Heart of Death: Ode to Poison Ivy

Colors beautiful and rich.

You make my skin itch.

Fall colors draped like a sash.

Just to brush up against you gives me a rash.

Around and round the tree, your a twister.

No! No! No! Blisters!

So beautiful. You don’t discern.

You make my skin burn.

Leaves of orange, yellow, and red.

On your leaves, I will not tread.

As your chlorophyll wanes,

your ability to hurt me maintains.

Itch! Burn! Blister! Spread.

You I surely do dread.

How do I kill you? You need to die.

From you I will shy.

Temporary Freedom

Over the summer of 2020, while we had been advised against traveling or having social-gatherings; I put my summer to good use. I had some pretty new cabinets put in my house. Well, used but new to me. We had a social distance paint party to get them ready. I have amazing friends. It was a lot of hard work this do-it-yourself project. But they are so pretty. I got the idea that I would try to build a spice rack to match my pretty new cabinets. One whole shelf of my pantry cabinet is taken up by spices.

Kentucky weather is so unpredictable it’s hard to plan much. This particular November evening was nice. So I decided to gather my supplies to see what I had to work with. Ooooo! And play with my new/used drill. Power tools rock!

By the time I get home of an evening and get Chico walked (my 10 pound Chihuahua) it’s almost dark. But since I’m going to be right here on the carport; I figured I’d hook him up on his run to play; 10 glorious feet of freedom. He doesn’t play much. But he can bark at everything that moves. I always feel sorry for him. He gets to go out twice a day on most days. So this would be a nice change for him.

I started playing with my wood scraps trying to get a basic shape and layout.

Chico barks here and there, nothing to worry about.

I keep working away on my spice rack.

Roamin’ Fred or Freda comes trottin’ down the road and with the strength of a Shetland Pony. Okay, a bull dog. With a nip here and a growl there, Chico and Freedonia or gone.

Now I’m a fat girl and my running distance is about 10 feet. I think I made it across my yard; an impressive 25 feet for me. By this time Chico and Runnin’ Free are out of sight; though, I know the direction they are headed.  

Now not only am I going to be a sad girl because my dog ran away; I’m going to have a heart attack because I’m NOT a physical person. Did I mention it’s dark? My dog is a dark color and I am armed with a cellphone flashlight.

Yes, there could be an ambulance ride in my future.

But I found him; panting all the way. He had almost made it to a very large mobile home park near my house (Freebird Terrace); draggin’ his run behind him.

The end.

Breaking In

One Sunday, I’m hanging out with *fam-ends. As the day wounds down, I run to my house to take fresh dry laundry off the line and care for Chico, my little dog.

I finish my tasks and head back out. In typical me fashion, I have my hands full. I stuck the key in the lock while trying not to drop my precious red neck elixir. Now mind you my key has been acting wonky for awhile. It sticks. I was expecting more of the same. Not this time. Oh no. It just spins. Round and round it goes. Then key, with tumbler attached, comes out. I stare at it in dismay. Great! Followed by 2 (two) small gold colored springs that I will never find. They may be padding a birds nest by now for all I know.

Okay. What now? I’m locked out of my house. I’ll go down to the basement. Surely I have tools down there. I need a pair of needle nose pliers. I have a socket set and a hammer. That helps me not. Here’s a snow shovel. Nope. No help.

To my best friends house I go. We come back armed with a pair of needle nose pliers that are used to repair jewelry and 3 smart human brains. Okay to be fair, 2 smart and 1 average brain, me. We can do this.

We try the pliers, a health care coverage card, nails. This lock can be picked. Right? Couldn’t do it with the card how about a trowel and a hammer. If – I – can – just – get – behind – that – dead bolt. Nope.

One friend got honked at as she was walking around the house to find not a single window that she was able to open and climb through. Add all the facts together; she’s pretty and had on cut off glitter shorts. The person driving the truck didn’t stand a chance. If worse came to worse, we were going to pose her petit frame on the side of the road to ask help from passers-by. Mask required of course. Help accepted; covid rejected.

Fiddle, tinker – did that round thing move? Fiddle, jiggle – no it didn’t.

We could hear my little dog whimpering on the other side of the door. No amount of coaxing could get him to turn the deadbolt from the inside. Shame on you Chico. Stretch your Chihuahua body up there and turn that knob.

We finally did it. More inner parts of the lock fell out exposing an area that surprisingly I did have the right tool for in the basement.

We didn’t have to pose my friend on the side of the road. I didn’t have to use my sledgehammer. No extra damage was done to my door.

Praise the Lord.

*Fam-ends – friends that are closer to me than my family.

A Rose in Winter

Withering like a rose in winter,

the crown of red dries and turns to dust.

A stem so feeble a gentle wind could break it.

Spring growing rain.

Heat of summer.

A gentle kiss from young lovers.

Admires eyes gazing at the perfection nature has made.

All just fleeting memories.

Was it ever young?

Was the crown really red?

The leaves a lush green?

Was it truly perfection?

It can’t remember beyond yesterday.

Was the sun really warm?

What was rain?

Does existence really matter after all?

When does exist mean death?

Was the crown really red?

Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.

Heads Up

The first thing I do when I get home is to take my dog to the bathroom.

As we head out, walking down the driveway to the yard; a vehicle is driving past. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this black object flying straight toward me. The projectile wizzed by me. Yeah missed! Praise God. From the SUV I hear, “SSSOOORRRYYY!!!” As it speeds on down the road.

What the?! Talk about catching me off guard. All I could think to do was say under my breath, “jerk.” The SUV is gone by this point. I’m not going to tuck Chico under my arm and chasing the trash monger down. I’d have a heat stroke. It’s just 83 outside. Plus I’d only make it about 25 feet. That is my running distance.

People throw trash in my yard all the time. Only once while I was physically in the yard. No one has actively thrown trash at me before.

We continue our potty time. I take the baccor can to the mail box. In the hope that the mail carrier will run it over. Score one for me.

As we come back around the house, the trash monger pulls in my driveway. Not only did he apologize but his wife got out to retrieve her almost full can of chaw.

He explains, “I’m sorry. My wife dips. As I reached over to get me a big drink, I got her dip cup. I was about to throw up. I grabbed the can and tossed it out the window. I said, ‘I almost hit that lady. I’m sorry.”

I accepted his apology. She collected her chaw. They squealed their tires as they backed out to leave.

At least he didn’t throw the dip cup at me. Gross!

Land

I can’t land.

Each time I try, here comes the fan.

I can’t land.

That looks nice and soft. Forget that plan.

I can’t land.

People, they might let me stand.

I can’t land.

A mountain top, far from man.

I can’t land.

Help me understand.

I can’t land.

Each time I get close; nope. Lend me a hand.

I can’t land.

Each time, so close. LAND! LAND! LAND!

I can’t land.

So tired. I’ll even take sand.

I can’t land.

Land! Land!

I can’t land.

Can’t find that place here I can be grand.

Dear God, I need to land.

Exhausted. Tired. Done. Help me land.

Everything Man

Cover

At my old job, we had a production manager that could fix anything. One day I asked him about it. I’m always afraid that I’ll break things even more. A $50.00 repair might end up costing $200.00 by the time I get finished. He just smile and said, “broke is broke.”

This was my first and only attempt at a comic book. Most everything is drawn. I did trace a couple thing. The Alabama song is in here because he did run none stop all day long.

A lot of the stuff consists of inside jokes.

New Earth

2,030 marked the first human mission to Mars. Scientists were on this trip; people who were in charge of setting up the first ever base camp.

Ground Y had already launched two BFS’s (Big Florida Spaceships) to Mars, full of cargo for the base camp. Earth held its collective breath as the big crafts landed perfectly.

Something happened to the camera system on the second ship. Using telemetry and lots of computer data, Ground Y was able to ascertain that the ship had landed; intact they hoped.

We watched every minute of the 2,030 launch. Earth’s data field was maxed out. Everyone live streamed the event including the months spent in open space. We worked, slept, and ate MARS. We watched as NASA announced BFS 3’s safe landing. People rioted in the streets, burned cars, buildings, and of course the ceremonial couch,

Ground Y’s founder, Edward Mosque, made the official announcement. Instead of the pompous speech everyone was expecting, we got, “hot damn I made it.” He ranted for a good half hour about all the doctors who had advised him not to make this trip. He said lots of colorful metaphors that I choose not to repeat.

2,032 was when the next BFS was scheduled to lift off. It had a few more people and what seemed like a shopping list from Mr. Mosque.

He wanted a televised lottery for one average person to go on this flight. Can you imagine the heart pounding excitement of getting to go to Mars? I could! So I threw my name in the hat along with 5 billion other people. I knew there wasn’t a prayers chance in hell that I would be chosen. I was going to try anyway.

The day of the big drawing had arrived, 6 months before the lift off date. Everyone was glued to a media source. An asteroid could have hit and no one would have cared. The most important event in this moment was the person’s social security number that was announced. It was mine!

Wait. What? Mine? Yes! Mine! It was immediate. My Kentucky home was surrounded by media crews, helicopters, black SUV’s filled my yard. I got my first death threat three minutes after my name hit the data field. I was offered obscene amounts of money for my SS number. I received 250 marriage proposals from people that wanted to take the chance that my spouse would be allowed to go with me.

The caravan to Boca Chica was stopped 6 times by desperate people wanting to take my place.

After we made it, the following months were filled with training. I was allowed to keep my dog right up until the moment of lift off. I don’t know if it was true but everyone fell in love with Chico. I was told he was going to be the official mascot of Ground Y. It was a sweet parting memory.

The day of our launch had arrived. I was excited. This was to be a new chapter in my life and I was ready to meet it head on.

Lift off was like starting up a wooden roller-coaster. Shaky and rough. I barely noticed. I was too consumed with taking in what might be the last time I got to experience Earth.

The trip was going along as planned. Only after I got so tired I couldn’t stand myself did I fall asleep staring out into the void of space.

When I woke, my eyes were blurry, almost as if caked over by a white blanket and my head was roaring. I could hear what I thought was the sound of beating drums. One a couple decibels lower than the other. Boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom.

Back and forth it went.

The next time I woke up, the white blanket was more like lace and the roaring in my head was now a buzz. The drums; I thought, might have been voices. Voices? That was a pleasant thought.

“Look, look. Our patient is coming around again.”

The softer of the two voices said. “Third time is the charm. Right?”

I woke to see something standing on either side of me. “There you are.”

“Can you speak?” The lower of the two voices asked. I tried to speak. But no sound came out. “Not with your voice, use your mind.”

How was I supposed to speak with just my mind? No one could do that. Maybe with the help of some super advanced technology. Now really?

Talking can be so overrated. Instead, I focused on trying to get up and get the use of my limbs back. Who knows, maybe I will be able to run though the grass and jump in the river. I was having the most pleasant thought about doing just that. I was running, arms wide open into the sun, across a green field then jumping into the refreshing water; when the lower of the two voices said, “that’s not going to happen. Swimming in natural bodies of water was banned a hundred years ago.”

I thought, ‘how did you know what I was thinking?’

‘Because you thought it.’


‘Fine, where am I?’ My mind was filled with the image of a building, white brick. It was long, only two stories tall; on the double doors that I assumed was the front of the building was written Community Healing Center. Nothing flashy, just plain lettering on a plain door. Then one of the doors opened into a very sterile looking corridor. All the walls were a pale clinical green. Nothing special. The bodies, forms, whatever you call them were everywhere.

They were shapeless, non-descript beings.

This is a fluke right? Let’s try this again. ‘How did I get here?’ Again, I saw images, like a movie playing in my mind of the crash site. The ship that I had been riding in was laying on the sand in a massive pile. Bodies were laying all-round the scene in different states of dismemberment; arms here, legs there. A head was on top of this massive pile of scrap. Then I saw me being pulled out of the rubble by these forms and brought here to the community healing center.

‘So where am I?’ My thought was a news story telling about the fourth BFS’s lift off. Then after four months in space, it was never heard from again. I was getting ready to ask what year it was when 2,415 ran across my mind.

‘How is this possible?’ I thought. A company called Inter-face was developing a chip that was to interface with human brains. The original plan for the device was to help people with brain disorders and people who had been in accidents. I remembered that much being true. They rolled out their first one in 2,022. A year behind schedule. As my in-flight movie continued, it showing me wars, famine, devastation. All the things one would expect from a B rated science fiction movie. After this mess, everyone was implanted with a chip when they were born. When society became so corrupt they were on the verge of complete destruction, someone hacked the system and started correcting ever so slightly the imperfections of human behavior. Then I saw that these formless beings were actually a suit that was required to be worn anytime someone was outside. Only in the privacy of your own home were you allowed to show yourself.

‘So what happened to individuality and uniqueness?’ My head started raging and I passed out.

The low voice filled my head as I woke ‘When you ask something that you are not to know the answer, you are corrected back to the proper way of thinking?’

‘And who decides the correct way of thinking?’ The roar it my head was back and I was out.

‘You had some health issues that were corrected. A bulging disk in your lower back, tinnitus in your ears, arthritis in several joints, and allergies; all healed.’

‘Amazing,’ I thought. ‘It’s like being a new person.’

‘We are beings. We are all beings.’ The lower of the two voices commented.

When I woke up, both figures were standing at the foot of the bed holding an empty suit. ‘Time to go outside and see your new world.’ Finally! Outside! Sunshine, birds, grass, I couldn’t wait. I was amazed this suit fit better than I imagined it did. I could breathe, see, smell. Wait – smell. It just dawned on me that I really hadn’t smelt anything since I woke to this newness. Nothing good nor bad. Not even the food they gave me had an aroma.

‘Smells unless produced by nature are forbidden.’ The soft voice filled my head.  

The walk outside was such a letdown. No birds were singing. The sun was shining but I couldn’t feel it through the suit. I saw no flowers, no animals. Outside seemed to me just as sterile as the inside. There were no cars. No form of transportation at all. I saw only a handful of other forms outside.

‘Where is everyone?’

The soft voice answered. ‘The others are in different places, home, work, learning centers.’

‘So are you two doctors?’

‘No, we are caretakers. We are unaware of what a doctor is.’

Question time was fun. These beings seemed to know everything and nothing. They took me to a small house. The inside of it looked just like my small Kentucky home, except my dog was missing. I really missed my dog.

‘You may take your suit off now.’ They put a finger on top of their head and the suit fell down. Following their example, I did the same.

To me, my caretakers looked like a man and a woman. They were the same height, same weight, same hair color, same eye color. ‘Twins.’ I thought.

‘No, we are not twins. Everyone looks the same. This way no one can proclaim bigotry.’

‘Where is individuality, uniqueness, cultural difference? How can we learn from each other if you are all the same? And why the suits if everyone looks the same?’

That roar was back in my head. I remembered getting very dizzy. Another movie played in my mind. I saw images of babies being drowned because of their gender. People’s eyes were being removed because of their eye color. Horrid skin dissolving viruses’ were being developed so people could have their skin removed in an attempt to have it replaced. Others with certain hair colors were being lined up and shot as if they were part of an old timey firing squad.

What happened to humanity? How did we get to this point? Now, in this new time. On this new Earth, everyone looked the same. And thanks to these computer chips, everyone’s thoughts are the same. There was nothing.

The story continued. It would appear that in the year 2,060 a killing spree occurred. Someone hacked into the IRS’ data base and started killing people that got back great amounts of money. If you got back more in taxes than you paid in, you became a target. It just didn’t happen in one state. It happened nationwide. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed. From this point on, no one worked for a company anymore. All interstate commerce ceased and everyone worked for the government. You lived in a house provided by the government. You got a food allowance. Your clothing was issued. All forms of transportation stopped. Only a handful of high ranking officials got to travel. Wherever you lived when all transportation ended, is where you stayed. It didn’t matter if you were in walking distance from your family or around the world from them.

My movie did end with a happy thought. I guess in this new world, happiness was still a big deal. I saw dated news articles of Ground Y’s headquarters. They were true to their word. My Chico did become the official mascot. They treated him like a king. There was still my cute, adorable Chihuahua. One story was sad to me. Staff would get to missing him only to find him on the roof of the building where he watched the BFS take off. It was sad yet comforting to know that he had missed me too.

On what I assumed was the next day, my caretakers brought me food. The same green mess that I had eaten every day. I just stared at it. ‘Not hungry?’ The lower voice asked.

‘What is this?’

‘Food.’ The soft voice answered. ‘Not food the way you are used to seeing it. It is a plant based protein that we have been consuming for generations. Meat products were outlawed.’

‘What does a normal day for you look like?’ I thought.

Here came another in-mind movie. They got up, went to work, came home, the chip in our heads filled us with correct knowledge. They have the sense of being entertained, rested, at peace, the good emotions. Everything came from the chip.

I started thinking about just everyday things: children it seemed were ordered. And that was all you needed to know. When your body’s hormone levels were right and you felt like you wanted a child, a baby was delivered to you. Marriage happened when those pesky hormones reached a certain level, a mate was selected for you. To me, it was like arranged marriages that I had read about. Identity in this world wasn’t an issue, so you got a mate.

It also occurred to me that there were no names. A name was something else that could be construed as an injustice. If your name was Prince and you weren’t a Prince then you were mis-identifying yourself to the general public.    

‘What of religion? The Bible? God?’ The roar in my head returned and this electronic voice said, ‘forbidden subject matter.’

In my life before the trip to Mars, I didn’t set the world on fire with my religious beliefs. I went to church sometimes. However, I did pray multiple times a day. I read the Bible. I talked to people in my life about God and my beliefs. So if I was to understand correctly, religion in all forms has been forbidden by the CHIP. You are corrected if you think about anything associated with religion. This might account for the headache that I had. But then I guess if you haven’t been taught anything about religion, there’s nothing to think about?

This new Earth was a world with the total absence of God. A world void of belief. My heart sank as my head buzzed. A world void of God. How could this be? I didn’t like this new Earth. I wanted to sink my teeth into a big juicy hamburger. I wanted to smell something. Even if it was bad. A fart. ANYTHING! And most of all, I wanted to pray without this CHIP causing me to pass out.

As I looked around, the room seemed out of focus. My caretakers were not in sight. I clumsily ran to the door. When I opened it, I thought I heard alarms ringing. It could have been only in my head. I blindly ran. The multitude of houses were a blur. There was a few of the forms outside but they paid no attention to me. I ran and I ran. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. My head felt like it was going to explode. I fell into grass. Real grass under my hands. I took a deep breath filling my lungs with the smell. At last a smell. I looked up to see yellow specks. Prayed they were flowers. I tried so hard to make them come into focus. In front of me was a blue blob. Could it be water? I crawled on my hands and knees toward it. “God let it be water.” I think I said it out loud. But at this point I had no concept of what was spoken versus thought.

The closer I got, the weaker I felt. My head was louder now than it had ever been. I was determined to figure out what was in front of me. I felt strange. My nose felt as if it was leaking. It took great effort to lift my green stained hand to my face. Upon lowering it, I saw red. Was that blood? Was my nose bleeding?

I looked to my right to see shapes moving toward me.

I made it! Water! It was water. I can smell it. Heavenly water.

Then I remembered: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. I slid head first into the water. It was cold, refreshing, a gift from God. ‘Thank you God!’ I shouted in my mind. ‘Thank you.’

I don’t want to live in a world void of God. Most everyone thinks of the end time as a dystopia post-apocalyptic world. This to me was the end time. A world in which God no longer existed in any form. According to the CHIP in my head, this world was without crime, suffering, struggle, there was no hatred or injustice. It was utopia. But without God, it was empty, a joke. A game. A great big video game where the computer was in control.

With the last bit of strength I had, I started to recite the Lord’s Prayer: Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name. I could feel my lungs filling up with water. I didn’t have the strength or desire to roll over. This was calm. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.

My world became tranquil and my head stopped hurting.

The End.