The Marmot Man

I’m a marmot man
From a marmot land
And I’m headed down this path to find some food

I got a little gray coat
And a couple of smokes
To light up when I wanna’ see Japan

There’s a berry here
Other berries near
But I’ll pick the one that’s closest to my mood

Grab your own gray coat
Catch a riverboat
We’ll be sailing up the river as we planned

Blank

Sometimes I cannot think.
Someone wants an answer and I don’t have one.
I might be lost in a small world, caught up in an old pain.
There might be a fog about.
I might be blank.

There are times that the damage I have suffered causes others to suffer too. They’re concerned and they write or call.
I cannot seem to stop hurting them with my damage.
My heart fills with compassion for them and I begin to let them go.
My mind goes blank and tries to forget the once joy.

I can never seem to play the games right.
No one gave me the tools to rein in my emotions, damn them all.
They jump me with both feet and their greed.
Poor misguided slobs in the world who hate children.
Hate them enough to make them learn blank.

Lucky Lochy

The Lochness monster came this way
One bright and sunny morn in May
I stopped to stare, up stood me hair
The Lochy swam in daylight fair

The Lochness monster talked to me
He told me of the sights at sea
Upon his back I traveled with
The Lochy was a Lucky myth

A nice photo

I took this while I was visiting the east coast of the Carolinas. It was a cold day, but the boats looked interesting, still laid out for a trip later in the day? I didn’t know, didn’t care, and just took the shot; it’s pretty. The couple on the beach was exchanging words loudly. The gentlemen taking a walk was walking in a fast pace. There was nothing really outstanding about the end resulting photo, but when I saw it today, some two years later, it reminded me of the painful way I live today.

I’ve been foolishly trying to live my life online. Met people, lost people, wrote for some people, and tried hard not to get involved with anyone. How unfortunate to discover that no matter where I go I take me too. It’s not like I haven’t been told that I have problems; I’ve been told. I’m aware of the some of my issues. Lately I have to deal with them daily. I don’t think there’s a “go back” button and because I’m feeling responsible for my feelings, there is no going back. There’s death and then there’s healing; always more healing.

So let there be healing. I’ll ask for something when I want it or need it. For example: assistance in healing. I refuse to feel guilty when asking someone to help me. If they cannot help, then I move on and ask another person. Somewhere along the way there will be someone to assist. As healing begins to sink into my head I realize that I am responsible for my actions, especially abusive actions. I'm now doing what's been done to me and I hate my life. I hate the photo.

Ironically I am just as responsible for my inactions. Those things I tell myself I will do but don’t get done; like letting 156 photos hang in a computer file for two years? I’m tired of looking at nice photos and wondering why I can’t get closer? What inaction must I turn into action to be in the photo of my dreams?

Gulls, piers, and pretty things

In North Carolina from whence I hail, is a shoreline so remarkably beautiful, that a glimpse brings me tears. A place I first “found” at thirteen and have seen so many times more than my age. (100 trips and counting) (LOL)

The seagulls sail along and will gladly snatch a cheese stick from your hand as they pass. At times two of them will chase each other for rights to the snack. Always calling, always hungry, they circle my head wanting more.

Sand in pinks and beige-golden tones adorn my feet as the sun rises, with a change to mauve and blue as the sun leaves for the day. My feet look pretty, on the sand, kicking up little puffs as I walk toward no where.

Piers and partial piers left standing in ragged condition after great ravaging storms; I photograph them all. In 100 trips I have easily seen and walked them all. To find one gone is to say goodbye to a friend.

Sand fences built to keep the Outer Banks home and support the wonderful sea oats planted to hold back time and sea. Oh to have the power of the sand fences.

It’s been almost three years since I was there in that most treasured home I love so. No one wants to go because they are not “beach kind of people”, preferring the mountains. But I am making plans to go there. I am going there and there are people waiting to help me see my beloved sea; my beloved Outer Banks.

One morning will find me sitting on the sand, facing the ocean’s horizon, waiting on the sun to rise. Waiting for that red ball, as it usually is, come up to smile at me in greens and golds. In tears I shall welcome the gentle breeze, listen carefully for the far off sounding rumble of water, and toss the first cheese snack to the lonely gull who sits beside me; there’s always one.