Green

for the green that does not grow

we break our backs

throughout our lives the seed we must sow

in order to make up for the green we lack

some rob, cheat, and steal to get pictures of presidents so grand

others will grind the mill

and hope time will work a plan

we have created a race of rats

to obtain this pleasure so fine

we act like brats

and will not take the time

to quietly dine

with our fellow peers

we are a race of back stabbing money hungry humans

who upon others we jeer

time slips away like grains of sandS

seems that when we are old and gray

do we stop and enjoy the day

do we allow the rising of the sun to define the day

and we no longer need to strive

for the green that doesn’t grow

oh but even now they must worry

and the seeds should not stop from growing

they should produce many berries

for we all need green to live

young and old

rich and poor

we all have needs

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Excommunicated

Excommunication!

Manipulation.

Silence.

How dare you!

You will need me.

Silence.

I can.

You can.

Manipulation.

Do as I say.

Not as I do.

Manipulation.

Moan.

Complain.

Be silent!

Abandon.

Need.

Manipulation.

There is a built in need in every child to have a relationship or bond with our birth parents.

This need is deep and inherent.

It is the rare child that can say, screw you!

We are through.

Satan will use all forms of torture for his amusement.

Bringing you deeper and deeper into his basement.

Guilt, manipulation, sorrow, anger, even love.

Using all of these emotions, he will shove –

sin into your heart.

All it takes to get a start.

God by my side, I’ll be alright.

With great friendships, I will fight.

Some day you will need me.

Some day you will see.

That the one child you chose,

will leave you out in the cold.

Used up. Spent. Rung out.

Lonely without a doubt.

No more guilt.

No more manipulation.

Only silence.

Silence.

No more trying.

Silence.

No more.

Silence.

You access as been blocked.

Silence.

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/10/30/honor-thy-parents/

An Emotion

For ever little teddy bear

lovable, cuddly, and soft.

There is an evil force

hard, cold, and deadly.

Deadlier than the greatest plague

for it becomes a plague.

More powerful than a volcano,

for it will erupt.

Prisoner of the dark,

bound by fire,

loathing in ashes,

black as coal.

No force on earth can set it free –

but one.

One force stronger than faith.

For it will blind faith.

Greater than anything ever imagined.

A stare can start it.

A word.

A wound.

An act.

It will build up.

It will drive you mad and obsessive.

Totally, unbridled –

HATE!

Nov. 10, 1993

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

90, 30

Fall is an amazing time.

The world is slowing from its summer grind.

Leaves are changing color.

We are driven inside. The heat from the sun is duller.

I have this memory. Is it true?

There used to be a transition between seasons. Who knew?

Saturday, it rained. But was 85 in the shade.

Monday it was 45 and chili was made.

Wednesday it was 90. No lie.

Friday, snow! I really want to cry.

My sinuses are bleeding.

I can’t stop sneezing.

My head is exploding.

My throat is closing.

Do I have the covid?

Will I no longer be a no-vid?

I remember dad talking about rabbit tracking frosts.

It was 28 this morning. All the heat is lost.

Rain again! Chico needs to go out.

With this disaster, I have my doubts.

Snow on the ground? Really?

Come on Chico, don’t be silly.

Tomorrow it will be 75.

Sunscreen I will need to apply.

No wonder my eyes are watering.

My head shattering.

Where did that transition between seasons go?

Great! More snow.

Flying Objects 100 words

Do you have a “side hustle”? I’m painting a 60’ X 12’ deck.

My surroundings are tranquil. Once this scene was interrupted when a mixed herd ran down the hill toward a pond.

I’m on a ladder; paint brush and can in either hand. Imagine my horror as thoughts of these critters racing through my precarious position fill my mind.

Envision the ladder getting hit. Paint can, brush, myself, and ladder all fly in opposite directions. Fat girl wouldn’t fare well.

The animals get their bellies full of water and grass. I noticed an electric fence between us. Praise God!

The End

I tried condensing 2 of my stories down to 100 words. The complete Flying Objects is an earlier post. This was entered into a Readers Digest 100 word story submission.

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/09/24/flying-objects/

Holy Walls

Must we meet each Sunday?

In front of others , we should pray.

The man to my left,

from our lambs voice is deaf.

The woman to my right,

has lost her holy sight.

They summon him on the Sabbath;

but curse him when they bathe in lives sins.

Where they never win.

I have seen that man two pews up, beat his wife.

I have seen her loose her fight.

He would beat her black and blue.

I wonder if the congregation has a clue?

That man to my left sitting in the front row, is obsessive and his family will not thrive.

There is a woman to my right, she’s an alcoholic and soon will die.

The preacher is not wed.

He is sleeping in a woman’s bed.

I have been to many holy places.

And have seen many holy faces.

One visit is all it took.

One visit to get one look.

None of the places I have been,

have made me want to come again.

The End

If you refer to an earlier work entitled ‘Churched’, you will read that my journey to religion has not been an easy one. Though I wrote this poem many years ago, I still see this pattern in the faces of congregations today. It is easy to see the sin in people and let that sin remove you from Christ. I know in my own religious journey, I have transposed my sins and the sins of others onto the face of God.

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Cry

I want to cry.

I don’t know why.

Shall this bleeding-

heart ever die?

True blood my heart,

does not bleed.

But something I can’t explain,

does flow from within.

this breast of mine.

I can’t place it.

Or put a name to it.

However, it is there.

But I can’t explain.

April 4, 1994

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Stone So Cold

Blood of ice.

Heart of stone.

No tool sharp enough,

to crack the rough,

jagged wall around your soul.

No smile can penetrate your fire.

There is no emotion from your face.

The gentle flutter of a silk blouse.

The flow of soft wavy hair.

Does the chase even spark an interest?

No!

For you there would be no reward.

You cold, cold heart.

No warmth inside.

Blood of ice.

Heart of stone.

February 25, 1994

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Thankful Thursday

The Bible study group I belong to does a series called Thankful Thursday. This is my take on one story. You may totally disagree and that okay.

My thankfulness today is the ability to learn. The Bible is the word of God. Sin and human nature tends to bend us in ways the word of God didn’t want us to go. This is one of my many learning experiences.

Sam’s sermon Sunday was about the lessons we can learn from the parable of “The Prodigal Son.” From a religious stand point, I’m so very happy God will take us into his loving arms even after we have made such a mess out of life.

I want to look at the oldest son. Luke 15: 29-32 – 29 And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends:

30 But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.

From an Earthly standpoint; being the oldest and having such a big difference in how my sister and I were raised, this parable makes me mad every time I read it.

I’ve been digging a little deeper (for me).

Luke 15:1 Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. 2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

Shew buddy. Am I a Pharisee because I understand the hard feelings this older brother feels? Because I want to hug the oldest and whisper in his ear, “he probably has donovanosis and his junks gonna rot off.”

Jesus surrounded himself with sinners. And here he’s preaching to the Pharisees and the teachers of law who are so lofty they think their poo doesn’t stink. And who looks down their noses at us sinners.

25: the oldest son was in the field. Why was he in the field? He was working. He worked for his father.

While the father was happy that his son was home safe and sound. The oldest brother was angry. He would not go in the house. He made his father come to him. He removes himself from the household.

29 “Lo these many years I have serve thee.” He has removed himself as a son and categorizes himself as a slave (servant). You can serve someone and be obedient and not love them. Service to God and obedience to God isn’t a bad thing. However, we need to – KJV “Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.” Psalms 100:2

29..”gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.” The youngest son isn’t making merry with his friends. He’s with his father and the household. Who has welcomed him home with open arms of love.

30 “But as soon as this thy son was come.” The oldest doesn’t refer to his brother as such, but ‘thy son’.

The oldest son never refers to himself in the dialog as a son to the man.

31 The father refers to this son as “son”. Trying to show the oldest that the father doesn’t see him as a slave but his son.

32 “thy brother” the father is trying to bring the son back into the mindset that this is his brother. Not just the father’s other son.

Everything that the youngest son did at the beginning, the oldest is doing now. Removing himself from everyone that he is attached to.

In every way the oldest son removes himself from his family. Anger can do that. Bitterness can do that. Real or perceived hurts can do that.

The Pharisees where angry that Jesus was welcoming of sinners. Just as the oldest son was angry that his father welcomed the youngest home.

This is a spiritual story. All about God. We humans shouldn’t (this human shouldn’t try to apply this parable) to my life in an Earthly parent way. This is God’s story about love and acceptance. Not Chico’ Mom’s story about the differences in child rearing.

Catholic Production: The Prodigal Sons Older Brother

The Bible