Large Withdrawal

This may sound strange
But, do I look like a bank?
Despite needing change
I try my best to be frank
And tell folks there’s no money here
While they extend their hands and sneer.

Appointed

In the twilight of the time shift
I feel a bit ahead
Through endless sands we all sift
For grains of truth that fled

A second can become a week
A minute now a year
The threat of loss controls the meek
The hour of judgement here.

Taken Aback

Everything I ever say
Is always meant in the nicest way
Unless you’ve got me seeing red
Then we’ll both regret what’s said.

Splitter

The reasons we remain
Are sometimes less-than-sane
When reason starts to wane
There will be pain

The decision to depart
Is made within your heart
This decision, like a dart
Is bound to smart.

Revolver

So, as promised, here is a strange tale that happened to me recently and it involves The Beatles, one of my all time favorite bands.

The house we live in is old, and like every aging domicile, it has a history. It turns out that the family of my wife’s first husband owned it previously, and one of them committed a murder. This was in the early 1900s, and though he was found guilty and served jail time, the gun was never found.

Fast forward to Memorial Day a few years ago, my wife says, “C'mon, we're going to the cemetery to put flowers on my mother’s grave. “ I was sitting on the bed practicing a new song that I was obsessed with learning, the song was Happiness is a Warm Gun. I still to this day don’t know why I felt I had to learn it, but I grew almost feverish with desire to do so. My ears were burning and ringing, it was very strange.

At the cemetery, after we put flowers out, I was walking over some markers that were flat on the ground, not the kind that stand up. Suddenly I saw a familiar name and said, “Hey, here’s some guy with the same name as your first husband.” Well this was when my wife told me the sordid details of his grisly crime.

A few days later, I had finished learning the song and was practicing it when it was time to walk the dog. I take him in the back yard every day and look around while he does his business, it’s always the same. On this day though my dog kept scratching the ground, so I looked and there, half buried, was what looked like a toy gun.

As soon as I picked it up I could tell by the heft, it was a real gun. After showing my wife she called a friend of ours that’s a cop. He checked it and said it was indeed a real gun, from the time frame of the murder, but that was a hundred years ago so there’s nothing they needed it for at this point.

My wife is very superstitious and insisted the gun be thrown out immediately. We went back to the cemetery and I walked around for over an hour trying to find that marker again. My ears had stopped burning and ringing, so I must have succeeded in helping him. Now I even question if I saw it in the first place.

Was I the mortal tool this spirit manipulated to expose the weapon used in his foul deed a hundred years ago? That’s up to you, the reader, to decide.

Tricked

I watched the sad charade
Being labeled a parade
By those without the eyes to see
How much things have decayed

When I was just a kid
Everything they did
Was done with so much pomp and glee
It’s sad how much we slid

The masks we're forced to wear
May cover up despair
But seem to foster apathy
Does anybody care?

Lackluster

The old me was younger
And too cavalier
To satisfy the hunger
That could have changed my here

And now, but I never listened
To what people told me,
I could have glistened
But it’s tarnished old me.

Downtown

My instincts have gotten me where I am
(In the heart of historic Nowhereville)
Embroiled in a hellacious traffic jam
With a broken down car, and it’s all uphill.

Double Dare

Why should I have to pay
To say what I want to say?
If you're handing over a fee
Then speech isn’t free,
Talk about endless greed
How much do you need?
Show the world your biggest flex
Unlimited for all on X.

Paging

I'm not here to buy or sell
Just share some ink from my well
Stop by if you’re fond of art
But scammers, don’t even start.

Tributary

Orion towers to the south
Washing stardust off his feet
While I simply smile and nod

Like the river I have a mouth
But talking is a fluid feat
And I am human, a contradictory clod.

R U OK

To find X on the map
You have to ask Y
B careful of a trap
And the C when it’s high.

Humbled

A guardsman is garbed in gold greaves
Immune to resentment or wrath
Another, with more swarthy leaves
Stands watch at the end of the path

And ivy is fetching, mid-flush
A bit winded from climbing the wall
Though seasoned, she still tends to blush
Nonplussed by the oncoming fall.

Served

“Your flagrant lack of fervor
Is unbecoming of a server
now smile and make me think you want the tip.”

She said, “I’ve been so placid
imagining you flaccid,
so keep the change and get a fucking grip.”

It was worth unemployment
to feel the enjoyment
of wiping the filthy sneer from his lip.

Help Yourself

Creation is a credit to our creed
Destruction, perhaps our darkest deed
Forgiveness is the future we should forge
Goodness, the gruel on which we gorge.