The Elephant

Diabetic sycophant elephant in the room. When the sugar rush is no longer relevant, the malevolent turns to you.  A water to wine miracle, when the constant cravings become unbearable, what's a man to do?

come on, let me see your face, smell your hair and dig my claws in you.  Vampirical succubus with your agnostic views.  Constant cravings for angel wings wearing toxic shoes.  If the tiara truly made a queen, I'd probably wear one, too. 


Constant cravings for a father's scream; approval of the divine.  I don't think you know, don't think you care.  How do I make you mine?  The insanity of gravity as I float between space and time.  Oxygen is secondary, this creation needs a redesign.  Burn it down, rebuild again. These constant cravings are not benign. 


Cancerous host clings to me and hypochondria settles in.  She's my dream, my insomnia, my sickness and medicine.  Constant cravings for a cure of this twisted paradox is my shifting paradigm.

Come on, Savior, the elephant's in the room.  Shoot it now, Take it down, what else is a man to do?  I don't want to be the beneficiary of this ill gotten ivory but these constant cravings have taken over me. 

Reclusive sycophant, tell me what you see.  Its been way too long not long enough since she's complimented me.  Constant cravings, my adversary, continue drowning me. That sugar rush, my succubus, smiles so charmingly. 

The constant cravings of the elephant are no longer relevant when you're trampled under foot.  Come on, I can't breathe in here, believe in here;  whats a man to do?  This sycophant cannot stand to see it crushing you. 

Somebody kill the elephant standing in the room.

The Smell of Fear

I stood on that sandy surface next to the rusty old swing set on the playground of that Catholic School.  Second grade recess consisted of innocent games of kissy chase, informal weddings and a simple fascination of climbing higher and higher on that archaic swing set.

A bee once landed on the bridge of my nose during recess.  Like the brave hero I've always believed myself to be, I ran around in a circle like a dog chasing his own tail; screaming as loud as I could.  The bee just sat there;  It was as if it was taunting me; letting me know he was boss. 

Sister Daphne calmly approached me; mumbled some words of comfort and if I'm not mistaken, she said, "The power of Christ compels you".  I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or the bee.  Eventually, that little weaponized insect flew off into the distance; stinger intact.

That might have been my first experience with fear.  They say fear causes paralysis.  I have these dreams sometimes where I am being attacked and in my dread, my need to scream for help, the words won't leave my mouth.  I'm screaming but no sounds are occurring.  I suppose paralyzing fear is more of a metaphor and I say that because in my extreme sense of fear of that bee, I was doing the exact opposite of standing still. 

I kind of liked my one year of Catholic school.  This was all due to our uniforms.  Mom couldn't afford fancy brand name clothes for me so wearing that green plaid button up shirt with dark pants just like everyone else made me feel as rich and as poor as everyone else.  In second grade, there are plenty of ways of expressing your own individuality without resorting to superficial measures like clothes.  And to make matters even better, I lived so close to this school, I simply walked to and fro every single day.  No one had to see or hear the banana colored muffler-less car that was the symbol of my mom's financial struggles.


Fast forward.  Skip the eight years of Christian school and three years of college.  Fast forward through my twenties where I had the best friends a man can have and learned many lessons of unrequited love.  Fast forward through my early thirties where I learned about addiction.  And death.   And being co-dependent.  And failure.  And success.  Even a small degree of wealth.  And more addiction. 

Fast forward through those late thirties where I learned about unconditional love.  Fast forward through the sharp double edged sword of being dumped and the pieces of a glass heart strewn recklessly in front of my face; only to be glued back together when a second chance was ultimately my reward. 

Fast forward through all those years because fear was not a part of my daily routine.  Worry, concern; none of that even truly existed in my well insulated bubble.  If ignorance is bliss then bliss is a mirage of delusion.  Those who prefer well insulated bubbles are the ones who will learn about the true meaning of paralyzing fear later on. 

Here I am in my early forties; feeling as young as I ever have.  Despite those moments of jaw dropping horror like when I'm watching Forrest Gump and realizing it was made 20 years ago or when I heard the Karate Kid was now 52 years old... despite those moments where I am reminded that my calender is quickly running out of days... despite the random gray hairs that occasionally appear out of nowhere... despite all of the fear that consumes my entire day, I feel more alive than I ever have. 

If knowledge is power and if that knowledge elicits fear, then I dare say, fear is bliss.

I was standing in my front yard late this afternoon fumbling through my mail.  A lonely old bee buzzed around my head and then for about 15 seconds, it seemed to be suspended in mid-flight.  Eyes to eyes, we just stared at each other. 

"It's your move, Mr. Bee", I bravely thought as my heart started beating faster and faster. 

It was a staring game of sorts.  Me versus bee.

I won't lie.  It was second grade all over again.  I was scared to death.

But I've learned something throughout the years... Rather than letting fear envelop me, I embrace it.

I looked at the bee and realized it wasn't even an inch long.  It's jagged little stinger was smaller than my fingernail.  So, considering this new math that I was accounting for, I stood there frozen; waiting for the bee to leave.  A paralysis of sorts, I suppose. 

I won the staring game.  The bee flew off and then, I ran into my house like a little girl.

They say bees smell fear.  I am certain they do because we as people, also sense fear in each other.  The difference is with bees, if they use our fear to unleash their jagged little stinger on us, they die minutes later.

Maybe, next time I see that bee, I will just let him sting me.

Hey, Control Freaks, You're not the boss of me

The control freaks are back.  Not that they went anywhere or ever do. 

You know who I'm talking about...  They're usually rich, powerful... they believe they are all knowing.  Under the guise of "compassion", they tell us what is best for our lives and what is best for society.   They're hypocritical, almost always liberal, and most of all, they're arrogant.

We've got a control freak in the White House, hundreds of them in Congress and even more in Hollywood.

Control freaks are the ones who tell us what we can and cannot eat, where we can and cannot smoke.  They even tell us what we can and cannot smoke. 

Control Freaks in Washington will tell us we can't be trusted with guns to protect our families and property as they walk into every building with armed bodyguards by their sides.  Hell, the control freaks in Washington will even sell guns to our enemies in other countries while trying to disarm us.

About a year ago, some control freaks in Hollywood started appearing in commercials telling us we can't be trusted with guns.  And as soon as their 30 second self-righteous commercial ended, it was back to the violent gun shooting movie they themselves were starring in. 

Control freaks even like to tell us how to spend our paychecks.  They like to take a percentage of our own hard earned money and decide how to spend it.   Somehow, they have conditioned us to believe that taxes are patriotic and compassionate. 

Find me a person that believes social programs are intended to help people while having nothing to do with control and I will show that person the real reason why taxes are raised every year.  In fact, I will let the father of modern liberal government do the speaking:

Lyndon B. Johnson
“I'll have those niggers voting Democratic for the next 200 years. [Touting his underlying intentions for the "Great Society" programs, LBJ confided with two like-minded governors on Air Force One]”.

I don't think this infamous quote needs explaining. 

Control freaks don't just stop at spending our own money, they even play God by determining who has the right to live or die.  But they're clever... they use terms like "pro-choice" and "fetus" to dehumanize that heart beating human being with his or her own unique DNA structure growing inside the womb..  It's funny to me that living people who were given a chance to succeed or fail in life believe a child's life is merely a choice.  But as I said, control freaks are arrogant.  They believe their lives are more important than mine or yours.

But I'll be fair... If you are one of those pro-choice people who simply believe abortion is not about control,  I will let the Mother and Creator of Planned Parenthood do the talking:

Margaret Sanger
"We do not want word to go out that we want to exterminate the Negro population."

Maybe that's why control freaks have built abortion clinics in every poor neighborhood in our country.

Let's be honest, if control freaks were really concerned about choice and letting us dictate what we do with our own bodies, pot wouldn't be illegal, prostitution would be fine, and wearing a seat belt wouldn't be a law.

I could go on and on about control freaks.  I could mention that those who start wars never send their own children.  Control freaks will determine the lives of our children while keeping their own out of harm's way.   I could give many examples of certain policies and agendas right now at work that were authored by control freaks. 

But really, this is about something less serious; something so ridiculous that I can't help but write about it.  The control freaks have sunk even lower....

Beyonce came out this week calling for a ban on the word "bossy".  That's right, the woman married to Jay Z, the rapper that calls women "bitches" and "hos", is asking US to stop using the word "bossy".  Why?  Because it promotes sexism.  That's what this liberal celebrity control freak is asking us to do.  Calling a woman a bitch is fine.  Calling them bossy is bad.

But it got me thinking... I'm not exactly a control freak but maybe, I could be a little self-righteous and join this new movement of telling others what is and what is not acceptable to say. 

There are quite a few words and phrases I believe should be outlawed:

1.  fetus- it promotes murder.  Have you ever heard a pregnant woman say, "I can't wait until my fetus is born and becomes a human being"?  As I said earlier, fetus exists only to dehumanize babies.  It's to elicit a disconnect between mother and growing baby.  In other words, it's to make you feel better if you decide to go to a doctor and have that doctor snap that baby's spine and vacuum out his or her brains.

2.  lover- this word just irritates me.  It's pretentious.  It's ridiculous.  You aren't Shakespeare.  If you're sleeping with someone, use any other term but lover.  Please.

3.  making love-  Seriously, these two words put together make me sick.  This phrase makes me want to stab those who use it.   Ladies, if you meet a man that refers to sex as making love, run.  Or kill him.  I don't care just get away from him.  It's creepy.

4.  actually-  the most overused word in existence.  It means nothing.  It's unnecessary.  While we're at it, lets ban the phrase "to be honest".  When someone uses "actually" or "to be honest", they're probably about to tell a lie.  There is no reason that word or that phrase should ever be used unless you are trying to oversell  your next statement.

And lastly...

5.  progressive- it's a condescending term intended to alienate anyone that doesn't agree with the control freak's idea of morality.  We have been conditioned to believe that having old time family values is a thing of the past.  If I tell someone I am against gay marriage, a "progressive" will come along and ask, "Who are you?  Beaver Cleaver?".  It's arrogant rhetoric.  Equating convictions with hate is how progressives operate.  Control freaks preach tolerance while exhibiting intolerance. 

Little Conversations

What if dreams are a time machine?  A mix of yesterday, tomorrow and all the missing moments in between.

There are no footprints in the sand.  Never, did you carry me..  When I needed you most, I was simply swept out to sea.

It's achingly beautiful on the other side.  That's what he said as I slept. 

"Why do you continue to haunt me?"
and he replied,
"I, too, was swept out to sea."

Little conversations when I sleep.  How long would they last if I never woke up?  Nothing is more intoxicating than when I drink from the sandman's cup. 

Sleep shouldn't be the weary man's foe.  Angels on the ceiling and monsters under the bed below.  Ghosts never seek closure; it's us who refuse to let go.  I could conjure up a drowning man before the tide sets in.  Don't be fooled by the devil's halo.   Dreams play like a movie in my head but I always awake before the credits roll.  Once upon a time, years ago.  Little conversations ended in I told you so. 

What if my time machine is stuck in reverse?  And our little conversations are merely you begging me to save you?   If dreams are the insomniac's curse,  shouldn't I be saved, too?

Once upon a time, there were two sets of footprints in the sand.  Little conversations, hand in hand.  Don't listen to the voices, my old friend.  Famous last words to a drowning man.  Suddenly both sets of footprints were gone like that.  Familiar sense of futility at my command. 

What unresolved issues can there be? 

There are no footprints in the sand. 

Never, did you carry me.

We're all swept out to sea, eventually. 

Little conversations, late at night.  Between an old ghost and me. 
What if dreams are a time machine?