3/17/2015
Happy St. Patty’s Day…
Less than five hours after my last post, our beloved old Chihuahua, Scrat died in my arms and I prayed that my father was there to take him from me just before his final breath. Heart broken, I have made my way through the quiet of the following days and tried without tear to manage a smile on his behalf …it is amazing the space such a tiny creature can take up in one’s heart.
Beyond that, spirit has been very generous with information of late and I grow weary of the chase and prefer now to lay the matter at the foot of editor and fly without care for consequence. So many loose ends…so many victims untethered.
The unholy triad walk through their days on this side and the other with bated breath. One for certain dead…one who like the opossum tends to like to “play” dead and the other left holding the bag. His “Folly” will be his downfall.
The poet sings from within his coffin and has left his words for all the world to see and yet they read and did not acknowledge. Minus the “Key” they did not understand…but with the “key” all is revealed. So, will the dead man rise to claim his innocence? Will his lover paint the airwaves with his disclaimers and satisfy the critics?
Spirit has provided that enough questions can be answered…even evidence proffered that any other speculation garners credibility simply by proximity.
The Sociopaths, even for all their clever banter and charades, can never overcome their collective Achilles heel…the ego! They published for all to see, what they could not share in private…how ironic!
Shall I quote the page that tells it all?
Shall I sight the skit whose cover draws the map?
Shall the meadow and the Grove finally give up their secrets? The black mountains their collective lies? Shall we all sing ring around the roses with new meaning?
Dear Richard…the arrow points the way! Do you remember the day? The grass was not green yet…the shirt, short sleeved and red. They circled you and took their turns? Do you remember how it ended? It was a game…a sport for them. Orion…remember?
Hope you have enjoyed this little sampler, Mr. Folly…they left you holding the bag and I intend to exploit such insensitivities. The two of you thought the pen was mightier than the shovel…and it was. But then, you can’t believe everything you read.
So much nonsense in the verbiage- my eyes get crossed! Or would that be, crost?
Here’s a riddle for you?
What does a rose (or rather a bed of roses), a dripping pen and a dirty shovel all have in common?
Can you say the answer out loud and not betray them?
I know…”IT”…is not really all that funny, but then…neither were your intentions or acts committed.
I could quote a piece here that would give away all and yet if drawn to do so, must reference its title and its author and I know you would rather keep that quiet for right now…but not for long. Someone once waited 15 years in between publishing.
I am not so patient as he.
Stay tuned…
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