A Letter to My Evil Alter (Journal Entry)

Dearest Mean Mean Maria Jean,

We’ve been through many tough times together, and you’ve always been there to stick it to anybody who tried to hurt me. You’ve made me laugh, cry, gag, cough, sneeze and damn near crap my pants all at the same time, and for that I am grateful. 

However, the time has come for me to let go of all my anger and resentments. I can no longer partake in pity-parties and mud-slinging contests with you. Although the things you say are funny, certain people might misconstrue some of the mean and hurtful things you say and do as childish and lacking in self-awareness. 

Just Wait a Moment (Poem)

Just wait a moment child
And the answers will come to you

As sure as I am
I assure you

The answers are there
And they are waiting for you

They’re right around the corner
They’re in your dreams at night

They’re in the dirt
They’re in the air
They’re in the morning light

Step One: Dicking around with my thumb up my butt (Twelve Steps)

The thumb is a symbol of great power. It represents a vital step in the evolution of man. The anus symbolizes repression, feelings of shame and self-esteem issues. And dicks? Well, I’ll let the reader decide the meaning of that vernacular.

Anyhoo, I’ve been doing a lot of dicking around with my thumb up my but lately. Indulging in pity parties, self-loathing, whining, complaining about everyone and everything, harping on what this one or that one did to me. Basically throwing my hard earned tools of recovery into the fire. 

Step One: Liquid Courage (Twelve Steps)

“The courage to change the things we can,” is one of the many messages we hear at every Twelve Step meeting. And with every meeting, the message grows, transforms, evolves into a battle cry that echoes through the darkest nights. But when we stop going to meetings, we lose our momentum, we forget the tools that kept us sober, and the war drum slowly fades into the distance until all we hear are the devil’s lies.

Light the Fire (Poem)

This is not a joke
And it’s not an illusion

This is not a coincidence
And it’s not collusion

This is the real deal baby
We’re gonna light the fire

Please, just let it be
My one heart’s desire

You are the lock
And I Am the key

I want to open that door
So please
Just let it be

Crisis actors, inflatable snowmen and the vagina in the sky

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, hell is what we make it and happiness belongs to all who choose to own it. But what goes for reality? Is it something we choose, create, behold? Does it come in a box tied with a bow? If we reject it will it simply go away?

Master of Disaster (Poem)

Master of disaster
King of denial

If only I could save you
I wouldn’t walk a half a mile

You’re a thorn in my side
A splinter in my eye

The storm that rolls across my sky
The shame that makes me wonder why?

Twitter: Call of the Birdbrainz

Twitter… The call of the birdbrainz… Pecking ground of America’s first functionally illiterate President… As if one needs further reason to question the logistics of using Twitter for any purpose other than child’s play, allow me to elaborate on this Nirvana of disillusionment.

It’s the land of memes, one-liners and hashtag games. Where intellectual debate involves reiterating disinformation like mockingbirds, and the smartest of the flock are the birds who stir the most wind up other bird asses.

Pondering the Matrix (Journal Entry)

I was born to be invisible. Like the stump of a sofa that gets tripped into and cursed then forgotten once again. I always wondered what it would be like to have loving, doting parents. Would I have grown to be such a loser?

Sometimes I wish I was anybody but me. Then I look at everybody else and wish I were just plain dead. Because if I were the happy type, I’d be oblivious to the world that enslaves me in a bubble where my greatest defense against reality is to push the ‘block’ button. And if I were born with a silver spoon I’d be as rotten as a carcass.

Trump the Dump (Poem)

Trump The Dump
Got us all lookin stumped

Wanna drain the swamp to make room for his cabbage
Bout as loyal to US as he is in a marriage

Can’t tell the difference between the ass and the mouth
Can’t wash his hands when he’s covered in filth

We got a worm in the office
And he’s having a feast