Music List 1, 2, 3, 4

TRACK ONE:

Dishwalla - Angels or Devils

[Dishwalla - Every Little Thing]

[Dishwalla - Candleburn]

Coldplay - Viva la Vida

Family of the Year - Hero

James Blunt - Bonfire Heart

Bruno Mars - Grenade

TRACK TWO:

The Script - Hall of Fame

Travis - SIng

One Republic - Preacher

One Republic - Stop and Stare

TRACK THREE:

Corey Hart - Sunglasses at Night

Ben E. King - Stand By Me

Tears for Fears - Head over Heels

Dream Academy - Life In a Northern Town

TRACK FOUR:

Crowded House - Don't Dream It's Over

Bad Company - Read for Love

Air Supply - Lost in Love

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Music Monday

Memories of summers past

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A WINTER'S DAY

A WINTER'S DAY

..................................................................

The green of the world

not yet faded.

Winter's chill a sweater

should still buff away.

Bare reaching branches

clinging to orange leaves.

Brown crips collecting 

in their wind blown drifts.

Post Christmas, yet not New Year's

of joy with hope still in the air.

.........................

IT'S GONE BYE

IT'S GONE BYE

......................................................

I thought those youthfilled days would never end.

My first days at work were forever.

Military training was an endurance of eternity.

Waiting to see my third grandchild was so long.

Yet shaving the face in the mirror I now see my dad.

Seems there are more days behind than ahead of me.

............

NEW YEAR 2015

Malukah

Peter Hollens

..

They're Grand

Emy's sweet laughter, such 

   cute little bug of joy.

Van's inquisitive questions

   beginning to show forth.

Jay's fearless desire

   to do his best.

My grand children; all are 

   different blessings.

I've lived long enough 

   to see hope shine.

...

MERRY CHRISTMAS

MERRY CHRISTMAS
.
TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS and what we are celebrating is the old Texas adage of, "If ya want somethin done right ya gotta do it yer self!"
.
GOD spend the entire Old Testament trying to get his point across of how "to do things right". We messed it all up. Then the very invisible GOD HIMSELF became the very first "Under cover BOSS" and humbled himself in a servant's form and was the perfect example from the least to the greatest even to the essence of our greatest fear; he passed through death. Yet not as some "Indian-giver" who took the ransom of our Salvation from death's sting back; but was Resurrected again in order to dispel that fear once and for all. THIS is what CHRISTMAS is truly about - THE BEGINNING of that wonderful story; which is carried on and lived out in the "accepted" lives of those of us who 'believe.' BELIEVE the story even if you don't believe failures and horrible examples of the Christian walk like me; JESUS IS THE REASON for the season... NOT ME.

Cooking Show????

TOO FUNNY LOL LOL LOL I love my New iPAD

...

It Never was

IT was meant to be a very complicated game from the very beginning. Cards told you which piece to move, Dice told you how many steps you were allowed, and each piece had its own distinctive move and purpose, and history; as well as discs that could be placed on some to enhance move duration!!! READ THE BOOK as the instructions are provided and were inspired by Michael's story CASMAR AND DUKE: The Lost Tales.

Figuring it out along the way

 I found a way to physically publish a hard-copy version of my brother-in-law's book. I already did so as a digital version for the Kindle.  It was not as difficult as I thought. I think this is extremely remarkable how easy it really is to publish. It gives me 'a good trial run' for my own work and 'fulfills my promise' I once made to Mike's ghost in doing this for him. With making "self" publishing so easy these day and digital a growing medium the individual quickly discerns the need for marketing and promotional push behind the industry we are leaving behind.

   My first novel will actually be an anthology of briefer scribbles entitled THE COMPLEX.  A series of short stories where the individuals who reside in a strange apartment complex are interwoven into one another's lives as background characters. True to life we are all characters in one another's lives. Though our own boring, mundane lives are interestingly shared; yet, they sound rather fascinating and strange to others, is the real idea I was heading for with these tales.

NOW AVAILABLE IN PRINT!!! 

You can never go far enough...

When I stopped running from GOD, *sigh* I turned around... and he was there... welcoming me with opened arms... that's when I cried with the clarity of WHO I really was in seeing his love for me.

...

MUSIC MONDAY it's back!

MERRY CHRIST-mass!!!!! This is a "season" not just a "day". CHRIST came for a Reason, there was more much more behind the baby story and the infant's story afterwards became the reason of salvational celebration for "believers" and None alike! Rejoice and lift your heads from the depressive state of "world" affairs for HE shall return a Ruling King!

He's The Reason!!!

Heart felt

Gone

Crystal clear thinking a rarity 

honesty hurts and feels cruel

sharp witted, eagle eye hawks

wisdom's tone cuts deeply

boiled pragmaticly down to basics 

where has the joys of youth flown to

when did adulthood become old age

the yellow-green faded to crisp browns

....

Sorry Just The Facts please

(Yes, this was the actually Court room)

  I answered the summons to serve as a Juror today.  It was in the Municipal Court to decide the case of someone who did not wish to just pay the fine.  His contestment went before the jury I was later chosen to be the Presiding Foreman of. It was over a speeding ticket.  I found it rather interesting the 'facts' behind the Radar gun.  Seems it is the Targeting Officer's judgement call between speeding vehicles and the re-shooting of his calibrations off the cuff; radars pick up the closest, largest and fastest objects, but the Cop has choice of distance. The driver was 'voted' Guilty: $200.oo Fine. Facts not personal.

Not Always

Ash skies are not always depressing

absent of songbirds soaring overhead

Multi-fingered bare-limbed tree not always silent

devoid of shimmering yellow-gold joy

Lonely pathways are not always quiet

empty of their footfall conversations

Without you everything is changed.

...

HINT:  Oh no, I missed the train!!!
  Katy tell Mr. Morse that it just flew by me.

So He writes...

".. . He is in the private cave of his freedom, an eremite, a solitary; he orders his mind as he pleases."

~ Cynthia Ozick from On Permission to Write  

SNOWbear Productions OFFICIAL site

SNOWbear Productions  THE OFFICIAL site 

.

LIFE is preferred

Breathing because...

Jordan Jezek

2 weeks ago

I actually got to ask her the story behind this song in person and she told me that she wrote this song for one of her close friends. Her friend had a baby, it had some sort of heart disease I believe, and all the doctors had told her to just get an abortion because it would just be easier on her than delivering a still born and/or a baby that will die in a matter of days, maybe even hours. But she gave birth anyway, and she got 28 full days with her baby until it died. Plumb got to be in the room while the baby died, and her friend was just holding it in her arms close to her chest as it was dying, and she was just saying "thank you, thank you." over and over again. Plumb asked her why she was saying thank you and she replied. "everyone was telling
me to just get an abortion because it wouldn't live anyway and it would be easier on me, but I got 28 full days with my child." Then she made this song. 

Vaso Do

1 month ago

Songs doesn't have a specific meaning! The meaning every time is what YOU think and not what the writer was thinking.

Ancient Books by Michael Thomas Smith

Calan

.............

MICHAEL IS PUBLISHED!

   As promised, I found a format and have finally been able to "Publish" my brother-in-law's "fantasy adventurers who end up finding friendship".  CASMAR and DUKE: The Lost Tales by Michael Thomas Smith, my by line as "editor" for my 'Preface', 'About the Author', 'Appendix' and compilation of his work.  I have the original manuscript and Mike's digital version on disc.  
   This is also a precursor to publishing my own works, but I feel I owed him a promise now fulfilled.

NOW! on Amzon.com's KINDLE devices.

Free KINDLE reader

...

(I'm currently awaiting final formatting and notifications.)

...

*Sigh*

HEARTBROKEN...

when its broken can it ever be mended?

My Lazy Song

I'm off today!!!!

My BROTHER!!!

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRACY!!!!!!

Some of MY Brother's Great talent!!!

Passing Tradition

   

The grand-kids came for a sleep over this weekend.  I finally got my silly car sticker Inspection done; added anti-freeze, put in a new Thermostat, three new tires and replaced two belts. So today, we can put up of the Christmas tree and trim it with the kids.  Both seem to be the new tradition: Car Inspections and Tree Trimming, LOL

...

THE DAY OF INFAMY

...

The Patsy

 "Thank you very much for the fresh linens, Rosita." The man with the red-blotched birth mark on his forehead began to enter the motel’s dank room again.

   The maid politely answered back, “Ju are very welcomed Senor, Johnny. I will come back later to pick up jur things, okay?”  He loved her thick accent, and thought she was very friendly.  The door shut with a nod. The maid reminded him of the people who use to be his caregivers at the Institution before he was given the Cure. He did not like or dislike the Institution it was his home and all he ever knew. But since he was cured of his Mental Retardation his intellectual clarity was like wearing glasses for the first time. Everything was exciting and he wanted to explore his new surroundings. But he was told his by new employer to stay put and out of sight until he called.  Already three days had gone by without a word. He did not like being a messenger but was not skilled in anything else and so was grateful for what he had.

   Johnny Wilkerson tossed the sheets on the bed to be made later in favor of finishing his half eaten sandwich.  ‘Baloney, again,’ he mused to himself. Sitting on the bed he leaned against the wall’s headboard, and called out to the inset view screen, “Resume Program – volume up.”

  The frozen imagine of an electric car’s sleek body hugging the road about a tight curve suddenly came roaringly back to life only to have the commercial fade to black.  An animated GBN Logo illuminated the darken room of the motel.  A beautiful young Asian woman sat professionally dressed behind a glass tabletop as graphics began to illustrate her recap. 

   “Welcome back, I am Rhodora Inianna and this – is The Global Broadband Network. We are continuing to follow up on the unfolding story of the Dallas tragedy.  To re-cap The Mardon Hotel explosion has claimed the lives of 721 people, with 56 critically injured and 3 continue to be missing.

   “Local, State and Federal officials in America are pulling out all their resources as The UN Authority is refraining from lending assistance.  A UN Technician:  OK22 41 was found nearby, but because he suffered no serious injuries the UN will not be involved as it was in the San Angelo Incident where Technician VC3418 was fatally wounded.  Thus far the two are being called unrelated by top UN sources.

   “American leaders have always been reluctant to submit to the Global Authority, since its ratification back in 2017.  One leading FBI official stated -”

  A large black box with a rotating green arrow took over the subdued and silently frozen newscast. The chirping ring toned again. Johnny called out, “PHONE – ‘Hello’?”

   The black box was instantly replaced with the image of a bald, cigar chewing man in a pinstriped suit. He was seated in a luxurious room aboard a Blimp as noted by the cloud view of the windowed wall.  Standing behind the seated man was a bulked figure; an eternal frown etched on his faced looked even more daunting than his boss.  Beaming a clinched cigar-smile the bald man said, “Well, hello to you Johnny. I hope the accommodations aren’t too terribly bad.”

   “Well, si sir,” Johnny stammered a poor beginning. Frantically brushing away bread crumbs from off his chest and trying to sit up straight on the sunken bed, “I was wondering how you were, I mean when you were going to call – sir. It’s just that I – well – was wanting out of my contract.  I mean, well, seeing as though I – suppose I already fulfilled my end of the bargain that is. I mean – uhm, Steven you never mentioned what the package was that I delivered to the Mardon Hotel.”

   “Oh Johnny not to worry, you are out of the contract and as a matter of fact there was no package at all to be concerned with.  You did a great thing today and served your sole purpose in life, Johnny.  You know, not too many people can actually say that. Bruce should be meeting you with payment soon.  I just wanted to get back with you. Nice seeing that expression.”

   The screen’s imagining, and volume retuned to the Filipino Newscaster where the pause was lifted.  “BRUCE! That’s never a good sign.” Johnny sprang from the unmade bed.  Leaving whatever sparse belongings he had, grabbed his coat and headed for the door. 

  A rapping knock stopped him in his tracks as Rosita called out, “Senor, Johnny.”  Sighing a relief, the thin man opened the door, “I have to go out for awhi-”  His words were cut short.  The sight of a huge man wearing a derby and pinstripe suit met him like a brick wall.  Rosita was pressed up against to him, bound by a monstrous arm.  Before Johnny could offer up anything other than an astonished, “Bruce!” a thudding headache snuffed everything to black.  After Johnny’s form slumped back into the seedy motel room the maid’s screams were silenced by a gunshot to the head as she fell atop the mess before her.

 READ THE BOOK!!!

Penned Ink

The evaporated voices in 

my head;

The echo at times like thoughts

 of dread

If only others really knew the fear

they weave.

The voices are a constant tone

spoken within.

The stories, experiences and event

begging to be told.

Others never listen, don't care to 

hear my voices.

...

Such Was Bliss

Pressed tenderly

moist and sweet

honey flavored

warmth and smell

emotion filled

longing for more

moments unwavering

bliss is like a kiss

...

All Gone

Ancient days now long forgotten

like childhood ways

   beneath the sun

when we had no cares or 

   duties to be done

Fallen fruit left on the ground

   lost and rotting

So too the bygone days 

   seems unless now

No matter of efforts made

   the hair still turns grey.

...

I Hope So

Hope is like faith

it's the evidence unknown

Hope begs for the betterment to be shown

Faith marches off the cliff for a sure step

Faith seems obliviously blind to some

I hope, in faith to rejoin those steps;

those that once wandered along this path

Like of The Undying Elven lands

So too is hope and faith found
 on long forgotten shores of belief.

...

Moving Forward

From woodland forest and flowers galore

through footpaths near water ways

beside her hand in hand

landscaped memories of yesteryear

like monuments of fragrances lost

Shall ever those now elusive songs 

like Spring in winter's depth be unto

warmth in troubled times and bridges

crossed to further lands away.

...

Beyond the Box

TODAY IN HISTORY

FINNEGAN's WAKE

clairaudience

Torn

The complexities of life are simple things
they are just difficult to face and do
when we would much rather do another

I want so much to do just the simple things
but the complexities are layered in their
attractiveness and woven difficulties

Cart before the horse
cake and eat it too
a second book while finishing another

My thoughts are a whirl wind - ever
going in multiple directions simultaneously
like Trek's Three Denominational Chess

Living an alternative timeline
out of sync
disjointed

Bliss and Griss

My mind wanders here and there
back and forth through time
as if time is a fluid thing;
no boundaries to hinder my memories
just my aging body continues moving forward.

Remembering the Bliss of sweeter times:
the smell of fresh baked bread,
newly mowed lawns, and rainy days,
those childhood forever-summer days
bike rides, and artwork with Mike Cope;
where did those days vanquish to?

Not forgotten just best uncalled
were the spankings,
and lectures over bad grades
the go to your room without supper.

The Grist that churned embitterment
of adulthood's baggage
both the good and bad
are who we were then and
will remember the long now when gone;
we are who we are due to the
experiences of our memories; yet
we will be remembered for being
a part of someone else's experience.