A freezing cold November day.
Bundled up in blankets and layers of clothes.
Long Johns and sweaters are now the normal attire.
A mad rush to the grocery store to stock up on milk, bread, and beer.
Turn up the heat inside the house.
Warm up the car for a few minutes before driving.
Hot and tasty comfort foods such as chili and soup bring a smile to everyone's face.
(Don't forget about the hot chocolate).
Oh yeah, and of course the all-time favorite classic drink that everyone loves....Hot Chocolate.
How could you forget about that.
Let the hibernation begin.
Wicked Witches and Wise Wizards.
Grotesque Goblins and Ghastly Ghosts.
Dancing Devils and Deceitful Demons.
Voodoo Vampires and Satan Smiling.
Blood-Red Wine and Ice.
Alice Cooper and Vincent Price.
Master.
Master.
Master.
Bate.
Bate.
Bate.
Tits.
Tits.
Tits.
Pussy.
Pussy.
Pussy.
Dick.
Dick.
Dick.
Sex.
Sex.
Sex.
Back on the path.
Went down a different road for awhile
chanting the Hare Krishna mantra.
You know the one. The one that goes like this:
Hare Krishna.
Hare Krishna.
Krishna. Krishna.
Hare. Hare.
Hare Rama.
Hare Rama.
Rama. Rama.
Hare. Hare.
I tried to be a good devotee of Lord Krishna but it
just wasn't meant to be. No harm done, at least I tried.
Yes at least I tried.
So now with a quick and sudden decision I will travel
down the road in the footsteps of the Buddha.
Hello, again.
Damn, I'm getting old.
It's past one a.m. in the morning and I'm still up.
Been drinking Moonshine (legal moonshine that is) for most of the night.
Good old "Virginia Lightning" 100% corn whiskey (Damn, good stuff).
Even though I have to work in the morning I'm still up and feeling fine.
No need for sleep. Oh no. no. no.
Not a care in the world.
Just listening to the music channels on Direct TV.
So many great songs from the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, and of course the 90's.
Scribbled and scratched out words in the clear light of day reveal this
late night drunken rambling poem to be completely full of....s....h....i....t.
Something is missing.
What it is I can not say.
It's like something that you forgot to pick up at the grocery store
and you can't remember what it was.
Kinda like that nagging feeling that you left the oven on.
It feels like I should be doing something.
Something useful.
Something meaningful.
Something important.
But I have no clue of what it is.
Where are all the poems of Summer?
Lost or maybe locked away.
Maybe even forgotten somehow.
Fireflies and spiders.
Late night drinks and classic mid-night movies.
No need to set the alarm.
Go ahead and sleep in.
Let's continue dreaming for awhile.
The grass is still wet from the rain.
No cars or trucks are on the road.
The moon is hiding behind a blanket of hazy clouds.
All the small shops and local restaurants hang the familiar
"Closed" sign upon their doors.
While families rest peacefully in their beds a single porch light
shines on through out the night.
Somewhere in the darkness a neighborhood cat roams about.
The only sound outside is the calm and comforting river current flowing by.
Did you forget how to write?
Um....no.
Well , why aren't you writing?
I don't know.
Shit just get's in the way sometimes.
Yeah, I know.
Hey, you know what.
What.
You just wrote something.
Hey, I did didn't I.
Yeah, too bad it's just stupid shit though.
Oh, yeah, I know. Too bad.
Well, it's the start of another New Year....once again.
No matter what, wait I'm sure I've said this before, but I'll say it once more. No matter what, this year I will finish writing that damn novel. Just remember to keep writing. Keep writing. Keep writing. Keep writing. (Don't forget to edit).
