"Laser-Like, Old Glory"
No studying to figure this out. No practice; however, perfect practice makes perfect, not just practice; regardless, wanted to get an old Dodge; next, paint her electric blue, with Old Glory on the top; then, write GENERAL GRANT up there, and give it a proper number, though only some of us are limited by numbers.
My step-dad told me: "Boy, where every flag is, there's an angel underneath." And every flag mind you, not just ours. No flag should be burned, for men died under that flag, even if they were of the yutz family.
I'm too afraid to tell my shrink or priest my real problem. I won't totally and sincerely own my German heritage. Always felt guilty about it. My Grandma Bertha was from the stock of German immigrants during the Second World War, and my step-dad always called her an SS Stormtrooper--it scared the hell out of me.
Bertha was mean, tough, green fire in her eyes, and loved pastry. One night she smoked two packs of cigarettes, ate a whole box of chocolate covered cherries, and drank near a damn gallon of Maxwell House--that's living. And she did. Never was sick during her modern existence.
Big Bert. Tough as a fireproof memory. So alive.
"Miss not high school, not college"
Al Bundy (spelll'n?), for he played high school football, and that is true pride, madame. Anyhow, step-dad has Penn State game on--yup, love the college beat of real school drums during the pigskin pitch, for Big Daddy, Bubba Cheese himself, doesn't allow pro-football on in here, save to mollify the invaders.
Brenda and Dylan--the prom. Brandon gets drunk and wrecks a rich father's car. Sounds kinda college; however, was not; still, I can only imagine. And how do I know about Sgt. Bilko? Cause there were reruns, you putz. And I dreamed to be a welder or onion farmer. My Mom said: "Keep dreaming." And that the surfboard would carry my skinny ass away into Atlantis. She is a creepy yet lovely woman. And my dog is really weird.
Just want to throw a shout-out to Holland, Pierce, and James for all the quasi-cowboy days in Arkansas. One dude fought in modern war as an officer, another drives a V-8, and the other is just bad ass, with a pet alligator. We've all been around. And pretty cool. Pretty cool.
Yet, there are Crusaders from ancient times, and we are no greater.
"Fox condemns trap, not himself"
A quote from the mystic, William Blake--a mere tradesman, having died a penniless old man, but remembered forever.
Today, the American Coyote is sometimes referred to as vermin. He's only trying to survive, just like you. Metaphorically, he has a mortgage, kids to send to school, a nagging wife, yet he mates for life, usually. And if you kill a coyote; next, ten take his place.
Forgive us, as we forgive those. Snakes have a purpose too. So, we don't judge, for we know--they're snakes. It seems God has built us all for war, for that singular purpose. One way or the other, you will die too. Unless you're one of the 600,000 that mysteriously disappear each year around the globe.
Sure, most are put in frozen shoes, though it didn't work on Rasputin, the mad monk; nevertheless, some are possibly in a state of rapture, if we can say that, and we can, for we can say anything, mostly.
So, don't get the blues. Your sister wants your boyfriend. Your brother gets aroused around your wife, underneath the Thanksgiving table--this is how it is. However, there is the ascetic. The voyaging puritan, sailing eternally on the Santa Maria, and while he may slip in the slime of others, mostly--he's an okay guy.
"Reflections of his daughter and mate"
Why do you always teach me Dad? To punch that swinging bag? To work on cars? To cuss? And to grow up to be a tough lady? And you tell me I have an Advocate. A little bird that will always fight for me, if I stay in God's Graces. You cry when I get on the bus, and when I come home you teach me how to fight.
The world is cruel. They're in our houses. They're our best friends. Plotting. And this is not paranoia, but a true fact. Everyone is out to have the upper hand. To wear the best clothes. To defile the prettiest girls. I want you to be tough. Don't ever be a victim.
But you're not like that Dad. Why?
Most poor people aren't. The dirt poor only have one treasure, and that's what's in their heart. A home, where they'll always be safe. Way out in the country. Dogs. A flagpole with an angel on guard. Water. Canned food. Vitamins. And beer.
Dad, you can't talk to your daughter about beer.
No. But one day, you can have one with your mother.
Where's Mom?
Off, trying to save this world. She's always trying to save this world, and I want you to be just like her.
