Remembering A Myth From My Childhood

Seven decades have not diminished one myth I grew up with. It has a place of honor in my head that makes me smile. I still remember when I heard what would happen to my vision if I wacked my weinie!

I was undeterred and ready to go blind at eleven when I tossed caution aside in favor of pleasure – after some experimenting – and crossed the line between boyhood and manhood. I look back now with fondness at my innocence.

I never could fully understand the taboo against exploring my own body but would have preferred to be thrown in a cauldron of boiling oil than admit that. I joined my peers in mocking others accused of that crime of solo indulgence. It was a mean meme before there was such a thing.

My recollection of who came up with the myth is fuzzy, but I’ve narrowed it down to the church and parents universally who don’t want their offspring to ever have sex.

The End

Strange Days

have you ever had a day when everything seems strange?

like normal routines interrupted with a sudden change?

days when nothing seems right?

days darker than night?

days when you wonder what you’re doing?

days when you feel like people are pursuing?

days when you find nothing going your way?

days when you just don’t get to have your say?

days that seemed like some sort of odd dream?

days when to your horror nothing was as it seems?

then you’re just agreeing

that you’re a human being!

Affairs of the Imagination

it’s always been there…

my flirtation

with a runaway imagination

a cozy affair unhindered by reality

everything I wanted it to be

worlds opened like oysters

in the fertile fields of my mind

mysteries solved uninhibited

access to a fantasy land

that does not sleep or confine

the affairs in my imagination

which are open for all to see

my ideas wander on the verge of reality

I know the end will come for me

soon enough my body will be free

to fly where my imagination

can’t currently see

Good Morning

I hated getting up in the morning when I was in school

giving up delicious dreams to attend classes wasn’t cool

when I was on my own and working nearly every day

dragging my body out of bed in the morning wasn’t child’s play

but

now that I’m retired and have no place I have to go

I wake up early to watch the sunrise’s beautiful tableau

Tech-Challenged Retiree’s Poetic Reverie

keeping up with 21st century technology

isn’t easy for a retiree like me

I’m in awe of the computer community

and their popularity

but I’m doomed to be a forever trainee

and not a true devotee

I say this unapologetically

it’s who I happen to be

technology does makes me happy

to a certain degree

making life less of a mystery

as the internet sets me free

with a world class library

I’m Waiting

You know I’m waiting for Armageddon to come and go

because we’re heading there

Climatologists warn there’ll be nowhere to go

and we won’t be able to breath the air

I’m waiting for America to experience an awakening

in civility

A season of reasoning

that’ll restore our nations stability

I’m waiting for a new era of hope

when all races come together in peace

and nationalities learn to cope

and all of the hostilities cease

I’m waiting for a new day

behind my computer

looking for a positive pathway

a self-appointed troubleshooter

I’m waiting to ride into the sunset

to see a stairway to heaven

to learn the mysteries of the internet

and to spiritual progression

And, I’ll keep waiting…

A Writer’s Confession

250 words –

The first time I had something published in college I knew I was a writer. Not the normal reaction of, “Oh, I knew I wanted to be a writer after that.”

The sense that I was a scribe in full bloom was mostly vanity coupled with an imagination that continues to lead me down dark paths and redemptive roads with a twist for my readers.

My confession.Great Editor in the Sky: Forgive me for I have sinned. I’ve written numerous things with the barest of editing. Yes, it’s true. Even to this day I only edit for spelling and grammar. 

I’ve heard of rewriting and more than one draft, but I admit I seldom if ever, do that.”

So there you have it my fellow scribes. How could I seriously write without all the stress expressed by my peers? How could I not spend endless hours refining and polishing my poetry or prose and expect it to be good?

In my defense, I believe in spontaneity. I see a blank screen, or page, as an opportunity to roll around in lush fields of exploration seeking the holy grail of being a popular writer while defying norms.

But I’m too lazy to be a popular writer. It would mean marketing and other things that leave me colder than an Egyptian Maus in a meat locker.

I’m just a lazy old man with an imagination and a love for words. My joy comes in sharing. The fact that a stranger would stop – even for a second – to look at something I’ve written, makes my day. My reward for not having to howl at the moon alone…knowing others are out there.

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