I walk down the broken path.
No shoes and no clue.
My feet get cut as I continue on.
With every step I take I begin to crumble and fall.
I Pick up myself and notice another person beside me falling and crying.
I walk over to him a lend my hand.
He takes it and we hold hands and continue On.
As we approach the gates we look back and see all of what we once were.

Gates climb


News and paraphernalia
Modern communication
Internet on vacation
Today, rural Australia

Goes awol in valleys, hills
As seeking when hiding
Frustration biding
Trees, various pitfalls

An Insufficient population
Say Cannot build towers
Excuses bely hours
Trying, for connection

Work with what's known
Try cavalier solutions  
It's the execution
When, creativity shown

First try computer waving
Above head I'm shaking
Signal not taking
Despite, the swaying

Next option lying on floor
Hint of access, fleeting
Patchy greeting
So slow, won't store

Then stand on top of bed
Try to reach high ceiling
Wobbly feeling
Response, still lead

Despite heat, go outside
The temperature violent
Connection silent
If Home far, just beside

Time past, similarly stung
Found access best rate
The paddock gate
Balancing, top rung

Troop to gate hopes keen
As Searing heat, metal
Stand and settle
Tightly, cradle machine

Process long, time lost
A Connection success
Finally access
But who, counts cost?

Eventually, its loaded mail
As Balancing hold keen
Humorous scene
As Sway, in light pale

Internet access by Gates
Not Bill, Steve, Microsoft
Hung steel aloft
So basic, surely debates

Climbing for a signal now
Is the practical response
Sadly ensconced
As Rural, area know how

But surely it must be time
When access essential
Internet critical
Yet today, gates climb

Memories of my past continue to haunt me,
In my dreams every night.

Our spirits swore their faith for all ages.

Open gates let into our lives;

Loyalty,
Goodwill,
To Rule Solemnly,
Exalted Ceremonies,

Showing the Correct thing,
Wisdom.
Bright Light and,
Justice for all.

We only need to find the courage to
Walk through just one,
To make our dreams
Come true.


Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

How many gallons
Of rain did you drink?

When you stood outside the gates,
Waving, "Hey!"

You stood still, jumping
As the rain showered
Your slender body
And boggèd it down;

And that, dear friend, is what I love you for.

she gathers them up
holding them gently in her arms
there are more every day
like harvesting flowers
pick them when they are in full bloom
she walks barefoot in the fields
in a powder blue dress
big floppy hat to keep off the sun
she gathers them up
and brings them to the boatman at the river
he gives her one of the four coins he collects
for each one he ferry's across
to the gates...
the gates....
one bright with golden promise
the other dark and cold...
she hates the sight of the gates....
she wants her flowers to stay the way they are forever
she walks the battlefield that night
gathering up the fallen soldiers
she is death
come to harvest the late bloom
come to gather the souls for the ferry man
across to the gates of forevermore

Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.

Through the shadows.
Souls run around.
Through the fire.
Hell has come.

Beware his might.
His sword of darkness.
Beware the fear,
That envelopes your soul.

My love,
It has come.

My love,
It has begun.

Judgement damns your soul,
Welcome to the Underworld.

Fire, Stone, waves of fear.
Punishment is your reward.