I have been derelict when it comes to adding a poem. Sorry but my current WIP is chewing up a lot of my time.
WHY SHOULD I
If I don't believe in miracles,
why should I believe in you?
If I don't understand unkind hearts,
why should you see it through?
If I've never seen a good good-bye,
What difference will you make?
If the only loves I've had were wrong,
why should yours be the one I take?
If I don't believe in miracles,
why should I believe in you?
If I've never seen a love go right,
why should you be true?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
November 11, 2010
Poem for the week.
You
When I thought all my dreams had been dreamed,
and all my memories seemed to bring me down.
You came out of the sunset and scattered sunshine all around.
When my heart was all in ashes and piled upon the floor.
Your smile filled my skies like a rainbow and healed up every sore.
When it seemed my pain would last forever, and my sorrow never end,
you touched my mind with your bright smiling eyes and gently called me friend.
You
When I thought all my dreams had been dreamed,
and all my memories seemed to bring me down.
You came out of the sunset and scattered sunshine all around.
When my heart was all in ashes and piled upon the floor.
Your smile filled my skies like a rainbow and healed up every sore.
When it seemed my pain would last forever, and my sorrow never end,
you touched my mind with your bright smiling eyes and gently called me friend.
Monday, November 1, 2010
October 31, 2010
Poem for the week.
I don’t want to think about the future.
I don’t want to talk about the past.
I don’t want to sit and question
“Is this the one that’s going to last?”
I don’t want to try to own your heart,
to keep it securely locked out of sight.
I don’t want to tie you down, I would
rather you flew like a soaring kite.
I don’t want to be the one you feel forced to
depend on always being there.
I don’t want to be the one where you feel
smothered and panic for lack of air.
I want to be a meadow, a comfort, a thought
that brings a smile.
And when you dare to dream, may you
dream that maybe we will last awhile.
Who knows? With time, I’ll be the whisper
you’ve been waiting years to hear.
Who knows with time maybe the thought of me
not being in your life might bring a tear.
I want us to smell the roses, take it step by
step, see just what today might hold in store.
If we are still together after many
tomorrows, only then do we dare to ask for more.
I don’t want to think about the future.
I don’t want to talk about the past.
I don’t want to sit and question
“Is this the one that’s going to last?”
I don’t want to try to own your heart,
to keep it securely locked out of sight.
I don’t want to tie you down, I would
rather you flew like a soaring kite.
I don’t want to be the one you feel forced to
depend on always being there.
I don’t want to be the one where you feel
smothered and panic for lack of air.
I want to be a meadow, a comfort, a thought
that brings a smile.
And when you dare to dream, may you
dream that maybe we will last awhile.
Who knows? With time, I’ll be the whisper
you’ve been waiting years to hear.
Who knows with time maybe the thought of me
not being in your life might bring a tear.
I want us to smell the roses, take it step by
step, see just what today might hold in store.
If we are still together after many
tomorrows, only then do we dare to ask for more.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
October 27, 2010
It’s no secret that I have always been a dreamer. I see things as they should be, and not how they are in reality. I have been this way for as long as I can remember. That and the fact I grew up invisible helped define who I am. However, in real life dreamers and those that shun reality don’t make it too far in today’s society. Lately I have been hit head-on with a dream shattering dose of reality. My snug little world has been torn asunder, and I am having trouble with dealing with it.
I started my profession in 1969 as a means to earn spending money as I forged myself through school. I only intended on staying at this profession for a short while. I knew after school I would make my mark on the world. I graduated but remained at my job until a competent replacement could be found. For some reason the duties of my job came natural to me, I was a savant. It really didn’t take long to find a willing body with enough fortitude to be trained at my duties, so I was free to pursue my dream of making a mark in the world. Problem was I really enjoyed what I was doing; it gave me a sense of accomplishment. I was young, I still had so many years ahead of me to make my mark.
One year became two, two years became ten, and ten years became forty. I had spent forty years in a profession I had only planned on spending two years in and still no mark on the world. Towards the middle of my fortieth year I began writing my first book, Tenebrae, I knew at the time that book would be my mark. It is such a great story, there is no way professionals in the publishing community could ignore such a gem. Wrong! I was so naïve to think all you need is a great story and the world would beat a path to your door. See that’s the dreamer in me.
Rejection after rejection came. I kept hearing from those who volunteered to read my book how great it was. My dream was still intact, for the time being.
Dreams have a way of altering one’s mind. I got the silly notion that if Tenebrae wasn’t going to make my mark on the world that I would write o book that would. The Last Chance was born. Surely this would make my mark. Wrong! I still get rave reviews for both books. I still can’t see why professionals in the publishing business can’t see what other readers see. I have even started writing the sequel to Tenebrae, but I have no illusions that this will be the book that leaves a mark on the world. It is just another book that no one will ever read.
I still query Tenebrae, I still get nothing but rejections. I still hear nothing but good reviews about the chapters I have posted here. But I don’t dream anymore. I no longer see things as they should be. I see things in the harsh nakedness of the real world.
I know I am not alone in this wilderness of vanquished dreams. I am not the only one fighting a losing battle to hold onto some vestige of dignity. I struggle daily to keep at least one dream alive.
There is a great song from Man of Lamancha, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe. I don’t know about you, but the impossible dream is still elusive. To me the unbeatable foe is the economy, and it is kicking my butt.
Well, there you have the ranting of a reformed dreamer who has all but given up on making his mark on the world.
Tonight, when you wish upon that star, wish a wish for me,
I started my profession in 1969 as a means to earn spending money as I forged myself through school. I only intended on staying at this profession for a short while. I knew after school I would make my mark on the world. I graduated but remained at my job until a competent replacement could be found. For some reason the duties of my job came natural to me, I was a savant. It really didn’t take long to find a willing body with enough fortitude to be trained at my duties, so I was free to pursue my dream of making a mark in the world. Problem was I really enjoyed what I was doing; it gave me a sense of accomplishment. I was young, I still had so many years ahead of me to make my mark.
One year became two, two years became ten, and ten years became forty. I had spent forty years in a profession I had only planned on spending two years in and still no mark on the world. Towards the middle of my fortieth year I began writing my first book, Tenebrae, I knew at the time that book would be my mark. It is such a great story, there is no way professionals in the publishing community could ignore such a gem. Wrong! I was so naïve to think all you need is a great story and the world would beat a path to your door. See that’s the dreamer in me.
Rejection after rejection came. I kept hearing from those who volunteered to read my book how great it was. My dream was still intact, for the time being.
Dreams have a way of altering one’s mind. I got the silly notion that if Tenebrae wasn’t going to make my mark on the world that I would write o book that would. The Last Chance was born. Surely this would make my mark. Wrong! I still get rave reviews for both books. I still can’t see why professionals in the publishing business can’t see what other readers see. I have even started writing the sequel to Tenebrae, but I have no illusions that this will be the book that leaves a mark on the world. It is just another book that no one will ever read.
I still query Tenebrae, I still get nothing but rejections. I still hear nothing but good reviews about the chapters I have posted here. But I don’t dream anymore. I no longer see things as they should be. I see things in the harsh nakedness of the real world.
I know I am not alone in this wilderness of vanquished dreams. I am not the only one fighting a losing battle to hold onto some vestige of dignity. I struggle daily to keep at least one dream alive.
There is a great song from Man of Lamancha, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe. I don’t know about you, but the impossible dream is still elusive. To me the unbeatable foe is the economy, and it is kicking my butt.
Well, there you have the ranting of a reformed dreamer who has all but given up on making his mark on the world.
Tonight, when you wish upon that star, wish a wish for me,
Sunday, October 17, 2010
October 17, 2010
Poem for the week, this is a very short poem.
SEARCHING
When you're searching for the sun, but all you feel is rain.
When you're searching for some relief, but all you feel is pain.
When you finally find your happiness, but haven't got what it costs.
Turn to me, I will return all that you have lost.
SEARCHING
When you're searching for the sun, but all you feel is rain.
When you're searching for some relief, but all you feel is pain.
When you finally find your happiness, but haven't got what it costs.
Turn to me, I will return all that you have lost.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
October 10, 2010
Poem for the week.
NEXT TIME
No use denying......
We both just stopped trying seems we're just going through the motions,
We’re playing with emotions.
You and I, and I can't figure out why.
Our reasons are changing and hopes rearranging.
Seems it ended far too soon.
Both reaching for the moon, we're worlds apart,
And it's breaking my heart.
NEXT TIME
No use denying......
We both just stopped trying seems we're just going through the motions,
We’re playing with emotions.
You and I, and I can't figure out why.
Our reasons are changing and hopes rearranging.
Seems it ended far too soon.
Both reaching for the moon, we're worlds apart,
And it's breaking my heart.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
October 3, 2010
Poem for the week
Warmth
The warmth of the sun has no comparison
to how beautiful you really are.
There is no doubt in my mind your smile
outshines the brightest star.
There is a warmth in your soul if you listen
will bring you peace in life.
There is a place in your heart that will always
silence inner strife.
Place trust in your future, for it will shine
so bright.
Keep your faith in your friends, because
they could be your light.
Give your love away freely to those in your
life you care most about.
Don’t give upon dreaming, for your dreams
will come true. There’s no doubt.
Warmth
The warmth of the sun has no comparison
to how beautiful you really are.
There is no doubt in my mind your smile
outshines the brightest star.
There is a warmth in your soul if you listen
will bring you peace in life.
There is a place in your heart that will always
silence inner strife.
Place trust in your future, for it will shine
so bright.
Keep your faith in your friends, because
they could be your light.
Give your love away freely to those in your
life you care most about.
Don’t give upon dreaming, for your dreams
will come true. There’s no doubt.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
September 26, 2010
Poem for the week.
The story of us
You won’t come to me and I won’t come to you.
So we sit inside our misery apparently without a clue.
Knowing our inadequacies doesn’t clear our blame.
Knowing we let each other down only increases our blame.
I heard it said that there were so many easy solutions.
But they all seem to disappear as if they were only illusions.
So we both sit, lonely just a few feet apart.
Both of us silently breaking each other’s heart.
We sit in our silence and tell the world we tried.
We sit inside the bedroom and count the tears we’ve cried.
This isn’t what I wanted for the last years of our life.
And though it wasn’t planned I never intended to add to your strife.
But I really couldn’t take anymore; we couldn’t go back to the start.
I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be without tearing my world apart.
So we wave good-bye to our happiness as it rides of in the dust.
We blame each other because there is no one we can trust.
We cannot go back in time, or can we smile and pretend.
We must face the lonely truth; this is where our story ends.
The story of us
You won’t come to me and I won’t come to you.
So we sit inside our misery apparently without a clue.
Knowing our inadequacies doesn’t clear our blame.
Knowing we let each other down only increases our blame.
I heard it said that there were so many easy solutions.
But they all seem to disappear as if they were only illusions.
So we both sit, lonely just a few feet apart.
Both of us silently breaking each other’s heart.
We sit in our silence and tell the world we tried.
We sit inside the bedroom and count the tears we’ve cried.
This isn’t what I wanted for the last years of our life.
And though it wasn’t planned I never intended to add to your strife.
But I really couldn’t take anymore; we couldn’t go back to the start.
I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be without tearing my world apart.
So we wave good-bye to our happiness as it rides of in the dust.
We blame each other because there is no one we can trust.
We cannot go back in time, or can we smile and pretend.
We must face the lonely truth; this is where our story ends.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
September 19, 2010
Poem for the week
Fear
You sit inside your helpless mind, walled behind your fears.
Knowing if you give again it would only end in tears.
You turn off your dreams because no one will ever feel the same.
You double up your security and blame it all on your pain.
You tell yourself "It's far too soon to ever try again."
You sit inside your wounded heart and try to remember "when".
Look beyond your darkness, step into the light,
be the master of your future, not a slave to your fright.
Don’t be afraid to give your heart.
Never be afraid to fall in love.
That’s how a dream can start.
Fear
You sit inside your helpless mind, walled behind your fears.
Knowing if you give again it would only end in tears.
You turn off your dreams because no one will ever feel the same.
You double up your security and blame it all on your pain.
You tell yourself "It's far too soon to ever try again."
You sit inside your wounded heart and try to remember "when".
Look beyond your darkness, step into the light,
be the master of your future, not a slave to your fright.
Don’t be afraid to give your heart.
Never be afraid to fall in love.
That’s how a dream can start.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
September 12, 2010
Poem for the week.
FREEDOM
You say you like freedom and running around.
There is no use trying tying you down.
You don't want commitments you can't stay with just one.
Life's too short, so you grab when you can.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.
And dying of loneliness is no kind of fame.
It's breaking my heart, I've tried, but I just can't win
but you only get out of what you put in.
You say you need freedom and you'll never be tame.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.
FREEDOM
You say you like freedom and running around.
There is no use trying tying you down.
You don't want commitments you can't stay with just one.
Life's too short, so you grab when you can.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.
And dying of loneliness is no kind of fame.
It's breaking my heart, I've tried, but I just can't win
but you only get out of what you put in.
You say you need freedom and you'll never be tame.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
September 5, 2010
Poem for the week. (this was written for my 3rd wife. They say 3 times is a charm, they are right.)
Fate
I don’t regret one long dark road that fate has led me through.
No matter how dark and lonely the road has been,
fate led me to find someone like you.
I wouldn’t change one of the million tears I’ve cried,
or one lonely night alone.
For they have taught me patience and how to know
you and I are right.
Every broken heart or misplaced dream led
me to where you are.
I knew from the beginning it was you I saw
when I wished upon a star.
There is no doubt in my mind or my soul that I’ve been
searching for you all of my life.
Today we begin our happily ever after together,
I as your Husband and you as my Wife.
Fate
I don’t regret one long dark road that fate has led me through.
No matter how dark and lonely the road has been,
fate led me to find someone like you.
I wouldn’t change one of the million tears I’ve cried,
or one lonely night alone.
For they have taught me patience and how to know
you and I are right.
Every broken heart or misplaced dream led
me to where you are.
I knew from the beginning it was you I saw
when I wished upon a star.
There is no doubt in my mind or my soul that I’ve been
searching for you all of my life.
Today we begin our happily ever after together,
I as your Husband and you as my Wife.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
August 29, 2010
Poem for the week
BURNING BRIDGES
All the burning bridges are just
a memory of empty kisses and
a love not meant to be.
Night time falls around me and
I find myself alone,
Never ending sadness, a smile
without a home.
Bridges burned behind me with
no path up ahead.
All the time you talked, there was
nothing really said.
Yesterday’s misfortunes I should
have never seen.
I'll start sweeping up the ashes
in the morning.
All the burning bridges should be
standing still.
It was fine when you left, but you
didn't need to kill.
BURNING BRIDGES
All the burning bridges are just
a memory of empty kisses and
a love not meant to be.
Night time falls around me and
I find myself alone,
Never ending sadness, a smile
without a home.
Bridges burned behind me with
no path up ahead.
All the time you talked, there was
nothing really said.
Yesterday’s misfortunes I should
have never seen.
I'll start sweeping up the ashes
in the morning.
All the burning bridges should be
standing still.
It was fine when you left, but you
didn't need to kill.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
August 22, 2010
I will start posting a few chapters of Tenebrae (edited) next week. Remember chapters of The Last Chance begin on July 5th
Poem for the week
Flicker
When your dreams are at their darkest, and trust is hard to find.
There should always be a bright light.
That flickers in your mind.
When you just can’t find a reason
Or doubt your pain will end.
When you stumble in your attempt to find someone in which you can depend.
When you need a shelter to keep you safe from your fright,
or just need someone to keep your heart warm on a cold night.
And when you chase your rainbows and get soaked with every thought.
When you find that you are wondering, where is the happiness
you thought that you had bought?
Never forget my heart can be your light.
My love is something in which you can depend.
My friendship will keep you safe and secure.
And my tenderness will dry your tears and ease your fears.
Poem for the week
Flicker
When your dreams are at their darkest, and trust is hard to find.
There should always be a bright light.
That flickers in your mind.
When you just can’t find a reason
Or doubt your pain will end.
When you stumble in your attempt to find someone in which you can depend.
When you need a shelter to keep you safe from your fright,
or just need someone to keep your heart warm on a cold night.
And when you chase your rainbows and get soaked with every thought.
When you find that you are wondering, where is the happiness
you thought that you had bought?
Never forget my heart can be your light.
My love is something in which you can depend.
My friendship will keep you safe and secure.
And my tenderness will dry your tears and ease your fears.
Monday, August 16, 2010
August 15, 2010
It kinda looks as if my serial didn't go over big. I guess i should not continue. The response to the last chapters of The Last Chance is slowing down. The only thing constant is the depression. Let me know if I should continue with my serial. I just need one response.
Here is the poem for the week. I don't know if any of you noticed but I have a pattern going here. One positive poem and then one "gosh my heart broke poem". It is time for the later.
CAN'T BLAME IT ON ME
You can't blame it on me for the
way that you're feeling.
I'm not the one to blame for
the lonely way
it turned out to be.
You're the one who asked to be free.
So why blame it on me.
You can't say it's my fault for all
of your crying.
I'm not the one who asked you
to walk out on me.
It was your choice and yours completely.
So, why blame it on me?
Here is the poem for the week. I don't know if any of you noticed but I have a pattern going here. One positive poem and then one "gosh my heart broke poem". It is time for the later.
CAN'T BLAME IT ON ME
You can't blame it on me for the
way that you're feeling.
I'm not the one to blame for
the lonely way
it turned out to be.
You're the one who asked to be free.
So why blame it on me.
You can't say it's my fault for all
of your crying.
I'm not the one who asked you
to walk out on me.
It was your choice and yours completely.
So, why blame it on me?
Monday, August 9, 2010
August 9, 2010
Poem for the week
Love
You remind me of springtime, because you’re making me smile.
I know I could love you in just a short while.
Are you the dream that keeps replaying in my mind?
Are you the true love I've been searching to find?
If I told you I loved you would they be words you'd like to hear?
Will I be the one you’ll miss whenever I'm not near?
Can I give you my heart to cherish and hold?
Will you seek my warmth whenever you're cold?
Can I hold you at night to calm all of your fears?
Will you let me be the one that dries all your tears?
When I look into your eyes will you feel the same?
When I touch secret places will you whisper my name?
Will you give me your heart and let your love show?
When you tell me you love me will I already know?
Can I open my hands and let you fly away free?
Secure in the knowledge you'll fly home to me
Love
You remind me of springtime, because you’re making me smile.
I know I could love you in just a short while.
Are you the dream that keeps replaying in my mind?
Are you the true love I've been searching to find?
If I told you I loved you would they be words you'd like to hear?
Will I be the one you’ll miss whenever I'm not near?
Can I give you my heart to cherish and hold?
Will you seek my warmth whenever you're cold?
Can I hold you at night to calm all of your fears?
Will you let me be the one that dries all your tears?
When I look into your eyes will you feel the same?
When I touch secret places will you whisper my name?
Will you give me your heart and let your love show?
When you tell me you love me will I already know?
Can I open my hands and let you fly away free?
Secure in the knowledge you'll fly home to me
Sunday, August 1, 2010
August 1, 2010
Poem for the week
I ALWAYS TURN TO YOU
When it seems as though nobody in this world is sane,
I always turn to you.
Because you're the rainbow, you're always there after the rain.
When all I feel is darkness and don't know why I came,
I always turn to you.
Because you smile just like the sunrise, and heal all my pain.
When I look into my memories to only find a stain,
I'd write my failures in a book but couldn't stand the fame.
So I always turn to you.
You're the rainbow; you're always there after the rain.
I ALWAYS TURN TO YOU
When it seems as though nobody in this world is sane,
I always turn to you.
Because you're the rainbow, you're always there after the rain.
When all I feel is darkness and don't know why I came,
I always turn to you.
Because you smile just like the sunrise, and heal all my pain.
When I look into my memories to only find a stain,
I'd write my failures in a book but couldn't stand the fame.
So I always turn to you.
You're the rainbow; you're always there after the rain.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Episode One-------Acciddental Hero, at Large
remember to go to July 5th to read first chapter of The Last Chance............
Episode one
It has been said that any story should begin at the beginning; I tend to agree with this assumption. However if we were to dissect our life, and look deep into our past we would find we have been blessed or cursed with multiple beginnings. Our birth, first day of school, first kiss, well you get where I am going with this. Our hero also has had many beginnings, most of them totally forgettable. I have decided to start this story at the appropriate beginning. Please bear with me, as this is my first attempt at story telling. Let me know if I get ahead of myself.
The beginning…… oh I will let you know if something from our hero’s past affects the outcome of this story. Maybe I can insert a, the following happened way before, but might be of interest. I really don’t know, as I said I am kinda new at this.
In the annuls of time there have been many heroes, but this story, like most stories focus on just one super hero. Our hero is unassuming, shy, bit of a nerd, mild mannered, clumsy and out of work. To look at him you would never guess he had super powers. You might even suppose he had no powers at all. However, you would be mistaken. OK I wouldn’t blame you for being skeptical. After all how many heroes do you know that are just over five feet tall, balding, and wear coke bottle glasses? I myself can’t think of one.
Without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to our hero. His secret identity name is raballard. That’s right the one and only raballard. You think I jest? Believe me I wish I was mistaken. I myself just found out.
Our hero, blessed with a quick wit and an uncanny imagination. Both are essential elements is surviving as a super hero, though I will admit possession of wit and imagination are not exclusive to super heroes.
What, you may ask makes raballard a super hero? Besides spunk and a never wavering sense of right and wrong, and of course, occasional sense of determination. Raballard has two devices placed in strategic places in his body. Mainly a magical, mystical pace maker and a device in his nether region, which has yet to reveal its purpose. I hear the naysayers among you, a magical pacemaker indeed. To be frank, I too had my doubts. Mostly because the devices have been more of a nuisance then anything magical. That was before today, everything changed late in the afternoon, when the magical pacemaker transported our mild mannered raballard to the scene of the crime.
Our story does not begin with once upon a time, although that would be cute, quaint, and cuddly. Our story just begins. Dateline 3:17 PM normal daylight savings time March the 26th, 2009 Raballard sat in his tiny cubical contemplating the project de jour. This project was similar to all other projects that had passed through his tiny cubical during the last forty years. He had no way of knowing that this job was different. Had his senses been developed, the way most super heroes develop their senses he would have know. This benign, no different than any other project had been imprinted with the smell of the latest catastrophe sweeping through his nation. The project, hereto with known as project 2941 had the feint smell of evil attached to it. Not just the smell of evil, but the pure acidic smell of economic evil. How was poor Raballard to know his neat everything in its place world would be torn asunder? A squeak came from his company phone; he seldom got any kind of communiqué from his phone. Most days his company phone lay dormant. He had considered removing the phone altogether, but as it belonged to the company he thought better of it, and used the phone as a paper weight. Engrossed with project 2941 Raballard paid no heed to the urgent squeak from his paper weight. The second time the squeak startled him; he knew he could not avoid the request coming from the phone. “Raballard please report to Supervisor Largemouth’s office at once. Do not delay, drop everything and come at once” the phone went silent.
Reporting to Supervisor Largemouth’s office was not in itself an uncommon request; he had been called to his supervisor’s office many times over the last forty years. He had lost track of the various number of supervisors he had reported to. This time the request seemed eerie. Raballard’ s intuition clicked into high gear. This was not a request to appear, no, it was more like an order. Raballard knocked on the office door, and waited for a response. The response was instantaneous; “enter” came booming from behind the closed door. The office never ceased to amaze him; it was six times larger than his cubical. Every supervisor had modified or enlarged their office, many times at expense of expandable employees. The current supervisor’s office was no exception. It was grandiose, with three solid oak desks, crystal chandeliers, three overstuffed chairs stood behind each desk. Priceless pieces of art adorned each wall. It was no doubt the current supervisor lived beyond his needs. To Raballard’s surprise Supervisor Largemouth sat behind the largest desk, a desk he seldom used. The desk has been called the judgment desk, and for good reasons. Supervisor Largemouth twiddled his thumbs as he sat, listening to ACDC blaring in the background. “Awe excellent, I am so glad you could free yourself from your desk,” he remarked as he pointed to a small steel back chair for his victim to sit in. “tell me Ra, how have you been the last few months? Is all that nasty cancer been removed?” a chill ran up and down Raballard’s spine. He had not been called here to chit-chat about his cancer. He knew something more chilling was in the air, he could not place a finger on it, but he knew. He was about to answer, when he was cut off by his supervisor. “Never mind, you know I really could care less about your so-called cancer.”
“But sir, I have the receipts from my doctor and hospital.”
Supervisor Largemouth continued unabated, “Yes, yes. Receipts, anybody can produce receipts. The crux of the matter is your time off has cost this company a lot of money. Money is tight. In today’s sagging economy, well we just can’t have this, can we?”
“No sir, I guess we can’t have that”
“Good, so you agree” Supervisor Largemouth said with a glee and a half turned snarl on his lips. “Therefore, I have no recourse than to let you go. Blame the economy if you wish. You have two minutes to vacate the premises, after which you will be arrested as a trespasser” he gave Raballard an evil grin “Good day, and thank you for slaving away at The Steel Plant, for the last..However many years you’ve been here.”
“But sir..”
“Your time has begun. There is to be no severance pay, no letter of recommendation, as you know these things take time and money. Blame the economy, blame the powers that be, but I am blameless. You have one minute and forty-five seconds left. Please don’t make me call security, as you know that will take time and money”
Raballard stood up, looking at his former supervisor, pleading for his position to be returned to him.
“But sir…”
“I can see we are going to go about this the hard way, very well I will have security escort you off the premises. Of course we will need to bill you for doing so”
“No, I’m going” Raballard said as he turned to go.
“Blame it on the economy” kept running through is mind .The evil that has gripped his nation had its next victim. A victim, that up until the time he became a victim had no idea he was about to become a hero.
“I will not only blame it on the economy, but I will defeat this economy.” He said with determination. Raballard had never been one to crusade for a cause. His life had been one of wait and see. This time he had been pushed too far. He was now ready to battle for truth justice, and the return to normalcy. The mild mannered Raballard became the hero he was destined to become. A hero was born. He put his key in the ignition of his old beat up car and turned it on.T here are forces in herodom that cannot be explained. Why is it on one day your pacemaker is a nuisance while the next day it becomes magical? The pacemaker became just that when he turned on the ignition. The car vanished as soon as the key had been turned. The magical pacemaker had transported Raballard to the scene of the crime. To the beginning
Follow the adventure of Raballard, coming soon my blog near you.
Episode one
It has been said that any story should begin at the beginning; I tend to agree with this assumption. However if we were to dissect our life, and look deep into our past we would find we have been blessed or cursed with multiple beginnings. Our birth, first day of school, first kiss, well you get where I am going with this. Our hero also has had many beginnings, most of them totally forgettable. I have decided to start this story at the appropriate beginning. Please bear with me, as this is my first attempt at story telling. Let me know if I get ahead of myself.
The beginning…… oh I will let you know if something from our hero’s past affects the outcome of this story. Maybe I can insert a, the following happened way before, but might be of interest. I really don’t know, as I said I am kinda new at this.
In the annuls of time there have been many heroes, but this story, like most stories focus on just one super hero. Our hero is unassuming, shy, bit of a nerd, mild mannered, clumsy and out of work. To look at him you would never guess he had super powers. You might even suppose he had no powers at all. However, you would be mistaken. OK I wouldn’t blame you for being skeptical. After all how many heroes do you know that are just over five feet tall, balding, and wear coke bottle glasses? I myself can’t think of one.
Without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to our hero. His secret identity name is raballard. That’s right the one and only raballard. You think I jest? Believe me I wish I was mistaken. I myself just found out.
Our hero, blessed with a quick wit and an uncanny imagination. Both are essential elements is surviving as a super hero, though I will admit possession of wit and imagination are not exclusive to super heroes.
What, you may ask makes raballard a super hero? Besides spunk and a never wavering sense of right and wrong, and of course, occasional sense of determination. Raballard has two devices placed in strategic places in his body. Mainly a magical, mystical pace maker and a device in his nether region, which has yet to reveal its purpose. I hear the naysayers among you, a magical pacemaker indeed. To be frank, I too had my doubts. Mostly because the devices have been more of a nuisance then anything magical. That was before today, everything changed late in the afternoon, when the magical pacemaker transported our mild mannered raballard to the scene of the crime.
Our story does not begin with once upon a time, although that would be cute, quaint, and cuddly. Our story just begins. Dateline 3:17 PM normal daylight savings time March the 26th, 2009 Raballard sat in his tiny cubical contemplating the project de jour. This project was similar to all other projects that had passed through his tiny cubical during the last forty years. He had no way of knowing that this job was different. Had his senses been developed, the way most super heroes develop their senses he would have know. This benign, no different than any other project had been imprinted with the smell of the latest catastrophe sweeping through his nation. The project, hereto with known as project 2941 had the feint smell of evil attached to it. Not just the smell of evil, but the pure acidic smell of economic evil. How was poor Raballard to know his neat everything in its place world would be torn asunder? A squeak came from his company phone; he seldom got any kind of communiqué from his phone. Most days his company phone lay dormant. He had considered removing the phone altogether, but as it belonged to the company he thought better of it, and used the phone as a paper weight. Engrossed with project 2941 Raballard paid no heed to the urgent squeak from his paper weight. The second time the squeak startled him; he knew he could not avoid the request coming from the phone. “Raballard please report to Supervisor Largemouth’s office at once. Do not delay, drop everything and come at once” the phone went silent.
Reporting to Supervisor Largemouth’s office was not in itself an uncommon request; he had been called to his supervisor’s office many times over the last forty years. He had lost track of the various number of supervisors he had reported to. This time the request seemed eerie. Raballard’ s intuition clicked into high gear. This was not a request to appear, no, it was more like an order. Raballard knocked on the office door, and waited for a response. The response was instantaneous; “enter” came booming from behind the closed door. The office never ceased to amaze him; it was six times larger than his cubical. Every supervisor had modified or enlarged their office, many times at expense of expandable employees. The current supervisor’s office was no exception. It was grandiose, with three solid oak desks, crystal chandeliers, three overstuffed chairs stood behind each desk. Priceless pieces of art adorned each wall. It was no doubt the current supervisor lived beyond his needs. To Raballard’s surprise Supervisor Largemouth sat behind the largest desk, a desk he seldom used. The desk has been called the judgment desk, and for good reasons. Supervisor Largemouth twiddled his thumbs as he sat, listening to ACDC blaring in the background. “Awe excellent, I am so glad you could free yourself from your desk,” he remarked as he pointed to a small steel back chair for his victim to sit in. “tell me Ra, how have you been the last few months? Is all that nasty cancer been removed?” a chill ran up and down Raballard’s spine. He had not been called here to chit-chat about his cancer. He knew something more chilling was in the air, he could not place a finger on it, but he knew. He was about to answer, when he was cut off by his supervisor. “Never mind, you know I really could care less about your so-called cancer.”
“But sir, I have the receipts from my doctor and hospital.”
Supervisor Largemouth continued unabated, “Yes, yes. Receipts, anybody can produce receipts. The crux of the matter is your time off has cost this company a lot of money. Money is tight. In today’s sagging economy, well we just can’t have this, can we?”
“No sir, I guess we can’t have that”
“Good, so you agree” Supervisor Largemouth said with a glee and a half turned snarl on his lips. “Therefore, I have no recourse than to let you go. Blame the economy if you wish. You have two minutes to vacate the premises, after which you will be arrested as a trespasser” he gave Raballard an evil grin “Good day, and thank you for slaving away at The Steel Plant, for the last..However many years you’ve been here.”
“But sir..”
“Your time has begun. There is to be no severance pay, no letter of recommendation, as you know these things take time and money. Blame the economy, blame the powers that be, but I am blameless. You have one minute and forty-five seconds left. Please don’t make me call security, as you know that will take time and money”
Raballard stood up, looking at his former supervisor, pleading for his position to be returned to him.
“But sir…”
“I can see we are going to go about this the hard way, very well I will have security escort you off the premises. Of course we will need to bill you for doing so”
“No, I’m going” Raballard said as he turned to go.
“Blame it on the economy” kept running through is mind .The evil that has gripped his nation had its next victim. A victim, that up until the time he became a victim had no idea he was about to become a hero.
“I will not only blame it on the economy, but I will defeat this economy.” He said with determination. Raballard had never been one to crusade for a cause. His life had been one of wait and see. This time he had been pushed too far. He was now ready to battle for truth justice, and the return to normalcy. The mild mannered Raballard became the hero he was destined to become. A hero was born. He put his key in the ignition of his old beat up car and turned it on.T here are forces in herodom that cannot be explained. Why is it on one day your pacemaker is a nuisance while the next day it becomes magical? The pacemaker became just that when he turned on the ignition. The car vanished as soon as the key had been turned. The magical pacemaker had transported Raballard to the scene of the crime. To the beginning
Follow the adventure of Raballard, coming soon my blog near you.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
July 24, 2010
The last two chapters (fifteen and sixteen) are the last chapters I am going to post, for now. If you want the rest please E-mail me a request, and I will send the rest.
I will keep posting a poem each Sunday. I have also started working on a blog serial about a mild mannered hero, who had no idea he was a hero.
I am also trying to gather funds to self publish, so if any of you have any suggestions on how an unemployed dreamer can accomplish such a feat would be helpful. I suppose the opperative word there is dreamer.
The response I have received from those reading the Last Chance is overwhelming. All have told me it should be available to the public. I agree, although I am just a bit biased.
Look for my new supper hero serial coming soon to this blog near you.
Ramon.
PS the Email address is located in my profile.
I will keep posting a poem each Sunday. I have also started working on a blog serial about a mild mannered hero, who had no idea he was a hero.
I am also trying to gather funds to self publish, so if any of you have any suggestions on how an unemployed dreamer can accomplish such a feat would be helpful. I suppose the opperative word there is dreamer.
The response I have received from those reading the Last Chance is overwhelming. All have told me it should be available to the public. I agree, although I am just a bit biased.
Look for my new supper hero serial coming soon to this blog near you.
Ramon.
PS the Email address is located in my profile.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
poem for the week
For you I would
For you I would walk to the sun
for a ray of light to use as a ribbon
for your hair.
For you I would tease a desperado
anytime or anywhere.
For you I would talk to strangers,or
run with scisscors just to get a smile
from you.
Can you imagine for a lifetime of smiles,
what mischiefe I could do?
For you I would never look before I leaped
and i would count my chickens before
they hatched.
If we could lay our hearts face to face
and find out that they matched.
For you I would swim right after eating,
even though I cant swim a single stroke.
If i could only touch your heart
and heal the one thats broke.
For you I would
For you I would walk to the sun
for a ray of light to use as a ribbon
for your hair.
For you I would tease a desperado
anytime or anywhere.
For you I would talk to strangers,or
run with scisscors just to get a smile
from you.
Can you imagine for a lifetime of smiles,
what mischiefe I could do?
For you I would never look before I leaped
and i would count my chickens before
they hatched.
If we could lay our hearts face to face
and find out that they matched.
For you I would swim right after eating,
even though I cant swim a single stroke.
If i could only touch your heart
and heal the one thats broke.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Poem for the week
ANOTHER FOREVER
So we come to the end of another forever
funny.............I could have sworn you were the end of the line.
You told me your stories and like a fool I believed you
then you destroyed part of my future without even trying.
So now I must mend another heart breaking.
funny...........I thought you'd be the one to be true.
Well hell it's my fault my heart was there for the taking.
You took it and stomped it I hope that you are through.
So now that we come to the parting of the ways
I've been thinking it over there's not much I can do.
I had it all written, the words I would say,
after thinking it over all I'll say is "Fuck You"
ANOTHER FOREVER
So we come to the end of another forever
funny.............I could have sworn you were the end of the line.
You told me your stories and like a fool I believed you
then you destroyed part of my future without even trying.
So now I must mend another heart breaking.
funny...........I thought you'd be the one to be true.
Well hell it's my fault my heart was there for the taking.
You took it and stomped it I hope that you are through.
So now that we come to the parting of the ways
I've been thinking it over there's not much I can do.
I had it all written, the words I would say,
after thinking it over all I'll say is "Fuck You"
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
poem
I am still fighting my depression. The demons are determined to win.
I have been diagnosed with psychosis.
I will come by from time to time to give an update, untill I am better(I can't see that now) I will post a poem, also from time to time.
AGAIN
You've got me under your spell
again.
Thinkin' , oh, well again,
Might as well try just one more
time.
You've got the fire to glow again.
Giving me something to blow
again.
You'd think I'd be wise to that
old line.
You've got me singing the blues
again.
Misreading the clues again.
Actually, believing all is fine.
You've got me under your spell
again.
Might end up in hell again.
But I'm going to let you back
just one more time.
I have been diagnosed with psychosis.
I will come by from time to time to give an update, untill I am better(I can't see that now) I will post a poem, also from time to time.
AGAIN
You've got me under your spell
again.
Thinkin' , oh, well again,
Might as well try just one more
time.
You've got the fire to glow again.
Giving me something to blow
again.
You'd think I'd be wise to that
old line.
You've got me singing the blues
again.
Misreading the clues again.
Actually, believing all is fine.
You've got me under your spell
again.
Might end up in hell again.
But I'm going to let you back
just one more time.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
April 8, 2010
I hope this isn't miss-use of the sacred art of blogging, but I thought maybe one of my poems might soothe me as I sit in the corner and lick my wounds. I hopw my fan likes it.
I've been down some long dark
lonely roads
Where the only light came from
you.
There have been times when I
didn't have a nickel,
And you always pull me
through.
If bad luck was a blessing,
Hell, I'm blessed with the best.
And you know if you had any
brains,
Ya know you'd leave like all
the rest.
When I sell my soul for pennies
You always buy it back for me.
And it hasn't been a bed of roses
But you say we'll always be.
And you're someone I can
turn to,
I can always count on you.
You're the home I never had.
And, God, how I love you.
I've been down some long dark
lonely roads
Where the only light came from
you.
There have been times when I
didn't have a nickel,
And you always pull me
through.
If bad luck was a blessing,
Hell, I'm blessed with the best.
And you know if you had any
brains,
Ya know you'd leave like all
the rest.
When I sell my soul for pennies
You always buy it back for me.
And it hasn't been a bed of roses
But you say we'll always be.
And you're someone I can
turn to,
I can always count on you.
You're the home I never had.
And, God, how I love you.
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