door. Tears streamed down her face. She paced. She had no clue what to do. She didn’t hear a word. She stood in the doorway between the hallway and the living room looking into the kitchen and at the back door from which he left.

She stood in disbelief as people filed passed her. No tears fell down her face. She didn’t pace. She had no clue what to do. She stood, accepting condolences and listening to stories that brought others joy, picturing the back door from which he left.

She stood in disbelief as everyone walked slowly to their cars. Tears once again fell down her face. She didn’t pace, she didn’t move. She had no clue what to do. She stood, in silence – head lowered and shoulders hunched, looking into the deep dark hole and picturing the back door from which he left.

She stood in disbelief in the front yard of those she called family. She wiped away her tears. She walked slowly to the front door. She had no clue what to do. She walked in, silently, and watched people talk, mingle, eat, and laugh. She stood against the wall and looked through the living room into the kitchen at a back door he once used and sighed.

She stood in disbelief outside on the porch looking the back door. Tears once again flowing freely down her face. Hand on the doorknob, shaking. She couldn’t move. She had no clue what to do. With a deep breath she opened the door. She walked over the threshold into their home, alone. The first of many times to come, she realized. Closing the door, the room enveloped her. In that instance she became so aware of the vast emptiness of her soul. She turned and stared at the back door from which he left.

She stood.

Late Night Rendez-vous

She held her breath has she looked out her third-floor window. She was waiting, anxiously, to see him walking down the street toward her house. She was both excited and nervous. “Would she be able to sneak him in?” she asked herself as she took turns pacing the length of her bedroom floor and looking out the window. “Will the stairs creak?” and “Will my parents wake up?” were two other questions that crossed her mind as she waited. Her worries quickly disappeared when she saw the tall figure walking purposefully down the street. She waited by the window until the figure made it to the sidewalk in front of her house. She let out her breath, turned and crossed her room toward the door.

She quietly made her way down the stairs from her bedroom in the dark. Turning on the light would certainly wake her parents. Counting each step as she went, avoiding the broken one, she excitingly touched the 13^th, and last, step in silence. She quietly made her way from the bottom step through the short hallway past her parents’ room and through the kitchen to the door. She saw his silhouette through the glass. He was waiting patiently in the dark. His journey, up a flight of old creaky narrow steps, was a success as well.

She slowly opened the door to let him in, avoiding the creak that is usually there. She had to stop and stare. So tall, so handsome. He had some years on her, some more wisdom, and some more experience. She gazed at him in wonder, amazed he was even at her door. She shook her head – “Snap out of it!” she thought. She quickly refocused her attention on the task at hand, getting back up the stairs to her bedroom with him in tow.

She closed the door and they moved silently and swiftly, following the same path she took only a few minutes earlier, towards the stairs. He was tall, so dreamily tall, that he had to duck under the door frame that led to the third-floor bedroom which, until this night, he had never seen before. With expert steps, they made their way quietly up those 13 steps to her bedroom. Once inside, they closed the door. Their bodies, tense with anxiety, finally showed signs of relaxing.

“What now?” she thought. It seemed, now, that getting him in her bedroom was the easy part. What did she expect to happen now? “What does he expect?” she thought to herself. Conversation that was easy and free-flowing during the day, with their friends in public, was now nonexistent. “Who should speak first?” she thought. An uneasy feeling, a nervousness, flooded over her. Self-doubt filled her thoughts. She now questioned her decisions from the invitation to the opening of the door. Then he turned around and all her uneasiness melted away.

All this time, he was unaware of what she was thinking and feeling. He was removing his coat, putting down his bag, and getting ready to sit down at her desk in the hard chair. It was the chair or the bed, and choosing the chair made all her nervousness subside for the moment. He sat and gazed at her. She looked back at him. She sat on the bed and the conversation that was nonexistent only a few seconds ago came easily now. The room melted away for her. It didn’t matter where they were. She felt comfortable now. There was no worry about expectations or concern about why he was here or what would happen next.

They talked, for what seemed liked hours, about everything. He was so smart. He loved to read. He knew Shakespeare and could quote Hamlet. He wrote sonnets and poems, experimenting with short meaningful memories and feelings. He was mysterious to her, he captured not only her attention but her intrigue. He would soon capture her heart as well.

He got up to stretch. She did the same. The clock read 3:45 am. They had been talking for three hours. He asked where the bathroom was. It was off the kitchen, down those stairs and close to her parents’ bedroom. Was that a trip he was willing to make? Would it be better for him to just head for the door instead of trying to make it down and then up those stairs again? These were all questions they tossed back and forth quietly at the top of the stairs, just outside her bedroom door.

He wanted to stay with her longer, so he decided he would risk the trip down and back up those stairs. He went alone and quietly, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame at the bottom the stairs. His return trip was quick, but no so quiet because he forgot to duck, and he hit his head. He did make it back up the stairs and into the safety of her bedroom, head in hand.

She closed the door. She held back her smile. After all, she did warn him about having to duck. She asked him to move his hand, so she could see his head. He sat down in the chair, she crossed the room towards him. He moved his hand, she parted his hair. He looked up at her, put his hands around her waist and pulled her close. She let out a little gasp. She looked down at him, met his gaze, and held her breath…….

The Pavement And Four-Legged Road Blocks

Having finally driven the perilous length of a narrow dirt road filled with ruts and rocks through a forest, the pavement was a welcome sight. It only took us a little over an hour to make that drive, but it felt a lot longer. Because the car’s undercarriage hit several rocks as I was driving down the dirt road, as soon as the four wheels touched the paved road, I stopped so that I could check for any damages.

I opened the car door, stepped outside, and took a breath, but before I could even close the door to start my inspection, I heard something. I turned to look and saw a goat, a very big goat. It was larger than most goats, with a head higher than my waist. It was grey and white with horns, and it was coming in my direction at a steady pace. I stood still next to my car, which was between me and the goat. I was hoping the goat didn’t see me and would just keep going, focused on something else. I held my breath. The goat let out a bleat which echoed. That bleat alerted everyone in the car to look for what I already saw. As they turned to look, more goats started coming from the woods that we just left. They headed our way and I was urged to get into the car.

I couldn’t get in the car without checking underneath to make sure there were no leaks or other damage that might get us stuck somewhere else along our Saturday adventure route through the backroads of Connecticut’s small towns. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “They’re goats, what harm could they do?”

I preceded to get down on one knee and bend to look under the car next to my door. As I looked under the car, I saw four goat feet on the other side. I held my breath and kept looking under the car moving from the front wheel to just before the back wheel. Then I felt it. A hot nose on my back. Well, I was hoping it was a hot nose. And a goat’s nose. I turned my head slowly to the right and sure enough I was looking right into the lowered face of the grey and white goat. I slowly got up and the goat nudged me. I was now up against my car. We were surrounded by goats. Okay, we felt surrounded, but there was only four of them – but they were huge and perfectly positioned to block every door and me from moving.

“What could it hurt?” I said quietly to myself as I reached my hand out to touch the goat. The goat’s coat was fine and course, rough to the touch. I don’t know if the goat was enjoying being touched, but there was no sign of discomfort nor any movement to get away from my hand. I continued to pet the goat and encourage the others to roll their windows down to pet the goats that hung out by their doors. We couldn’t move, both because the goats weren’t moving – my four-legged road blocks – and because I wanted to finish looking at the underside of my car. We had the time, so what harm could a little goat petting do? Everyone in the car rolled their windows down and began to pet their goat.

While petting my goat, I heard “Hello!” and saw a gentleman approaching. He was coming from the red house, which was a ways off the paved road we were stopped in the middle of. He stepped onto the pavement and headed straight for the car. When he arrived, he asked if his goats were bothering us. “Of course not!” we all replied. He asked if we were lost, if everything was okay, and where we were going. I explained that we were kind of lost, but that was all part of enjoying our Saturday adventure.

With a wave of his hand, the goats wandered away, back into the woods from which they came. He began talking to my passengers as I bent back down and continued to inspect the underside of the car. We had been parked long enough for the pavement to show any leaks, and the pavement under my car was dry. I sighed and whispered, “Thank God.” I’ll take the few scratches as mementos of the road less traveled.

I walked back around the car to the passenger side to join the conversation. The gentleman asked, “Car trouble?” I responded, “Thankfully not, especially since we hit bottom a couple times on that dirt road.” He exclaimed, “You came from there?” pointing at the dirt road behind us, “In that?” I replied, “Yes, sir!” His mouth was agape. He was amazed we made it down that road and told us only trucks use it and not very often. He was surprised that the road was passable for a minivan and still connected at the other end to a paved road. I told him I had no choice but to go forward because there was no place wide enough turn around, and I wasn’t driving out backwards. He chuckled.

We all shook hands and exchanged pleasant goodbyes. He wished us well and told us to enjoy the rest of our journey. I thanked him for letting us pet his goats and got into my car. I turned the key and waved goodbye has he walked back down the driveway to his house. The red house, the rock walls, and the tree-lined dirt road slowly started to disappear in my rearview mirror as I drove toward home looking for a quaint place to stop and eat and relive our adventure.

Itinerant Cognizance