The Cat who saved my life. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby!

baby102Cat Fancy

Baby is kind of an enigma.   She is very affectionate towards me,  myself and even I.   But she is very distrustful of others.   Perhaps it was the loneliness and privation she suffered as a result of my calamity.      Being penned up for nearly two years and the pain I felt as she was in her cage in a shed,  sometimes with temperatures way below freezing.   Her pain was mine and I got sick of the circumstances and finally it was me and baby in the back seat of an aged Honda Civic.

Baby went everywhere with me and she loved the travel.    I would take her on long trips to Raleigh,  Durham and points in between.    She would sit in the back window or sidle up to me when it was cold,  raining or the loud slams of thunder shook the car.

One time I was in Durham and getting some food at Open Table Ministries and a lady across the street was a storage unit place manager and she offered to have my cat stay in there while I ate and out of the car.  In the A/C.   I managed to make her as comfortable as I could and her payment was her love and devotion.   To this day.

 Baby is a dark cloud with a white lining.   She brought love in her own way and hid in a place out of site.   Prying eyes were sometimes a concern.   Citizens with good intentions and a roof over their head,  experts in suffering in their spare time.

     Baby is an angel full of life,  since her blue-eyed days of infancy to her long enduring roads and the moment I came back from a chore, or an errand.  Living for me,  she added some hopefulness to my life and that my friends is true love.

TR2Trucks

My frustration finding a home was taking it’s toll,  sleeping at rest stops, Walmarts or busy truck stops.   There was always the bus people on Greyhound and those party buses and they increased my stress.   I just about had it.    When help came,  first by Baby being classified as emotional support animal by the VA.   I had help with the cat by a local humane society who knew the cat and I needed each other.

BabysBlcat

They were actually impressed that I would not give up on her or gave her to someone else. The VA said I needed to get rid of baby and I read them the riot act and got very upset.   Because of that they (The Humane Society) did all they could for me and the cat.   My cat was kind of cold to them but they stilled loved her and helped me with food and litter.

Now baby and I are happy living in the warmth and coolness respectively.   She runs like a track star,  as opposed to hanging upside down from the headrests.  She always made me laugh or made me feel calm and now she is right behind me purring and sleeping.   This is her place and I just stay with her and enjoy her loving me.

KittiesCats-10-Commandments-Inspirational-Life-Quotes

Stormy Heart Serenade – Damages

My dream –  25 January 2015

quote-thou-art-slave-to-fate-chance-kings-and-desperate-men-john-donne-305118

Bunker

The day was one of those humid but unremarkable days with the exception of a forecast that included inclement weather.

I was standing outside a warehouse with three friends and we were discussing the forecast with the sunny blue skies and a light wind.  I gave my take on the situation being a Meteorologist.   In effect saying,  You cannot tell by the clear skies what’s going to happen during the afternoon and early evening”.

Sure to form by late morning the first little towers of cotton seemed to gather as the heat poured energy from below.  Like a pot of boiling water the change became more noticeable as the air liquefied into mad rivulets of upward vertical motion.

Marci told me that she needed to get out of the bamy skies as the humidity hung like a soggy blanket,  making the hot more miserable.

We found our way into an empty warehouse,  where we found a fairly sturdy set of walls and a heavy steel door.   Apparently,  we weren’t the only ones with that idea.   The fact it was ventilated made it a prime place to hide.

TS2Roll Cloud

The room was not really that spacious so one got the feeling of being like an animal caught in a snare.  Claustrophobia seemed to seize us both at the same time and we left the relative safety for the open air and a less confined place.

The wind began to swirl with a passion as the heat climbed up towards the fast growing clouds.  In the distance were lines of Cumulonimbus Clouds.   Like a gathering army of angry and mischievous Gremlins. By late afternoon,  the ominous looking clouds fattened with sharp spikes of light shooting out in all directions with the accompanying claps of thunder and their reverberations.  The party was getting into full swing.

From an office you could see lines of storms systems.  These Mesoscale systems snarled and marched onward with high winds and low pressure that popped your ears and engendered a primal fear.  Soon sirens blared as the culmination of physics manifested in an eerie calm.     Bluish black clouds ragged with pent up rage acquiesced to nothing.

Buildings shook as they do when heavy ordnance releases it’s fury.   With the rise in air currents came the chattering of old roof tops that graced structures with uncertainty,  threatened to be peeled back or just collapsing with fatigue.  We saw a woman on a phone as the curtain of night started to drape itself about and the luminous light and sound show intensified bringing an increased sense of dread.

wareUK ware

We wandered about and around the phone lady and soon she feel self aware and struck out to find another place. Marci and I,  decided to hole up in this semi-private space,  waiting for the current round of chaos to abate.         The last round of storms left us shaking.   To the left of us was a window which was heavily armored and I assured my consort that we were safe.   Suddenly like a bomb exploding,  a wash of red covered the window,  a human stain with no doubt,  all was not well.

As we found another spot that seemed safe,  a room that looked like a classroom and filled with people, I had some bad feelings here,  even more than any that I had spent time in and my suspicions were born out.   With another lull in this never-ending parade of severe weather and the threatening sounds of crashing glass and gales of wind unseating rooftops we found an office across the street.

 

This one office struck my fancy as I saw a bay window front to a store and office warehouse.   Me and my friend sat in two of the chairs practically inert and watch debris flash by in an instant.   Only slightly more safe was this place and keeping that in mind,  I went into the warehouse with Marci in toe.  There were a lot of beautiful furnishings all handmade with the middle of the room sporting a table with chesire-acting cat sitting quietly in a chair next to that table.   She knowingly acknowledged me in this strange sanctuary conspicuously absent of people.

Walking back outside the carnage was obvious.   The scenery changes were not limited to buildings as dumpsters of debris,  seemingly human powdered the landscape and the aftermath of solitary suffering.

DespairD2

reachingreaching 2

 

Forbidden Victim.

I was so in lust that purity and licentiousness intermingled.   A strange concoction of guilt and a road never traveled.   All the sweat but none of the auroras that surge inside of me.    Her look was electric.   It pulled my willing self nearer to the spot where I belonged.

Yet innocence challenged the moment,   the soft refrain echoed like a chemical chimera waiting to devour it’s young prey.     As she pulled me in she got me to a new place.   I was the hunted man-child,  every cougar’s tender morsel.    I was like veal in a cage of happenstance hurling trinkets into the abyss.

The tide was high and the rush of the wind compounded the fury of that soft parade.  Pushing past the lapping waves of crescendo,   I was lost.  Emotions tighter than a manic  harp,  playing it’s own mischievous chord like the grunts of an obese oboe in a band playing it’s own tunes.

Harmony and biology and the conquest of same,  a boy victim without a name.   Lost near a buoy my eyes glassed over and now I searched for a ship to pull me in.   Proudly vanquished,  I smiled.   My story would change as I increased my wile.   She is a battered gown,  with icing reminders of a sweetness turned sour.

No,  this is not a requiem but a mooring to few or many docks.   The bright young adventurer did not want a curtain call for the young man had given his all.

Past Midnight. It’s a Beautiful Morning!!!

The prince of darkness and a highlighter pen.   Marking his victims one through ten.  Studying his quarry he chuckles and chortles,  oh how he loves the mere mortals.   The sun on hiatus in a full moon dark,  which gave us our peculiar spark and gave our paths original names,  in honor of men called errr.  Peter and James.

His quarry are gathered,  some of the best and the brightest, or so they think,  he’s getting ready to show them and throw at them,  even the proverbial sink.   Pretty soon the ten became thousands… finally much more.

Pretty soon the gavel smashed and the room quivered in fear,  why did our friend call us here?    Why does this place has tall fiery gates and pictures of all their victims?  Wait?

A sonorous laughter filled the great room,  as the chandeliers began  to shake and fill them with doom.    Pretty soon it was all for themselves,  as their allies wore signs and epitaphs from many wars.

The choir was assembled,  not hastily though,  it was time for the revenge of the primate doe.    Fear coursed through body and their much troubled brains,  is this what happens just before the holidays.

Now the penniless pauper with his nubile daughter look directly into the eyes of of.. new found doubt.    The King’s crown looked a bit withered and dithered and the jewels now gone replaced with inscriptions.     The writings now were in many languages but still just one,  there was going to be no room for interpretation, no not one nor drinks of ale or the fattest of quails.    This was their requiem for filling the jails.

The horny magistrate with his pointed tail,   was giving them remorse with the whip of his tail.     Suddenly they wanted to cry but none of that,  they were going to eat envy with silent wails.     All the former slaves laughed with glee and the sting of the whip could never cut so deep as the sting of a trapped conscience.

So bullies beware,  an election or coop lasts for a few years only and then my fearful one,  all is done and made right.

A stick of gum and a wad of paper.

I often dreamed of moments like these,  the innocent refrain of hearing my name called out affectionately and the peace that I knew that would be waiting home for me.   The hearth was warm,  the gentle flicker of flames danced hypnotically and assuringly.   What was there to mourn?  Right?

But life has a cunning way about it.    It marches to it’s own cadence, summarily deciding on a whim whether a fall or fortune would be good or bad.   In that case the seeming tranquility was cloaked in an aether of steadiness.   Nothing to worry about or so it seemed.

However the pernicious dark clouds were soon gathering and my foothold upon a fissure.   The subtle security in that moment vaporized and I fell like a rock feeling the passing of time into a new setting.   It was like heaven without any of the soft nurturing clouds.

Settings once familiar had a certain oldness to them with mostly the same structure but without any soul.    I looked upon the doorway to my mystery and the door was tightly locked.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my key,  surely things were okay.  But now even that didn’t fit.   Why?   Were the people that I saw across the street look-a-likes?  Replicas with stone hearts?   Did they conspire?  Was I a stranger?

The windows outside were frosted over and the place looked abandoned,  the leaves unraked and the smell of disuse permeated the surroundings.    Even the birds looked like holograms in a 3-D movie.

Walking away from my moorings,  I drifted like a lovelorn log out to sea.

Wooden Monuments.

 

 

 

babel_fullMountain

 

 

I am building a tower and it will be built upon by the hands of time.    It will be finessed and  the etchings carved into marbleized histories,  remnants left for consideration.   A bored scholar will scribe his articulations on paper and artists upon the heart  sometimes with words and other times shades of different colors.

H110--56722-Hieroglyphics

 

Our passions darken as our own freedom gives us license.   To establish who we are and why we should matter.

Quotation-George-Bernard-Shaw-living-life-death-long-satisfaction-reason-dreams-Meetville-Quotes-51930Daddy

 

The dimming lights provide sanctuary  for secrets held within,  while the new trees bear the same old fruit.   Replacing antiquity with green limbs envious.    Accounts will be altered,  values distorted like a warped window or a cracked mirror.    Only tiny shards indiscernible will collect dust.   The hammering thoughts of preservation are to no avail.  The ebb and flow of matter reconstitutes itself.    Aware of nothing but it’s new place,  neither the checkered foster homes of neglected souls or the random insects in their constabularies.    New kings and queens arise,  like heaving opportunists secure in that moment only.

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Willingness gives way to wood,  brick and dust and from these new houses are made.   New conflicts arise and the sentient drama of conflicting self wills lay about and scattered by Zephyrs and Foehn.    Tears drip from random placements like lost toys of our youth,  neither material or a ether  just an unnoticed stroke of a pen and a purchase.

The final revolution spins to a stop and the cul-de-sac of expectancy gives way to a somber recollection.   Momentary gratitude and an appointment looming,  breaks the shadow of what once was and will never be again.

wheellpassing

 

Code Blue Goodbye – Building a Mystery

Spencer LakeDon

The careworn strings of the Golden Harp

pinged and softly uttered silent tunes.

While a man hacked in his own second hand smoke

his ruddy fingers stained with history

pushed aside his last beer.

 

The whir of the fans and the stale fog of ale

covered the bar in a misty layer of melancholic dew.

Their problems lurked like angry trolls at a feast

and the bridge that creaked and moaned with

never a  holiday, sighed at the slow approach

of another broken man.

bar

 

The man with his plans nears the crossing

and the clocks chime in a foreboding resonance.

wearily warning as the bell struck decisively.

His watch seemed to have shrunk and the once supple

arms now wilted and wrinkled,  protest implacably.

 

Assented to a journey to a place he did not want to go.

The cold Coliseum stood hauntingly bare.

 

In the eyes of someone who knew him less,

they may suppose a lot of things about him

and his well-traveled highway

but death is a period in a long paragraph

filled with memorials soon enough forgotten.

 

As he entered the bridge the troll grunted

and the vapors collected in the sky

and swallowed that passing man.

bridge

Pretty girl

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Don

Stay In Touch my Friend – Crying for Me.

I was happy that I found you old friend.
It was great to hear your voice again.
Like a thousand years had come and gone
and I seldom looked behind me to notice

Amazingly I remember I called you and
hearing your voice as I did
in my youth and you treated me with
the same respect. Like a sentence
abruptly aborted and finished in warp time

You were a mentor, a friend and a musical muse,
you were my teacher teaching and
we clarified our memories in rarefied air.

I felt a breeze blow by one day,
as autumn leaves prepared to nest
and rest upon the earth.

Like impatient tenants going back home
for the winter they met the ground,
their lives like fodder for angry rakes
as winter was finally near,

and in-spite of your troubles, you seemed to thrive,
telling me this was the highlight of your day
when I called you each morning.

In a somber moment Leukemia was playing it’s
somber song and it’s death sentence hit like a gavel.
With no chance for an appeal
I felt your heart grow weaker and your
long life go slack.

but the harp was more insistent now.
with strains of comfort to aid your weary heart,
The skies stretched forth and down.

Like a rope or a chain that came loose
and your ship began to float dreamily by.

It was quite obvious that heaven’s gates
blew open, like a gale at sea
and the cares of this world could no longer
hold you

I saw death’s whirlpool up ahead.
I knew the end was close, I heard it
in the crashing waves, I heard it
in your voice.

Each day you were insistent,
telling me how you loved me,
your now raspy voice conceding.

When that call came, from your family
and mentioned your name. I asked how you
are doing and she said, “She was so sorry”,
my friend has passed away.

“To be certain – outside of belief in the sovereignty of God, we contend that true holiness in thought and in behavior cannot be wrought. The firmer the persuasion, the greater the consequent sanctification.”
The Desert Sun excerpt.

Ray Rice had a very bad moment! But so have you! Some things never change.

“I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting that you really believe what you just said.”
William F. Buckley Jr.

So now we have yet another controversy (Ray Rice) because men and women alike to ply controversy as along as it does not indict them or their perceptions about themselves.    A trio of cases has made the news and those ready to capitalize on them,  will.  (Ray Rice,  Adrian Peterson and Ferguson)   But like any person who benefits from these kind of cases are not about solutions.   These kinds want to feeled vindicated over something that has no relevance to their own lives.

They are just lazy haters with no plan.   The longer this goes on the less time there is to judge their own missteps and that includes me.    They have a belly full of self-righteous indignation and no one to blame.  Except for the vulnerable who they CLAIM to care about.

Those who wish to bash Janay Rice taking her longer view of this situation,  I want to slap!   Sure Ray Rice has done the unthinkable and their indeed needs to be consequences.   But the most strident critics are those with things to hide or some other agenda.     Or you have the guys who like to present a virtual dialogue,  accusing others of racism, sexism,  misogyny or whatever their minds decide.

These decisions are born of haste,  arrogance and the unfetter cacophony of a lynch mob.    Like the Salem Witch-hunts come in various arrays,  finding some niche in which a person can ruin another.   It is that simple.   People do because they can.  Just like those dysfunctional sex bombs on Jerry Springer.    What is most fascinating about that ‘trainwreck’ is how old flash me some boobs Springer is like a prurient slinky in Chinatown offering some sage advice to people who wantonly exploit each other.

Then are the raucous and indecorous sniggles at a woman objectifying herself by showing her boobs.    This diminishingly embarrassing behavior in encouraged.    Some of these very same people are cheering while teenagers are deemed sex offenders by showing their bodies to their friends and classmates who get an eyeful.    So who made you God?   You cannot even run your own life as the song so aptly put it.  Now, you wish to destroy Rice,  Peterson and Tiger Woods.   I can bet my life that some of you have done worse.

You talk about helping women?  You lie!  Aside trying to ruin the lives of the guilty the world has not changed one bit.    You are part of the problem as long as there is clamoring and no one is listening.  How else can anything ever get better?     Aside from the punitive actions and laws you offer no change in the patterns of abuse.

Hillary had one thing right,  that is literally does take a village to make things like bullying,  abuse and terrorism abate.   Not even a plan just demands of justice.   Taking on the victim like Ray’s wife and making it all about you!  You are complicit in bringing more pain to the world.   You have made the victim’s life harder whilst you munch on Doritos and beat your dog.   Yeah,  I know you did this!

or there is this!

Let’s take charge of our own and stop letting disinterested parties decide our fate and I mean us all.  We all go around not trying to effect change as practically as we can and bomb aspirin factories and tell everyone else how nice we are.   We are never as good or as bad as we want others to believe.

I have lied and have stolen things and have deceived and maybe they may or may not have been crimes but I do not go around giving everyone else a scarlet letter or accuse of them of being a witch,  child molester or a serial cheater of some kind.

It’s like the show (movie)  ‘Mean Girls’.  A revealing look at the innate nature of us all and even those who we thought were incapable of such things.

I like ‘House’.   Does that make me an abuser or a victim?    Does calling a peaceful church goer affect you?   And why do you think anyone owes YOU an apology?   Everybody hurts some times.

It is hard enough to make it in this life without lighting another fire and while we may not have this particular tragedy over our heads we can assure others than there are those who really do care.

Tic Tac Dough – They’re tryin to Build a Prison

 

I went a System of a Down Concert a few years ago.    Their music is right in many ways and on many issues.    For example,  they had a song called,  The Prison Song!   Not only was the music and program awesome,  but the song became personal.

At the end of the event as people were exiting a few decided to climb over railings and beat the crowd out of the Sun Dome.   But one of the police/guards,  whatever they call them decided to say get down or they would be arrested!   These young people need not to be threatened but they were!

Being a renown smart-ass  I  shouted,  “They’re trying to build a prison!!!”.    Hails of laughter swept through the crowd as a response to the scene and to the police’s actions against the students.

 

 

I was watching the News and saw the many dirty conditions in Africa and the threat that poverty has become generational in so many places.     Africa, who lives there and do they have faces?  The easy answer is,  YES!

Now what happens to Gwyneth Paltrow when there is another crash in the stock market?  Like one day she will  be that actress who did not garner many fans and her natural beauty fades?   There is so much hunger and poverty in the world and yet she looks down on others?

Too many people in Hollywood find their best gucci shoes and sunglasses to mask the ugliness in their hearts.  Sad too,  because many people look up to that wandering cesspool of self-righteousness robots until they too become frail and then want to have someone to care. I would but then again only because she is in need.

Are we better than these,  Gwyneth?     Could you tell her that her children do matter?  Do they need to make 100,000 dollars per year and will cry over the graves of the starving,  sick and homeless victim of circumstances?

Go to work as a volunteer as a support group facilitator.    That nation also suffers this damnable Ebola breakout.    And the headline below:

Ebola cases appear in DR Congo; doctor given promising drug dies in Liberia

http://www.cnn.com/2014/08/25/world/africa/ebola-outbreak/

 

And these people tell us how it is?    And sports are no better!

And just so true.   I have a seizure disorder and I know how it feels to be a soup line,  sleeping in my car with a cat.    I know of two more veterans,  one who has terminal cancer and the other a 78 year old who car is full of “Stuff” and he goes to places where he can to get out of heat or cold,  such as the case may be.    I have an  entrepreneurial idea that I plan to share to those woe begotten cardboard box souls.

Cops showed him,   didn’t they?

Warring with virtual corpses in a mad dash to nowhere and regardless of petty crimes,  we acquiesce and even endorse their actions against the unfortunate.   There are people who have Asphasia,   tri-geminal neuralgia (tic douloulreux ).   Many are bi-polar,   poorly educated and not too cogent.   Cops know not enough to attend them properly but rather do what you see above.

Bill Maher: “This country is becoming a police state, it is very troubling to me”