Satin Sheet on a Nail Bed - A Bar Fiction

The breeze was soft; like satin sheets on a nail bed.

"You ole sunuvabitch, how youse been?" Ole Charley said from the bar door, holding it open for me as I slowly marched down the side walk, heading home from work.

"I've been better!" I said, making a detour to a stool, next to the old beaten bar.

Ole Charley was dying, like we all were, but he'd be dying sooner rather than later, the consumption eating up his lungs, the mine had killed him before he ever decided to retire at 42.

"Damn boss man came in here, thinking he was going to get a brew!" he growled. "I knocked him flat on his ass!! And got three rounds of cheers from the bar!"

I laughed.

The jukebox was playing a sad song, something about a lover dumping them for a chicken lover or a rooster sucker.

I ordered a beer, three, two of them chased with a whiskey.

The bar was filled with the usual misfits; old men drinking their liver into a stupor.  Funny men hiding from their wives, all killing their pay checks on whiskey and beer before their wives found out.

A few wives were here and there, deciding it was easier to join rather than battle, their own livers being killed off.

A homeless man was there, a traveler who got stuck here back in 1979.

He worked some of the stores; sweeping the side walks of the leaves, dirt and dust that came rolling down from the Hill.

In the winter, he'd disappear for those months, too cold to find a sleep, when it was time.

"I head down to the heat..." he winked when asked where he went for his winter vacation. "I like the heat but you people make me laugh, so I come back in the spring!"

There was always a drunken fight, later on in the night, Tom Sheldon, the sheriff, would break it up, buy the combatants a drink, pat each on the back and say in his deep voice, "Be good and the rounds are on me!!"

Two years ago; the town was a buzz, Mickey Malone, a drunk and a crude human being, was shot to death right at the corner there by his mistreated wife.

"He beat me every night!" she growled, the gun still in her hand.

She got off with a warning never to do that again.

Tonight was a quiet night, just an argument over who had the best football team; everyone knew it was West High followed by them losers over at East.

"Last call!" the bartender yelled and we all laughed.

There was never a last call; 24 hours, as the mines ran, as the prostitutes did down the "Block".

There was talk, every election year, to make this town a better place; shut down the brothels, curb the bars to close at 2 am, not opened on Sunday, that would be church time, but the miners, a rugged bunch, wouldn't hear it.

"We need something to do between shifts!" they growled at the reverend who thought he could tame the Hill.

He got ran out by the train tracks.

"Go back east you cock fool!!!"

And we went back to drinking.

DEPRESSION IN A LITTLE BOTTLE - BROKEN LITTLE DOLL UP ON THE SHELF

DEPRESSION IN A LITTLE BOTTLE - A BROKEN LITTLE DOLL UP ON SHELF

Have you ever felt worthless, a loser, a broken toy just tossed up on the shelf, to sit and rot away into dust?

Have you ever felt the pain of loss, to never see that shining face again, never to hear that voice, telling you it will be okay, even when thousands tell you the same thing?

Every song you hear makes you want to cry, to crawl into a hole and pull that hole inside with you, to want to wander off this mortal plane, the only thing keeping you here is those who would be hurt by that action, a simple but complicated thing, to toss aside your life, to not hear those beloved cries.

To give up, that most precious gift, to lose that grip on what makes you see the light, to feel that darkness seeping up from the pit of your soul, to hear the anger building in your mind, to feel nothing but that pain.

I keep trying to live for the day but my mind decides to wander off into the dark corners, to shiver there, to feel like the broken toy that I am, I try to live happily and get kicked in the teeth by the world.

I feel like that broken little doll up on the shelf, the one that nobody wants.

Good night world, maybe I will dream about better times and will wake up happy.

To feel that wind beneath my wings, to see the horizon, the dawn breaking, the glorious colors of the dawn breaking, to hear that sweet song from the birds of paradise, to believe again, that life will be better, for the truth, for the reality, not just some dream.

I grab my pillow, pull the blanket close to me, feeling sleep coming over me, that darkness, to comfort me, hopefully I will sleep sweetly, to again, dream of better things, to taste the sweet wines of Heaven, to hear the choir sing beautifully, in harmony, to embrace me in their wings, though, I would not want to wake, to this reality, who others say is not that bad, to smile, but what if I don't want to smile, to not laugh, that fake laugh that others seem to believe is that reality?

I still sit here, writing this letter, not knowing if I want to share it to the world, it seems a depressing folly, almost a suicide letter to that world which isn't that bad, I have seen worse.

I still sit here, wondering, listening to the quiet of the darkened room, to hear the nothingness which is peaceful, contrary to those who say, you should surround yourself with everyone.

Everyone is madness, just ask the masses, to hear the many voices screaming inside your head, to rip out your eyes so you can truly see everything as it was meant to be seen.

Dear depression, you gnarly beast, you dearly fuck, go away, bother someone else this night.

So here I sit, writing, listening to my mind, it wanting to scream, but it sulks in silence, good night my dear world.

Dear Depression, go fuck yourself!

Memories - POEM

Memories slide into the brain,
Seeping into that dream,
Majestically impending doom,
Seeping into the life,
And there I stood,
Frozen there,
In that spot,
Trying to move,
Legs done melted.

I felt her spirit leave me,
Her body lifeless,
I could not feel my own limbs,
I felt my own soul wanting to leave.

Memories,
Like a sharp knife,
Ripping into flesh,
Tearing out the rest,
Corrupting the good,
In the mind's eyes,
Tears roll from my eyes,
Memories.

Here I sit,
Years roll by,
Tears still flow by,
Memories,
To follow me
As I walk this road
Called life,
Memories...

An ode to a War Long Done Fought - A POEM

Note to self: every night, I try to settle down and write a few words, to clear the mind and then, I hit publish, just so the world knows to stay away from me as I am slowly going insane since 1971.

My mind began to wander away as soon as I cleared the womb and has been gaining speed in that runaway since seeing the edge of daylight!

So here I sit, in a comfy chair, the TV playing, I don't know what I will write tonight, my mind comes closer to me, wanting to think and make me wonder where I am going from here.

Possibly New Jersey.

So here I go, to write!

AN ODE TO A WAR LONG DONE FOUGHT - A POEM

There in the silence of night,

I swore that I could see the devil's eyes gazing into my soul,

The bombs dropped from the air,

Exploding around us,

The screams of the men,

Torn away from their bodies,

To be thrown into the ground,

The war would end for them,

A blessed cross,

A draped flag,

There,

On that bloody ground,

But for us,

The living,

We marched into the fray,

Our guns held high against an enemy,

We could not see,

Brothers in humanity,

We marched forward,

Kill,

Death,

We heeded the call,

Held the cause,

Closely to our hearts,

The Father Land needed us,

To be that blood upon the ground,

Forward, 

March,

Die,

Kill,

We continued forward,

To take the ground,

To give the ground,

To become the ground.

The living,

Dead inside,

Nightmares of those falling bombs,

Those guns,

Their mind,

Their worst enemies!

Their souls drenched,

They dare not sleep,

Perchance to dream,

Of long dead,

War, 

That,

In a never ending stream,

Will still haunt,

Their memories!

And there,

In a dream,

A scene,

A dove does scream,

And awake,

My solider boy,

To live again,

To breathe...

10 Best Places to die Happy -- or not!

So these lists; best places to eat, best places to find love, etc. seemingly get the views when it comes to blogging so in an attempt to garner more views for this blog and maybe make a nickel or ten, I have decided to write my own top ten lists!!

This time, the blog will be called

10 BEST PLACES TO DIE HAPPY! (Or not!!!)

And for some listening pleasure, Talking Heads - Psycho Killer because why the hell not, so sit back, put your feet up and enjoy the read.

Next time, we'll have the 10 best comic books to bring into a men's restroom in Cleveland, Ohio!!!

The criteria for this was based on many scales ----

1. Was it able to be Googled by the blogger at the time of the writing of this article. If so, could Blogger remember how to spell it?

2. Would it be funny in reference to death as a humorous topic? If so, it made the list!

3. Was it featured on a 60 minutes segment for such a thing as having horrible nursing homes, etc? If so, HELLO LIST!!!

So here you go!!!!

---1--- Centralia PA : A coal fire has been burning underground since at least the early 1960s!! What says, "HELLO!! I'M READY TO DIE!!" than a coal fire.  The town has been almost completely abandoned so no need to worry about over crowding.

---2--- Rachel NV: Aliens!!! Area 51!!! What more do I have to say! If you don't die from a laser rifler then you can be abducted and brought aboard the mother ship. Won't your mother be so f*ckin happy!??

According to their website, the gas station is closed and the nearest one is about 50 miles south. Plan accordingly!

---3--- Cincinnati OH:  Okay, first off, Cleveland rocks but Cinncy is where it is at, there's an abandoned subway system that was planned over a 100 years ago but never used, where, if you lucky, you could crawl into and die!!!

There's also a zoo! Win - Win!! Also, go to Cleveland and tell em I sent you for 50 cents off a burrito!! 

---4--- Butte MT:  First off, I must disclose that the blogger is from this fine town, so when it is time for him to die, he will make his way back here to take his last breath and his final words being,
"Wha?"  

You can also come check out a huge open pit that is filling with toxic water!! Best lake ever!!!!

---5--- Niagara Falls NY: Wanna go over the falls in a barrel? Who doesn't!! Come on, go old school and die in a barrel!!!!

DO IT YOUR WAY!!!! Growl like Sid Vicious!!!!! Or not!!!!!

---6--- Any Podunk Town USA: Does it have a liquor store and a Walmart? You have found paradise, may you live forever in this wonderment that is Heaven!!

What? Don't believe me? DIE NOW!!!!

---7--- Paris TX : If you can't make it to Paris, France, there's always Paris, Texas (along with other cities in the U.S. named Paris!!!) There's even a replica of the Eiffel Tower!! Enjoy your death without leaving the country!!! 

Now for some interlude music - RAMONES - I WANNA BE SEDATED!!!!!  

---8--- Truth or Consequences NM : Ever wanted to die in a town renamed for a popular radio show in the 1950s? Who hasn't!!  Tell them The Shadow sent you to be ran out of town by angry town folks!!!

They also have some hot springs. 

---9--- Trenton NJ: What list wouldn't be complete without Trenton. Smell the magic should be their motto as well as "So ya wanna die? Come to Trenton!! We got you covered!!" Tell them you think they have pretty eyes and get a free drink of your choice!!

---10--- Fresno CA:  And coming in at number 10, the city that needs no introduction as it has been on many a fine lists, FRESNO CALIFORNIA, home of the famous news agency THE LESBIAN LUNCH and the fine toy maker company, RASBO!!  

People of Fresno will welcome you with open arms and a bottle of Jack Daniel.

No wait, that's a different city in Kentucky!!! But still, Fresno is a good place to go to die!!!

So there you have it, the top ten places to die happy. Or not. 

So good night and have a better tomorrow!!!!!

AND IN THAT END, WE HEARD THE SHOTS - A Poem

A new reality, there inside my mind, whispers in the wind, a new secondary life, swept among the rapids of society, tossed away, thrown away, giving up on, freedom is just a phase.

2029 - All human life is estranged.

"Where are we now?" cried the masses, one by one, trying to see out of the train.

There were no answers.

"We the people..."

We are machines, plowing through the dirt, the earth, to return to that earth, someday.

We all fear that day, constantly looking over our shoulders, marching to that end, step by step, the wind blowing into our face, slowing our ventures.

"March!" the guns pressed into our back.

There, into the Grace of God, we go, to line up against that wall, our shame, our blood, to be spilled on the ground, shot down as animals, to hear that last roar, the bullets ripping into our flesh, we are called dogs, we are called animals, but still we stand tall.

We feared that this day would come soon.

We were warned that it would come soon.

But we dared not listen, to fear, that end, to slip into the sweet waters and drown our fears, to be held by that river's embrace, no man could harm us, no man dared.

None of God's children could be slaves.

We were free.

We could not be sad here, in this place, a refuge from the cursed war, but here, we stood, against a hard, cutting wall, the soldiers, glaring, sneering, their rifles raised.

This was the end.

"Ready..."

The Sargent called out.

Some of us cried.

Some closed their eyes; to hope and pray, to wake from this nightmare.

Others held their heads high. 

"We shall meet again..." old men said, trying to calm the others.

"Aim..."

The end was close; near, our blood, oh God, save us from this fear.

"Soon!" a voice said, there, in our mind.

"Fire!"

And in that word, we heard the shots fired and then nothing...

Cyberpunk is dead - A study on Random thoughts

Cyberpunk is Dead
A study on Random Thoughts.

Cyberpunk, undefined, is dead, that prose, cyberspeak, the random character at the bar, drinking gin, at Chatsubo, it all is dead.

Don't try to make a movie, don't try to revive it, it is dead, RIP, sleep that deep sleep of no wakening, to dare not dream, kaput.

How did it die??

Killed itself during a electro rave, a suicide by electroshock.

It went quietly, without fare, just as it lived, dancing wildly on the dance floor, then, bam, that was it.

Some will speak at its funeral; William Gibson will take a match and light the corpse ablaze.

A ratty rag holding bar tender will pour drinks to over wrought mourners who will cry, WHAT WILL REPLACE CYBERPUNK?????

Nothing will.

Or everything will.

Maybe disco will.

Wait, isn't it dead too?

Future shock. 

Don't turn on the TV

CYBERPUNK IS DEAD......

LIFE AND TIMES OF A DRUNK - a bar hopper's tale

Notes - inside, that place, we see the world spinning, faster, faster, highly revolving through space,
TIME,
A smoke at the bar, 1987, drinking gin, with ice, cold, drunken ramblings with some bar wench.

Her name is Sally.

She's 42, lifeless eyes, dancer in her mind, working on an ulcer, diseases unheard of by the religious minds.

Two more rounds, we'll need em.

Jack is dying, born dying.

I'd call him.

"It's me, Ward..."

We stand, Sally and I, head to restroom, stall, I lift her skirt, drop her panties.

I feel her hands unzip my pants.

This is Heaven.

This is Hell.

I wake up, how'd I get home?

Sally's lying naked next to me.

Her deep red lipstick smeared over her face.

I stand, stumble, damn fucking hang over.

Make it to the bathroom, toilet is my friend, I pay it in kind by throwing up.

Out there, in the city, people are still asleep.

I very rarely sleep, Ive tried, to close my eyes, shutdown my mind.

Wait.

Who writes the tales??

Jack was dead, dying, trying to live, was he even born??

Fly on the wall.

Shit.

I had to be at work.

Or was I fired two days ago??

Glance at my phone, 12 unanswered emails, all from WORK, I click fuck it and head back into dreamless slumber.

I wake up to the smell of bacon.

Eggs.

Coffee??

Maybe I died and this is Heaven?

Sally is aglow, hung over, but aglow.

"Morning lover!" She smiles.

Grumble.

Bar time, I put on my coat.

"No breakfast?" She pouts.

I shrug. "I need gin..."

Solo drifting through dirty streets, wandering past daytime zombies and the nighttime wrecks heading to who knows where.

Another day.

I sip my first drink.

The fifth I down.

"Troubles?" The bar tender asks.

"Not a one..." I lie and down three more.

The New Reality - Letter to home

The New Reality - Letter to home

Oh how could they, destroy that beautiful place inside our minds?

Deep moonlit scapes, wonderous pool under the waterfall.

I was sitting in a chair, mindless and speechless, a husk of my former self, staring at the four walls.

You were gone.

You have been gone more than ten years.

Or so they tell me.

I don't remember anymore.

The medications make it all surreal, a dream, if I remembered it, I might kill myself.

Sickness in a mind, reports say, I could be quite sane and it is the rest of the world that's mad.

I try to tell the doctors here that.

Maybe they are the sociopyschotic mad men in their deep starched white coats meandering room to room looking for something to cure their sickness, writting it down on their clipboards.

Angry suicidal, homicidal, I have become, or would, if the medications wouldn't step in and protect the idiots at the supermarket.

Blocking the aisles, chattering like rats over some dead issue, tissues?

Who cares.

I just want my box of cereal.

Toasty oats.

With raisins.

Anyways, tomorrow, if I'm good, the nurses say I can have two cookies with my apple juice.

Anyways, good night Mom, I'll write more later, I love you,

Your son,

George

My hopes and dreams

My dreams are very little.

All I want is enough to live on, maybe a beach house, where I can lay on the beach, watch the waves come in, write poetry to some senator while my dog Angel growls at the bar keep who happens to be black.

I want to have six sons and a daughter named Steve.

I'd like to run for President for the United States on the stance everyone is created equal, no one should go hungry or not have a roof, maybe be educated.

It seems no one gives a hoo, but, they do.

I want all my friends and family to be happy too.

Is that too much to ask?

A LETTER TO THE FUTURE - WE SORRY

Dear future,

Right now, you're probably reading about this time in your history holograms.

We're sorry.

We tried to create a better world with our guns, our nukes and a circus we called Walmart.

I'll assume Walmart has taken over as Lord and Master unless Amazon has then well, HI AMAZON!!

I'll assume the next President of the United States, a lounge singer from Las Vegas, was a step up from the current man, an ex game show host.

We're sorry he started World War Three through Five.

We're hoping the porn we left behind is a shining example of our society.

We're still hoping it sticks on our current President.

And not in that way.

Anyways, how's things over there for you?

I hope good for you.

Anyways, don't blame me, I voted for gin in 2016.

Your friend

Some long dead dude

P.S.

Send winning lotto numbers, thank you.