Carrot juice

I changed today

but nobody saw it.

One of those “AH-HA” type moments

vibrating along the wires.

You might have kids, but you’re not a father.

You might have a wife, but you’re not a husband.

Not until you act like one.

So, how do you act?

Do you stay at work, consumed with opportunity?

Do you get angry and yell, or give time and teach?

These things, these things that you do, you do it to yourself

you do.

Don’t you?

A teammate quits.

Can you blame him?

No.

It’s your own damn fault. Too busy measuring, planning, scheming.

You think it’s all fine, as long as the bus is travelling down the road

Forget the fact that the wheels came off awhile ago

and you can’t stop

and there are babies in the road ahead.

“WHO LEAVES THEIR BABIES IN THE ROAD?” you scream.

You did.

Too focused on that carrot

you chase

every day.

You’re going to run the babies over. And lose them all.

Don’t change for the better.

Change for the present.

Hurt or injured

There’s a question I ask

when I see him fall

Something that separates

me from them all.

“Is he hurt or injured?”

I ask myself

and the answer I give

is a guide to my help.

 

If he’s hurt, he’s ok, though a little bruised up

Some tears and a Band-Aid

And he cheers right up

So I won’t jump in

and make a show of it all

I hang right back

and let him make the call.

His life’s not in danger,

so some space he will get

To think his things over

and choose his upset.

 

If he’s injured, he’s down and out for the count

And I’ll come a running, and probably shout,

“HOLY SHIT, WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?”

Then roar to the truck and throw open the door.

The hospital knows when they see us there,

to jump us to the front of line up in chairs.

And call for a doctor and at least one nurse

And to start making arrangements for some kind of hearse.

 

Life is tough and you’re going to lose

if you get hurt and need to stop for a bruise.

And you’ll also lose out on life if you wait

when you’re injured and pounding on Heaven’s gate.

 

 

The only thing that lasts

Hate and you will be hated.

Praise and you will be praised.

Love and you will be loved.

It’s so easy, isn’t it? You can sit there in your soft chair and clickity clack.

Read this

Watch that

Flickity flack.

Why bother? Why do you do anything?

It’s so hard, isn’t it? The struggle you face every day, your life takes so much effort.

If only it was easier. Somehow someone could make it easier.

Maybe your friends could help. Too bad they’ve all passed you by.

Not necessarily.

The friends didn’t pass you by, you left them.

Be a friend and you’ll be friended.

But you stopped answering their calls a long time ago, didn’t you?

And why? For what?

The goal you chase, this race you’re running,

running so fast you’ve left them all behind, all of them.

The race you’re running is over.

You’ve already won.

You’ve already lost.

You’ve got what you wanted, it’s right there in your head.

You have achieved.

Now what?

You should celebrate

Have some drinks, stuff your face, stay up, sleep, roll around in bed.

Take it all for granted.

Hold on.

You’ve woken up dead.

Nobody sees you anymore. You’re a ghost.

And you bang on the window, the invisible wall that separates you from people,

people you love and people you praise and people you hate,

but they don’t see you anymore because you’re gone.

You took it all for yourself, all of it, ate it all up.

You didn’t share a crumb.

And now what is it, what is it that drives you now that you’re dead?

You’ve been forgotten.

You’re less than a memory.

All that’s left, all that’s left, are the people you touched.

Did you touch anyone, while you were alive?

Before your crazy train left the station, before you consumed it all?

Did you share anything? Did you teach anything?

You might not think, but you’d be wrong.

Maybe he swings the bat the way you showed him,

planting his back foot, right elbow cocked back.

Maybe he loves the way you showed him,

holding hands and opening doors.

You don’t last, don’t be so vain.

Names fade into names that fade into names.

Nobody remembers your feelings, they remember how you made them feel through your actions.

You can choose to do whatever you want to do.

The only thing that lasts

is what you gave.

For Sale: Open top child cage (crib) and mattress

I apologize for the blurry first photo, one of them got out and bit my leg when I was shooting. It hurt, I screamed, the photo blurred. There was no time to try again.

For sale is one open top child cage, known to new parents as a “crib.” Survivors, aka “experienced parents,” know the term “crib” to be inaccurate. This open top cage helps to restrict their movements for periods of time. This is extremely valuable at bedtime, preventing them from clawing, scratching, biting you while you try to sleep. You won’t sleep, of course, because of the noise, but you can use this to help get a minimal amount of rest.

The separation afforded by this unit comes in handy for discipline, the thing you pretend/hope will eventually teach them how to behave. It won’t work, of course, but we all have to pretend.

Our cage is in good condition. There are some bite marks which is to be expected. The stickers have been clawed off, for the most part. It’s made of sturdy wood and has the strength necessary to hold when they slam their bodies against it with brutal, savage force.

The cage comes with a mattress. With the mattress, you can feel comfortable knowing when they fall asleep they should be comfortable enough to stay asleep for at least an hour at a time. That’s the best you can hope for, just get used to it. I recommend training yourself to take microsleeps when you’re on the toilet. It’s the only place you’ll be able to get away. You’ll probably find yourself in the bathroom with no recollection of how you got there, not even having to actually poo. If this happens, make sure you flush your fake poo and turn the tap on to simulate hand washing. 7 minutes is all you get. Then take a deep breath and head back out.

We are selling because our youngest can now escape at will. We investigated closed top cage models but there concerns over the legality of these designs. The price is firm at $93 as this is the price of the first hour we were quoted by the therapist, to teach us how to deal with our child’s increased – and our decreased – freedom. Let’s be honest, my wife and I won’t make it in to see the therapist. We will probably fall asleep holding hands and crying in the waiting room with other survivors and miss our names getting are called.

If you are having a baby, prepare yourself. If you know someone who is pregnant, help them by sharing this with them. Actually, don’t share this with them. Buy this for them. They will need a cage. Trust me.

God help us all.

I held love

I don’t have to be that Dad

your tiny fingers danced in the dark
I held your foot in the palm of my hand
body curled up in mine
I stayed still
I held my breath
and listened

I look back now
and see Us there
warm bottle
rocking chair
slowly swaying into sleep

I think of the all times we fought
the things we said
the Beings we’re not
biting, scratching, clawing mad
I don’t have to be that Dad
the future not yet set in stone
a lesson learned before we’ve grown

your tiny fingers dancing in the dark
I hold your foot in the palm of my hand
body curled up in mine
I stay still
I hold my breath
and I promise not to forget
to bite my breath
and listen

Heart 1

 

Originally posted here.