It is that people fully invested in ignorance have no other recourse than to blindly accept that President Trump is evil? Otherwise, they would have to accept they have been wrong all along.

President Trump did not brag about witholding American aid to the Ukraine until his son’s prosecuter/investigater was fired in the next 6 hours. That was Joe Biden who said that. But if the media tells you that Orange Man bad, can you think for yourself or just accept what you have been told?

President Trump did not release the China Virus, but he did restrict travel and immigration from China that delayed or slowed the spread. Joe Biden called this racist. Do you know this? Do you want to know this? or just accept what you have been told?

President Trump lowered unemployment and taxes for all Americans. He removed excessive regulations on businesses. He removed the mandate forcing Americans to purchase ObamaCare. If ObamaCare is great, it will survive on its own without force.

The result: the return of many industries and the fast tracking of a vaccine for the Chinese virus. The media and Joe Biden ignores both. Do you think for yourself or blindly accept what you you are told?

If you include a Middle East peace agreement and a pro-American renegiotation of NAFTA and Chinese trade deals, you might wonder why no previous President accomplished both. Or why no media outlet spoke of either. Perhaps they believe you cannot accept the truth. Perhaps they never want you to know the truth.

It is not that President Trump is evil. It is that President Trump fights. He pushes back against the liars and the lies they tell. He makes those who believe the lies uncomfortable. He survived a constant barage of lies every day from the media, the Democrats, and their minions. He is the first Republican in a long time to do so. They all hope he is the last.

If you think about his Presidency, you might come to this conclusion.

However, if you haven’t by now, you most likely never will.

Yesterday is the past

Today is the present

Forever is a mystery

we should use each day

to the best of our abilities

and use each minute wisely

because there's one thing we can't ever buy

and that thing is time.

Dave and April had been friends since kindergarten. They lived one street over from each other and shared the same street number, 1001.

Their community was rather small and shared a city park with the municipal buildings that housed the police and fire administration offices as well as the county courthouse.

Once they reached middle school age, they were allowed to walk home together, “straight from school” they were told. Sometimes, they would linger in the park as they cut through the tree lined path to people watch. It seemed they never ran out of “suits” to watch come and go through the park to the many offices in the century old building.

They walked the well-worn path through their middle school years and on into high school. The cracked sidewalk, at times, was lined in the winter with fresh shoveled snow and in Spring the white cottonwood blossoms drifted along with them to land upon the tall green blades of grass laid between the fountain and gazebo, under the elder sycamore and maple trees.

Although April was born in the Spring, her favorite time of the year was Fall. The colors of the season wakened her like nothing else, well, except perhaps the pumpkin chocolate chip muffins baked fresh, daily, at The Rim Coffee and Tea shop. They were only available for 3 months a year starting October 1st. No earlier and no later — no exceptions. The muffins were enormous and one was more than enough for the two of them to share. They looked forward to this day like the last day of school, summer pool season, and the next episode of Friends.

Dave loved to see April’s green eyes widen with delight when she became most alive in the Fall. That year, he had begun to look at her differently. Her long auburn hair, captured the Sun’s golden rays and Dave’s eyes on more than one occasion. He sometimes drifted deep into thought, imagining her freckled nose drawing close to his and sharing a kiss with her. He didn’t know when these feelings began, but, he was bursting to share them with her.

Dave had decided that he would wait until their favorite day of the year to share his feelings with her, over the chocolate chunks, darting from the top of the pumpkin muffins, that sometimes stained the corners of their lips when they devoured them without a care in the world.

The day had finally arrived and,

as planned, Dave was ready to share his heart with April. He was a ball of nerves, though, and asked her to wait at the bench on the other side of the park. He needed a few minutes to gather his courage and thought that the time it would take to walk to the coffee shop and back would give him just that.

The bells hanging from the coffee shop door rang softly as he closed it with their muffin in hand and his heart in his stomach. He began to walk toward the bench and noticed a few more police cars and fire trucks than usual parked at the corner of the park. As Dave began to approach, his heart sunk even further when he didn’t see April waiting for him on the park bench.

The brown paper bag slipped from his fingers as he was overcome with disbelief seeing April’s soft auburn hair spread out among the fallen leaves and her pale eyelids, closed and concealing the beauty of her emerald green eyes. She was gone, in an instant, when she had tripped over the buckling sidewalk where an old knotty root had pushed its way from underneath. She landed in the path of an oncoming vehicle unable to stop in time.

Dave went on to college

and when he inherited his parents home, having aged and been moved into assisted living facilities, he became one of those “suits” they often watched together. His steps often tread along the cracked sidewalks and worn paths they shared cutting through the park so long ago. For many, April was gone and forgotten, but, for Dave, she still lingered in his heart and mind.

She was in the leaves, changing colors of red and gold like her hair. She was in the tiny dew drops hanging upon on the tall blades of green grass like her wide eyes staring at him from behind a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin. She was in the smell of Fall that swirled around within the winds, changing the landscape of the park from its summer festivals and 4th of July dances to the season and the day that would always bring Dave to the park bench, to sit and remember his best friend, blossoming love, and the day of her passing, 10-01, marked upon the white wooden cross

he had pounded in the ground with a hammer so many years ago. Indeed, this, too, was his home address, 1001, for he never felt more at home then there; Autumn in the park, with his best friend, all their memories and one, uneaten, pumpkin chocolate chip muffin.

Focus on me.

Her eyes big as the moon and full as the sun.

Focus. On. Me.

She shook. Fingers pulling through her hair.

Grey, you need to focus on me. You are chaos. Now focus, or I will make you focus.

I had not quite pulled her through to our side of the parallel. All this violent, directionless energy was tying her to her thoughts, and I could not help her to find her physical location. My mind had found her’s easily. We were sitting, knees touching, on opposite sides of a train car. The cabin was closet-like in size and lit only by candle. A stark contrast to where our bodies sat. Though we still sat knee to knee, the bright light and the white of my lab coat were the antithesis of the frenzied train ride. Bullet proof glass surrounded us, small speakers methodically stationed to allow for sound to completely envelop anyone inside the glass room. Two techs in the same white coat as myself stood at the door, ready to enter should I feel endangered.

On the train, I focused on Grey. I lit a cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke away from her wan face.

Glazed expression, hands trembling.

I need you to focus. We are going to get off the train soon.

Her head shook in reflexive disagreement. Fingers, fidgeting against her right leg.

It’s not optional. Look at my eyes.

A shadow cast across the window, and her eyes darted to catch the movement.

Grey, focus on me.

Her gaze made the slow crawl back to my face. And I held her eyes, irises gleaming with soon to fall tears. I sat calm and still. I flicked my cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath my right boot. Smoke curled softly off the ground, bringing the smell of burnt polyester. And her breathing slowed.

Focus on me.

And her hand began to reach for my own.

And the weight of the room shifted. The change in atmosphere derailed us. Men in white entered from the door to the cabin.

Her eyes, wide open, deep and full as the ocean.

Her hands pressed against her ears.

Fear pouring off her skin.

And screaming. Shrill, never-ending screams. Her mouth flung wide. A noise somehow deep and high pitched all at once. The windows burst. Shards of glass flying in all directions. I watched, impassive as the men in white tried desperately to save themselves. But the caterwaul burst them as thoroughly as the glass. Eyes and ears bled. Hemorrhaging stomachs and bursting veins. The skin around the eyes all broken blood vessels with bruised throats and limbs.

In the lab, I lit another cigarette. A cool voice played through the overhead speakers.

Did it work? Are you ok?

I bent down making a show of it. The question ludicrous. I checked pulses, though one could clearly see from the amount of blood that I was the only survivor in the room.

Aside from the fact that you sent these two in to fetch me for no explicable reason that I can see, the small detail of this young lady still being lost in her own mind, and the massacre of blood lying on the ground in front of me...we’re ok.

There is still

a chill

but

I lift my face

eyes closed

basking

in the vibrant

rays of

early spring

sunlight

and I am filled

with warmth

as the joy

of new life

spreads

through me.

I breathe

deeply

and the delicate

scent of

pink and purple

hyacinths

that boldly brave

the still cool air

tickles my nose

and I know

that spring

is here.

Tango of shame

I am to blame

words carving

life slot starving

magic pluck

no such luck

dip into soft jar

weary hand from afar

widen the road

madness unload

stomp into ground

solution not found

naked words

hushed birds

molten breath

sudden death

skeletons strung

clotheslines flung

slice the wind

cover sin

tense echoes

lined in rows

no elbow room

certain doom

long reach

I beseech

infinite sky

let words fly

unhinge the strings

free thought rings.

In a second of a blink

before your curling wink

I walk the upward stairs

when I should be goin’ down

I feel the cracking floors

of your encroaching steps

but you’ve got it all wrong

I have to say so long

I hope that I am strong

enough to say

get out of my bed

because I am here too

and you no longer belong

I’m screaming this is wrong

the space between us

hopelessly shattered and torn

feelin’ forlorn as I mourn

this is so wrong

get out of my bed!

Silken soft kisses

unfolding like earth flowers

blossoming to love.

* * * * * * *