PART ONE: THE ACCOUNTING DEPT.

Shame on them all, the blind fuckheads that they are…how soon we forget where we came from.

  1. You’ve got Ms. Office Manager of “Deliverance”:
    too caught up in her own confusion and cluelessness to even realize what a mistake it was to put someone as lacking in workplace knowledge and ethic as herself in charge. She calls shots and plays smart as the accounting department goes to shambles because she doesn’t know shit about what she’s doing from day to day. Not cold hearted, but heartless. Not even kidding anyone about anything, despite her failed self-imaging of a Jedi Master.
  2. Then there’s lil Miss “Princess Complex” Assistant Manager:
    She’s like 12 years old, in every way besides her ungainly height…the very last kind of person on Earth you wanna give any control to because yeah, she likely blows kisses to herself in the mirror whenever she gets the chance. This one is single handedly holding up the accounting department, and this can’t last. The gods have put her quite the lose-lose predicament, though she doesn’t know it yet. Too young for me to really hate forever.

Next, there’s Wednesday Addams, the unknowing lame:
So what? Wow, she inputs data and walks around like a permanent Mad Dog, with the most miserably frowning face imaginable every moment of every day. She covertly snitches on co-workers, pays far too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and was personally offended by Miss Princess Complex’s promotion to Assistant Manager when it happened, talking long shot about the entire situation. I’ve never heard her say anything remotely positive about the company etc. If any workplace on the planet had fewer employees like her, the world would be a better place.

The kicker to this scenario is that the rest of “the team” bust their collective assets to hold everything together: good, bad or otherwise. It tolls heavily. Then, the instant somebody speaks up about the conditions that we’re working under, it’s announced that employees are not allowed to walk around expressing any type of dissatisfaction.
Well Wednesday Addams gets to walk around looking looking like her dog just got run over by a car.
Fuck that place, I’m blessed to have finally gotten out.

Walk, Talk and Breathe.

Friends that refuse to respect of me,
the smallest of ways that I ask to be,
excused from their own stupidity,
yet – they choose to abuse,
and they find these things funny…
A family turned to the judge and jury,
no hand extended in my times of need,
the after-burn of that first, initial sting,
the day I noticed they were on an opposing team…
Others play the friendly role all too regularly,
to the point it’s obvious there’s no true identity,
behind any of the faces in the places close to me,
just life-sized puppets that walk, talk and breathe…

Human Loyalties.

Today, I want to discuss the notion of loyalty; and, what loyalty means at the end of the day to me, at least.

My mama has been married to my my stepdad for just over 31 years (their 31st anniversary was on 28th of December); she has NEVER strayed on him or done him dirty in all that time (outside of the trivial bullshit that people do to each other when they spend too much time together) – and he has never done her dirty either.

When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer on December 6, his initial response was to remain in full-blown denial about it until she nearly died the first time she was taken to the ER (the sudden fever of 104 degrees, C-dif and septic pneumonia). It was at that point that he must have realized how near any time that they had remaining together was to being over; and he began to display dickhead behaviors such as flaking off her appointments, not answering or returning her calls and, most shockingly, never coming to visit her when she was recovering in the hospital ICU.

My mom’s heart was broken by this alteration in his behavior, needless to say; and her feelings toward him changed, accordingly. Due to her compromised immune system, her release from the hospital required certain things directly pertaining to her environment and its safety in the face of her vulnerable and weakened state. Again, he did nothing to make this happen for her to be able to go home to her own house to recover. He refused to kick my meth-addicted daughter out completely and permanently (methamphetamine smoke is NOT an okay element for someone in my mother’s condition, nor are any of the people or things associated with it’s destructive nature); he failed to make the few adjustments that were asked of him, failed to show up for the jobs that he and I were supposed to be covering for my mom, and eventually – he disappeared altogether. Yes. Disappeared.

During the past few weeks of living Hell for my mom and the rest of our family, he has been doing gods know what somewhere else, without even a call to inquire about whether his wife was dead or alive. When my mom began to show signs of true delirium (due to a brain seizure that lasted for 5 days), she would re-surface to lucidity pretty often at first. During those times, she would be heart-broken over and over again to “learn” that her husband had abandoned her. Watching her go through that repeatedly was one of the hardest things I have ever had endure, and something snapped inside of me during that blur of days strung together in my mind; it was something I will never forgive him for, doing that to her during such a crucial time of her dwindling life.

When she returned to the hospital in the grips of the seizure (this most recent time), I finally had the freedom and time to track his sorry down and talk to him face to face, a circumstance that may or may not have been what my mom wanted me to do, but was done either way. I described in minute detail, the nightmarish existence my mama had come under over and over upon realizing his absence in her life; I told him that I hoped he and my daughter were happy for what they’d done to my mom; I told him if I ever saw him anywhere near her hospital room or subsequent residence, I would have a bullet put through his brain. I told him what a piece of useless shit he had been turned into in my own perception, and I also told him that my mom should have left him years ago. The very last thing that I made sure to point out to him was the way that: if the tables had been turned and he had been diagnosed with cancer or some other terminal illness, my mom NEVER would have abandoned him. NEVER.

Before I left, I reiterated my threats to him, if he comes near my mama again for any reason.

And those, as rough around the edges as they might be, are my random thoughts on human “loyalties”.

*Apply Puking Sound Here*.

There’s so much that I’ve wanted to,

say in earnestness to you,

along the lines of all your lies,

I’d like add some truth of mine;

Throughout everything, I have been,

a loyal and trustworthy friend,

I didn’t fuck with your reputation,

should’ve put you on blast way back then;

Instead I held my tongue through all,

despite the hurt and opened scars,

I tried to deny who you really are,

I cried out my eyes when I finally saw;

and you thought that time would fade away,

the colors you’ve sported so flamboyantly,

yet, they are still vividly singed in my eyes,

along with the piles of your garbage and lies;

just because you are too shallow and small,

to admit  your despicable ways, after all,

you assume that everyone you’ve burned,

will forget the lessons you’ve made them learn,

and perhaps most of your friends don’t recall,

how you’ve fucked them over – one and all,

perhaps they are comfortable cushioning your fall,

and carrying you so you won’t have to crawl;

but I am no longer a true friend of yours,

though I will play nice and stay on all fours,

let you keep on fucking a hole in the floor,

            things will come back on you, you will get yours.

The Hand That Counts.

I can still
recognize,
a sweaty face –
with
guilty eyes;
a selfless smile –
that made me
realize,
that the truth
is still a lie.
The March of Time
goes down a rigid line;
the drum that reverberates,
it doesn’t stop on a dime;
the vibration rolls
along tidal waves
through all matter
of time and space;
the skies that hold
the secret fate,
of the self-worshipping
human race –
have been foreseen,
to inevitably
betray;
The Ties that Bind
unravel and unwind,
to be once again tied
to our heavy hearted
changing tides.
Marching in circles
around the confines of
a broken
clock face,
must keep up to an impossible pace –
the hand that takes, the hand that shakes,
the hand that counts the sentiment faked.

Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

Soup.

Fuck doing what’s right to do
might have to confront the truth
and you may actually
at last, and finally
have to step up and pay your dues
every single bridge
burned down to a crisp
take the drama and dishonesty
as far as you can get from me
I can’t function like this
there you have stood silently by
done your part to take what’s mine
when all is done
and you have no one
don’t come crying to me this time
you’ve helped to construct
a place that is fucked
from wall to wall
trumping any and all
good in the things you should touch
Fuck staying in this primordial soup
this fucking unhealthy familial loop
when I am no more
around like before
who will catch your boot?
Always choose to color me wrong
over and over until the color was gone
but you can’t tell me what is right
you wouldn’t recognize the sight
pull your blade from my back and move along.

Tread In Shadow.

Where have you been hiding
for these days of mine passed by?
which demons were you fighting
when I asked you for the time?
what goes on inside your head
while your hand unzips my fly?
which memories come back to you
when your breath becomes a sigh?
do you still think that True Heaven
is a place in between my thighs?
have you forgotten how you left me
and never bothered to tell me why?
does your betrayal and embitterment
shine right through the blue in my eyes?
are you aware of the pain in the air
multiplied by moments that drip-dry?
do you know that I’m empty without you?
the skeletal remains of a burial site;
and, though I am forsaken in darkness
I tread in shadow and by moonlight.

Soup.

Fuck doing what’s right to do
might have to confront the truth
and you may actually
at last, and finally
have to step up and pay your dues
every single bridge
burned down to a crisp
take the drama and dishonesty
as far as you can get from me
I can’t function like this
there you have stood silently by
done your parts to take what’s mine
when all is done
and you have no one
don’t come crying to me this time
you’ve helped to construct
an existence that is fucked
from wall to wall
and trumping any and all
good in the things you should touch
Fuck staying in this primordial soup
this fucking unhealthy familial loop
when I am no more
around like before
who then, will catch your boot?
Always chose to color me wrong
over and over until the color was gone
but you can’t tell me what is right
you wouldn’t even feel its bite
pull your knife from my back and walk on.

Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

No Pockets.

Loose! – – –
the arrows fly,
there is no escaping –
this aim of mine;
I’ve practiced for centuries,
amidst many miserable lives,
there is no escaping –
the poison I’ve bled
into these darts that I let fly;
they say that our last garment –
is sewn pocketless,
I noticed no pockets,
forged in the design –
of your chosen, slutty dress;
and all that shitjob poser,
pucker, picturesque,
glam/geek this week –
photo-shopped, clipped
and chopped to death;
but see – none of that,
changes the sobering fact,
that you have already slipped –
and there’s no coming back;
yes girl, indeed,
you have your abilities,
to pretend to mend the broken,
and then leave them –
begging on their knees,
but I have my own charms –
tucked beneath either arm,
that easily outdo your own –
be smart,
don’t start –
tuck your tail
and get on home;
you don’t want,
to cross this stream,
and if you do,
then you’re full crazy –
it’s best you look,
a little more closely,
at all the things,
you know of me,
at the things that you –
want to steal from me.

Transparency.

It doesn’t become you, dear…
the façade behind which,
you run your operation;
the way you slither about in the grass,
drawing in the vulnerable as you pass,
to wound the wounded –
is your only obligation;
it’s the pitiful display of need,
that infuses each implanted seed –
passed around like bread,
throughout the broken nation;
think of those who you’ve duped –
the fools who blindly follow you,
you’ve built a congregation,
haven’t you?
An army on beaten up hearts –
many men in cuffs and shackles,
defeated by your empty promises,
ready to fight for your salvation;
but weakened to the core,
unable to stand up anymore –
what kind of army refuses,
to leave the feet of the Queen,
that they fight for?
I will tell you –
an army of drones,
dark, abandoned homes,
a legion of poor bastards –
who’ve been blinded by you,
by the lies that you tell,
the ‘save me’ song and dance,
you play so perfectly well –
the meshing and molding,
the bending and folding,
it’s all so obvious as Hell;

Shame on Me.

I put my hat on backwards –
to straighten out my crooked head,
it doesn’t always do the trick,
but it keeps me out from under the bed;

I ride my surfboard goofy –
because that’s just how I roll,
it’s too hard to break the chains,
to the habits that we know;

I drive around much faster –
than I am supposed to be,
but if I don’t, the masses,
will surely get the best of me;

I give much more freely –
than I ever really should,
I suppose this may be because,
of my collection of nickels made of wood;

I am not an idiot –
in contrast to the things that I may do,
I am simply surviving,
just trying to make my own way through.

Jealousy’s Dead King.

I know who my friends are,
and also who they aren’t;
I see those who take the heed,
and I see the ones that won’t;
I feel the people who try to steal,
away what isn’t theirs’ to take;
I hear the ones who never mean,
a single promise that they make;
I touch the hands of many,
both the wicked and the good;
I taste the wishes and secret desires,
of the least expectant that I would;
I sense the misrepresentations,
belonging to faces of those I’ve believed;
I’ve held the lies and deceit in my palm,
while the mouth tried to find them to speak;
I am not blind to the inner-workings of envy,
and the ways that its evil unfolds;
I was marked by Jealousy’s Dead King,
back in my own days of old;
Do not think that my big heart is a target,
because its dark surfaces hold bright red within;
do not think you will come up on my weakness,
of still managing to live like a decent human;
For all of your troubles and scheming,
will land you long and far from me;
my great, big heart holds no room inside,
for the many wanna-be’s of true humanity.

If You’re Going Through Hell…

If You're Gong Through Hell...

Keep Going.
-Winston Churchill