120610 05:26 grief
I've been free falling into the abyss
of death for a very long lone time. Nearly equal have been sexual
thoughts: seen in retrospect the real issue was sensuality &
touch. It is tasteless to live without touch. I know this as the
central locus of my continual grieving for my daughter who died in
custodial care at the age of eighteen months. Sometimes before I give
up and end the life I have suffered, I remember that somewhere
another is able to see through her eyes donated by my daughter
through The Lions Club. Then I am able to take another breath and
survive another minute. It gets that bad. Sometimes you just have to
take life, breath by heart beat, or minute by minute.
Unaware until this moment it, her
lingering lonely death, is perhaps the nexus of my intention and
motivations to serve those about to die in hospice care. I refuse to
be a “Poster Boy” or vain in this regard since as mendicant I
receive far more than I am capable of giving. I am humiliated not
humble. It is dangerous to ask God to inhabit your heart, mine being
so small and finite and once, or so I thought then, immutable as I
did The Who is friend & beloved constant and true.
My dearest friend in the cosmos at
least the one with a body asked me how I was doing with Nicoreet? To
which I replied, “they interfere with my coffee.” My son drown in
his blood from Leukemia and my father was unconscious, in a coma for
five weeks from COPD and now though I gurgle light it up first cup!
A horny old toad am I. Remembering now
a foxy book seller who replied to my statement regarding the folly of
committing suicide by cigarettes; “Well. You know the Sufi Masters
smoke to keep from exploding?” Oh Lord God and Holy Choirs of
Angels that was so long ago; possibly too late to really care. So
maybe I'm practicing for my own lingering or briefly experienced
dying or death?
120612 01:36
a number of solar systems have passed
beneath my keel since I started the above and now
sadness struck personally with the
death of a kitten well remembered and left behind in my quest to now
this old man who writes crying and giggling in the night becoming day
Add to which before departing last
evening from hospice in dialog with three nurses women of young to
median age I heard the oldest a grandmother say I wouldn't want to be
either my daughters or their children living into the future
While I ask silently What Future? I
attempt to curb my mouth since I read the anguish and angst of those
about to die and the young people without a future stolen by the
Corporations gaming the system stealing our lives and resources and
using the profits to prophecies their sense of justice Being the
Greatest War Criminals in all time
But then I am equally a criminal in
that I allow them to go on and on killing in my name having stolen
the blood, sweat and tears of my grandmother who took in sewing
I have an exquisite sense of Exxon and
Wal-Mart both are criminal in their behavior towards their employees
and the governments they purport to 'serve' under they buy
politicians who cry “More Jobs” but what sort of jobs more nearly
slavery without remission.
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