That Red-Haired Girl

Every person’s destiny is created by a single point in time and we are forever tied to that event. That moment when the world starts to make sense and the pages in the book of our life, unfolds to reveal a glimpse of what will become our destiny.  Every decision we make and every action we take for the rest of our lives, will always bring us back to that exact moment. For me, October 7th, 1972 at 8:16AM was that moment.

You walked directly toward me, emerging from the early morning fog like a mystical goddess passing through the veil between heaven and earth. As I watched you float down the gravel road my heart tried desperately to escape my chest and join you; longing to intertwine with your soul. Blood rushed through my body until my head became light and my vision began to fade. I had to look away or fall to the ground.

It was that instance that marked the beginning of the end of my innocents. I knew in that moment, I would have to forfeit my youthful ways and learn to deal with the raging hormones of puberty. I understood that time and nature would force me to relinquish my body to the sometimes exciting, but usually frightening, world of a teenager. Although at the time I could not tell you so… I knew that moment marked the beginning of the rest of my life. Oh how I have love that life.

Fire and Fury

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

Will we see fire

Death and pain

Fall from the fingertips

Of the insane

 

Will we get tweets

Of our own destruction

From a man whose mind

Is on permanent malfunction

 

If you’re searching for truth

You’d better not ask

The man hiding behind

His bright orange mask

 

What we do this day

Can never be undone

The ropes we let bind us

Can never be unstrung

 

And yet we will still

Praise his name

Don’t worry about it

There’s always someone else to blame

 

Boobs…Food…Sleep

There are only a few things that have the power to hold the interest of a fifteen-year-old boy. Boobs…food…sleep…and Boobs. If a fifteen-year-old boy fell off the Empire State building, on the way down, he’d be looking at the women’s boobs through the windows…all the while wishing he had a burger and some fries.

The Past

I’m not quite sure why I’m so obsessed with the past. After all, If I remember correctly, I wasn’t that fond of it at the time.

Bad Kids

My friend wasn’t a bad kid

Bad kids stole money from their mom’s purse

Bad kids did hard drugs

Bad kids had unprotected sex

Bad kids always got into fights

Boys will be boys, my friend said

His son only smoked a little grass

He only painted a little graffiti

He only drank a little beer

On his way home from a party

He only crossed the white line a little bit

But his girlfriend is more than a little dead

Because he wasn’t a bad kid