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sometime in the early 60's
when I was still that near-empty canvas
about to be painted
the dark strokes began
the old man with the long grey hair
***** beard and tattered clothes
digging through the trash outside the Smithsonian during a first grade field trip
we all stared...no words spoken
no explanation from our teacher
that is my first vivid memory of the dark strokes
the second was an incident in Dallas, Texas
this was black paint in very bold strokes
that never seemed to dry
smaller dark strokes were interspersed with bright colors as well
for this is the painting of life
learning we were poor
that my father worked two or three jobs to feed the eight of us
over the many years
such a good man
a quiet genius set out to provide at age thirteen when his father passed of TB
it was all he did...work
but he was a brilliant man
if not accessible...a poet as well
which I discovered after his death
his colors
his painting was very dark
save for one bright stroke of light that drew the eye first
the crowning achievement of his lifetime
my Mother
who added so much light against the darkness in all our paintings
an Angel on earth
the balance that provided hope
moved us along
matched every dark stroke life threw our way
gave us all reason to view our paintings upon completion
with the joy of knowing that we would soon be with the artists
once again
life is a painting
it is the defining answer as to why
in the infinite measurement of time
we are quickly fading as a species
the heroes and those given the gift of genius
quietly silenced in the shadows
in the whispers that fade quickly like dreams

the light of untethered thought
the discoveries that lay in wait to bring us to an enlightened world
are crushed by the deviants
the malicious
the maggotry that userp and violate the natural progression of mankind
more brazen they have become
more defined are their goals
unflinching in their task
these oligarchs who see utopia as a world under their control
they ******
they destroy
they bury all ideas and creations
that interfere with their burning desire
for personal gain
greed owns them
greed drives them
and in the end
will come darkness
May all the brave journalists, inventors, politicians and whistle blowers who gave their life to reveal the truth rest in peace
my days go quickly
my nights are quiet
in a morbid kind of way
the mind
the body
less will to move
have led my hopes astray
so many things
that are left to do
are buried in my dreams
things that once were goals to me
have faded in the seams
when the memories begin to drift away
when the body is in decline
take me to the ocean's edge
and leave me to my final line
bad day
we got drones in Jersey
drones in LA
are they from the future
are they here to stay

are they comin' from the sea
or comin' from the sky
were they made in deep space
or is it just a lie

re-engineering
that is all the rage
shake us up
shake us down
keep us in a cage

they're playin' us like fiddles
where can truth be found?
multi-million dollar jets
but they can't shoot one down!

what a huge calamity
what a sorry joke
this mega scam will soon unfold
like pepsi vs coke

don't buy it!
so tired of the BS
fire
with no deterrent
makes its way through the valleys
over the hills
and through the silent towns
engulfing the barely alive
and the already dead
there are no alarms
no screams
no running
just the sound of crackling fire
peaceful really

Mother inhales
looks out upon the flames
it is time to begin again
after I rest
everything begins to slow
the words
the names
the memories glow
not too long ago it seems
you became the savior
of my dreams
a life less full
than most would hope
a child's new life
a means to cope
I watched you grow
as I grew old
I watched your life
like a dream unfold
from your very first step
to my very last thought
you were everything
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