jo3n

i lost another rod today. i have lost rods, i have lost guitars and the odd mandolin. always lose them to tiny little criminals, like today i was fishing with a child and his shinny space-age composite pole and me with my grizzled veteran of more the 30 summers. rebuilt with plumbing parts and epoxy when he ask to trade rods i was surprised. "mine is old and beat-up" i explained "your is new and fancy" "i know" said the young man "but yours catches fish" when a kid learns the difference between the value of a thing and it's price they grow up some on the spot. i lost another rod today i hope i lose many more.

John came here the hard way passed around, nothing settled as soon as he got a name he married Bessie his beautiful Bessie their life wasn't easy nothing worth having is but always stuck with her and she always loved him John worked for a better life for Bessie worked on the railroad worked on the pipeline he worked for the family he and Bessie built John never quit a job just because it was hard when Bessie started leaving in pieces John worked to keep here there then he worked to make her comfortable but she had to go his home had only ever been with her now, at last, John is going home goodbye grandpa, dad, John we wil

i am mental illness i wrote the best books you ever read i dine in the dumpster behind your favorite restaurant i am mental illness i walk oscar's red carpet i walk 6th street and service married men i am mental illness through no fault of my own bad genes, bad parenting, doctor assured us it was  safe for babies i am mental illness i don't trust the normals who created me, vilified me, electrified  me, lobotomized me and drove me out of polite society i am mental illness i hide what i am i work next to you,married you, birthed you, befriended you i am mental illness i wrote most of the songs on your ipod why do you force me

your other lover waits while you look at me. your other love hoovers in the shadows with his power. he draws you out in the night, softly he drinks your soul, frantic eager blissfully energized, and sends you back to me empty, crying, dark circles beneath vacant eyes, frustrated angry glaring at me because i can not compete with him, the deadly white powder.

look at your childern crying hiding frightend 'hind the door look at all the friends who love you who never call no more look at the tatters of your memeries or the few that you still clutch some times love costs too much he will never change even if you go back you can't give enough to fill up his lack his promise mean nothing when you're lying by the bed what's his love worth to a heart that's cold and dead