eyes that bleed to the sound of another dawn aproaching
dead yet awoken as the noise invades my ears
life begun against the oppressive nature of gloom
dreams so yesterday as light takes on the dark

These were my thoughts as i awoke
today was my destiny to change the world
yet would tomorro be different
would dreams take on new life

7 billion souls now so think this way
all fighting for the one
air so sweet against dust from the dead
life still goes on..... life still goes on....and on

May 13, 2016
1:00 a.m.
"Grasping for straws, again!" It's amazing to me, that when we start aproaching  my age, how we start reflecting on events that, at the time of their occurence, were not important. Case in point:
Lubbock, Texas, September, 1953, if memory serves. During that time local television stations, at noon, always had a 15 minute newscast, followed by another 15 minutes of "public service programing, featuring upcoming events in the surrounding communities. This time of year, it was always the "South Plains Fair."
My brother, Bill, and I belonged to a volunteer service group that was scheduled to appear on such a program aptly titled "Hospitality Time." Also scheduled was a country western band that was to perform at the fair. I can't recall the name other than they were associated with a circuit called "The Louisiana Hayride",  similar to the "Grand 'ol Opry", both very popular on the radio, you do remember 'radio', don't you?"
Prior to the telecast, we got into a conversation with one of the musicians, who 'plunked' on his guitar while waiting for their call.He turned out to be the lead singer. Not being a country music fan, I  didn't pay much attention to them, after all, it was "just for the Fair." After they finished and were leaving, he turned to my brother and me, and said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't until a couple of years later, when I realized that we had met, and talked with, Elvis Presley.
copyright: richard riddle: 05-13-2016

Days slip by with remains of my emptyness cast aside like bottles apon a vacant highways path.
How often had I found little comfort in the arms that knew nothing and only lingered for
payments often underpaid  in moments best left to forgotten like nights of youth kissed in
a lovers lipstick called regret .

Sometimes it takes a good demon's  burn to pull your head outta the cloud's.
And in these empty highways reflection often i'd found little more than rest stops
and regrets to fuel my anger and true sense of I dont give a ****.

Faces of a blank canvas heading toward new horizens and bitter end's.
Children lost clinging to people more clueless than there youth cast logic could bare.
No one's home in the lost.'
Only found in the emptyness of a new destination.

I cannot say wear I became such a heartless soul.
Only point you towards another route and send you off to find something
that would resemble a traggic play called happiness.

A broken down machine shook  by  other's in hope for a free treat.
Some just for the hell of seeing it swerve ive long since learned to respond
in a stock sense like some robot no true thought  left in my blackend soul.

Dark roads spread like snakes across tatered highways soon to be forgotten by all.
Rest stop ahead one mile.
We gather a lost audience with a shared flaw.

Tired of travel some drenched in life.
Togather we gather in seconds as soon we all do depart.

I cannot say ive spent the time only to erase it in vain.
But a highway is a womans love never returned only taken we no
longer feel the desire to give.

In darkest hours of mornings soon to be aproaching light I sit watching
the lights chase off into the distance swallowed into a never seen again void.
So many chasing dreams others just chasing a new stage.
All of us headed towards yet another dim lit destination.


I always dread my return.

The scraggley mountains in the distance
look like soft sleeping boddies
made round and soft
covered and swaddled
in an icy blanket of aproaching fog.

An emerald and ruby star hangs in the distance
reminicent of some **** covered nativity scene
with mules kicking
and a woman screaming
and piles of hay rotting into the shape of beds
and a fool man welcoming an immaculate carpenter
and a woman smug in deciet
as she pushes out into a pile of muddy grain
and rat ****.

A sheet of rain falls sidesways in the distance
storm front drawing a visible line in the sky
the rain sounds like a waterfall
eating away at the concrete slowly over time
with icy crystal gums
as soft and deadly
as a sleeping bear
or a politicians words.

These things form the viege memories of a season.
Along with wood stoves,
the sticky smell of pitch,
hearty soup,
old musty books,
warm muddy boots,
and hot strong drinks.
Warming pioson to the core.
Winter sickness in the town where rain makes a grey christmas.
Every.
*******.
Year.

From on top of the mountain
you can see where you've been
and it's really no matter
the why or the when
for it's deep in the valleys
that your lessons are given
your pathways defined
for a life you'll be livin'
take this time to reflect
on all that you've learned
and savor moment
as the tide could be turned
rest here on the mountain
drink deep, quench your thirst
there's another valley aproaching
prepare for the worst

1253  lie awake  
Hear the  dry mechanisms
In the clock searching desperately
For any distracting thoughts
Tictictictictic tic tic  tic  tic .  .  .  . . . ......
Finally !....gravity!
compensations mathmatical
Calculations with variables!
This rythm fluctuation in timing
I had thought maybe
I was imagining....I'm not!
It's real in fact perfectly predictable  ....  
its not intermittent
or some symptom
of mechanical failure
The tic of the clock speeding
Then slowing its not the batteries or something discrepant in the machining....
Its so simple  ....
The weight of the second hand being the longest is pulled by gravity.........
so as it hits the six you can hear a lul in the ticking as if it were dangling without tensioning on the gearing
Then you hear slow struggling up to the twelve .
Where it sorta teeters then speeds sounds like it's trying to hold back the sands of time
Time... .
Time..............
h no ......no...please
Let me sleep,
Here comes the wave again
Pain full perfect memory
The clear and present danger
I know is immenment
The discovery ....
They'll see I've been pretending
To be innocent
And my biggest fear
My most mind breaking soul shattering life ending fear.....
Is they will think
I had taken pleasure in
Getting away with it...
So I relive it ...
I transfer myself into the ones who hurt the worst
Become them and absorb the worst case scenario
Over and over......
I lay awake ....
I live the humility of being ...
In the .....
I know I'm guilty wether I'm caught or not.......
I'm not trying to get away with anything .....
I just don't want to get caught...
Suddenly ....
The door slams like at the end of ironsides.....as the footsteps echoing down the hall ...
Louder aproaching
I see a big green question mark
Teetering and ticking above my pursuant....
Ohh no here it comes again
BAM BAM BAM.
this is it
My day of reckoning
Should I run .....
The door is opening