TRUTH-LIES...with FD Thornton - Stories

All That Fair?

5/20/2025

Story Inspired By The Music Of John Mellencamp

Trying to fall asleep last night I must have written at least ten poems and several stories in my head. So I thought it just be best to write something down so I could at least fall asleep. Justice seems to be a long set of rules, that for the few don’t mean a damn thing. The house seems to be especially rigged when your poor and working class. Living your lives dependent on the charity of others. That set the minimum wage for your sweat and pain just doesn’t seem fair. But what can you do when everyone else accepts it, like pigs fighting for a place at the trough or cattle blindly walking into the slaughterhouse.

We all think it’s fair, till it’s our ideas that are taken away. Used and violated like some unfortunate girl by the flash and desires of the privileged. Only to be left tormented and abused, then discarded like so much garbage. So what is fair? In a life where your left stacked like cord wood to be thrown into the fire. To warm another man’s bones. I’ve lived so passively taking the crumbs I was given. Rather it was love, attention, or wealth. But many will say, “But did you work hard enough?” All while they’re being waited on with a silver cup.

Who knows what it is I’m trying to say. When all I see are our leaders and elites sipping fine wine, while children are buried with bulldozers and shot down by drones. What makes their lives more important than ours? Religious fervor perverted over a millennia ago? I may not have a gun, but my leaders sure do. Bought with the money I made. Maybe I’m just rambling like an idiot that needs to be silenced. So load your guns you selfish few. Cause I’m more than certain there are more lined up behind me, that don’t think things are all that fair.

Honesty

5/19/2025

Sandra Saxon Burnsed

Staring at a new morning, with summer bleeding through the double paned windows. The motion of time is unrelenting as the seasons blur one into another. My wife sits quietly at her easel working on yet another piece of art. Switching back and forth between “Live with Kelly and Mark” and “The Bubble Guppies”. The sound of both blare through the door and the wall that separate us. But there’s no point in arguing or trying to drown out each other. After raising four doorstep kids, I’ve gotten pretty good at drowning out noise.

The wind twist calmly outside the windowpanes, I made a conscience decision not to head to the park today. My energy level has been pretty low for the last few days. With my anxious side simply waiting on the news about my apparent lost rent check. I ran a trace on it nearly a week ago and I’m still waiting to see what has happened. I suppose it’s kinda silly worrying about things that I cannot control. But still the strain it puts on me physically is definitely a drain.

But isn’t it how it is with most everything in life? From living in a world just trying to survive. To hoping that somehow you’re making some small difference in others lives, when in fact you feel so all alone. Selflessness I guess is it’s own reward, that the key to recognition is to expect no glory. So I type away and worry about the things I cannot control. Trying not to be selfish about any likes or passing along honest wisdom. Praying that the demons running around in my head will get tried and finally let me be. While these words may not display any positive light at least they display an honesty I don’t often see in the words posted on the breakroom wall “Just Hang In There”.

Know What I Mean

5/16/2025

Image By: Sandra Saxon Burnsed

Why do some of us grow up feeling like we don’t deserve love? Was it a lack of attention or intimacy we received as children? Or was our sense of love twisted by physical or mental abuse? It is an interesting and troubling question, for sure. In my case I think it come from the mixed signals I received as a kid. From a dad who could at times be distant and verbally abusive. To a mom who was a mother and a needy sister, at the same time. My main abusers were the schoolyard bullies. The confident ones that took pleasure in pointing out every fault and every flaw.

Now before you start accusing me of being a snowflake or bleeding heart liberal (by the way I am). I can dish it out and take a good ribbing from the best. What I’m talking about are the abusive words and actions that can scar you for life. You know what I mean. Anyway it has been a long process of listening and giving my pain a voice to heal from my troubles. Not that by any means that I’m completely healed, but I continue to try.

I think of a dear friend whom I love very much. One of the few lifelong friends I still have from my past. And while the words, “I love you”, fall so easily from their lips. I often wonder, “Do they really feel it for themselves”? So often words fail to express the emotion you really want to give. But at the given moment a hug simply isn’t in the cards. I suppose my point here is to say I understand. I understand the pain and doubt you may feel. I understand the piss poor substitution that worldly riches and acclaim can offer. So to each of you, including myself. I am truly sorry.

A Little Pride

5/15/2025

After finally getting back from the urologist office I took a few hours to rest my back with the heating pad. I thought seriously about taking a nap, but instead I run the broom over the floor and swept. Then I figured since I’m already up I might as well clean the ceiling fan blades and the air vents. Then I took the grill off the central air and heating unit and gave it a good cleaning. Considering the shanty house we lived in for the last ten years, it’s nice to finally have a place I can take a little pride in.

Still it disheartens me to see how some of our neighbors discard cigarette butts and trash around the common areas. Even with a new maintenance person that tries to stay on top of grounds maintenance, you’d think tenants would be a little more mindful. But I am neither judge nor juror of how others' take pride in their homes. But like so many of them, at one time we were no better ourselves for the way we lived.

So I make no excuse for my past crimes against cleanliness. My grandparents were really no better off then I am now. Living on a fixed income especially during the recession that plagued the 1970’s. But there was a certain pride in your place and in yourself. Nothing self-inflated, but there was a certain dignity in holding your head up during tough times.

Sitting here under the really comfortable ceiling fan in my office, I watch the limbs on the pecan trees sway in the gentle wind. It reminds me how fortunate I am to finally have a place the kids don’t mind visiting. We don’t have a lot of furniture or any pictures or artwork on the wall. I don’t even have a backyard like I used to. But it feels like I’m living in a palace compared to our last few rentals. I guess the point I’m trying to make is, approach life with a bit of gratitude, remembering that things could be far worst then they are now. Take pride in yourself and live doing your best.

Wouldn't Have Been

5/14/2025

It’s going to be a hell of a day; number one it is time for my brides hospital trip for another round of pain management meds. And two, waiting to see if our new property manager actually got my money order for this months rent. It was a little surprising to get a call out of the blue accusing me of not paying my rent, and what I was going to do about it. Even thought sitting on my desk were the receipts for the US Postal Money Orders I sent, including the price of a stamped envelope.

It brought back all the trauma my family and I experienced not 6 months earlier. Rent payers in good standing but this time instead of being kicked to the curve without proper notice. Being accusing of not paying our rent with only vague note with the wrong amount due on it stuffed in our door. Plus when I called the given number listed, I never received a reply till the above call demanding payment. So maybe I should say a hell of a way to start the last two days…traumatized.

But I’m doing my best to put the incident out of my mind since I have proof the payment was made. And I paid US Postal Service to run a trace on the money order to see if it has been cashed. But that will take three to five days. So the way she was talking, I assume I’ll be in the street till we find out. I can only assume none of these property managers have read Georgia State Law when I came to Rental Contacts (which I have).

Considering my current health condition and the mental and physical condition of my wife and son, one would think those things would be taken into consideration. But without any prior contact, it is interesting how assumption and labelling takes over. It’s the same with the rest of the world, where someone is automatically considered to be adversarial without even hearing their side of the story. Funny how we often place ourselves on the moral high ground when often times it is us that are the most ignorant. If we lived in a world built on compassion and not greed, imagine the billions of lives that wouldn’t have been wasted.

Truly Listen

5/12/2025

Created with Adobe AI

Between the hostile tension dreams and the pressures of making sure everyone’s okay. I live in a bubble of boredom and repetitive routine. Apparently my only respite from the mundane are my moments in the park and staring at this once blank screen. I’ve put the book project away for a while just to wrap my head around some problems I’m seeing with the printing. Other than that my anxiety about my usual troubles weights heavily on my mind in this paycheck to paycheck world.

But listening to a podcast last night discussing the Buddhist philosophy of the four immeasurable minds (love, compassion, joy, and equanimity). By listening to these podcasts and audiobooks as I sleep, my hope has always been that the essence of this material will sink in deeply. But I must honestly say that I’m not completely sure that it works. My research on the idea of soaking in information while you sleep is inconclusive. But in a practical sense, I see myself recalling information I know I didn’t study. So even with all this “soaked” in information, I still find myself overcome by anxious thoughts.

So as I relisten to last night’s podcast while I type. I discover things I recall even though I was apparently sound sleep. Fascinating isn’t it? I guess more than anything the tension I feel is from the lack true communication with anyone willing to listen. So often I just feel like I shouldn’t be writing out any of my personal troubles. With my mind telling me that no one wants to hear about your fear or anxiety . But yet internally I believe it’s the only way to achieve true peace of mind, at least for myself. I guess what I’m saying here is, no matter what faults you see within yourself. That by embracing the pain that you feel, you are giving it a much needed voice. Which in turn acknowledges to that pain that someone is truly listening.

Sudoku

5/10/2025

Created with Adobe Express

Keeping a good distance between each other, the residue of the plague that erased so many, still lingers in the air. Lost and alone, the virtual communities we created are now just short burst of forgotten memories. Once we huddled in our caves, now we roam freely without really being free. As a shut in myself, I see where my granny came from; with each visit she was attentive and gave great kitchen table advice. Now used up of all purpose, we scamper about with our hobbies and TV, focused on the latest crisis or the next Sudoku book.

But I spend my hours focused on myself and the practice of no faith, faith. Sitting so quite I can hear the gurgling of my own insides. The outside looks so inviting, but the invitation cost such a price. To be outside, but still all alone, as the world speeds by, looking for the next distraction. So I relive moments in dreams when conversations were effortless, and connection was as simple as a touch. But now we have instant connection all the way around the world. Yet I couldn’t tell you my next door neighbors name.

So in a world that wishes to be left alone, we cry for connection. Depending on strangers to light our way. So afraid of the next hustle with every invite we receive. Even a good chastisement and an extension to just be friends is usually met with no response. So as we continue to play this game, we learned in isolation and fear. We only trust what tickles our ear, making no effort to learn anything new or different; about anyone else or even ourselves.

Resignation

5/10/2025

It’s one of those days where its nice outside, yet I just want to stay in my hole. Outside my windows I can see a light breeze blowing the young leaves on the pecan trees. The ceiling fan above me is giving a good imitation of how it must feel outside. But yet I just feel defeated from the events from yesterday involving a rent increase I was told wouldn’t be. But that’s water under the bridge now, cause what the man wants, the man gets. So I sit here, not so much in misery as I am in resignation over the things I can’t control.

In life it’s usually one thing or another. I would like to think maybe I’m just part of the wrong generation. Where I was raised to focus on the world around me, instead of trying to wrap my head around everything going on everywhere…at the same time. Or maybe it’s much simpler than that where I’m suffering from yet another unexpected blow involving my life and my peace of mind. I just think that it’s unfair not to be able to plan one minute to the next. If it’ not surprising new bills showing up, it’s yet another out of the blue doctor’s appointment to absorb my time and my fuel budget.

So I guess I’m through whining and bitching about my sad little life. Where despite all the inconveniences I still have a roof over my head and a home that isn’t falling down around my feet. And doctors that actually seem concerned about my wellbeing. So here’s to all of you that have your shit together, pray for us weary ones that are always looking for the next shoe to drop. I don’t know how y’all do it, but then again maybe I’m just too honest for my own damn good.

My Little Adventure

4/23/2025

For the last couple of weeks I’ve gotten myself into the routine of working at my desktop from 8am till I get hungry. Then I have lunch, watch my soaps, and then take a nap. Then I get up and check my emails and social media, then go back to my desktop and work till around 7pm. The main reason is to occupy my mind while I am on restriction due to my recent surgery. But I do miss the outside, but my doctor wants me to take it easy while I heal up. So considering I have to do all the driving, it’s best I just take it easy till my next checkup in a few weeks.

Surprisingly enough my left arm and shoulder are my biggest discomfort. I was told the implant wouldn’t be that obvious after a few weeks, but it still feels like a funky weight to me. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m left handed is what makes it so damn uncomfortable. Other than that I feel fine, I don’t seem to be having as many A Fib issues, but I have been having the most vivid dreams of late. I’ve also had complete bloodwork done by my nephrologist and my hematologist, with both results coming back in my normal range.

But like I said, I’m occupying my mind by working on my next book of stories. But this time I want to edit them with clearer commentary to add to the reading experience. Pulling stories and poems from the past year has been an interesting experience. I guess because of their recent occurrence some of them still strike a nerve with me. But considering how stressful the last six months have been, I shouldn’t be surprised. I hope that since I’m still close to certain trauma, that it doesn’t cause any blow back to the relative clarity I’ve recently been feeling. So stay tuned and let’s see where this little adventure takes us.

Relief

4/15/2025

It was a relief when I pull off my CPAP mask in this morning. That first breath of cool fresh air is a welcome sign that I made it through the night. Last night was a wave of in and out consciousness, between a book I am listening to, and the disturbing dreams of reality. The book which is not entirely fiction is an overview of what a “utopian society” we could have if we only tried. The dreams were of a reality we often find ourselves obsessed with, the cult-like religious followings where women and girls are treated like property.

I’m sure the dream came from a video I saw on social media last night. Where religious fundamentalist were dancing in heated fervor to the calling of the end of this world and the domination of a new earth. While the book itself I listened to while I slept. Spouting out facts about the breakthroughs that have been made and the shortcomings that hold them back. Each hoping that someday all their desires and dreams will come true. But all I could do was wonder, “Who’s dreams are they talking about?” Certainly not those of the poor and the weak.

I live in a world where I’m conveniently kept in a box. Considered worthless by world standards, I’m now unproductive and used up. My only convenience is the fact that I care for other unproductives. Forgive me if I cannot carry any utopian view of the near future. When all I see is hope turned into selfishness time and time again. It seems no matter how we see the errors of the past, we are apparently doomed to repeat them, with bigger and better results. I really don’t want to give up hope, but until a few more of us will say, “No!”. I just don’t see any relief.