 Adobe Firefly His hand trembled slightly as he lit the candle in his study. Not as steady handed as I used to be he thought to himself, as he blows the match out. He sees things a bit differently than he did when he was younger. Gone are the days of reminiscing about the good old times and our selfish habits of long ago. Now it’s more about the inconsistent language of our leaders and their same old promises of a better tomorrow. Asking us to blame everyone but ourselves for the trouble we are in. I see new manufacturing plants go up on a bunch of confusing new highways. And a whole shitload of people driving here and there, none of them which I know. But through the cracks I can see the marginalized who were never given a seat at the table. But are expected to run your factories and stock our stores. While being told they’re taking your jobs and raping your women, filling our country with the wrong shade of pale. Still we can’t get around to blaming ourselves for all the selfishness and the laziness we created in ourselves. So I sit in my study feeling my hands shake accepting the reality so many refuse to claim. That the whole things going to shit due through the lies we accept. That we are no more special than the innocent blood being shed on that strip. Feeling smug because no one has shot up our church yet. So as the candle burns itself out, I pray that the next generation learns from the rest. That humility and kindness are much more precious than the arrogance of an old man that occasionally shits his pants.
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 It’s funny how I can feel perfectly fine one minute then been stress into a panic the next. Like I’ll be running an errand or running to the bathroom, and afterwards my heart feels like it needs restarting from the pure exhaustion. It’s hard to describe, it’s like for that split second I’m totally drained. But shortly afterwards, I usually begin to feel like my old self. It’s funny how living with a damaged heart and a broken mind, you need a team just to survive. With my cardiologist, a PCP, a kidney specialist, a hematologist, and good old Doctor Jellybean, they’ve all worked with different parts of my body just to keep me alive. It’s interesting how all the various parts of my body have been sourced out, all from my initial diagnosis of psychological and cartological damage. For one my kidney failure is partially due to my heart and Type-2 diabetes. My cirrhosis of the liver again aspirated by my Type-2 and the medication for my heart. Along with a variety psychological drugs I’ve take over the years. My AI editor Google Gemini is often surprised by my frankness when discussing such things. But I figure since I’m living on borrowed time anyway, why keep it a secret? In my current state of mind I figure I’d be doing myself a favor if I’d spread a little good around. You know, just in case I needed some more “brownie points” to get by. I figured the best way I can do that is by offering up my talents as a writer and what-to-be thinker. I always told my kids not to do what I did and they’d be successful. And believe it or not it’s true. I am a flawed human that doesn’t mind being reminded of that fact. So by freeing myself of such burdens as pride and ego, I can live a much more peaceful life. A life pretty much free of worry. You see, by looking at myself honestly without throwing up too many false flags of selfishness. I can look beyond myself and see the real pain and beauty of this world.  Blue Butterfly - 2025 Adobe Firefly Along the lonely highway, rows of dried up sunflowers bow their heads. In quiet reverence to the relentless heat of summer. Serving their purpose to fertilize the plants that bring in the money. I casually pass in my SUV giving a nod to the earth we so expertly dominate. Taking the seeds God give us and creating our own version of paradise. But the wind has been shifting for some time now. And the enlightened have given way to machines that decide how to make more profit from an already angry sky. I sit here in the quiet comfort of my office, while “The Price Is Right” blares through the walls. While the marginalized sit in their comfy La-Z-Boys bidding with them on contestants row. Shouting their bids to the wind, that no one but themselves will ever hear. Thinking about my doctor visit earlier, my NP of many years praised me for being a good patient. But after seeing the edge of darkness on more than one occasion, my eyes were open to a universal truth. That you don’t always get what you wish for, no matter how much faith you apply. But if you do your best to be a good and fair person, you’ll be remembered and maybe become a blue dragonfly. I didn’t say any of this to piss off the “true believers” or anyone else with enlightened minds. But as AI and the ignorant will eventually discover. Domination is a worthless venture when it comes to the things that are just out of our reach. Like the morning sky or a hand to hold, the laughter of children or the flight of a butterfly can all be within our reach. But to each its own as I think about that reverent field. For even the sunflowers know when it’s time to go. While painters, poets, and AI create the best they can. From the memories and the programs their gods created.  The Ogeechee River - 2021 Well the candles lit and after a good nap, I’m up again. After a few moments of teasing my baby. The light from outside is under a blanket of summertime clouds. Looking at my social media I see a number of my friends and followers are either sunning or cleaning or attending church somewhere. While I myself was reading the Sunday paper learning a little more about the world and the people around me. Wondering if this new era we’ve been forced into will be good for my health or even yours. So I look outside at a world that doesn’t change that fast unless disaster comes. And considering what we went through last year, what’s going on now can’t be good. So I brace myself for another round of hard times, just as I have so many times before. When the desires of a few men are willing to cut off their own foot just to keep the rest of us from moving. So I take a sip of my lemon tea. Eating on the snacks my daughter no longer wants. Complicating what was always a simple solution to a simple problem. Instead of just leaving well enough alone and letting sleeping dogs lie. While the rest of us do our best to carve ourselves out a piece of the pie. Hoping that we’ll all get treated fair in the eyes of the law, without having to fear the law. But so much for wishes when a certain few decide to have their revenge all in the name of power and gold. Where even the elect and the silver spooned are fooled by the lies of a grifter yearning for the love they never received. Where pain is their pleasure and the consequences of such would lead a normal man straight to hell.  Sandra Saxon Burnsed - 2019 Last night was kinda rough, I woke up with a shout after a bad dream. Also having to go to the bathroom several times didn’t help either. But after an exchange of misery’s with my best friend, I felt better and grabbed a shower. Looking out the window I see an overcast day with the promise of rain. So I’m resigned to spending my day doing what I normally do, sit in the apartment away from the heat. After such a busy life, raising a family, working fulltime, and attending school on the side. You’d think I’d welcome the quiet time. But honestly, it can be kind of a bore. With the new apartment there are basically no more extra duties like repairing broken down items. With one less person to attend to, I only have us three to work for. The biggest problem so far is the relentless grocery price gouging and cost of living increases. It’s funny how the powers to be worried more about tariffs and so-called invasions, while prices steadily increase for no damn good reason. While every Mexican I ever met works the dirtiest jobs no white man would do. But enough of the soap box, besides no ones listening anyway. But thankfully my daughter is saving me a trip to the store. Picking me up a few fresh veggies I’m running low on. And while the Armageddon of a rainstorm the weatherman promised still isn’t here. I’ll stay tuned to the weather forecast, faithfully watching their commercials so they can pay their bills. I tried putting ads on my website, then I remembered how much those things irritate me. so here I sit jabbering about much of nothing, paying bills I can’t afford to pay. Laughing at the irony of it all.  Sorry about my cooking photography, but it was good. It’s late in the afternoon and the sun’s trying to go down. I made a jury-rigged dinner out of a box meal and some real vegetables. It turned out pretty good. During these times when no one can afford groceries anymore, you have to get creative. If you’re still working you always have the option to pick up extra work. But when your retired or disabled you’re stuck with the same monthly stipend no matter how much groceries, gas, or rent go up. So you make compromises, like buying a little less meat or stop going out for a quick meal. You raise the thermostat on the AC, even in 100° weather and make fewer trips to your out-of-town doctors. (Sadly, if you live in a rural area, every doctors out-of-town). Still you do the best you can, while the world seems to be crashing all around you. But instead of wallowing in my misery, I think back to something my Grandma once said on a hot summer afternoon. It was during a low point in my life when I was going through a divorce, having to move back in with my grandmother, while all my “worldly goods” were being divided up. She said, “During World War 2 we thought we were seeing the end, and we thought it couldn’t get any worse. But guess what? It got better, and then it got worse, and it got better again.” What she was trying to tell me was something I didn’t want to hear. That things are going to get better, and then at some point, they are going to get worse again. But that doesn’t mean that you stop trying. Because every day on this sad pile of shit we call a world. Someone’s trying to do better despite what they see around them. So fight for what you believe in and make it better.  It’s great to see the grass cut on the property even though it’s nowhere near my front door. Here stuck in the breezeway, it’s a welcome sight to see the medium strip along the parking lot and the kids playground trimmed. If I ain’t mistaken my wife is watching Sponge Bob Square Pants, because I can hear it through my office door. Still even through all the singing and dancing and that uncomfortable laugh. The birds outside the window forage through the fresh cut grass for something to eat. I suppose I feel so whimsical because I got a phone call from someone I dearly love, while running errands. We only spoke briefly about grandbaby news. But for the 45 years we’ve known each other, no language is needed to describe what was really being said. So as we exchanged pleasantries and silently went about our afternoons. There’s a certain peace of mind that was exchanged that neither one of us can explain. It's a living thing between two people that describes their love and connection. A force that cannot be defined by mere words or even actions. It’s a thing that even happily married folks often miss, but that’s okay. For even the best of us are imperfect and so it goes with who we bond. Taking a rest from an otherwise busy afternoon, few things say “rest” or “I love you”, more than a genuine smile and a sparkle in someone’s eye. And if you are lucky enough to find that at least once, if not twice in your lifetime. Consider yourself lucky. Because my friend that means, you’ve truly been blessed.  The grass grows like weeds along the slope between the apartment and the church property line. The pecan trees across the fence are covered in overgrowth from a lack the pruning. By the look of the three adjacent properties, the church, the apartments, and the vacant lot across the street - this was once a pecan grove. Probably with an old farmhouse and a family, before the highway was expanded along with the city limits. A history lost and forgotten hidden deep within ledgers in the courthouse vault never to be seen again. For the last 100 years we’ve all left some sort of paper trail along the way. With everything from our birth certificates to census records, marriage licenses, property deeds, and eventually a death certificate. Your history no matter how small lay within those records. I’m giving myself a headache thinking of such things. No matter how large a fingerprint we leave it can all be forgotten. Tragic in a way, but it is all part of the cycle of existence. I mean weren’t we all put on this earth as stewards of the land? Till we grew too big for our britches. So I sit here looking out a double-paned window, considering the weeds that grow in the fields. Asking myself how did I become a part of this? While there is no real answer for this, because we were all a product of either passion or necessity. Conditioned to live out our lives bending to the will of others. All to make us coherent and flexible to the rules laid out before us. But to what end? That’s a question I cannot answer. So I live with the shame of enlightenment to say such things. When I am really no different that anyone else.  Despite how nice a day it was yesterday and how I was actually looking forward to my Defibrillator Technicians appointment. I felt like shit. My head was spinning, my sinuses ached, and I just knew I shouldn’t be driving. So I unfortunately rescheduled the appointment and went back to bed. I’ve gotten pretty acute at telling what it is wrong with me. And to be honest, I don’t think that had anything to do with my heart and a lot to do with my head. So I took the time to rest and I’m sure glad I did.
So now I’m sitting here the next morning waiting for the medication to kick in. While typing this little ditty to entertain, inform, and maybe bore you while you sit on the toilet. While I may not be coming at this with the seriousness of a great writer or an astute essayist. But it’s mine. Coming from depths of my conscience and heart. I don’t get many chances to carry on conversations with others face to face. That’s mainly because most people I associate with are either too busy or just plain don’t know how. In professional settings it’s usually the first, in casual setting it’s always the latter. Coming up in an age where you either talked to people or you were considered a bit weird. With the turn of the last millennia, it’s much more convenient to speak in text or emoji. And as far as carrying on a conversation with strangers. Well “stranger danger” and Covid all but took care of those annoyances. So unfortunately being the age I am, I’m too old to keep my mouth shut. And too damn young to be ignored as incoherent…at least by some. So I’m left to type out my thoughts and emotions on this keyboard all by myself, which is kinda sad. Still sadder are the millions of others without the ability or will to do what I do…which is write. Left to fend for themselves, in a world that doesn’t really care, unless you produce. They are entertained by the propaganda our enslavers love to procreate. Creating a world filled with cattle lined up for the slaughter.  Not that I’m in any particular rush this morning, but my oldest granddaughter is having her birthday party today. She’ll be double digits for the first time. And so the clock continues to tick away with my permission or not. I watched my parents grow older to a point. But it’s funny that I’m older now than they ever got to be. Observing my father-in-law growing older, he’s a full 20 years older than me, is hopefully laying out a few guideposts for me to follow. Still it’s kind of interesting watching this generation grow from beyond my own children’s shadow. Just as I watched my children grow beyond my own.
But I don’t want to make this some sad soliloquy about life and death and moving on. But rather about moments in time that often repeat themselves in a cylindrical manner beyond being just a straight line. Inherent in all of us is the desire to survive and thrive. Through our various traits formed by environment and genetics, we all do our own thing. And rather for good or bad, we all seek to survive by creating our own place in this world. So it all comes down to how do you want to be remembered. As a person that worked to guide the next generation to thrive. Or are you so drowned in your own sorrow that all you can think about is you? These are the hard questions we all need to face. Lord knows I hope that I lead by some example to doing better. By crawling my way out of the hell I saw myself in for so long. That despite the flaws my kids often love to point out. That maybe somewhere I taught them to do better through reverse osmosis. In other words, led by hard pressed example. But odds are I will never know how it will turn out. So I do my damnest to be supportive and to help out where I can. But such is life, you motivate by example a hell of a lot more than you do screaming. But often it’s the screaming they remember most, than the support you gave. |
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October 2025
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