The Edge Of Heaven

I saw the Turkish Sea
And it called out my name:
"I see you have returned.
"Are you still the same?"

Was my dread for her to find me,
I walk the world in cover;
My soul avoiding her
Like an ancient forlorn lover.

She knows my secret secrets
And dreams I dare not say;
She knows my sinful sins
And the heart I gave away.

Three thousand years ago
She knew my deepest wound;
How can I explain it now,
On her shores still marooned?

Time and space pass on,
Eyes of the universe;
My wound remains unhealed
Will the sea my name now curse?


The vanities of man
Spill blood upon your rock;
You know the truth of us
And all the love we lock.

If her silence ever breaks
I fear her testament;
Her choppy water blues,
"For this you were not meant."

It's the darkness I still see,
Not Forgiveness' door;
Deep is the woeful sea
Standing bare upon her shore.

Has she given all she can?
No more tears to hold?
When do you reach your fill?
Nothing left but hell's own cold.

I bow down in raining tears,
She says her message is Heaven sent;
"I love as time never left.
"Give yourself the gift to repent."

The Needing

"Just because you say the words doesn't mean I should believe you!" She sat bent over in her chair, married to her book, selfishly absorbed.

"But I need you! I'm not making this up."

His words did not suit her and she was a suit-me-or-die kinda person. "You're just dreaming!"

"These feelings are more real than anything I've ever felt in my life!" groaned the voice from the next room, aching for her.

"The more you speak the more I hate you!"

She flipped another page, furious at his interruptions and wishful thinking. Why did she have to be burdened with the desires of others? It's their desire, let them live with it.

So he silenced himself, trapped in hell's hell. The one person he needed drew more distant with every sound he made, any sign of his life estranging her beyond his reach. But how to get what he needed without living?

He struggled mightily to retain virtue in her eyes, biting his tongue, hoping to become worthy of her. Yet his involuntary screams irked her to no end, pulling her away from the book's escape.

"You and your exquisite pain!" she griped, disgusted by his wretched state. Suddenly, she wished he would die.

He'd been better off if he had.

***

The next day the police took her statement. "You refused to see the man no matter how much he asked for you?"

"I was busy reading!"

"But it's your job, ma'am."

"I'm not doing something just because he wants me to. I won't stand for him wanting me!"

"Nurse Retched, he very much needed you if nothing else. The traction machine very nearly ripped his spine in two and now he may never walk again. If that's not needing you I don't know what is."

"That's not my fault. I didn't put him on that machine. He put himself on. I'm not responsible for his life or stupid ass decisions. Really!"

"But it's why you're here, to help. Is that not so?"

"I'm here to do what I want. What can't I read a book? Are you telling me that's a crime now?"

For another good hour the conversation continued in fruitless circles, she only wishing to escape back to her book all the more.

***

"He's dead. I don't understand it," sighed the attending nurse. She always hated being in the room with a dead body in case the spirit passed violently. "All he had to do was press the buzzer and I would have come. Why wouldn't he ask for help? Did he just not believe in me at all? I'll never understand people! They can be so frustrating!"

When Nurse Retched came to visit his grave she spat on it, hoping it would burn a hole right through the casket. That miserable bastard and his moronic decisions ruined my life! If only I'd never met him! She'd lost her job and career, a pariah in the nursing community. And the police were still considering filing charges.

A man's voice spoke in her ear. "If you had believed him, would your life be the miserable mess it is now?"

Terrified to the heart, she spun around to find no one there.

"That bastard! He haunts me from the grave! Now even my book won't provide me with refuge. Nothing will...will it?"

Across the way, two impassioned lovers kissed in the honest daylight of the sun, holding fast to their future.

Final Proof We Are In The End Days

God says he's pulling the car over!

No, I'm not going to make the usual arguments:

That we pervert reality saying love is an illusion and money is real.

That we pervert reality saying peace will consume us but warring saves us.

That we pervert reality saying there's profit to poisoning our paradise.

Truth is we all know our dirty little secret we love to lie about so gleefully: we really have no intention of having any future. And it's so much fun making up "facts" on how everything's going to turn out just great no matter how irresponsible we might be. After all, we've always been like this. Why change now?

Why indeed!

The horrible, gruesome answer lies below, ripping off mankind's facade of really giving a shit about anything. Watch if you dare!

Billboards To Mock The GWB "Presidential" Lie-brary

The red area represents where the lie-brary will be.
Blue represents Central Expressway and the offending edifice
will be constructed between Mockingbird and Yale.

Dallas is just a hellhole when it comes to Presidents. Oh sure, publicly we're sorry about the Kennedy assassination - an assassination guaranteeing we'll never get another true liberal in the White House barring the apocalypse. But you also hear the joke in these parts that November 23, 1963 was "the day Kennedy got it through his head we didn't want him here." Yup, when God was handing out class he skipped right over Big D.

And for our unrepentant attitude, we are now branded as home to the greatest American traitor in history along with building a multi-million dollar monument to said traitor. History will not be kind to us. We will be seen as disloyal and dishonorable.


Southern Methodist University is my favorite campus in DFW (I have attended many great events there) - but is also the one most snotty and soul-selling. Despite protests from the faculty, historians and pastors, the powers that be at SMU clamored for the lie-brary like a three-year-old crying for a lollipop. Throwing up their skirts like a two dollar whore, SMU railroaded the purchase of this property just east of the main campus. I guess I'll just have to close my eyes as I drive by it when I wish to visit the great Meadows Museum or Mcfarlin Auditorium.

I do have some time before the horror comes to life:

The George W. Bush Presidential Center is a future complex that will include former President George W. Bush's presidential library and museum, the George W. Bush Policy Institute, and the offices of the George W. Bush Foundation. The facility will occupy roughly 25 acres (100,000 m2) on the campus of Southern Methodist University (SMU) in University Park, Texas. Construction of the center is projected to begin in late 2010 and cost $200 million to $500 million. The dedication of the facility is planned for 2013. At a planned 207,000 square feet, on completion it will become the second-largest presidential library, behind only the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, California.

Now back when I lived in the armpit that is Amarillo, I had to pass by a campaign sign every day on my way to work for someone I knew to be a scumbag. I felt better, though, after I drew devil's horns and a goatee on it. Most therapeutic! So I got to thinking what I could do in this instance if I had the money: I'd buy my own billboard by the campus and seeing it would soothe my chafing soul.

I'd also make it electronic so it could be updated on a whim's notice and I'd start a website - say bushbillboard.com for instance - where people could suggest quotes and slogans to be displayed. I have a feeling that would be most enjoyable! (I'd also secretly buy a second one in case they rezoned the first one. I know how these people operate.)

So here are a few suggestions off the top of my head, feel free to add your own!

"I Fucked Up America!"

Come see how at my lie-brary!

Brought to you by the 21st century's #1 Anti-Christ!

Not only has Bush's library plans made both non-church academics and church leaders uncomfortable, Bush is also provoking the disapproval from the historian and archivist communities. Presidential libraries - which are managed by the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration - are supposed to be operated for benefit of the public for the purposes of free access to information - by the citizens of the country. Apparently, this traditional purpose and vision is also being altered by Bush.

Greatest Living War Criminal

Come kiss my ass at my lie-brary!

Brought to you by the 21st century's #1 Anti-Christ!

Bush signed an executive order that limits public access to presidential documents. Bush's order effectively grants current, future and former presidents - and their heirs - far greater discretion to indefinitely classify documents long after the 12-year post-presidency period during which executive privileges have typically applied.

"Relive The Nightmare All Over Again!"

Mission accomplished at my lie-brary!

Brought to you by the 21st century's #1 Anti-Christ!

“Any presidential library created under this executive order will be a mockery,” said Steven L. Hensen, a past president of the Society of American Archivists and director of technical services for Duke University’s rare books library. “There are records, but they could be embargoed by Laura Bush or Jeb or whoever.”

"Profiteering, Plunder and Puppetry!"

Come see how I made my buddies rich at my lie-brary!

Brought to you by the 21st century's #1 Anti-Christ!

Bush's institute is likely to engage in history revision or historical omission, since its records can be sequestered and locked away from public view - very selectively. Its academics will carry the weight and reputation of SMU, yet without the oversight or transparency of its peer review. Material not only can be, but probably will be censored.

"I Killed Your Kids For Oil!"

Drive your Hummer to my lie-brary!

Brought to you by the 21st century's #1 Anti-Christ!

From one of many official sites (don't forget its Facebook page!):

The George W. Bush Presidential Center is advancing the ideals of freedom, opportunity, responsibility and compassion through study of the Bush presidency and ongoing research, discussion and scholarship. The Bush Presidential Center uniquely integrates the records of a Presidential Library and Museum, the intellectual capital of a policy institute and the resources of an independent foundation.

Heckuva job, war pig!

Should My 12 Year Old Drive On The Street?

Nobody cared until Ester wrecked. Now everyone's getting on their high horse as if they know what's best for her instead of me, her mother! How do you people expect to know what's best for my family unless you are of my family? No one can love my daughter like I do, you interlopers don't care at all.




Akeem came out of his house very much angry at the sight of the two women with their wrecked vehicle in the middle of the street. "You women have no right to be in this neighborhood! It used to be all men. You need to move away and everything will be fine!"

"My grandmother lived here long before you ever did so shut your mouth!"

"I want you gone! You women make me feel insecure and doubt my manliness."

"Whose fault is that, old man?"

Smithers showed up waving his accusing finger. "You have my dog! You have my dog! Give it back you cantankerous woman!"

"I'm keeping your dog as security. Anything happens to me and mine and the dog gets it!"

"You keep him prisoner in your yard. He suffers in all innocence."

"You threw a brick through my window. It's your own damn fault I took it. I'll treat it like I damn well please. It's only through an understanding of mutual distrust and blackmail can we achieve peace."

The cat doesn't want the dog back

Officer Bob pulled up shaking his head. "You can't let your 12-year-old drive your car on the street, madam."

"You sexist bastard! You wouldn't say that if it had been a boy driving. You men all stick together."

"The sex of the child has no bearing. She has no legal right to do what she did."

"Don't give me your legal bullshit! It's all men in this neighborhood and my daughter and I have to survive the best way we can. You're a man, you wouldn't know anything about that!"

Smithers sauntered doggedly to the policeman. "Officer! I cannot talk to this woman. Tell her to give me my dog back!"

The officer sighed. "The only way to work that out is between yourselves. But we can council and sign some papers that resolve nothing so I can play the impartial hero."

Ester's mother vowed never to back down ever for any reason. "My daughter must learn to drive if she is to live in this man's world of yours. You've picked on us long enough! Never again! We live by different rules than mere reality."

Middle East piece!

Jesus wandered up the road, his head bowed, grieved by the contention. Looking at the bruised and battered daughter, he stated his concern. "Dear lady, your daughter might have been killed. What is the future in that?"

"Don't bring your religious crap in here! Religion is the cause of all our problems. You can't save anybody with your stupid propaganda. God is already on our side."

Jesus knew her propaganda before she posed it. "I offer you love so that you may live. Apart, we die. Together, we live. Can any of you truly tell me now what you are doing is living?"

An uneasy silence blanketed the group, trapped by their desire to be loved - the one and only issue of mankind's history. Shamed by Jesus and his words of truth, they raised their eyes to look into his, speaking in unison: "If that is love then give us death!"

The GREAT Lesley Gore!

Live Blogging My Detox Diet a.k.a Bataan Death March

The Bataan Death March (also known as The Death March of Bataan) took place in the Philippines in 1942 and was later accounted as a Japanese war crime. The 60-mile (97 km) march occurred after the three-month Battle of Bataan, part of the Battle of the Philippines (1941–42), during World War II. In Japanese, it is known as Batān Shi no Kōshin (バターン死の行進?), with the same meaning.

The march, involving the forcible transfer of 75,000 American and Filipino prisoners of war captured by the Japanese in the Philippines from the Bataan peninsula to prison camps, was characterized by wide-ranging physical abuse and murder, and resulted in very high fatalities inflicted upon the prisoners and civilians along the route by the armed forces of the Empire of Japan. Beheadings, cutting of throats and casual shootings were the more common actions—compared to instances of bayonet stabbing, rape, disembowelment, rifle butt beating and a deliberate refusal to allow the prisoners food or water while keeping them continually marching for nearly a week in tropical heat. Falling down or inability to continue moving was tantamount to a death sentence, as was any degree of protest.

Those guys had it easy! For true hell come join me on my detox diet as once again I'm at the mercy of heretical lunatics forcing their religion down my throat - literally. But I say piss on you bastards who say 7-11 doesn't provide the five major food groups, to wit:

Corn Dog


Fritos


Apple Fruit Pie


Oreos


Cherry Slurpee

If those pictures don't scream out "Nutrition!" to you then you must be some sort of fanatic. As if the goddam capitalists aren't bad enough, I'm also forced to live with the maniacal Spanish Health Inquisition. That way, after my long hard day of forced menial labor I can have nothing to look forward to but a celery stalk and baby carrots. Not to mention daily doses of powered vomit alleged to help clean me out.

You know the difference between a smoothie and a turd? Neither do I - I just know I don't want either one in my mouth.

To a health store I was taken, a place not even holding out the hope of a quick, merciful death:

Your local health
care professional

In the darkest pits of Mordor I lay abandoned, lightless and forgotten. Scanning the landscape, my hole just another black crevice in cragged ground untended by neither Man nor smelly Orc. I could think of escape but there's no place to escape to, the sun hiding for all eternity.

What curse of nature is this? Only by happenstance does any creature pass this way. And when chance does come, the creature is both murderous and foul, free to roam unmasked in this most unrepentant of lands. Oh, hell! I hear footsteps of agony approach! The Orc sees me and hisses in delight at my victimhood. Reaching a hairy hand into its soiled, oily sack, it brings out an aged pill of fuzzy mold and dread rot. "Take this!" it fairly giggles, "It will help you live longer!" Then I hear its over-large feet stomping away, gleeful at having extended my torment of living.


I'm even denied the most basic of human needs and rights: bread! Upon hearing this I quite rightly pointed out for centuries all of Europe used bread as a staple and even had revolutions over it! To which she pointed out compensatory items in their diet and other inconvenient facts I refused to accede. I stood my ground: "I'll deny all truth and turn Republican before I give up my bread!"

Now I have something in common with an
18th century French peasant: no fricking bread

Like a condemned man forced to make his own rope, I too was made to fabricate and fund my own demise, purchasing all sorts of left-wing, touchy-feely fruits and vegetables no beer-drinking, BBQ-loving Texan would be caught dead with on his plate. Watching the girl pass each embarrassing item over the scanner ("Oh jeesh, don't stop to look up the bar code for the fruit!"), I imagined all sorts of smart remarks she would pose to me afterwards: "Would you like a Barry Manilow CD with this or are you just going to chant?"

Luckily, she remained quiet and I avoided a manslaughter charge.

But when I started noticing hot flashes and cold sweats the next day, I returned with a vengeance! "This gay diet you put me on has given me PMS!"

"Oh, you already had PMS!"

"If I turn gay I'm coming back and fucking your boyfriend!"

That actually annoyed her. "Oh, shut up!"

"No, you shut down!"

At that point, I high-fived myself, waiting weeks for someone to tell me to shut up so I could tell them to "shut down". But like all glory, it was fleeting - especially when I realized I could celebrate my victory with nothing but grape juice and organic walnuts.


...Three days in and the end is nowhere in sight. Staring at the top of my cardboard abode, I ponder the meaning of life: there is none. It's shit and more shit until you die. The universe spins around me in quiet discontent.

Detox Dreams

At 4:35 AM I woke up on the verge of a heart attack. My dreams were killing me and someday I could very well die in the dark. All those things my conscious mind keeps propped up during the day come crashing down at night. It's like sleeping during a firefight on the battlefield - that's not time to sleep but you've got to do it sometime! Even now the pain is modulating within, festering desires pleading for hope that cannot be.

There are some - very pointedly - who've questioned the validity or even the existence of my pain. I write about it in allegorical terms but rarely in a way that can be directly connected back to me. You see, you are supposed to question my pain, to doubt it - and then go about your way. You may be many things, dear ones, but you are not to be trusted. I've seen what your ideas of a solution are and you are quite literally mad. So I'll take death on my own terms if you please.

The last point I remember of my dreams I was driving around DFW with a girl, but it was more like we were driving in a map. She was not a romantic interest - a cousin or a co-worker more like - but I still needed to impress her. I took a chance and blew smoke about how she must be lost being new to the big city and how vast the area was. She took the bait and duly noted my ability to navigate the crisscrossing highways and byways. I had to do something to score since I carried no real self-respect for myself.


So then I got the chance to "make it", the illusion was becoming real. I need only ride some old helicopter to gain full acceptance to the world. Only that chopper was in no condition to fly and I kept telling the guy in charge to stop putting gasoline in it, it was going to blow if he tried to go up in it. My words were not acknowledged and finally I got so upset I left, which was very difficult to do since the pull to stay and be accepted was very, very strong.

So that made the pilot and the co-pilot very angry with me as I ran away into the countryside, fearing them to come after me. I came up on a very nice estate, people with money, but here I was a fugitive. God, I'm so tired of always being on the outside of everything. My heart needs a place to rest - it's telling me so even now. Finally, I was branded a loser and put back in school in the loser class, trapped and bound to hell.

I recognized my fellow classmates, kids with no interest in "the system" whatsoever, all wearing the "Loser" branding from the "responsible" teachers. The teachers' mantra was simple: "Follow rules, good. Don't follow rules, bad." These kids didn't follow rules, they saw only their lives and where that led them and they were justly defiant in that. But I could see in their eyes the self-doubt from the constant branding as failures. I didn't see them that way at all.



I could play both sides of the fence. I had enough traditional smarts to play the game but I also knew the wisdom of living life. The price for walking in both worlds was I was committed to neither and had no possible life myself. And while those kids had no hope of ever making it in the folly world we've created, they had more of a life than me, making me feel the biggest loser.

Each day a teachermeister took us around to various places in the building and at the end was this weird sort of test. A number was secretly assigned to each of us and we had to "guess" who it was that day. I noticed right off the code could be cracked but I feared to do so since I was already in the world's dog house. But one of the girls with a very strong personality noticed the numbers were sequential and thereby we could determine who was going to be "it" next. She was very excited by her discovery and when the teacher came back in the room she proudly him told she figured out the answer for tomorrow and gave it to him. The teacher blew up with rage, assured by his own insecurities she had cheated. Always, always, always life was a no-win situation.

***

When I decided to suppress myself as a child, to die and become a loser, it had many repercussions. One of them was in 7th grade I tormented my English teacher all year long in class with my yelling out of smart remarks. By this point I had learned the fine art of walking the line, of never going too far to get in official trouble. By the end of the year, though, I had her so frustrated she took me down to get a swat for my cumulative effect. Next year I found myself ousted from accelerated English and in the lowest rung of classes.


It was weird and shameful to leave my usual crowd of accelerated classmates and do time in there. But though I felt smarter in one sense I felt dumber where it really counted: in life. These were party kids, living life of a Rod Stewart song. So what if they couldn't spell so great. I agreed with them. What did spelling ever do for me? What I really wanted was that girl sitting behind me. Guess I'm stuck living that moment forever, the dreams of tonight never letting me forget.

***

In my next Goupil installment, he's forced to put down roots and in doing so is forced to start facing himself. As he attempts to let go of his self-destructive ways and the insanity they bring he finds out something very scary and unexpected: more fear than he ever knew. His self-destruction had been his security blanket, imminent doom providing him with the out he needed before having to face reaping what he'd sown all his ill-gotten life. It's a madness consuming the world with its pretty propaganda of only speaking half of what it sees. It's so funny that people don't realize they are as much defined by what they don't say as what they do.

So as I struggle to do the "right thing" and take care of my health, I lose my acid reflux but gain heart attacks in the night. My decisions have been poor and I'm hanging by my fingernails as more and more of my past determines my future without me.