Carry The Big Stick

Care

G. Waide Sibley
Commemoration Gazebo

Sheese.  It seems so normal to walk around, carrying the weight of the world upon your shoulders, feeling the worst that it has to dish out, rolling down your pants, like a day in summer when the wind stops and the heat pours and you feel all yucktified and know that there is little or no salvation in the form of somewhere wet and wild for you to relax.  It is in trying to find that place, that cool repose into the evening, when a little sun can be combated by a little breeze, a quickly chilled glass of red or white and the weight of the world thrown from your shoulders.

There again is life, meant to set out among you the fine and the weary and the happy and the sad and keep life going to my gosh there ain't much life left.  When you do realize that you are no where near middle age anymore...yes it does happen, because if I was middle I would live to be 108 years old and that doesn't happen to even the best of em.

Picture on The Wall (Clip)

It is weird and I mean this to sound as normal as the sun coming up in the morning, but somewhere along the line, when life has dealt you blow after blow after blow, until one doesn't feel that they can crawl much lower on the earth, that the world is defiantly against you, when you think that you might have a few dollars that can buy gas for the car or eggs for the ice-box or buy a half gallon of milk, or some such thing, and know that if you can hold off for just a week (like you can't hold off) then you will get your money and everything will be alright...that you need to wear your clothes that are now older than your youngest child, that you don't go to the dentist because you can put off your toothache a lot further than you thought, and you find, and this is the hard thing to understand, and one thing I want to make very very clear;  You find that you don't care.

You can walk in the morning.  You don't need a car.  You can listen to the radio.  You can see nature doing its thing, including dropping skin from being sunburned or being tick-bit in the awfullest places....and you don't care.

Its not that you wouldn't care, or shouldn't care or possibly need to care, but you don't know what has happened to that little brain synapse that broke or sped up or beat itself to death every time you had a situation that made the brain "a little crazy" or made you feel like you could drop the nuts off the spare tire and walk in traffic, and maybe everything would be alright.  It is weird and I don't know what it is, but you just don't care.  I'm having the devil of the time getting this point made.

You see I care about you, care about the car, car about the kids, care about the grand kid...I care about the clothes I wear (a much as any man without taste), I care that the car is kept up to date on license and oil change, I care about all that stuff and a great deal more...BUT I don't care about the happenings and the wayward bunches and the negative feelings and the kind of crap that sends a person into the weenie bin of life.

A poor attempt.

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Falls A Feeling

You’ve Been Gone

There falls a feeling of being lost,

When one is lost without the pieces

When there are few, no, fewer than few

Who understand, or pretend to understand

Or who can understand, the selfless feelings

That permeates my soul, and my mind, and makes me

Lost; alone, feeling left behind here

In this feeling of those getting larger

And spreading their wings across more deserts

Finding the sun as it calls, the clouds as they swarm

The raw, passionate, beauty of it all

Leaving me to feel and find that which I have felt

Fought for, and so wanted to come true

Wondering the loneliness of it all

Bring me back

Here.

REP