The Weatherman (Parody of The Wellerman)

There once was a storm that came to be
The name of the storm was Irma you see,
The winds blew up and rain came down
Oh blow, my hurricane, blow

Soon may the weatherman come
To help us in our shelters, son
Then when the storming is done
We’ll go outside and play

The storm was tough as nails you know
The eye did little to show it though
For soon the storm would rage again
And decimate, rain and blow

Soon may the weatherman come
To help us in our shelters, son
Then when the storming is done
We’ll go outside and play

Da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Two thousand miles to the West you see
And eight years back to 2013
A different type of storm would rage
A monster tornado

Soon may the weatherman come
To help us in our shelters, son
Then when the storming is done
We’ll go outside and play

The EF5 had come ahead
It left two dozen people dead
With wind speeds of two-hundred-ten
In Moore, Oklahoma

Soon may the weatherman come
To help us in our shelters, son
Then when the storming is done
We’ll go outside and play

The Library

The creaky door opens
The bookshelves hold their ground
Mad Monty glances over
At what had made the sound

I wince up at the hinges
Mad Monty shakes his head
“YOU GOTTA FIX THE DOOR FRAME!!”
But that’s not what I said

A fuzzy head peers out
From behind a stack of books
A llama stood before us
Could tell from all the looks

“MY BROTHER BROKE THE CAPS LOCK!”
Mad Monty told him to hush
“There’s no caps lock in speaking”
“Quietly please” he rushed

“OH RIGHT, IT’S A LIBRARY!”
The llama shouted still
Mad Monty rolled up his sleeves
To exert Room Owner will

He jumped high into the air
With Duct Tape in his hands
He wrapped it round the llama’s snout
Now complying with his demands

The llama sat in silence
Mad Monty sat back down
I guess that’s what you get for
Acting just like a clown

The Before Times

Come sit before me, child, and I’ll tell you a tale
Where people were stronger and people were smart
We cured diseases, we combatted hunger
We inspired the youth with great works of art

We challenged our mindsets
We battled the foes
We came up with answers
That everyone knows

We sat back and listened
To what we were told
We did what we were asked
Until we got old

It was up to the new folks
The children like you
To take up our mantles
And use what we knew

But something had differed
Something gone awry
The anguish had started
So we had to try

To shift back our thinking
What once was instead
But the warring had begun
To pile the dead

Weapons of war turned
To those we protected
No more intelligence among us
Too stupidity; defected

Stuck in this life now
Whatever that’s worth too
When all that we wanted
Was to protect you

As the bombs fall around us
And we live in fear
Of the people we live with
As they’re drawing near

No longer protected
By the police force
Violence Infinitum
This is our new course

To cut down the weakened
To shut down the poor
Cries for help are silenced
As they shoot us some more

We have to be better
A few of us cried
The machine cut us down
So many have died

And so, child, listen
Go, Rise, as you should
We must become better,
If we’re to do good

The Disease

In the age of man
Where brains are told
“Your smart is bad
“That thinking’s old”

Folks with degrees
Spar those without
The lacking win
Cast all in doubt

“It’s all Fake News!”
The leader cried
While those he leads
Get sick and died

“Let’s open up!
“We all are bored!
“It isn’t safe yet
But that’s ignored

And so I beg
and fucking plead
Let smartness reign
And smartness lead

My Own Depression (To the tune of Sound of Silence)

Hello Mania my old pal,
I see you’ve wandered back from Hell.
To brew some sadness you begin steeping,
you make it clear that I’m not sleeping.
With the visions, that were hidden in my brain,
that cause me pain.
Within my own depression.

Countless nightmares I run from Hell

Surrounding faces, I can’t tell

‘Neath the moonlight as I writhe with pain

From unseen wounds that hide the mental stain

When my face was smashed by someone that I thought I loved

And to God above

It spurns my own depression

And in the memories I recall

All who stood and watched me fall

People who were just supposed to teach

There were people who just tried to preach

People spouting rules with no way to help me learn

Just watched me burn

Within my own depression
“Thanks” said I, “You couldn’t know”
This blinding pain that I now show
That all but keeps me from succeeding
All the time my soul keeps on bleeding
And this war, that keeps raging in my mind
Fickle is my own depression

Grandma

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
“Oh no, not now.” I muttered to myself, as I rolled over in bed. I had hoped it was in my head when the tell-tale rapping at my door occurred.
“Monty, are you awake?” Grandma asked to the darkness. I glanced at the clock. 4:22am. I sighed and responded.
“Yes. What’s up Grandma?” She clacked her walker into my room.
“Well, it’s cold in the living room. Do you think you could help me fix the thermostat?” This was a common theme. In her old age, she was constantly cold, but with her dementia, would forget how to take care of herself. Ten years prior, if I had said that I was cold, she’d tell me to put on a sweater. Now, however, she didn’t have the faculties to take care of herself. My uncle and I did that.
“Sure, Grandma. Lemme, lemme get up and we’ll take a look.” I said, hoisting myself out of my bed. All the warmth I had saved up escaped into the room. As I brushed the sleep from my eyes, I wandered into the hall where the thermostat was. It was almost all the way up. So, I guided her to her favorite chair and set a space heater, aimed at her feet, and went to set up her breakfast.
These were how my days went for years. Taking care of a woman who raised seven children of her own and helped raise a village of grandkids, like myself.
Until the day came that we couldn’t do it anymore. She had diminished to a point where we couldn’t take care of her anymore.She had days of demands. Days where she spoke Suomi (Finnish) instead of English. There were days of fighting with an old woman who thought we were intruders, or where she thought we were trying to get rid of her. We were at our wit’s end.
We had to move her to a facility with nurses and caretakers. It broke our heart, and she fought us every single step of the way. The last bit of her lucidity came back with a fire I hadn’t seen since I was a child. Her passions came surging forwards, as she pleaded for us not to leave her in an old folks home.
“We can’t take care of you, like we wish we could, Gamma-Ray!” A nickname my siblings and I bestowed upon her, as children. Tears streamed down her face; her eyes filled with anger and regret.
“I know, sweetie.” She replied.
We hung around her room for about two hours afterwards. Her mind was a whorl of memories and stories. Her sanity’s last attempts at anchoring to the world of the real. Her dementia, sadly, was too far advanced. When we said our goodbyes and let her know we’d be visiting again, she smiled. The last knowing smile, I think.
For months afterward, I had to reintroduce myself. She didn’t recognize me. Didn’t recognize her own kids. Her own blood. Even herself in the mirror.
She got to enjoy Christmas with a room full of people she had known all their lives, but couldn’t place their names or relations. A month later, January 27th 2017, at 84 years old, she passed away, to join her husband at the gates to Paradise.
She was the fiercest, strongest, smartest woman I have ever known. I miss her dearly.
We’ll see ya soon, Grandma. Voikaa hyvin! (Be well, in Finnish)

Sub Zero

Freezing.
The cold crept into my soul. It chilled the very heart of me. Shivering, I tried to get my thoughts in order.
Driving.
I was on my way home. The snow was getting thicker, but Winter’s breath has never been an obstacle. The wind blew the car and polished the ice. Slick sheets of glass blanketed the road.
Horns.
I didn’t see his brake lights soon enough. It had been white for far too long. Many miles with only my car’s interior to look at, despite headlights in the snow. I tried to stop, but there was nothing for the tires to grip.
Crash.
My engine block resides in their car. My airbag smashed my glasses and I can no longer see clearly. I cannot tell if I am bleeding, as my arms are busy holding my chest. I cannot hear the cries for help. The screams of pain. Oh no.
Sleeping.
She couldn’t be hurt! This isn’t fair. I shouted her name, with no response. She wasn’t shivering. She wasn’t breathing. Her skin was blue and it was my fault. Damn my driving! Damn me to Hell; I’ve condemned this innocent to icy death.
Breathing.
Can’t get enough oxygen. My lungs feel heavy yet I have no air. The smell of exhaust fumes sat in my car. Shivering. Choking. It’s hard to stay awake. This can’t be all there is. I can’t give up like this.
Passing.
It’s too much to bear. I cannot take the pain, the lack of breath. This constant cold, that chills my very thoughts. I am sorry. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have left behind something more. I am so sorry.
Gone.

In memory of those who lost their lives in the Winter of 2019. May their lives be remembered by those who loved them. May they never know pain, grief, or strife again.

I am thankful to all of my readers, my friends, and my family. Makes me feel appreciated, in a mindset where I am not feeling as such. My brain is out to get me as of late. The holiday season is just about finished. Orthodox Christmas is on the 7th, though the 5th we’re celebrating it. A bunch of friends, though not all of them. Should be fun.

Spent a good portion of this afternoon crying. Too many painful memories this time of year. Don’t know how to get myself out of this head space. Talking to people helps, but it’s me saying the same things over and over. That’s why I decided this free-write. Don’t know if it will actually help.

I fixed my sleep cycle. Though, it leaves me with waking nightmares. I mean, it’s a a dream that everyone else would consider a good one. Actually wrote down the one from last night.

I was in a room, being yelled at by some of the more abusive people of my past. Suddenly, I heard my name called out, from outside the room. When I left the room, I didn’t see anyone. It was a long hallway, to a larger room. It sort of reminded me of my elementary school. I grabbed my shoes and jacket out of the room and flipped off the abusive entities, leaving the room forever. I walked down that hallway and reached the larger room, finding a room of friends that I haven’t spoken to in a long time. People that I miss very much. They were all smiling. I gave them all hugs. They then said they had something they wanted to tell me. I was eagerly awaiting what they had to say, when I woke up. That’s a waking nightmare. I thought I was reintroduced to people I miss so much, but they were figments of my imagination.

I’m going to try to write more poetry and prose this year. I miss having the outlet. Despite my happy-go-lucky facade, I am constantly at war with my own psyche. The mask has changed, but the battle hasn’t.

Be good to each other. Don’t get eaten by llamas.

The Duel

The sun was high, the sound was gone
Both men stood back to back
Nobody watching said a thing
About those dressed in black

The clock struck twelve and made the start
As both men drew their gun
With a loud crack, just one man fell
The one left standing had won

Though no fanfare or fireworks blew
As Death collected its soul
The gunman holstered his pistol
For he had paid the toll

He walked back to the saloon doors
And promptly took a seat
And asked for a shot of bourbon
Of which was taken neat

And so the lives of West folks go
Murders without a chirp
That’s the way it’s always been
For Marshall Wyatt Earp

Let Me Go

Let me go, can’t stop the pain
Cure-all too slow, simple disdain
It hurts so much, let healing start
My life is such, my broken heart

Twisted soul, hurts me to breathe
The burning coal with no reprieve
It hurts to know this will not end
Just let me go, my soul won’t mend