Yesterday despression fell over me lightly, like the black wing of a great raven, hunkering down over its nest for the night.

Life is so wildly full and disorganized and seemingly out of my control.

The worst thing is I know I have no right to be dull and depressed. My life is great, is it not? I have nothing to complain about. All is well. We have what we need. Thanks to T. Thanks to T.

He is goodness, is he not? He is Adam Bede, isn’t it true? He keeps trucking along in spite of the mundane awfulness. He just gets on with it.

But not me. *I* was taught to imagine life as infinitely full of possibility; that we could be the tiny fleck of diamond on the great raven’s wing, soaring through the skies between the tallest evergreens. That’s what I expect from life.

Not this mundane, out-of-control awfulness. Not placid acceptance of us all being cogs in the wheel of some relentless, pointless machine.

However: I am only under the light, black wing of a raven; I have only to make my tiny way *onto* it, in order to soar

Lizzi Potts took a swing and raised some knots

Lizzi Potts whammed hubby with cast iron pots

Lizzi Potts buried him under deep snow mounds

Lizzi Potts heaved him into back yard grounds

Lizzi Potts still could hear him moaning

Lizzi Potts dug him up to stop his groaning

Lizzi Potts gave him another forty whacks

Lizzi Potts covered him in two garbage sacks

Lizzi Potts fed him through his own wood chipper

Lizzi Potts caught her finger on his open zipper

Lizzi Potts was chopped into little bloody shreds

Lizzi Potts and hubby now fertilizer for flower beds.

They drew guns but it was no art,

Screams and cries rent the air but not a match.

My heart goes out to the families of pple who lost their lives in #Kenya #Egypt #Syria #Somali #Ethiopia #Texas #Vegas & #RohingyaMuslim in #Myanmar

My name's Derek, and I needed to express this tale of mine.

Being a college student isn't all fun and games. My books and rent cost me so much that life was beginning to get shit. I'd stopped with the drinking and partying two weeks before and I'd started driving people to and from their destinations for a bit of extra cash.

The uber app was great and I hadn't had any real problems with anybody yet.

It was about my 7th fare that made a real memory with me. I was called to collect a girl by the name of Emily from a bar called Saints. It wasn't far for me to go, and it wasn't far to get to where she wanted to go. There was no reason for me not to collect her.

When I got to the destination, it was obvious the girl was drunk. I was ready to continue on and act as though I hadn't seen her, but something held me back and I waited for her to climb in while mentally thinking about handing over more money for a cleaning bill.

She slipped into the car with a smile on her face, and asked if we could drive around for ten minutes with the windows open. Her voice was angelic and soft. Her words polite.

I did as she asked and prepared myself for an onslaught of sickness. It didn't happen. She gently slid her hand out of the window and did that airplane thing, allowing the cool air to brush against her skin.

"Have you ever thought about dying?" She asked. I answered her truthfully. Drunk people talk about alsorts of stuff. Some things depressing, some things strange.

"Sure I have." I said.

"I have cancer." She said. Again with a smile. "Chemo isn't going to work anymore. It's too late. So I'm dying. But it's OK."

My heart thumped in my chest and I didn't have a response that could help her. How would I help her?

"I went out with the girls from work tonight. They threw me a going away party." Her hand continued to fly through the night air as she raised it then lowered it. "I told them I was going to be taking a position with a place abroad.

Just never told them that place was heaven."

My heart broke.

I took her home and tried to refuse her money. She wouldn't have it. She still smiled.

I cried all the way home.

I'd go to Heaven if I'd know just where!

I'd go see who's there, knock upon their door,

wait for who will come out and answer me,

with an Angel's voice and rhythmic drum,

chanting to me about Kingdom come...

Or to Purgatory I'd go!

For spite I'd unbolt the door in the floor,

with fellow sinners burn the evening oil,

divert a wee bit of flame from their plight,

to return to you with some hindsight...

#AllSouls

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

We used to play pretend, give each other different names

We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away

Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face

Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money"

To those non-believers and "anti-dreamers" who tell us to wake up and go "make money", I pity your sad existance.

Trick-or-Treat

Was coming up

In the town

Of Chapel

Little Adam’s

Mom and Dad

Went through

All the hassle

Costume gathered

A cowboy hat

The wagon dressed

As cattle

Little Adam

Rode atop a

Cardboard horse

And saddle

The night had come

To Trick-or-Treat

Again his parents

Traveled

They left the car

And started off

Bags clutched by

The handles

Uphill slopes

And sidewalk stairs

His parents faced

And tackled

Up one side then

Down the other

Little Adam

Prattled

His parents trailed

Close behind

Caught up in

A gaggle

Of ghosts, witches,

Masks, and knights

A princess in

A castle

Ran down

In evening light

But Little Adam

Dazzled

They oohed and awed

At the tiny rancher

And loved his

Baby babble

They filled his sack

More and more

Another treat

He haggled

His parents wave

Reminding him

Of thank you’s

Tonight’s battle

Little Adam skipped

Back to the car

His parents

They both straggled

With the wagon and

A busted horse

That had gotten

Trampled

They loaded up

Heading home

A wait Adam

Couldn’t tackle

Squirming

In his seat

He couldn’t help

But waggle

He ripped

Into his bag

Looking in his

Treat capsule

Adam screamed

His face turned red

His feet kicked

And paddled

His parents turned

Fearing harm

But they were

Just as baffled

Their cute

Cowboy toddler

Was now a

Screaming jackal

Because in the bag

For Trick-or-Treat

All Adam got

Were apples

Crisp apple breeze

In a pumpkin spice sun

Gold medal leaves

Sparkle through rust

The first of the freeze

Brown on the mums

Now naked trees

Bare branches above

Red sunsets tease

Before the grey comes

The dropping degrees

Starting to numb

The ground and the bees

Silence the hum

As the earth goes to sleep

For the cold winter months

“Hey, calling to see how you’re holding up?”

“Oh, fine. I’m fine. Just… you know. Well, you know, puttering around the garage.”

The man chuckles. It is loud, but quickly fades and something metallic falls in the background. He clears his throat and speaks again.

“She would always come home and take a nap, it was like any other day. I mean, she was out, walking around. We were window shopping after church then came home. She looked at me and said, Honey, I’m going upstairs to lie down. I looked at her, you know, said, OKAY. That was it.”

A leaf silently breaks away from its home in the gentle breeze that drifts through the man’s yard. It sways soothingly back and forth as it falls amongst its brethren upon the moist grass. The man sits on a stool in his garage looking out the raised door, and the four cornered box that in one form or another has always served as his gateway to the world beyond.

A crackle on the other end of the phone breaks the silence only to say, “I know. I’m sorry, Bud.”

The man’s eyebrows lift as if to pull him out from within, and he tells his friend goodbye. His friend asks if he is fine, and a smile forms that none can see, and he replies that he is fine. The call ends with the man saying that he must go inside for he has things to do.

But he has nothing to do. For in his heart, he has nothing anymore.

He slumps at the stool, and continues to watch the season unfold. He puts an old tape in, one that grows more snowy and unrecognizable with each passing day. He sees the pumpkin patch and the corn maze. He smells the crisp apples and warm glaze. He feels the rough yet smooth texture of the gourd between his palms. With the smell of kettle corn in his nostrils he sees her smiling, laughing, twirling, chasing and running away.

He sees her go upstairs, for a nap.

So my reader, when he says he is fine, know this. Know that somewhere a gear has slipped, a belt has snapped, and a cog has worn thin.

For above all, he is not fine.

My supervisor always has to have everyone's attention with these boring, so called fire place talks, that lead no where. They are long, the use of the English language is inaccurate or the story tends start burning your eye balls, which I assume my brain is about to explode. So this particular day she wanted to reflect a life story about being a manager and her years of experience and I paid no attention what so ever about the matter. I just kept reading the company news letter. When all of a sudden she told one of the coworkers she worked for orthopedic Jews once at an attorneys office and they let her have the run of things because she could get the job done. Yes, you saw it orthopedic.  As you and I know it was just wrong, but it was one of many wrong words, expressions, and adjective used daily. I did text various people who may have been driving and had to pullover (never text and drive while laughing), my cousin who thought it was in reference to shoes and my mother, well she thinks I make this stuff up. So this is almost an everyday routine for me and God help me cope.