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BORN LUCKY

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Born Lucky

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I was born lucky.  I would have chosen my parents right from the start.  I was loved and I felt loved. Maybe they chose me and maybe I chose them.  They were a perfect fit.  I would never claim I was better than others or worse than others.  I know that I saw the world around me with a different view than others had.  When my friends and neighbors complained about their siblings or parents, I  remained silent or said I would choose the same two brothers and the  same four sisters and the same parents.

We didn’t always agree on some subjects but I  knew that our parents were special.  It wasn’t about money.  Money didn’t buy happiness. It wasn’t about material things at all.  We learned to enjoy the foods we had, mostly beans and potatoes and corn bread, and occasionally biscuits and gravy.  It wasn’t about the things we didn’t have.  We learned to use what we had and do without the things we didn’t have. Flour sacks became clothes. Hand-me-downs were common.  Time spent with family was valuable time.  Respect and truth and love were important.  Each day was part of a life-long learning experience.

Even though I didn’t have much I learned how to work, how to play, how to enjoy the world every day.  I was not perfect but I didn’t feel mean or rotten.  I wanted to help people who were hurting, sad, or lonely.  I was usually considered “nice”.  I was a good person, willing to help neighbors and friends.  I could change a tire, carry buckets of water, travel across countries, and participate in games without getting angry as long as there were rules to follow.  I believed in rules and fairness.

Lucky? Maybe I should say I was treated fairly in life. When I saw what others had, what they needed, and the conditions surrounding them, I knew I was blessed.  The world around us did not appear fair in its treatment to others.  Perhaps I was so naïve or oblivious to problems that I escaped what could have been painful experiences.

When I compared my circumstances with others, I began to wake up and observe.  When I visited a friend who  made great claims regarding things he owned, I discovered the truth.  His imagination gave him all the things he didn’t have.  He didn’t live in a mansion. He didn’t drive a fancy car.  He was surrounded by problems that he chose not to see.  He was ashamed to invite me inside his house. The house was tiny and crowded. The windows were broken and needed replacements. The floor had holes.  The house was cold and damp.

The worst of it was the human factor.  How could they survive with conditions like this? It got worse.  In another room his brother sat on a bed in dirty clothes. His eyes were glazed over, flies were clustered all over his face, and yet he was smiling.   I could not imagine living in that home.  His parents were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing the weather, waiting for some super cells to hit the area, and wondering where to go.

Maybe that is why I began volunteering, helping out when I could.  I came into this world looking to do something for others and this was my opportunity to quit talking and begin acting.  I am lucky because I got a good start in life. My life has been blessed even though I have physical problems. Physical problems will not hold me back. I am a poet and a writer.  I must encourage others to help make the world a better place. I must act quickly because death is always waiting and I don’t have time to die.

July 23, 2017

 

YOUR WORDS: POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE?

YOUR WORDS: POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE?

Picture your words on a number line
Not by counting letters or sounds,
Consider the words that might be out-of-bounds,
Or messages that might say,
I don’t feel very well today,
look at what I’m saying and go away.
You still don’t get what I mean?
Words hide feelings that are often unseen.
What if you could see how your words,
Become larger and powerful when both seen and heard.
Think of words as being positive or negative on a number line
Negative_______________0_________________Positive
Hate Love
Death Life

Opposites help make the picture clear,
They show the truths you hold dear.
Hate brings Death to the very end,
Love brings Life, and a place to begin.
When you say negative things under your breath,
You are secretly wishing for my death,
Words such as those should remain unsaid
They are bullets aimed at my head.
If you say positive words you take away strife..
Positive words encourage and add to life.
You can be ruthless and claim to be misunderstood
When your words are venomous and not for good.
Choose sweet words if you are my friend,
Bitter words if our friendship should end.
Words, powerful words, what words come to mind?
Deceptive or truthful, kind or unkind?
Intending to incite, insult or infuse,
When you gossip about people, what words do you choose?
Do you want us to live longer, become stronger, and love more?
Do your words lift us up so we can soar?
Picture your words as they rush to our ears,
What impression or message do you want us to hear?

May 29, 2017

SECOND CHANCE

Second Chance

 

I’ve been gone, away from joys and tasks that made me unique, but it took me awhile to know how to respond to my friends.  My life has not been my own. I’ve been traveling down a road without any way to return or any way to slow my descent into hell. But you, my friends, are lucky because I will be sharing new concepts and research.  New visions have pulled me out of the depths of despair.

I am not a doctor nor can I officially recommend any medications for anyone. Instead I will tell you what has happened to me and as best I can, tell you my next step. I am looking forward to life again and have left my depression behind. My life is improving because there is new found hope for relief of pain and possible cures for many diseases. The disease that grabbed me and shook my world is Parkinson’s Disease.

At night my legs were restless. My sleeping habits were a concern. I wandered about my house seeking something to distract me. My leg muscles cramped often and I began drinking more liquids in hopes that my fluid levels would rebound and my health would improve. My hands shook. My face sometimes appeared expressionless. Some people questioned if I had suffered a stroke. Internally I felt changes were occurring gradually but I tried to ignore what was happening. I took long walks and exercised regularly.  For short periods of time I felt better but I did not understand my enemy, a strange insidious internal enemy that was drying my brain cells.

Months passed, and then I began counting my failures instead of victories. I no longer wrote three hundred words or more each day. I had dreams of glory but my production decreased.  Short stories and poetry were still inspired by my muse, but the ideas languished.  I no longer had the energy to keep my writer’s ink flowing.  What caused this change? Why couldn’t I keep up with other poets or find ways to urge them onward?  I envied those who tirelessly wrote powerful love letters to the world, or continued to stir consciences and demand action. So what was my problem?

My physical abilities were different. Parkinson’s Disease was weakening my will to write and my will to survive. It would have been so easy to escape the world’s pressures.  Yet despite personal financial battles which stripped me of possessions I had accumulated, including the loss of my beautiful house at the edge of the oak forest, I rejoiced because I still felt physically fit.  I could still walk, talk, and write.  The world was still beautiful and I had a multitude of friends.

My health continued to fail. One knee was replaced in February, another in June. Everything was happening too quickly. Over the next six months my gall bladder was removed and a hernia repaired. I had been almost indestructible and now I was falling apart. I didn’t like what was happening to me but I had no answers. What would happen next?

Mentally I began preparing for the worse.  I would return to the land of my relatives and regroup.  Though I talked of restarting my life, in reality I was going back to die. I could feel the disease working on me and I knew it was degenerative.  I could imagine myself tied to a stake while a predator circled, knowing I would die, the only question was when it would take place.

My arms shook, my legs stumbled over imaginary rocks and sticks, and I knew the disease was getting worse. I lost my confidence in my driving abilities. My neurologist decided I was a danger on the road and reported my condition to the Department of Motor Vehicles. My license was rescinded. I fought depression because now I became confined within a house or close by. Mentally I was tethered without hope of recovery, without any understanding of my future life.  I had nothing to do but smile and do the Parkinson’s shuffle or choose a quick way out.

I almost died one day in the most innocent of circumstances.  I left the water running in my garden and went to turn it off. In one location the water was two inches deep and I stepped through it. The clay beneath the top soil was not letting the water seep through and my shoes were getting caught in the mud. As I looked for a solution I tripped and became tangled in tomato vines. I had no strength to pull myself up so I began crawling towards the end of the row.  I bumped into the electric fence. Mild jolts made me realize that exit was blocked. For over an hour I struggled to escape. The two inches of water became a threat because I couldn’t lift my head for long. I didn’t want to drown and there was no one to help me. I slipped out of my shoes and shook free of the vines. Inch by inch I made my way to drier ground. Finally I was free of the watery trap.  Exhausted from my efforts, I slept a few moments before crawling to a tomato stake. I pulled myself to my knees and slowly got up.

I survived but lost my joy of life. Parkinson’s had won. There was no way to make things better. At least that was what I thought.

My son and daughters were becoming increasingly concerned over my mental state. They researched old remedies and new ways of thinking regarding Parkinson’s Disease. They convinced me to try new ideas. What did I have to lose?

Reluctant at first and very cautious, I tried CBD.  Within days my back pain lessened and my muscles relaxed. After taking this medication, for a few hours I could stand up straight and walk for short distances. I noticed other benefits. Constipation had been a problem but as my body relaxed that changed also. Now I’m able to do a few jumping jacks and pushups. I’m not young anymore but I’m expecting dramatic effects. I’m happy that I’ve been given a second chance to live.

 

 

 

 

WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO BITE?

She was beautiful and sexy,

A woman every man wanted to see.

A stranger whose appearance

Brought out the very beast in me.

“I want her,’ my heart pleaded,

“She’s everything I’ve dreamed.”

“Calm down,” my brain insisted,

“Maybe she’s not all she seemed.”

Her womanly curves distracted

Every man that night she met.

I switched into my hunting mode,

My one objective was set.

My hungry eyes sought to devour her.

Such a tempting morsel was she,

Yet the competing anxious men

Kept her away and safe from me.

“Never give up,” my heart insisted.

“You’re not doing all you can.”

I knew I wouldn’t tuck my tail.

I was not that kind of man.

Increasingly aware of how time flew,

Growling angrily I continued to prowl,

Thinking, “What more can I do?

I’ve done everything but howl.”

At intermission I took her a drink,

An opportunity I’d waited for all night.

She smiled and asked sweetly,

“Where would you like to bite?”

We danced like two experienced partners.

I did everything I could with flair.

She laughed happily the rest of the night,

And later invited me to her lair.

Our little beasties are beside me.

I watch them in my den.

My woman knows how to please me,

When I smile my wolfish grin.

by Dan Roberson

A Special Man

A Special Man

 

None of his wives

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

After work he would

Sit in his chair

Like a king on his throne

And his current wife would scurry about

Taking care of his needs.

Each claimed he was a special man,

But they weren’t slaves.

At his funeral his four ex-wives

(And his widow)

Showed up broken-hearted.

All loved and spoke highly of him.

But, if their words were true,

Which one poisoned him?

Which one loved him so much

She couldn’t share?

Who felt pain enough to break free?

One of them broke the spell

Because none of them

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

 

Save a Bag of Popcorn for Me

Popcorn icon

Popcorn icon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She reminded me of popcorn,

Never knowing how to relax,

Jumping up and ready to go,

Moving to the max,

 

She could dance all night,

All eyes glued to her every move,

That’s the way it always was,

As she got into her groove,

 

I could see other men wanted her,

But I had no time for jealousy,

For no matter what anyone said or did,

She always went home with me,

 

She treated me like I was special,

I honored her as my queen,

I loved her on the weekends,

And all the days between,

 

She wasn’t a prima donna,

She was always at my side,

She was my best friend, lover, wife,

I could not disguise my pride,

 

A doctor broke the news one day,

She had a suspicious bump,

There was nothing to do but wait and see,

It turned out to be a cancerous lump,

 

The cancer had metastasized,

But we pretended she was free,

Until death claimed her one day,

And ripped my heart from me,

 

The only woman I ever loved,

Was taken too early from me,

I am left with empty arms,

And with only her memory,

 

Every time I hear that familiar pop,

And see popcorn start to jump,

I brush the tears from my eyes,

As I remember that awful bump,

 

Her final words before she left,

“I’ll love you, dear, for all eternity,

So enjoy life, whether short or long,

And save a bag of popcorn for me.”

 

“Please Wait!”

Flames visible through the window of a house d...

Image via Wikipedia

Six Predicaments (2/6)

1)  John stood on the ledge waiting to plunge,

A crowd gathered below,

Waiting for him to make his big lunge,

He moved a few steps searching for traction,

The timing was not quite right,

He called his wife wanting her reaction,

When he told her he loved her without any lies,

Wanting her to know that he lost his job,

He was tense and irritable, But to his surprise,

He heard, “Please wait until your party is found,”

And then music he didn’t like boomed in his ear,

He didn’t want elevator music on his way down,

He let the waiting rescuers come near,

He heard, “We help everyone in our town,”

Despite all the news about John’s desperate act,

Some people thought he was being dramatic,

And said he had a tendency to overreact,

His wife went to her mother’s for a week or two,

John wonders if she’ll ever come home,

Because she’s long overdue.

 

2)  Flames were reaching higher and higher,

Eduardo called 911 screaming, “My children are in there,

Please don’t let this be a funeral pyre!”

A voice rang clear, “Please wait because we have pranksters about,

We’ve had several people call in tonight,

So all our engines are already out,

Tell me one more time what is your plight?”

Fortunately others had seen the glow,

He stammered and stuttered,

In his excitement his words did not flow,

Fire trucks returning were diverted and sent,

Firemen arrived to see the house in dire straits,

Through smoke and flames three firemen went,

They found one child, two, and then another,

They were carried out safely,

The two girls were okay, and so was their brother,

They lost their home, their belongings, their bed,

But when all was considered and done,

They were lucky to be alive instead.