Dear little me, I’m sorry I hurt you.
But I don’t wish to take it back-
Because God likes taking trash, and recycle/reform…
He Loves you more than ever. I do though wish
I could have told you that-
While you were still…A fine strapping-young lad!
You know what they say, A chip off the ol’ block…
You had no regrets…without even a pair of socks!
You were so happy! Please forgive me,
I’m 45 yrs. old now-but you’re still crying inside of me…
it’s kind of embarrassing sometimes young Timothy.
But it’s also ok, Because you’re facing all this
stuffed down in your past-where high enough couldn’t exist…
You know you can come out of the waiting room now young man.

You now have gone, from beer, TV, and the old lady,
To Beautiful wine, woman, and song-Even though it’s really just grape juice…
On high demand at her command!
It’s ok, I got to get back to work-I’ll speak more when I’m done.
But yet till…Thank you for forgiving me…That’s your Super Powers!
And it’s all A-ok, Please believe me-that Super Power is in you!
You wouldn’t want doubt to steal it away from you, would you?
No way! for you’ve finally found your Savior, Shepherd, and King…
Jesus Christ the Holy Righteous One-never let your bad go to far,
in anything.

Do wish though-I could of told you then,
But you know man…I knew not then myself.

Love-your wife and kids’ hero.

*The glory of children are their fathers*
*And a Virtuous wife is the crown to her husband*
…Holy Bible

Lets begin with Thank You
I thank you for letting me be free
Thank you for loving me
Oh what i would do without you
There would be no me without you
Thank you for letting me express
Thank you letting me me cry
Thank you for letting me jump around & dance
Thank you for finally standing up for yourself
Thank you for allowing me to receive love
Thank you for letting me show love
Thank you for not disregarding my feelings
Thank you for caring for me
Thank you for peace
Thank you for kindness
Thank you for smiling
Thank you for me
As i enjoy the breeze in the air
And Smile immensely in the now
I thank you for all you’ve done

The crack to the skull
A bleed in the brain
Death shook me
She called-
Addressed me by name
Stood above so I could see
My Rome in vanity

Momentum increased
Pillars collapsed
Every image stumbled
Shattered & crumbled
Unmasked & raw
Only held at the seams

The life I once knew -In pieces at my feet
Outstretched for miles, it resembled defeat
Yet the weight lifted & she drew her first breath
Emerged from the rubble, an image pristine

A glimpse of what was to come
To accept the unbroken
Was to conspire to murder
The audible & unspoken

The purpose & the drive
Debilitating all at once
Breathed into me new life
& undiscovered fronts
In honor of the indelible
What once was, exists in memory
What is yet to be – a blank slate
Out of mind, as it should be
But in my hands all the same
The moment she spoke my name

LAUREN- THE PHOTO OF THE BRICK GOES WITH THIS POEM. WHEN YOU READ IT, YOU’LL SEE WHY…

GOING TO BERLIN IN 1970 -for Hank

They were traveling by train
the whole family, for Thanksgiving
at seventeen it felt like being thirty
courage for the i-am-strong-enough
to face the i-don’t-know-what
speaking German wishing-to-know-words

even so he was in his own thoughts-
Where does genuine live?
Is it In amongst the realizations of the self?

Traveling with another Colonel’s family,
with another son of seventeen
both in railroad overnight sleeper berths
the Colonels had to be in uniform
crossing Enemy Territory as it was
the Enemy’s armed soldiers at railway stops in the dark
warned us not to exit the cars
if the train stopped, must have passports at the ready
should they be demanded by the communists.

It would take all night to get to Berlin due to the many stops
having left the freedoms of West Germany
fluttering on flagpoles at the border.

It was the first time, really, that he was aware,
like no kidding, that the suppression of men could be such
a real thing.

That realization never walked away again
the sight of man’s inhumanity to man
that persisted for the rest of his years

this epiphany became a finely tuned crap-detector
like gauging spoken truths for authenticity
or assessment of mood, or rank, at a glance.

Sometimes both revealing, and understanding, were pushed
into override, with wisps of smoke coming out
he had to get out, away from the despicable source

what of the half-truths
or the lying in the unnecessary competitions
in foolish men’s lives.
Sleep was a casualty of that night.
Excitement of so many AK-47s,
the danger slung on The Enemy’s shoulders
during the travel to West Berlin
so divided (one of the few walled cities left in the world)
the Berlin Wall was a living, breathing beast
the beast was hungry to eat those that loved freedom
the east had walled all around the west city with
guard towers sporting machine-guns overlooking barbed wire.

We were free to think and speak
our minds carrying on the traditions
that was why our Fathers wore the uniforms.

Yet there was Checkpoint Charlie
a passageway out of grey oppression
crossing over into sparkling clean air
the point of cruel suppression, of beyond unfair dictatorship
made by the hundreds of small white crosses
placed to honor where the dead had been murdered

those that had sought out of the chill, shot dead
sometimes having dug under the wire
perhaps hidden in the trunk of a car under blankets.

Those sights stayed with him far into his future years
the detector tuned to not just seeing lies
but to detect the oranges of tyrannical narcissism

he felt as if he had breached the walls of Mordor there
in the east walkers dressed in darks and greys
city streets there unkept, paint on walls peeling

a stark contrast to the bustle of the west side
where there were freedoms even to wear bright yellow
should one want to, and to think unencumbered

he sought the exploration of the Self
ever since, gathering strength
asking The Critical Questions, the hard Q’s
finding his answers where they may be
in a song, poem, or readings of the great works
perhaps in some direct act of a caring sort
observing when life reached that occasional pinnacle
where truth junctured with an intensity

combined with spontaneous, deliberate acts of kindness
produced those moments of humanness
that people remember and talk about for years later.

He remembered Berlin all his life.
His walking up to the communist wall of Checkpoint Charlie
seeing the machine gun in the guard tower
ranging his steps, following his direction
(his Mother standing there wanting to scream)
as he gently removed a loose brick
from the wall just by The Enemy’s gate
even the western Military Policeman directing traffic
watched him step back away towards safety.

Taking that red brick
an act out of a youthful sense of invincibility
became a brick in his own wall
the brick was in his study even now
holding a honored place on a shelf
near the volumes of philosophy
becoming a power cell in the course of his life
a light shining into the darkness
showing what it means to be a real human in the world.

In a sober group on Facebook-
My friend Lynn had to say,
From a good report God gave…
“The Lord closed your last chapter,
He knew you deserved a better life.
Things happen for a good reason,
Never look back at that chapter,
It’s closed and should always remain closed.
Keep moving forward.
Your future will be fantastic!!!
God Bless”
Again this makes me cry inside,
Knowing people cared,
When all’s I did was hide.
But she’s right and I believe in her-
Words of wisdom for sure do merge…
My direction too where I’m going,
So much love from and for others-
God is surely showing!
My past is gone and the door is closed,
And thanks to her I’ll open it no more!
Creative excitement doing the right thing..
And the only indictment is to live great dreams!
Of course the good Lord is making life better-
For He cut the cords of my chains and feathers!
God gave so much in Bible, Church, and Prayer-
And His great recovery with you I will share!
A wife, a family, and a living society
God had all along, because He always loved me!
Jesus is the door of life and faith He gave is key!
For life is so beautiful, and almost too good to believe!
Therapy even to the young child within,
This mortal body who thought he’d never win!
But He’s made me a winner, and He’s made me free…
Breakfast at his table, lunch, and dinner He feeds!
He lets me go about and do good works…
Sharing with others that have doubt because of pain and hurt!
I get to go to jail and walk right back out,
Telling them of the God who cannot fail, so they can find His route!
I get to go to juvenile and teach them teens how-
To live this life before death bites, and they can see no way around!
Around the Bends that life throws at them-
They can walk straight through- on the path that mends…
Mercy and Truth leading all the straight way,
By God and for you-to see the light of day!
The same Light that guides, leading freedom-forgiving hearts…
To walk right alongside of great living and new starts!!!
… Friends and brethren, mothers, and fathers-and yes of course sisters too…
Go with the light of the right examples…
That God has shown them the way through!
And Yes, God- is Always with you!!!

So I’m a veteran now..
Help me open this
C & P exam notification.
Look at that,
a winner has been selected
for my mental health’s raffle.
Combat activity report card reads as follows:
2 deployments for me
&
93% on the subject of
American history.

I felt the ghosts
of our heroes
let their tears fall
over my shoulder,
because the heaviest pen in
the planet struggled to check the box that was applicable to me.

I’ve been feeling decently
until recently,
when I was notified,
that everything
that I try to hide
in the tombs of my psyche,
will be –
resurrected,
dissected,
&
placed under
a microscope.
Picture my ptsd..
As a protozoa in a petri dish,
just small enough that I will never
feel whole (fill hole)
unless I open up,
I will never heal my soul…

Or maybe a telescope,

for everytime I’ve
spaced
out.

There’s a dissonance
in the distance that
slightly resembles the terror that
holds my happiness hostage.
“Incoming,”
Incoming,
Incoming!

any alarm
& this action movie
shapeshifts
into the horror genre,

Michael Bay
transforms into
Stephen King.

“It” is
“The Pet Semetery”
Where
“Cujo”
Is buried,
alarms also make me feel like
Jon Coffee walking
“The Green Mile.”

The Doha Accord was signed on
29 Feb, 2020.

Despite this alleged “armistice,”
the mirage in the dark was the target of many armaments..

12 bombs…I think?

like scalping your enemy,
i’ve tried to sever
that memory from my head,
but try as I might,
it hangs on by a thread,
how could I ever forget
the bomb that knocked me out of my bed?

& the subsequent phone call
to my parents..
telling them how
f*cking scared I was.

Oh, the heartbreak harbored in their eyes,
for only a handful of times,
have they seen their son cry,
but anytime I heard
Incoming, incoming, incoming..
It was at least possible
I might die.

I genuflect to inspect
These 17 coins I have earned,
Jaded-
I helped pack the grave dirt of far to many urns.
The petri begins denting from the inside.

Still Sealed by the gravity
That re-wrote history:
the fat man who crashed
bockscar in
Nagasaki.

Or
the little boy birthed
from enola gay
in Hiroshima.

“Do alarms really bother you?”
“Yes, it’s my heart beat playing hide and seek,”
“Is it getting any better?”
“Not really,
Every time I try & get some sleep
I hear the floorboards creak,”
“Isn’t it just another noise?”

“No.

It’s every thought I’ve ever had against my life,
The Grim Reaper’s sychte felt so cold upon my cheek…”

Im thankful for all of the help
that I have seeked,
for the last 4.5 years
I have my good days &
bad days,
& I’m hopeful that
one day,
it will be
Just Another Noise.
But until then,
I hope you see everyone is different after they’ve deployed.

Dear Friend,

When we hear the word “motto”, we tend to imagine one of two things: either a cliché phrase full of platitudes and empty of meaning, or a lofty ideal too far out of reach. While other people talked about their mottos, I resisted living by one for most of my life. Doing so seemed unoriginal and unrealistic until inspiration struck in the most unlikely place.

The closest thing I have to a motto is a quote by Maya Angelou. “What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”

I saw that quote for the first time in eighth grade English class. The teacher had us read a section from one of Maya Angelou’s books, an oddly progressive choice for a school in the South in the early 2000s. I remember being fascinated by the story as my classmates took turns reading aloud, but it was that quote that really struck a chord with me. At the time, I was a disabled nerdy kid from a low income family, a prime target for bullies; all of which were completely valid reasons to complain. I never considered how complaining could be a bad thing until I read that quote, but although it made me think, it would be several years until its meaning fully resonated with me.

By late 2010, I’d lost my father and any hope of leading a normal life. I was a young adult suddenly tasked with supporting myself and my mother on a single disability check of about $900 each month. My mother, to put it bluntly, lost her mind when she lost her husband. She barely came out of her room. She didn’t want to eat or bathe, and she refused to do housework or interact with the outside world. The mother who’d always supported me was gone, too wrapped up in her own grief to notice mine.

I had no choice but to push my own emotions aside to provide for us. As hard as it was, I wouldn’t have minded it, had it not been for my mother’s incessant complaining. Every day, I woke up to her ranting about how much she hated her life, her family, the house, the neighbors, the government… you name it, she had something negative to say about it! I tried to ignore it and carry on the best I could, but it became impossible to function in the world when I was constantly reminded of its darkness and cruelty.

Her negativity was contagious. It got so bad that I was angry all the time, and I dreaded having to interact with anyone. One day when I was a captive audience for her ranting, I had an epiphany. As her negative emotions spilled onto me, I thought, Is this how others feel when I complain? I remembered that quote from eighth grade English class, and it inspired me to make a change.

While I couldn’t change our situation or my mother’s reaction to it, I could change myself. I realized that wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to suck the joy out of others’ lives; I didn’t want to be the reason someone else fears the world. So I promised myself I’d never do what my mother did. Whatever horrible thing the world threw at me, I would face it on my own and not let it affect others. My problems shouldn’t have to be anyone else’s.

That is not to say my life has been all sunshine and rainbows since then. No, far from it! I have setbacks and down moments just like anyone else. Anyone who says they don’t have those moments is lying to you, and toxic positivity can be every bit as damaging as constant negativity.

As I grow older and hopefully wiser, my understanding of my motto quote grows too. I don’t think the message of “don’t complain” is about ignoring the negative moments in life; it’s about what you do with that negativity. It’s okay to feel down sometimes. It’s not okay to stay down forever, and it’s definitely not okay to drag others down with you.

The next time you hit a low point, I hope you’ll remember that quote and be inspired like I was. Whatever obstacles you face, I hope you find a way to move forward and create something good from it. Good luck and best wishes!

There is a quote that stood solid in my sight one time after looking up quotes and writing them in my notebook when I still lived with my mom. Mahatma Gandhi is the author of the quote: “My life is my message.” I was staring at it for a while as if I needed these words engraved in my memory and they were engraved forever in my mind & soul.

Since I am the one who lived it, I would tell people my story growing up, which I saw as normal. I remember when I told my son’s grandma about my past to what I thought was normal and she stood up & shook her head because she couldn’t understand it. I told her it was fine because I was here with my head held high and able to tell my story.

I was never ashamed of the things that took place or the people in my story because I understood it was all part of my journey. I can look at the bird’s-eye point of view and always try to put myself in the other person’s shoes to understand why that action or reaction took place. Everyone has a story and sometimes we have to not judge the book by its cover and realize that there are chapters prior that we don’t know.

For example, when my dad took me from school without telling my mom about it, even though my mom had won full custody of me when I was a baby. My dad had done before and kept me away according to my mom. All this time I thought it was a vacation until last year or so. I remember telling my mom how I went from one person’s house to another and how fun that vacation was. Her response was, “Oh honey, that wasn’t a vacation. That was your dad keeping you from me. You were 5 years old, & he took you without telling me.”

My mom never once spoke ill of my father to me or in front of me. My dad on the phone said once that my mom was crazy. I told him then that means you say that I am crazy, dad because both of you created me and if she is crazy, then I am part crazy. He stayed quiet and retracted his statement.

With the years passing, I put myself in my dad’s shoes and understood why he did what he did. All he wanted was to keep me close and protect me because my sister, his first daughter, had passed at 15 in October 1989, which is also the same month that I was born.

When people ask me if I enjoy doing spooky things for Halloween or seeing a scary movie, my immediate response always is, “No, because life has been scary enough.” I know I have the God given gift of compassion and empathy to understand the person’s action & reaction. To put myself in the other person’s shoe and see them for who they are. To deliver the message of my life because it is my message. Just as your life is your message because it will inspire someone to give them hope of a deserved happy life.

I understand it is not about why is it happening to me but more of a what is this teaching me. I know God won’t put us in a situation that we cannot overcome.

I have overcome a few things that, without them, I wouldn’t be in the mindset that I am in. My miscarriage was my message to understand my dad’s actions a bit more. I have the power to do what I wished my dad had done & I am in charge of my story. I know that nothing worth having comes easy, but after all, I am worth it.