TRUE HORROR OF THE WORLD 05-12-10

How can one explain the true horror of this nation?
How can one explain the true horror of this world?

There is no way to explain evil.
There is no way to explain GOD.
There is no way to explain God’s plan.

There is no way to make it work out even
There is an awful unbalanced *** for Tat.
Vengeance is a LUXURY for some.

It is not mine.
That time is long gone.
That is, if it ever existed.

Forgiveness is my only tool left.
What a dull, unused piece.
I will have to sharpen it.

THE FERRIS WHEEL

I’ve always trusted machines, especially big ones. Like the ones at the annual county fair held at the Oklahoma City fairgrounds. After 2 weeks, the closing ceremony was always held in the main bull riding arena with a captivating routine performed by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Even their dead horse was on display throughout the whole time of the fair. His name was Trigger and he was stuffed. Roy Rogers was so in love with Trigger that he couldn’t go on without him. So he had him stuffed and carted him around whatever circuit they might be on. It was a sad but interesting display. But now he had a new Trigger and new tricks which were somewhat entertaining.

In the fall of 1971, upon this particular day Matt, a friend of mine and I convinced my little brother Wayne to go on the biggest ride at the fair, the double Ferris wheel.  It was a Ferris wheel shaped like an 8. The two wheels were loaded one after the other. As the seats were filled the ride would continue going up, up, and up then reaching the apex of two circles, sitting in a little grated seat, held in by a bar that locked you in at the at the beginning of the ride. When you reached the top it felt like you were riding a cloud. Going over the top of the Ferris wheel was an unimaginable thrill, it was built to guarantee a belief that you would in no way survive. Then you would swing back and forth, waiting for the other circle of seats to be filled before the real ride began.

As Matt and I got into our seat, Wayne hopped in next to me. We heard the clangs of the operator shutting the bars over the riders locking them into place. But when we got to the operator, the familiar clang was more like a clunk. The bar had not latched. We were not locked in. Now in the back of my head I took this in, but I chose to ignore it. We went up a little higher as other patrons were clanged tightly into their seats. Then as we went up, people started getting bold, swinging their legs, rocking their seats like a swing chair. After moving up about 80 feet, Matt began to swing ours. ”This is cool, huh” he said, trying to hide any little creep of fear. “Yeah, this is really great”, I agreed. But I didn’t do anything to cause the seat to rock anymore than it already was. Wayne was silent, his eyes clenched shut.

All of a sudden, the whole apparatus raised us up into the atmosphere. I swear we were at least as high as the tallest building in the Oklahoma City skyline. I could tell Matt was truly scared and he had quit rocking the chair. That didn’t matter. One last jolt threw us over the top and the “safety” bar swung wide open, out and away before coming back slowly to rest on our laps providing no safety whatsoever. After the bar swung out a couple of more times I was convinced we were going to fall to our deaths and become county fair legends. All three of us clung to the grated back of the seat, our fingers drained of blood by holding on so tight. We came down three times past the operator of the Ferris wheel before we got his attention. But Wayne was clutched so tightly to the back of the seat; you couldn’t have separated him with a paint scraper. He would have died there had we finally not gotten the attention of the operator and the operator’s boss.

It was becoming apparent that something was dreadfully wrong, so the ride slowly and painfully came to a stop. Passengers at the top were swinging their seats unaware of our impending death. Finally the double wheel cranked our seat to the exit platform. We couldn’t speak. The breath was out of us. Yelling at this time was impossible. Everyone remembered Wayne. He was white as a ghost and his lips were blue. He had clutched so hard to the back of the seat the whole side of his face was imprinted with the grate. I found this very curious. There was a pattern similar to a waffle imprinted from his forehead to his chin. He was still white but the lines in the imprint were deep red. His eyes remained closed until I was able to convince him that the ground was 2 feet below him. Finally he let go, and all three of us were pried from the seat. The ground never felt as good as it did that day.

We were still crying and shaking when the Manager of the fairgrounds arrived and removed us to the calming area which also doubled as the baby animal petting zoo.  We sat down in the petting area allowing the straw to dry our pants as all three of us had literally peed in them. As our pants became drier, we became a little calmer and we began petting baby lambs and chicks.   Then I looked across the way at the oddities booth. I had been in there that day. They had all sorts of gross weird things in there. I was fascinated. Some of the exhibits were pickled and some were still living.  I saw 2-headed babies in pickle jars and a calf with a leg sticking out of its forehead. I didn’t even want to think about that now. Too late. I bent over and puked so hard my eyes bulged.

MY TREE HOUSE 12-02-09

Hi. I’m hyper-active. I also don’t pay attention very well. They say I have “attention-deficit” but I’m starting to think that it’s not a deficit, it’s an attention overload. I get distracted easily because so much flows through my brain at one time. Add that to hyperactivity, it’s no wonder I’m accident-prone. They wanted me to wear a helmet but I flatly refused.

I have a tree house. I’ve always had a tree house or a fort of some kind. I’m not a kid anymore, but each year that passes by; I get younger, by one year. If I get back to age 30, I’ll be amazed. But that’s a long ten years away. It’s better than turning sixty.

I’m short. I’m small, and I can climb like a monkey and drink like a buffoon.
Sometimes this combination is very entertaining. Sometimes it’s just completely annoying…to others.

There was only so much I could do as a kid. By the time I was six, my younger brother, at age two and a half, was as tall as me. I punched him regularly, if he annoyed me. But I took up for him, a lot. He remembers me wailing on a kid twice my size, because he’d hit my little brother. I don’t remember, but my brother recalls me swinging and yelling “You don’t hit my brother! Nobody hits my brother, ‘cept me! Take that, you *****!”

As the giant fell from a kick to the groin, I’d haul my little brother home, by his ear, telling him to STAY OUT of trouble. I couldn’t be there every time he needed me.

I’m not 6 years old anymore, but explain that to the neighborhood kids. Each year, they get taller and I get smaller. Time and again, I am outgrown. When they get to a certain height, they try to lean their elbows on top of my head, or tussle my hair. That’s when they learn what I’m really made of! These are kid’s I’ve been scaring at Halloween since they were toddlers.

Even though my tree house is for me, I must say it does attract a lot of attention, from adults and kids alike. There is not one neighbor, young or old who has not climbed up there.

With a whimsical fascination, a whisper comes out….”I’ve always wanted a tree house…just like this…”

Yep, me too. That’s why I keep working on it. That’s why I have more scrapes, scratches, abrasions, tears, bruises and bug bites than anyone I know. And I wear shorts all the time, so they show. I sometimes appear to have chicken pox. But it’s just poison ivy.

Everyone that knows me doesn’t really notice; it’s just a part of me. But sometimes, strangers will look at my tanned, scraped, burned and just plain injured skin and gasp.

Before they know it, they’ve commented behind their hand. “Good Lord, child, what happened to you?”

“Ooooohh, just life”, I say as I scamper out of the liquor store.

DEAR ANNE SEXTON:  05-14-10

Dear Anne:

You were so precocious as a child,
needing to be the center of attention.
Yet you were very, very sick inside.
Such a tragedy when you died.

I look at your beautiful face,
And I wonder what you did not see.
There were not enough accolades
to fill your soul’s empty space.

The ache of loneliness resonates
throughout your expressions;
in your pictures, your poems, your letters.
My heart is breaking, I feel just like you.

You saw yourself as a stranger.
I see you as someone I love.
My feelings, you express so well.
My sorrow is complete, you are now above.

Dear Anne.

Tormented demons forced you blind
to your natural beauty of yourself.
God, I wish I could turn back time.
You left so much behind

I wish I could talk to you.
I wish I could convey
That life is full of pain, yes.
But bearable if one maintains
a true survival instinct.

The wish to leave must be turned aside.
You were alone, a small boat, lost in the sea.
Your attempts to survive were thwarted.
Your mind convinced you otherwise.

I will never forget your struggle,
It resonates within me.
You called yourself “a bag of bones”
Yet you attracted anyone you wanted.

Your flirtatiousness was infectious.
Boys flocked to you as you played
a game of “want me, but don’t need me”…

Your words are torturous and keen.
I miss you. You explained me.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.

But it’s too late.
You never even knew me.
In 1974, you killed yourself.
I was fourteen.

I’ve attempted the same since I was fifteen.
God must have a purpose for me.
Or maybe He likes my suffering,

You succeeded.
Was it guts? Cowardice?
Illness or madness?
What did you see?

Are you at peace now?
Do you now have the peace I crave
to stop my crawling stomach?

The pain is great, almost overwhelming…
Why did you succeed instead of me?
(Dedicated to Anne Sexton, 1928-1974 RIP)

DEAR ANNE FRANK: 05-14-10 ( Part One of Letters To Anne)

Dear Anne:

You were so precocious as a child,
needing to be the center of attention.
Yet you were very, very strong inside.
Such a tragedy when you died.

I look at your beautiful face,
And I wonder what you did not see.
There will never be enough accolades
to calm the pain of  your empty space.

The ache of loneliness resonates
throughout your expressions;
in your pictures, your poems, your letters.
My heart is breaking, I feel just like you.

You saw yourself as a lover of life.
Your words are so full of hope and  love.
My feelings, you express so well.
My sorrow is complete, you are now above.

Dear Anne.

Demented devils forced your demise.
The natural beauty of yourself never dies.
God, I wish I could turn back time.
But you left, still believing the world is kind.

I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could convey
that life is full of pain, yes.
But bearable if one maintains a true heart
and a belief in your God’s reprieve.

The death of your mother, your sister.
Your wish to stay was forced aside.
You were alone, a small boat, lost in the sea.
Your attempts to survive were thwarted.
Your mind convinced you otherwise.

I will never forget your struggle,
It resonates within me.
They turned you into a “bag of bones”.
Yet you attracted anyone you wanted.

Your flirtatiousness was infectious.
Boys flocked to you as you played
a game of “want me, but don’t need me”…

Your words are torturous and keen.
I miss you. You explained me.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.

But it’s too late.
You never even knew me.
You were sixteen when you died.
I wasn’t here, it was 1945.

I’ve attempted to die since I was fifteen.
God must have a purpose for me.
Or maybe He likes my suffering,
My shame is in my last uttering.

You succeeded.
You made it where I want to be.
Do you still believe what you wrote?
“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”
Anne Frank

You have always had the peace I crave
to stop my crawling stomach.

The pain is great, almost overwhelming…
How did you succeed? Would you help me?
(Dedicated to Anne Frank, 1929-1945 RIP)

OTHER QUOTES BY ANNE FRANK;

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!
Anne Frank

italicHow true Daddy's words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.
Anne Frank

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.
Anne Frank

I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.
Anne Frank

CAR CRASH  04-20-10

I swerve instinctively
As I see the red brake lights in front of me
Too bad, he didn’t see
in time to stop more instantly.

He is dead now.
The front of his Corolla is
Untimely married.
To an 18 wheeler’s back end.
Sorry, friend.

I don’t even know you.
I’m just glad I’m not you.
A human is now turned to ****** goo.
God, I’m glad that was not me, but you.

Wow. That could have been me
One or two seconds, that would’ve been me.
I careen around the grotesque site.
I almost hit a car in the lane to the right.

Why, when my life flashes before my eyes
Is the very same instant I beg not to die?
I’m feeding myself an incredible lie.

My usual mantra is “I want to die!”
“God, please take me, I want to die!
“I hate my life, I want to die!”

But it wasn’t me
It was someone else’s turn to be free.
Free? Of what? Of Life?
Since when did I disvalue my life?

Since when did I start to like my life?
I don’t know, and I’m not sure that’s a true statement
I dream of crashing into side rails all the time.
Go ahead, and just get over this strife called my life.

I look back in my rear view mirror.
Death could not be seen any clearer.

Man, I must rethink who I am
I must take a look at my cavalier stance
To life.
I appreciate life more than I can appreciate
The acceptance of my own.

AND IN THESE DAYS 06-04-10

And in these days,
rain was expected every afternoon
and did not disappoint.
The rain offered nothing cool.

It brought no respite from the heat.
As the Sun re-appeared, we knew what to do...
We jumped and landed into the pool.
We skinny-dipped through the mid-afternoon.
Such a relief! I felt my heart begin to beat!
A cold beer put my shakes to sleep.
I begged my body for my love to begin.
And you were here, waiting, with me.
The rain washed everything to bright and new.
What a splendid love-filled afternoon.
We sat naked in the back yard,
as early evening set...at our table for two.

I read Anne Sexton aloud for you.
My voice, I knew, enraptured you
Rising after my exhaled words,
I watched my ******* captivate you.
I was delighted. And so were you.
And in these days we were together.
We became one, no longer two.
And as I drank whiskey and water,
You drank your sweet iced tea…

The smell of my clove cigarette
became the nostalgic reminder.

A lasting memory...of these days…

(© Written by sjhunt-bloodworth 06-04-10)