Leaves had just turned,
sun was below the horizon of the evergreens,
but sky still shone from behind the pewter clouds.
cool and sharp autumn breeze had cloaked me,
wrapped around my skin like plastic wrap not long enough,
covering just half of my vulnerable skin.
You stood there,
strobe light image illusion,
while I blinked,
walking towards the pub…
And through pint, after pumpkin spiced pint
did I only see you more clearly.
But your pretty smile,
thicker than the swift changing season
was less real than the thin air.
Yet, a lovely contrast.
Snow falling as I walked home,
a good buzz in my system,
an incredible imagination in my head,
I knew you’d have a lovely something, yes…
A “lovely something” for me to browse while my
weathered jeans dried out on the mantle.
Thank you, princess.
horny for a meaningful relationship
I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life! I’ve got an awesome job, I’m in great shape, have great goals, a reliable vehicle, and a lot of good things coming to me in the near future. But damn… Yeah, I as well…
Am horny for a meaningful relationship.
This is actually just me driving, with mastodon playing. A video I made for my nephew. Mastodon is his present. It is his birthday. he is 20. boom.
"I’m so happy." I said, lying alone in the musty cot.
it had rained while I was under.
I wasn’t sure of the time.
I wasn’t sure of just about anything
other than my face needing a shave,
the holes in the roof,
and the longing for affection.
I’d been in this cabin for what felt like months.
Though I despised the earthy scent,
the carpenter ants, big as my thumb nail,
and the way it felt like night grew tightly over me
like wet leather,
I didn’t miss home or rather,
what had been home.
All I’d missed were soft hands,
still and gentle sheltered by my own.
She liked “Serry.”
I’d been the only one to call her that.
When we met,
we’d sat on the tailgate of my
(currently useless) old Chevy.
Her lips were the first i’d ever tasted.
Her hair brushed against my arms,
felt like a gentle bristly breeze
and I’d never loved anything so much.
Not a culinary taste savory enough,
no fragrance seductive enough,
to take the place of that feeling.
I sat in the cabin for the day,
sharpening my whittling skills with knife
I’d found looking for secrets and fortunes.
I ceased at dusk, and retired to the makeshift bed.
I said it again:
"I’m so happy. Wake me with a kiss. I love you, potently, dear Serry."
When I was a 16 year old sophomore in high school, I was called into the office to talk with the principal and a police officer who monitored the school grounds. I got in trouble over a stupid writing prompt.
One month In my English class, we each had to make an assignment and “teach” for a day. This girl who I didn’t get along with at the time had come up with an incredibly simple writing prompt that took me five seconds to complete. It was hardly a prompt at all, a joke really. Anyway, she asked us something like, if we had an extra fifty bucks, what would we buy.
I answered “I would buy some flowers for my girlfriend, and then some 12 gauge shells for my Remington 870. I would buy these because I like doing nice things for my girlfriend, and I like shooting.”
The girl took home all of our answers and “graded” them. Next morning, (unbeknownst to me) she and her mother went to the principal and had said that I would be another “Columbine.”
Let me tell you something… I live in a rural area. There is a firearm in almost every house in my area. Some people I know own hundreds. I shot on a trap team when I was sixteen. I was in tournaments. I wasn’t amazing, but I was pretty good and I took pride in it. I had friends from school who shot with me. It was (and still is) what we called fun. I am what you would call a LAW ABIDING CITIZEN, and a RESPONSIBLE GUN OWNER. I’m not a redneck, I’m not a felon, republican, or even politically involved or in tune. I’m passionate about what I’m passionate about. I like guns. You don’t have to, and I could care less if you do. I encourage everyone to learn, train and to educate yourselves because in this case, knowledge IS power. But again, I don’t give a shit if you don’t wish to do so. As for me, it’s my right, and I’m going to exercise it.
I think it’s pretty obvious that I am WHITE. I was harassed by (1) my school principal, and (2) a police officer, over a piece of paper. No I was not shot, I was not tazed, I wasn’t beaten, or killed. But I was still harassed. I was sixteen and harassed over a piece of paper that expressed my liking to buy my girl flowers, and going shooting. I was wearing my gun club hat that day as well.
In the end, I got out of it, because it was a bullshit case and accusation.
Since then, I’ve been pulled over A LOT. Never arrested, and ticketed only once. The ticket was my fault, and I took it willingly, and paid it off. Out of about seven times of being pulled over, only one of those times was I treated like dog shit by a white male officer. He asked me bullshit questions, told me I did this or that wrong, asked me if I stole the things in my car, etc. The guy was an asshole, end of story. I’ve been pulled over by some pretty nice cops though. They just wanted to let me know about my burnt out plate lights, or my expired tags or whatever, and let me go on my way.
Now I know that yes, a number (too great of one) of cops abuse their authority, and are racist, or are assholes, or have power trips, are sadists, lazy, etc. etc. But have you ever known someone who was a piece of shit and not a police officer? OF COURSE YOU HAVE! You don’t have to be a damn cop to be a piece of shit, and I hate seeing it every day about the race card, the police brutality, abuse of authority… SICK OF IT.
Yes some cops SHOULD be fired just like some line cooks should be fired, or certain accountants, grocery baggers, or football players should be fired. Reason being, they are terrible at their job Not all of them, but a good majority, yes. But how can you say something like “Fuck Cops” and refer to shield wearing men and women you don’t know? You believe only what you see and hear through the media and word of mouth. Trust me, it happens this way. Look at the people who believe on Jesus Christ to be their Lord and Savior, and yet have never seen Him, or heard His voice. Oh, and those who believe in science over faith (you can have faith without being religious. There is a difference) even though the scientific graphs and charts and numbers and notes and recorded data have never been directly in front of them. They still choose to believe what has been shown to them. Everyone is guilty of believing in something, even if that something is nothing. But while it is your right to believe whatever you’d like, I’d like to ask you to be mature and grow up if you have to before you say that every police officer everywhere is a pig or an asshole. Ignorance is not becoming. I’ve no respect for it whatsoever.
Me for example. I can be a dipshit, but I’m generally a really nice guy. I care about others, I volunteer my time for others and organizations. If you called me at 3am, and said, hey man I need help for this and that, even if it wasn’t an emergency, chances are I’d be down to help out. I pay if I go out with a girl, doesn’t matter what we do or where we go, I am chivalrous. I ask old women if they need help with their groceries when I’m out shopping myself. I work (currently) for my areas humane society, rape scenes in movies literally make me cry. I love children, seeing them smile and hearing them laugh. Hell, I wanted to help a friend of mine go on a missions trip to Nepal and India a couple years back. I wouldn’t support it now, but then I was passionate about it. I had a bake sale, made cookies, banana bread, pumpkin bread, cakes, and sold everything to help her raise money for her trip. I sold my nikon dslr, paintball gun, and even my bed and slept on the floor for over 6 months so that she could make her trip, and without me, she would not have gone.
I haven’t even scratched the surface of who I am, but I am a good and caring person but I know that millions of people will automatically hate me when I become a California highway patrol officer.
Again, there are a lot of bad cops out there, I’ve seen evidence of that here on tumblr. But I’ve seen less of the terrorist group called ISIS/ISIL. I’ve seen less of global human trafficking, prostitution rings and drug manufacturing and distribution… Why?
Regardless, the world we live in is full of hate, but I believe that maybe a fraction of it might dissipate if we payed more attention to the good things in life. The more you focus on the bad, the more relevant it is, like a misbehaving child in a department store who seeks attention.
That’s about it. Take care.
kittygory replied to your post “kittygory replied to your post “The word for the day is…” Sounds…”
I mean, I might legally change one of my middle names to danger.
really fucking good. I ran a mile on the track instead of the treadmill in 7:04. I haven’t been on the track in over four years so I feel pretty fucking awesome and sexy and all that.
Training to become a chp feels good.
it shines while you
Daughter of the night,
shadow dances upon the surface of the sea,
turns the waves away and
calms the current.
Use your eyes- dark diamonds
to cut the glassy surface.
grey and ancient precious stone
cold and exiled from life
feels privileged being in your sights
feels warmth from your smile,
lovely, full of untouched potential.
one time I was always depressed and shit.
there’s a life to live.
I decided I wasn’t going to be a penis wrinkle about stuff
moral of the story,
go out there and fucking annihilate the darkness that erodes your heart and follow your dreams.
Yup, I bought a 3rd gen g19 today, and I’m very proud of that. boom.
It was to be less of a vacation,
more, a whole hell of a lot more than a career,
but expected yes, to be short lived.
I’d zip down rural roads of crumbling asphalt.
Asphalt that hadn’t faded, no,
because the sun had never reached the area.
Eventually broken pavement would reach
dirt littered with tan pine-needles
and tree-carcasses off the sides.
Departing from the lost highway,
I drove slow until reaching my
The inherited home away from home I reluctantly accepted.
I was afraid.
Not scared shitless…
Perhaps just more nervous than usual.
In the suburbs,
in front of my beige stucco-lathered home,
parked on my smooth eggshell white cement driveway,
I parked my pickup.
I parked my two wheel drive pickup,
feeling so rugged.
I was not at sea level anymore,
and my lungs felt the difference.
I listened to all that silence had to tell me,
paying close attention to every creek,
every little varmint’s footstep outside,
the wind between the hands and hair of the trees, oh yes.
ever so alluring trees that melding together in a dazzling
blackish green if you looked hard enough.
But laying in the government issued cot
until sunrise did I try to catch each sound with flickering eyes.
The eyes were my own, and yes,
they were deathly afraid of what they couldn’t see.
I didn’t understand that that was what made fear exist…
I didn’t feel so rugged.
I felt out of my element.
The cabin did not want me.
I was a little twit poking an ill-tempered cat,
claws to separate my skin like warm butter.
I awoke the next morning,
threw my bags into the bed of my Ford,
and failed at starting the truck.
I saw in the rear view a couple beer cans,
half crushed next to my rear wheel, and above them,
my gas cap hanging off the truck.
I grabbed my bags once more,
walked slowly inside the dirty wooden cave,
and before I got too depressed,
I noticed the liquor cabinet.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d be stranded.
I just accepted the fact that my job wouldn’t be waiting for me,
my girlfriend would find another man,
and my beard was going to grow in thick.
"I’ll think of something." I said over and over. "I’ll write the best damn
book known to man.”