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We too old for Bullshit


Thanks to Facebook and Instagram for these great Memes.


I remove Toxic People from my Space including this Blog with no warning. But first I give you something to think about.

Online bullies don’t faze me. I’m not here to gain numbers or win popularity contests. If you like this Blog it’s all good. If you don’t like my Blog it’s still All Good. No sweat off my nose because I’m not looking for approval or validation

Blogs are like TV shows, if you don’t like the program, Change the Channel.

Invading my Blog with snarky condescending cryptic comments will not be tolerated. Stop thinking that I’m going to forgive your nonsense, make nice or sing Kumbaya.

I’m not your Friend. People use the word Friendship very loosely nowadays.

Stop Passing judgment on people you don’t know and have never met in person. Assuming makes an Ass of you Not me.

I Place no value on your words.

We grown folks. Or supposed to be.

Grow up and get a Life.

Drops Mike. Leaves room.





Wandering Journeys


Another sleepless night at yet another flea bag hotel motel filled with stinky fungus filthy shit smells.

Trout Pout. Toothless Grins.

Fool on The Hill

Woken up by banging garbage trucks and banging couples beating their heads along with various other body parts against the headboard filmsly glued to the threadbare walls. Pillows round my head. TV turn up still doesn’t drown out the animal grunting sounds.

Coffee and cigarettes. Tea and toast. Then it’s off to yet another meeting. Yet another convention.

Somebody reminds me that it’s yesterday, today or tomorrow. Or perhaps all three together.


Send them on their way. Send them on their way.

Bubbled. Bagged. Packed and DONE.


Wanderers dispatched inside within Tornadoes, Blizzards, Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Mudslides.

Blitzed with Noise from both within and without.

Journeyman. Journeyman! When will I see the light of day?

Journeyman! Journeyman! Where will I be?

Loop. Repeat.


Yet another night in a dingy dirty flea bag motel. Located in still another decrepit long forgotten Fly by night by the hour on the

outskirts greasy spoon dive backwater SROs. Dirty needles and used condoms litter the floors making pathways to dodgy stairwells.

Trains running backwards and upside down.


Vanquished


Residents fixed in place. Darkness of days. Cosmic inversions. Moonless of nights.

Mutilated People have mutilated dreams.

Backhanded compliments seeking FORGIVENESS while repeating their sinful insults over and again. Feigning confused innocence so transparent I see the smirk on your face. Demons wearing Angels Wings.

Trust broken. Friendship never was.