Shelter in the Desert

I Want to turn it Around.
Dash by Willowseek

There is a score board in my head. I want to turn it around
and it mattered how many calls I  made.  At one time it mattered.
Then I didn't take score of the calls I made or the calls you made to me
and I felt more lost. Time shot by fast and tears came and went under duress.

There is a score board in my head. I want to turn it around and it mattered
how many calls I made.  At one time it mattered. It mattered who knew and didn't
know about our calls, and then in the waterfalls all calls got lost.  Who knew and
didn't know of our talks?  I assumed, I wondered, I crooned engulfed in nail bitten terror.

Forgotten score board of whom would find out of what mattered.  The score of who called who
first burst into oblivion.  Your voice fading into the abyss of time.  I assumed, I wondered, I crooned engulfed in nail bitter terror destroyed.  At one time it mattered. I felt more lost at such a cost.
Time shot by fast and tears came and went under duress. Supressed by time for years.

There is a score board in my hear. I want to turn it around and it mattered how many calls I made.  At one time it mattered.  Then I didn't take score of the calls I made or the calls you made to me and I felt more lost.  Time shot by fast and tears came and went under duress.

Did you call me first?  Did I call you first?  Who called back?  Who didn't call back.  What did we do to get get so far apart from You and yet so close in heart.  Breached and distant, clamored by resistance.  Badgered by inconsistance....

O sweet earth ...

Only one life, 'twill soon be past, only what's done for Christ will Last! Amen!

Life is Transitory
Aug 1976
Phrphetic News Letter
Satanic fantasy
 
Where do we go from here?

Matt 4:8
'the devil taketh Him(Christ) up into an exceeding high mt and sheweth Him ALL THE KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD, and the glory of them."

So this is sayinng according to this letter from Estep, that the world, not the earth is according to the Word, is bundled up in self-assumed satanic control!  On an international scale the utter confusion we see is proof postive that the forces of Satan are on the march toward ultimate world government, which could very easi ly be the yr 2000 A.D. We are seeing a manifestion of SATANIC FANTASY!


My notes on the above first paragraph of this news letter:
Um well freely speaking living in grace times gives me a moment to see that this to will pass.  the troubles I have getting on the train, the moments of sin of carelessnesss, ignorance, and hour by hour need of God.  In just minutes my train cash is lost in my bags.  Just as the ticket lady comes to collect my pay I'm in my bag calm and collect.  I haven't copped an attitude, or shouted in dismay of the misplaced money for my ticket. 

She leaves after staring me down for what feels like one hundred minutes, and comes back to stare me down longer waiting for my ticket money before she sends me off the train.  I'm in flashback memory mode of past money issues on the train stuck in 2000 at the age of 20, young, and new to the adult world of independance. They used to let me by, and even through my 20's if I didn't have my money, I'd sign an IOU or something of that nature.

ok back to the present moment with all the scab pickings of painfull memories set aside of dreams ripped apart, and pretend smil puttines waiting to feel real again, my heart bled and bled on the train ride to Chicago.  I couldn't find the right thought.  I was mourning. I was heavy hearted.  I was taking everything in my bag apart until that money showed its green face.  I was sitting up and down gently putting my hands in my pockets, front and back, still no money.  I repeated these moves three more times in self doubt.  I was blind, my head was in the way, my heart was not in the moment, and in memory short term the trillionaire shrinks call it. 

Did I leave the money in the truck?  no. I went to get gas first. I then stood for a delayed train to the city second, it was bitter cold.  I listened to two hippies talk about the Gospel of John that warmed my heart.  I stared at the handsome man with a guitar for a second only and stood in a pouting manner next to him on the trains cold waiting bench full of graffiti.  I sat next to a very sexy and wholesome woman bundled tight coat and alone hoping I looked as she did or better.  Could they have pick pocketed my big white dirty coat with a broken zipper and faux fir?

Fuck!  No clue God no clue where the moeny went and the next stop is the last plan to get off and go home and I desparately did not want to do that.  my heart bled.  I was bleeding in my heart so painfully searching for the two crisp 20 dollar bills in my purse, and emptied all my toilettries mom taught me to pack up.  Then I surrendered and asked sadly where the next stop was so that I can go back to my truck and search again.  This would set me back time, money, and energy the scientists would say. 

Just then I unfolded the train scedule so crisp and clean and the two crisp and clean 20's slipped softly into my hand.  She said good thing you got it, the Hegish stop back would take 3 hrs for the next train home.  Holy shit, what a ride.  The troubles even now as I blog this are setting in for the next blog.  Holy shit, ag ain I say to my own life.  Mother.  Mother. mother . 

I started with the news letter from my grandpas dusty ol collection of prophetic avenues, this one called Satanic Fantasy.  Estep the editor says this present world system, which comprises, "the kingdoms of the world" belong to Satan.  It's true, the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof, but the world system, which is founded upon profit and loss is under the direst control of Satan,.....thank God the Bible we're not of the world! and that we are only using it for Gods honor and glory......



This blog is dedicated to carloradio from a poem written called "The Serpent" this very detailed poem Dash wrote ends "o how the devil has control over this world. If you would like to hear this poem go to blogtalkradio.com and type in the cursor box carloradio, hes from Nola, scroll to Sept 27th's link on his radio blog. thank you. love you carloradio.

Hi Dash!

 

A little bit of Mrs. Dash is quite enough.

another slice

Another napkin where there are napkins.
More toilet paper where there is toilet paper.
Socks and more socks where there are more socks.

Another movie where there is a nother movie.
Another paper towel roll where there is another paper towel roll.
Another toilet bowl where there is another toilet bowel.

Another cup of coffee where there is another cup of coffee.
Another slice of pizza where there is another  slice of pizza.
Another pay check where there is another pay check.
Another text message where there is another text message.

Another song where there is another song.
Another warm friend where there is another warm friend.
Another thought of you where there is another thought of you.
Another cigarette where there is a nother cigarette.

Another radio station where there is another radio station.
Another day off where there is another day off.
Another plan where there is another plan.
Another dream where there is another dream.

Another meal where there is anoter meal
Another feeling where there is another feeling.
Another word where there is another word.

Billie

Dash Bash Itsy Bitsy Bug

Itsy Bitsy Spider crawls up the water spout, down comes the rain and washed the spider out. Out comes the sun and dries up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider crawls up the spout again.

Sitting here  on this thing, its all I think about while in traffic or getting up in the morning,  or at work is writing.  I wouldn't stop writing if it were my choice.  Yet nature is quite an attention hog.  This is Obamas last term in office and in conclusion to my understanding, which might be too small, he has made a good share of mistakes, and then more mistakes.

Isn't it a fact that the speeches are written by someone else anyway?  They use his name to blame for everything when its all of us to take responsiblity for the mistakes of new thoughts and things to turn truthful.  I heard on the radio that he has lied through his teeth, and lives in a fantasy dream.  Fracking for example has its ups and downs in usage and still we turn to the name Obama. Its not up to him its up to God to let us frack!   Changes take a long and very hard very hard time.  Four years-or a lifetime is just enough to ignite the passion in the majority of our people.  We are over worked, heart broken, undernorished spiritually, physically, and emotionally.

Families raising their children, middle class caught between a rock and a hard place.  Taxes paid to live and support our fellow man.  We are told to dream, plan, know what to voice to those we encounter, love, and run from such as ourselves or a lover.  We speak words we would never say.  We do things we would never do for you.   In other words, faithfully we put our trust in Gods everlastinglove.  It is all we can do. 

I began writing with the song Itsy Bitsy Spider.  The special hidden meaning behind this song is that we are the spider climbing and getting washed away otra vez y otra vez (again and again).  The sun and the rain seem like the determined factors to use as our timing in climbing and falling out yet we carry each other,  "carry each other," U2 One.

All these days the sun shines or it may not shine.  Some toothpaste shaving creme shampoo and a bar of soap for starters will be mandatory for a reunion.  Weather has a big enough impact on clothes to wear and food to eat.

Toilet paper is essential. Nail clippers and sanitary napkins too.  A/C or heated shelter is needed to maintain.  Commute is even more costlier; bus, train , or car. Walking distance from you to me is far.

How old are you now?  The cashier can keep the same look in her eyes month after month, the teachers moods are too wonderful to beat and the students learning ability as well.

Lookin for a ray of hope

Poem :  Almighty Refuge

A warmth a light without a fuse.


Sometimes its funny, sad, unfaithful, faithful, convincing, unreal, and serious.
That thought, that plan,
 that diagnosis, that man. 

A warmth a light without a fuse.

I sit in the stall and there's twelve other stalls next to me empty.
it never fails a women comes in and picks the one next to mine
everytime.  A very real moment of suspense.   Will she fart, loudly?
Will I get up and carry on or freeze up in a stupor.
My brain fod has gone too far.

One time I sat in an studio apartment looking for hope.
The tear in the pleather and the yellow sponge in the tear of the pleather
couch God kept me in a stupor.  Stupified.
My brain fog has gone too far.

Echoes of bellowing pains.
where did the joy wane?
God, here's a glimpse, of my fractured hope.
You are a still stronghold Almighty Refuge.

Take these

You are the anchor of m soul..you won't let go

poem : trout

cracked nail polish
too much belly fat
stubby leg hairs
chicago

fish oil
sleep
food
exercise
isolation
desolation
separation
by an Irish Rock Band called U2
called Bad.

shaken
all summer baking from the inside out
where would I be without someone to save me
someone who wouldn't let me fall...Jesus Christ
Thank you.

I can collect glimpses from her eyes, that place, and things.
A glimpse of a stronghold so deep it must be her.
If I knew caught in that moment.
a moment to late to soon.

No valley low changes the truth....

Keep it real:

This so isn't me to write anything.  I don't type or write unless its an investment for the good.  To be or not to be interesting.  Or to be or not to be a bully.  Spearhead.  Exercise and bodily care dares.  I've jumped in the bushes all summer with a real estate book and a fishhook with expensive bait.

crap this writing stuff is difficult.  Let me turn some Psalm on in the background before I nevermind.

love
spearhead

Skate
A Documentary on Skateboarder Seth Connor
Jan 2014

Usually the small town of Highland is quiet and traffic is stetched out for hours on Rt41.  this year the blizzard gave our new year a chage of scenery.  Sitting in my parents new townhouse, mom has made a cozy spot in the basement for my new writing haven.  The laptop I blog on isn't mine, but I do buy my own Kcups.  Mom bought me a dozen pairs of black pants somewhere around here so I don't have to wear the same ones over and over.  They were used for my server job at the wedding hall.

Mom also brought me a collection of scarves in every color.  In this brutal cold season, my neck gets very cold.  Its still dark out this morning at 6:56 a.m. and I decided to get a start on my notes on Connor, a 22 year old co-worker from Crown Point, IN who skate boards for a hobby.  He says its not a hobby its more of a lifestyle he aggreed to that.  When the weather is permitting he takes off on his skateboard with a dozen other skaters up and down stairs, parks, and streets.

Connor says the nose blunts, 360's, and front sides are common maneuvers he thrashes out of his board.  The tall green eyed Irish skater feels learning, progressing, and collaborating with other skaters is a past time he will carry on for life.  Twisting and turning I can only imagine the icy region of cold Highland Indiana for them skaters.  There is this place called Asylum located in north Chicago that Connor takes his skateboard and practices there.  Connor skates for 8 hours straight at the Asylum where skaters have access to the right lay outs to ride on built for the purpose of skateboards.

Mini ramps, pools, and parking lots are just a few of the other avenues that he can take out his stress and enjoy the life style of a skate boarder.  He keeps skating, learning, and stays motivated.  Back side flips seem dangerous but Seth Connors experience and diligence skating soars to safety.