The thoughts of Woowoo

He was called many names; Boozer, Bowwow, Doggers, Mr. Mc Bowwow and Woozers. But, mostly he was called Woowoo. His name? His name was Devin Michael Oribhabor. And for 14 years he was our dog .  He was loved, rarely stepped on and will be missed terribly. He was my kid's only pet. He was a dog that took my husband 17 years to agree upon. He was a story, a source of humor, a constant companion. He was our fifth kid.

No clacking of dog nails across the floor
No lapping of water any more
No snores of slumber in life’s content
No panting from running when energy’s spent.

The sound of spies dare not cough
The whisper of crickets leaping off
The silence of atoms floating about
The hum of your brain cells filled with doubt

 See the silence of tears at night
See the sighs of quiet. It’s right.
See the sounds of a house that’s still
See the morning come up because it will

A dog has taken his last car ride
A trooper by nature, he really tried
An injection of pink to calm his strife
A quiet big “Woo-Woo” now has no life.

Eva McGrinn, (The wandering ghost of Liberty)

 It's October and time for a ghost poem...

Eva McGrinn

 

This is the poem of Eva McGrinn

She was first killed in Old Berlin
She died at the sword of Marcher Drone
Withered and naked she died alone

Eva McGrinn walks the halls

She moans of losts and sometimes crawls
Cries of deceit for which she was scorn
A nasty bitch from the day she was born

Hate and evil is her claim to fame

Robbing and murder was her game
Marcher Drone knew her will
And made her his goal that he would kill.

Anger and loathing was her only friend

Orphaned and cold, her will wouldn’t bend.
Slutty for money and disease was her life
Marcher Drone gave her his knife.

That was the end of Eva McGrinn

With the news of her death, everyone wins
“Eva didn’t stay dead” the old people say
But rose in America and wanders today.

Carried by horse back across the divide

At the house on the “Springs” she resides
“LIBERTY LIBERTY” She cries at night
Haunting the houses, she feels just right.

Opening doors and creaking while walking

Waking the babies and stammers your talking
She is too restless to reside with kin
She’s the evil maniacal, Eva McGrinn

Grace

FSM - My take on the whole thing.

I have observed there are those people who proclaim to be of a specific religion yet haven't worshipped a god since childhood.  There are the arm-chair quarterbacks that believe because they were schooled in a religious family and church they have the right to judge other righteously. And, we can move on to the devout or active believers that proclaim have gods ear. All the way up we go to the professionals who not only are devout, but found a way to make money off Him. Continuing on, we have people that 'draw near to' [him]'with their mouths, but their hearts are far from him'. And we can conclude with those who have spent their life studying, researching and then conclude that there is no "Him" to worship. Were are you?

 I cannot say I have learned all that the professionals have learned. But, I have never had the desire to perfect the craft of religion. I cannot say if the path I took to learn of a "Him" was the right path. I will tell you that I have done a plethora of research. I have studied, prayed, fasted, bled, cried, searched sought instruction. I have done all within my power to develop a testimony of a "Him".  Uh yeah, it didn't work. Despite my best work, I cannot tell you I am right. I cannot tell you what happens after our life on this planet ends.

I once saw a Meme on Face Book that said "Using the bible to prove there is a god is like using Harry Potter's books to prove the existence of Dumbledore".  I will not begin to tell you I am right or judge you for your belief.  My belief? I just don't know.  I cannot begin to believe the words of man.  And, as of yet, there is nothing to tangibly establish a post mortal existence.  I guess The closest I can get to religion is, I believe we may be a spiritual being having an earthly experience.

Don't choke.  I said it. I do believe that something happens after we die. I also said, 'I don't know.' How can I know. I haven't died yet. Right now, I have everything to live for. I have less than 50 years left to do everything I want and experience my bucket list.  My life is my search for truth. Shall you walk with me?


We learn of Man's search for happiness
As we walk this earth
We learn of our kin's expectations
And of our own self worth.

We go to church, temple and pray
To Allah, God, Buddha and "Him"
As children we learn the "truth"
And earth life can seem quite grim

While you walking this existence
Pray if you want, Okay
But don't use a god to Reconcile
your bad behavior today

If in the name of the god you love,
your father teaches hate
You're being taught bigotry
But, you're alive and it's not to late.

Search your scriptures, read your books
strip off all your sins
Learn to love with out condition
Now your path begins

Because if you're still, like a sheep
And choose not to feed your quest
You'll remain just like that sheep
and never know what's best. (c)

grace

Not a happy daughter

I am convinced my mother totally hates me. And, I think I have been relegated to "Closest-port-in-the-storm".  Nowadays I know she sees me as nothing more than one of the kids she raised.

For the first 25 years of my life, I was her pride, her joy: her besty. Being the only girl and the baby put me on a perfect pedestal. I got everything I wanted. When you looked up spoiled in the dictionary, yes, there was a picture of me beside the word. But, then the lines begin to blur. I chose to marry outside my race, outside my culture and outside my hemisphere. By the time I was 35 I had left her second love behind - the church. (Oh, I had a dad. But, I believe she went from being the wife to being his room mate long ago). By the time I was 40 I was my own person. Mom no longer had much to talk to me about.

Our conversations went from how we serve the lord to, why mom stayed with such a terrible person. Oh, sure we had our hugs and vacation times. But, I no longer am the bouncy 23 year old looking for that perfect spiritual white husband that mom can brag about. I left the family's religion behind. I let her know that I would no longer entertain her superstitions. I went on with my life and she with hers.

Then dad died.

The night my father died, I laid on mom's bed and started a conversation that has spiraled our relationship into the trash can. I wanted to know why she tried to pawn me off on my aunt when I was 11. I wanted to know why mom chose to stay with a child abuser. She lied to me for the last 40 years. And, I called her out. I guess I understand. I am no longer blind to the secrets mom kept to keep me innocent.  I am no longer blinded by a religion she loves with her heart. Have I let her down? Or, has she let me down. Do you know what makes me sad. It's not loosing my moms favor. She bases her bigoted love on how close I am to her god. No, the pain comes that I cannot share this with my besty - my daughter. I can be thankful - in the end, that I have no secrets to hid about her father, my husband.

Baby Grace fair and white
translucent and so fair
Spinks of freckles on her face
and wisps of auburn hair.

She grew up 15 years ago
She chose her path with thought
And tossed aside her false pretense
she made a better lot.

Her brothers and their wives would struggle
to deal with their molester's
When grace reached out to speak the truth
They welcomed her grand gestures.

Old daddy sat in pure disgrace
And the family shunned him well
Mom who may have loved him once
went through her private hell

Within 10 years forgiveness came
And hugs where shared around
Brothers came to support our mom
And grace stayed out of town

It's no wonder she's so bitter
Mom lives away from Grace
Grace exposed the open wounds
And put nothing in it's place. (c)

Radicalized Republicans

Radicalized Republicans

I had a plan called “Radial”

To show the sins of Right

I decided to make a meme for me

I worked hard through the night

I have a pic of Michelle and Mitch

The ugliest on the net

I learned to us my paint program

Attention I will get

The bombing of Boston hit my heart

The men were radicalized

But in our land we have our strange

If people would just surmise

Being Left or Muslim is

No different if you’re crazy

You mind can still succumb to crime

When thoughts get skewed or hazy

If those you know have bad agenda

And work beyond the fray?

Notify authorities

And tell of their radical ways

Amphetamines

If you have a teenager, or if you are "blessed" with the joys of being ADD, Then you will appreciate my situation. I am over 50. And as I get older, I struggle more and more to stay calm, stay focused and stay at my desk. ADD isn't something one necessarily grows out of.

It’s the little round amphetamines

that I mean to take

That keeps me on my tasks each day

But don’t keep me awake

Perhaps I can do some Adderall

Down the hall today

To hasten on my profession

And in my seat I’ll stay.

I wish it wasn’t anxiety

That gets so serious

But I’m inflicted with such pains

I get delirious.

ADD’s prescriptions are

Tons above the rest

For giving me the peace of mind

So I can do my best

An elderly broad I might be

Maybe not a young chick

But give me tax code for the rich

And my drugs will do the trick

Ode to the Jellybelly

We are all victims at some point in our life. Everyone of us (who have access to candy) will or have been victim of the jellybean. Here in Kansas City we hear people say "I'm going to the store. What flavor of Koolaid you want?" And response is usually something like "my favorite flavor is green" for example. What's your favorite flavor of Jellybean, green, red or blue? Today I walked past my co-worker's desk and was offered  a snack sample of jellybeans and almost died when I bit into what I though was a banana flavored bean and it turned out to be - ugh, lemon. There ought to be a law.

Silly yellow jellybean

Taste like a potato

I think I should be able to buy

a bean that tastes of tomato

If we had a salad bean

Roquefort would be the taste

That had us run to the store

In hoards we’d go with haste

Don’t forget the steak and peas

Made of these jelly rounds

We’ll say that they are calorie free

So we won’t gain the pounds