A.G.E's Joint

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,  earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; In the traditional hymn setting by Gustav Holst, Christina Rosseti imagines Christ's birth as being in the midwinter and everyone is in the barn or kitchen huddling for warmth against both the actual cold of the winter and the figurative cold of the authorities. Another hero beginning his journey against the travails of the world. A journey that echoes well unto today. How many of us are in an emotional bleak midwinter? Staying dormant and wishing for spring? The world has turned scary once again with modern versions of Herod and Augustus plotting to take each others lands and flocks. And each Ruler, Pharisee and Saducee says they are the righteous one. History has always proven them wrong. That they are as craven, corrupt and violent as all the powerful before them. Quick to abuse their privilege at the expense of everyone.    We can imagine ourselves as re

I am going to see if I can game my stats. First off: I'm going to link to a couple of good blogs. Eric Brooks http://www.stumbleupon.com/ A Good D J Myke poem Now, I'll add some random key words Amazing Sex Love Naked Girls Death Defying Now we'll see if I am a newly minted SEO dynamo.....

Moments like these stop the heart Cause the world to take their part In the memories of those past Keeping them close and fast Another death, another wake Another casserole delivered for courtesy’s sake Only time some of these socialize Is to see who is left to size Maybe now I’ll be seen as fit. That’s my story, I’m sticking to it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Photo-”Baldwin Angel” (c) 2016-Don Teuton, Savannah, GA USA. #bonaventuredon This was a fun challenge. I know I’m not suppose to guess, but Moments Like These was probably Deborah Truitt Pic guesses: La Dolce Vita, Under The Tuscan Sun, Viva Zapata, Mediterranean Holiday, Zorba the Greek, The Villa,

Whatever happened To the cute redheaded girl? The crush of Charlie's life? Did she grow up To be Betty Suarez? Hidden behind horn rims  And shyness? Porcelain skin With few wrinkles, Dimplish smile She still waits  For Chuck to ask.

Ah, so we are at the end of a full season and it happens to be Valentines Day, or in Twitterspeak VD. I have come to the conclusion that is Social Media’s role is to reduce all Human interaction to a Social Disease. When the DiVinyl’s put out their song about touching, we all played along. We imagined being with our significant other, or maybe with another person because we were angry. Or sometimes, we just didn’t have a person with us and we have to just improvise. When I think of you as readers, I wonder what are your preferences. Do you like risqué material? Dark and foreboding worlds where broken people hope for (and sometimes achieve) redemption? A literal take on the subject? I already wrote that story. http://anothergovernmentemployee.blogspot.com/... When you give me stellar feedback, I sometimes wonder if your glasses are dirty . When I read the text back, the words always seem empty and inadequate. Internal and external vampires work like butterflies in the

It was one of the older beach shacks, a weathered gray stack of sticks sitting squat on the bluff near the inlet, four rooms and a screed porch overlooking the ocean. The white Adirondack contrasted with the dark green paint of the screened in porch. A man, the picture of moral desolation, sat in the chair looking over the churning water. Seaside sounds quieted his rage and focused his thoughts. It was gracious of Jack to let him stay at the beach house. They had their differences over the years; the respect for the man was always there. Guilt and shame have a way to loosen these kinds of favors. It wasn’t every day your daughter twists the knife into her ex and made you pay for it.    Atlanta to Kiawah had passed through his mind in a blur of tears. A case of Wild Turkey had been liberated from the reception, another case of a friend looking the other way. Somehow, he kept it between the lines and the State Patrol was none the wiser. A case and a half was left, wounds

A hand made valentine For an imaginary friend Whose sense of reality Is what a concept She is never the critics choice Only the finest mess there is.