I Can Kick the Can

I can remember playing kick the can.  I had the best hiding spot.  For some reason, the seekers kept passing by, yet they never saw me.  Each time, as they approached, I got that nervous, excited tremor throughout my body.  My heart would start to race and yet my anxiety made me freeze.  I was the only one left not found and my entire team was "in jail", but I could not bring myself to try and run out from my spot and kick the can.  I was frozen with fear. I had the power to free my team, but could not break out of the safety of my hiding spot.  I did not want to try, because I did not want to fail, but in not trying, I assured my own failure, and with that failure came an anticlimactic end to the game.
When I think back on this, I realize, not much has changed.  I am still afraid to try.  In some oddly demented way, I am preserving an image I have of myself.  If I don't go all out, I always know I can do better, but if I try my hardest and still lose, well then I truly am a loser.  Funny when I look at it this way, I can see what I think I am doing, but if I continue to hold back, I'll never know if I measure up the way I think I do.  I know I can win, now it's just a matter of letting myself go for it.  The mere act of trying will be my success.  I can kick that can and free myself from the limiting confines of my hiding spot, one can crushing moment at a time!!

Paw Prints Moving Grace

A dog gives you loyalty and eyes that warm your soul

companionship and comfort that makes your heart feel whole,

eternal friends and harmony, as their dog tags jing-a-ling

and when their presence leaves us, their absence sorely stings

The ever present greeter, is no longer there

a house so full of life, may now seem oh so bare

No tapping of their claws on your freshly polished floors

gone are the sounds of their rhythmic, doggie snores

A water bowl now silenced, a leash that's put to rest

cherish all the memories of your once endearing pet

Holly touched your hearts and reserved there, her own place

and etched now there within, are her paw prints moving grace

Live & Learn

When we think we know all the answers

the draw of the pursuit vanishes

and we stop living

allowing the inevitable descent

of existence

into a state of arrogance, indolence, 

and a life without purpose

Infectious Failure

The reality of my failing 

is as blatant as the weeds in my yard

No matter how hard I work,

a tap root has cemented itself in the clay

modeling a snare of suffocation

spawning seeds of invasive and deplorable quality

Until all that remains is useless excess

Offering no value 

and infectious in its state

Just Desserts???

Words 

can be the icing on the cake

the knife that cuts it or 

or the mouth that eats it

It's your choice 

whether you want to 

wear it

spear it 

or swallow it whole

Sure Fire Shit!!!

As I took my first sip, it was bad, but it was not so bad that I couldn't tolerate it.  I have done this before, but I did not remember it tasting like this.  It was warm, so perhaps that was why it tasted different.  The more I drank the worse it got.  As I continued, it became the equivalent of esophageal  assault.  It hit my tongue and slid to the back of my throat and instantly, it ravaged my taste buds, burning them as it saturated my mouth.  As it traveled down my trachea and into my stomach, the affects lingered and suffocated my being.  The more I drank, the worse it got and yet I had to continue.  This is my required torture, every three years I must "prep" for the clean sweep.  The prep is horrendous from beginning to end (pun most definitely intended).  If you have not guessed yet, I am talking about the night before a colonoscopy.  The no food rule is by far the easiest.  After the first hunger pain subsides, it really is nothing, but that drink, oh man, that drink, magnesium citrate...holy shit, or wholly butt is more like it.  That substance macerates your entire insides and generates an expulsion of crap that doesn't stop.  It comes out like a hose on jet propulsion mode and there seems to be no end.  You lie down to get some rest from the exhaustive exertion and your gut is churning, so violently that it's both audible and visible.  I guess you could say it's stimulation for all the senses. 

I am told to drink one bottle and two hours later drink another. Then it's suggested I get a good nights sleep and then four hours before the procedure I am told to enjoy another beverage that bores a whole in my body in more places than one. Getting through the first bottle took me two hours.  As a result, on my nice empty stomach, I am enjoying a non stop cocktail of crap-o-colada.  I tried the cherry and the grape and they were both a fruitful of FAIL!!!  After suffering through the first two bottles, I thought I would have some respite, but that's when the action really began.  When they say, be sure to be close by a toilet, they aren't kidding.  Try sleeping on it.  I had a permanent indent from the toilet seat, I was sitting on it for so long.  Even when I wasn't "producing"anything, I never knew when it would strike, and there was very little lead time before the explosion.  These weren't bombs, they were streams of stench with no resemblance to anything solid.  After a night of all shit and no sleep, I drink my third bottle.  I struggle to comprehend how there can be anything left in my colon but this sucky, sugary drink I am being forced to consume, but, believe it or not, there is still more shit to shed.  With the dawning of a new day, I am now starting to think about the drive to the office and I start to sweat with fear that I won't make it to the office without a little leakage.  (Is that gas, or is there substance behind it?)  I am not kidding, this thing sucks, but I make it to the office and I am comfortably in the hospital garb and reclined in the bed, safely tucked in, complete with a pad to absorb anything that my slip. (How comforting to know I can lie in my own crap and still protect their bedding!!)

Despite the fact that I am sedated, I do awake, just like the first time I was lucky enough to have this procedure done, but to my shock, they are discussing my diet!!!... Can you imagine my embarrassment, after all that work, I was still full of shit!!!!!!!  

Apparently, a diet high in fiber requires more extensive prep.  Couple this with my "redundant" colon, and I am now looking at three days of prep and four to five bottles of internal assault.  Three years can't be far enough off.  Maybe by then, they'll have discovered a less violent way to clean house, but at least it's a sure fire way to shed five pounds and by sure fire, I mean sure FIRE!!!!!

Weigh More

Words can be as heavy as a boulder or as light as a feather
But the more weight they carry, the longer the impression lasts