(poem) They Struggle, Hidden....

Sometimes in life
We meet those people
Filled with strife
Not helped by the steeple




But can you help them
As they hide their tears
Struggling to hide the stem
Of that which creates their fears?

They have a turmoil
Deep within their soul
That makes life dreadful
An emotional steamroll

Can you stop someone
Who is making their final stand
Before they find themselves fallen
From the Earth’s wonderful sand?




Can you make them care
About what life has to offer?
Can you make them dare
To face all this life’s horror?

No matter how bad it gets
Life is worth living
There will always be duets
That will keep you singing

If only you can make them see
How great it all truly is
To live this life so free
Once you break your own bond’s kiss.

--Dan

--Want more Poetry?  Check out my Poetry Collection Page!

Misquotes to destroy a nation by

Henry Ford is quoted as having said, “Make the best quality of goods possible at the lowest cost possible.”  For those that KNOW that quote they will recognize something missing.  We’ll get to that.

That exact quote was hanging from a wall of a plant manager for a company I used to work for.  He lived by that rule.  Another great quote he had, sitting on his desk was from Harry Truman, "I don't give them Hell. I just tell the truth about them and they think it's Hell."  Another great quote, but the first one always bothered me.  It became a quote that would haunt me for the rest of my life....

The Yin of Yang.

I cannot count the times that everything good and amazing in life is countered by something bad.  I’ve lived my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.  I have a constant worry that it’s all going to unravel somehow and balance what else is going on.  But all along the way, I think about how interesting its going to be as I watch it all happen.

After 2 months of it being in the shop, we got our car back out.  Spent $1,800 to get it fixed.  There is nothing as frustrating as getting into a car and hearing a click as you turn the key instead of the wonderful sound of an engine roaring to life.  We dealt with the problem for a very long time.  Finally we put it in, after a ton of things being fixed on it, we were excited to get the thing back.  I crawled into the car, and turned the key.  Ahhh, the wonderful sound of that click.... *sigh*

A Hobby's Collector

The word ‘hobby’ has such a range.  Collecting things noone else collects, creating things, writing, blogging, even gaming....  The list just goes on and on.  So many people take their hobby seriously, its quite odd at times.

I’m not different, I mean, here I am blogging away, while trying to finish a novel or three, surrounded by odd artwork and figurines that most consider quite nerdy things.  At least my hobbies don’t take over and dominate my life.  It is always crazy to walk into someone’s home and see nothing but a certain thing repeated over and over and over.

But that begs the question, when does a hobby cross the line into becoming something crazy?  I know Lisa has her own ideas about my hobbies.  Certain themes of my collectibles are not allowed in the Livingroom, even though I’ve secretly put some there in strategic locations and made it look pretty cool.  In my childhood room I had comic books from the ceiling to the floor all the way around, with a few posters from movies and comics and such mixed in here and there.  It was like my wallpaper.  I admit that was a little crazy, especially as they made a GREAT hiding spot for scorpions, they loved to hide behind the X-Men comics....

That Changed Everything....

The past always creeps in when you least expect it.  I’ve always found it amazing how a coincidence will bring a new perspective on the past into view, just as you never wanted it to.  Hindsight is always 20/20 they say, and its never more so the case than when something new comes to light.

Do you change your point of view, change your old memories?  No, that’s never the case.  Normally one just has to assimilate the information.  The old memories are hard written into the brain.  Nothing will change the warmth of the original memory, even if its become diluted by a sharp pain of new information.