The Dark Matters

  By the grace of the good Lord on September 25th 1980 at 5:32pm EST in the University of Florida’s Shands Hospital, I was born unto the surface this Earth. My conscious mind cannot recall the weather on that day but I have always assumed it was beautiful; sunny with a cool pleasant breeze that has made its way through the thick humidity & heat of my home state. This is what the weather has been like in my home state on September 25 th every year I can remember. The cool breeze which hasn’t been felt all summer finally makes its way to me. Its one of the things I like most about my birthday. For many years starting when I was in middle school, I’ve felt an uncontrollable sadness on my birthday that I cannot explain. Its a feeling like someone passed away or something was lost long ago on that day but I don’t know what it could be or why, nor can I put my finger on exactly what the emotion or thought is attached to. My memories from early childhood are hap...

      “Miss Roach is a witch! And she eats roaches!” A 3ft tall girl screamed as she ran towards us from across the play ground. I already knew Mrs. Roach ate roaches. Everyone knew she ate roaches! I did feel nervous at the mention of a witch being amongst us if that was the situation we were in. It was early morning in Gainesville FL & a fog that had wet the ground lurking about the houses and tree’s was disappearing , evaporating through the tall tree tops of pine and oak heading towards the blue sky.   The emergency warning-welcome we received wasn’t the greeting we were accustomed to at Stepping Stones; simultaneously we started sizing up the small statured source. We were Sufficiently suspicious to say the least. The young 3 foot tall woman who was talking to us, me mostly, was in her early 4’s. What she yelled at us could be the result of a number of things I thought. “This could be a result of her going through something personal such as ...

                        It looks like only SS members see my posts. Prove me wrong and subscribe!                                       At My Behest (a poem)   Please watch over me, dear Lordie. Please watch over me. I've done some amazing things, dear Lordie, the evils ones won't let me be. I've smoked a few tons of weed, Good Lord; I've smoked it when I please. It's one of my favorite things you've made, Good Lord, except, of course, when you made me. I used to feel so guilty, my Lord; I used to cry while on my knees. They wanted me to die at a young age, dear Lord; they thought I would never see. I've been so close to the end of the line, my Lord; I could reluctantly foresee my death. Please listen to the words that I say, Good God; I'll be saying them until my dying breath. I need you to he...