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Dreamcatcher
Over 90 days ago
0 miles · California

Stories

Series

It begins each morning at wakeThe endless battle of foesBoth sides press the will to win Casualties mount without regard.Victory claimed and lost simultaneously So many opportunities wasted Each warrior valiant Yet lay sullen in defeat.Blood flows from each new wound Scars from the past are empty reminders Yet each charge is continuously met Each side snuffing out hope.The infinite cost of the war on love Parts of a whole...

I'm a t-shirt guy through and through At last count I had seventy-two. It doesn't mean I'm better, that's true But it does mean I get laid more than you. Women love a t-shirt guy with tats Bad boys with beards and hats. No hard body with a six-pack Just a good ol' boy beer belly fat. Boots are scuffed from kicking rocks Surfer shorts with black knee-high socks. A battered look from taking knocks That's right guys, ladies...

I'm writing this piece just to see, How many people will take the time to read me. I don't expect a lot, maybe just a few. Or quite possibly it will be only you. So many stories have come and gone. So many writers posting from dusk til dawn. Every topic covered from head to toe. What's left to write about, only you know. So here I sit in a writer's quest. How should I proceed, what would be best? What should I write to ca...

There Be Draguins

A young boy's destiny.

This is the first chapter of a book I am writing for my grandson. Let me know what you think. Prelude June 16, 1611 was a dark and rainy day in the tiny Irish village of Cluain Tiobrad. Its lush green pastures made its Gaelic name of “Well of the Meadows” appropriately given. On most days with less rain it was often a pleasant resting place for travelers between Monaghan and Castleblayney, in County Antrim, heading on the...

True story. I am retired and usually spend my days mentally assessing the state of world affairs while watching Court TV and channel surfing looking for shows with shower scenes. Alys, on the other hand, has a life of friends and family and an occupation and spends most of her time screening my calls and texts. Still we find time to visit each other a few times a year. I will either fly down there, or she will fly up here...

Suppose I told you it was an issue for me  Everything is based on trust  Could it be you don't possibly see  Relegating our love to simple lust  Each time you repeat from what once was past  Tomorrows become harder to live  Sometimes our gaps grow deeper and vast  And forgiveness becomes harder to give  Never doubt my love is everlong  Don't stop believing I'm there for you  Love like ours can never go wrong  If you keep...

I had to go to the airport to pick up my son yesterday. I've made that trip at least a hundred times, so I was in my robotic brain-dead mode where my 50+ years of driving and my subconscious muscle memory were taking me from point A to point B in a comfortable stupor.  To get there I have to thrust myself at 60ish miles per hour down a substantially crowded expressway with few memorable landmarks. A lot of commercial buil...

Set-abouts. I hate them all. Knick-knacks and funky junk. Cutesy frames and cheesy dolls. They all leave me in such a funk. Dust collectors and web attracters. Who cares if Aunt Dizzy gave them to us. A bowl of nuts and a nifty cracker. All of this crap is like a fungus. A trophy, a picture and two candleholders. A doily, a lamp and several magazines. Eclectic at best in the eyes of the beholder. All junk that someone has...

Crying in the night A warm breast Wailing wet and cold Bright colors fluttering above A painted ceiling chipped and cracked Hushed voices, muttering tones Slamming doors and epithets The smell of soap on your clothes Diapers and dirty knees Eyes raised to smiling faces Head bowed to escape scowls Meals served on plastic trays Cheerios on the floor The whisper of a cricket's breath The sting of a wasp Fireflies just out of...

45

Musing

Back in 1971, there were no text messages or emails or even pagers. If you wanted to talk to someone you had to find a pocket full of change and a pay phone that worked. Or wait until later. I was stationed in a barracks with a couple of hundred men give or take a few. We had two pay phones on the floor and when it rang it was like a bunch of outhouse parrots all squawking the name of the person the call was for. 45. An o...

Some twenty plus years ago, I was standing on the tee ready to hit at a charity golf tournament when a commotion behind me caught my attention. A small feral kitten, probably less than a couple of weeks old had run out of the bushes and been run over by a golf cart. After the obligatory "Oh gosh" comments, they picked it up and tossed it back into the bushes. I could see it crawling and staggering around until it made its...

Sometimes you just have to dismiss a dis. Dissatisfied? Is something amiss? What's so good about D.. I.. S..? I think getting rid of it would be for the best. Displeased could be changed with such ease. From sad to happy would be just a breeze. Discontented would mean so much more, If you dismissed the dis and this I implore. Discompose lets chaos reign. But just shortening that word would break the chain. Whoever thought...

What if all you knew wasn't really true? What if your avatar was really you? What if at night when our screens shut down, Our avatars come to life and play around. Whom would Sherzahd go and find? DirtyMartini's dirty mind? Would Entangled_Fate seek her Jay? Would Joker even dare to play? Alys knows just where to go. A broken down old man she happens to know. Rebellious_Soul would challenge her man. Otaku_Ninja will survi...

44 Another year. More baggage. More questions. More everything. How does one sift through the collection of memories and belongings and tangled connectivity accumulated over forty-four years? Why is it always so easy to hang on but so hard to let go? We cleaned out the storage shed last week. A premium aluminum 10' x 10' gable roofed double doors Sears model with a raised floor. One hundred square feet stacked seven feet...

I don't remember a childhood spent Nothing like Leave It to Beaver It seems my boyhood came and went Feeling like an underachiever Was it me? I ran with scissors down the hall After eating I always swam Other rules broken I don't recall No one really gave a damn Was it me? Girls in school were easy for me It was the other stuff I hated I was so busy I just couldn't see My paths were becoming fated Was it me? Just yesterda...