Food Chain

He was weak. Weakened by the flesh, by pride, by need. He needed desperately to feel wanted to feel irreplaceable, to simply feel. He had killed one already. Not the flesh and blood death that ends suffering, the spiritual death. A kind of dying more painful than the flesh because the dead are completely aware of their demise.

She found him in his weakened state of manhood. Like a spider to a fly she carefully spun him into her web. She cocooned his psyche. Stroked his needy ego. Filled his mind with everything he wanted. she gave him purpose. He gave her passion. The while, the dead kept on living. Filled with her confidence he struck out again. "You don't give me anything. You don't show me passion. You don't appreciate anything I do for you."

The dead simply listened. Weighed carefully her empty words. Slowly choking on the real tears of a death without release she replied, "You are right." That was all. Simple. Three words as empty as the three he promised her long ago. Time carried her empty flesh away. Drifting final,y facelessly across the face of the earth. Peace at last.

The spider kept her fly. The fly would soon be consumed. Ironic the words she used to entrance her victim actually freed his. The food chain carries on.

(c)2013 R.M. Brandon

Open your Mind Stop the Hate

Recently tension in the news related to Gay marriage has resulted in more violence. Far too often, as the case has been through out history, religious zeolites are screaming condemnation while hiding behind a guise of "It was written". Under no circumstance should violence and hate be justified. Period! With that said, I simply ask the following.
They say we are spiritual creatures enjoying a human experience. We were perfect. Without flesh we beamed of light exceeding the magnitude of stars. Color, gender, race are experiences tied strictly to the flesh. As spiritual beings we formed families, found love and created bonds so strong they can on rarity be rediscovered as flesh. If upon completion of this journey of humanity our goal is to return to that perfect spiritual existence once again answer this question.
 If we where perfect without gender, race, or color, if our spirits knew love without flesh, is it not possible for soul mates to find each other in flesh as the same gender? Is it not possible when it is all said and done instead of fire and brimstone we will discover an existence without hate and condemnation? Is it possible to behave as the perfect non judgmental beings we started as while we enjoy this human experience? Just think what we could achieve  if we weren't stuck on our differences.
Please feel free to rant. Express your opinion. It is a beautiful freedom we have to be able to speak openly, frankly, and without fear of someone taking our lives based on our feelings. Now think about it again. Can a gay or lesbian individual express their feelings, the most joyous of all emotions love, without fear of someone taking their life? Remember a time in history when the people who believed as deeply in their love for a book were murdered for that love? Nice way to uphold their sacrifice, kill in the name of the book they died for.
Look at the world through another's eyes.

Silent Scream

Searching endlessly
Begging to find
A place to rest this tattered mind.
An escape
a release
silent tranquility I seek.
The screaming inside
Is driving me out
pieces crumbling
sanity gone blind.
Just for a moment
let this mind be laid to rest
ease the burning within this chest.
The lips must remain sealed
not a soul can be trusted.
In the end they all judge
leave you lonely
busted.
Inside this madening shell I must stay
Silent
Stoic
Yet screaming all the same.
The world must never know
the pain it truley caused
So in solemn revelry
Mind and soul are lost.

(c)R.M.Brandon2013

When Life Makes you an AssHat

When life has kicked you down and you feel as if everything has fallen apart, remember there is always someone who wishes they have it as good as you. Lately life has become an overwhelming catastrophe. Weathering the storm had become gasping for air as my head bobbed briefly above water.

It all started about three weeks ago. A close family member had a heart attack, the flu took up residence among my kids, the partner went down with kidney stones, the electricity went out of one of the bathroom walls courtesy of a mouse that didn't survive the last nibble, my pet bearded dragon of seven years passed away, the work load at my day job doubled, the engine went out of my car, and now I am down with the flu.

Wow that was a long sentence. In my fever induced delirium I meandered to the kitchen tripping over laundry in the hallway. Through blurry eyes with swear words lingering on the tip of my tongue I open the refrigerator door wanting nothing more than a cold drink. Empty. Briefly I swear I heard the ketchup bottle laugh at me. Point break. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes. Frustration mingled with abdominal spasms intensifying a fresh wave of nausea. Closing the refrigerator door self-pity rose to the fore front of my mind. Why is life so hard?

The flutter of a paper caught my eye. Hanging proudly on the outside of the door was a colored page by my youngest a giant heart and the words "I Love You Mom". In that moment I felt like a complete asshat. It was only months ago I didn't have a refrigerator or a stove. There was a time in life I didn't have a home. But it wasn't the things that made me feel like an ungrateful twit. It was the realization that everything I truly need in this world was right there on that colored page.

After all, isn't that the reason I work? The ability to give those little people every opportunity I can in this world. The flu is nothing in the grand spectrum of disease in this world. Having seen firsthand the effects of childhood cancer, Alzheimer’s, stroke, heart attack, MS, Cystic Fibrosis, and numerous other diseases how can I feel sorry for myself over a stomach bug?

After knowing firsthand the fear of sleeping with one eye open beneath a blanket of stars and the pain of going without food for weeks at a time, how can I be so blind?

What is my lesson in all this? There was a time in life I would've gladly accepted the problems I have now and laughed them off as mediocre. There was a time I wished I would have it as good as I do now. Yeah it has taken a lot to get here and by no means am I at the top. But in retrospect, even at its worse, life really is beautiful.

 

Who is writing your story?

Inside each of us there is a child fighting to be remembered, a lover yearning to be unleashed, a dreamer longing to escape the bonds of flesh and fly. So few ever allow what is inside to surface. Why? Why do we falter to fear? Why do we allow someone else to dictate the story of our life?
Can you stand in a room full of black ties wearing polka dots? Can you be confident enough in your own skin to not only accept your differences, but embrace them?
Anarcy I mean not. Respect,compassion, empathy, should be common place. When was the last time you shrugged off a judging look? Criticize yourself less. Smile more. Let your inner dreamer fly.
Life is a short dance don't let the music stop before you have even stepped onto the floor.
Age is no constraint. Challenges are simply that, challenges. It is only what you allow to stop you in life that will.
Be Shakespear. Be Dr.Seuss. Be smart, be silly. Just be. Try not to let a single sun set without looking at the clouds, even if it's only through glass.
My point: live in your dreams, live in your flesh. Make each moment count before there are no moments left.
~2/19/13 R.M.Brandon