All posts by Java Shaman

Ain’t No Jive

Let me lay it out real clear.
The moment of Truth is near.
Fear not! All will be well:
Hunky-dory. Peachy. Swell.

Dark dreams have the power to kill
Like swallowing a bitter Pill.
“Live and let Live” is what they say.
Well then, you better get the hell outta my way.

Depression is just Self-Pity manifest:
A time to be less than my best.
So here I am on the Road:
No letters, no email, no phone:
Utterly and completely Alone.
Not a Soul in sight.
So I force myself
To turn my thoughts to the Light.

My only Hope is to stay Alive.
My prayers to God I send
And that ain’t no Jive.
Fences will we mend:
Much more than just Survive.
Strive every day to avoid End.

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One Heel in the Dirt

One Heel in the Dirt

Moving from town to town
Everywhere I go I place one heel in the dirt.
To try to grow some roots
But then I seem to find myself
In the middle of the damn desert
With no oasis in sight.

Wanderers are not yet lost.
The road can be lonely at first.
Only search for the Journey.
How high will be the Cost?

Moving from town to town
Everywhere I go I place one heel in the dirt.
To try to grow some roots
But then I seem to find myself
In the middle of the damn desert
With no oasis in sight.

More bewildered at each passing mile
Nowhere to hide from Myself:
All ties are broken but One.
It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how to Smile.

Moving from town to town
Everywhere I go I place one heel in the dirt.
To try to grow some roots
But then I seem to find myself
In the middle of the damn desert
With no oasis in sight.

Long roads and short memories,
If you run far enough you’ll end up back again.
You can’t lose yourself without help,
Unless you know where you’re going.
The question you must seize.

Moving from town to town
Everywhere I go I place one heel in the dirt.
To try to grow some roots
But then I seem to find myself
In the middle of the damn desert
With no oasis in sight.

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You’ve Got the First Move

The Entropy in a Closed System Never Decreases.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics

You’ve Got The First Move

I woke from a Dream in a cold sweat because then AC died in the night. So then I rolled out of bed and fell to my knees. “Almighty Creator bend me to Your will. Guide me on the Path of Righteousness. Deliver me from mine enemies. May the wind always be at my back. Thy will be done. Amen.”

After coffee and a smoke, I considered my plans for the day. I had decided to go to Atlanta the largest city in the South to see if it was still there. My hopes were not high.

I topped off the gas tank and grabbed a carton of smokes at a Pilot station just south of Missionary Ridge. The traffic was better than I had ever seen it. No shit. (Insert Interstate numbers here) Just as I entered Fulton County, I noticed grey smoke rising ahead and I immediately tapped the breaks and reached for my pistol with a sweaty palm. What could it be? Should I just turn around run?

I stopped the Jeep. Don’t be a chicken shit! Go see what or who it is. Maybe it’s a signal fire. I prayed, “Dear God grant me courage.” I asked over and over till I finally felt brave. So then I got out of my Jeep and walked toward the fire. I had my .45 in my right hand and a grenade in my left. I may be brave but I’m not stupid.

As I approached, I first noticed the smell of cedar. By now I could see a large bonfire right in the middle of the interstate. No one seemed to be around, but it could be a trap. I flipped off the safety on my pistol and pulled the pin from the grenade with my teeth. Again brave, not stupid.

A voice came from the tree line. “Put down your gun. Nice and slow like.”
Another voice, female: “He’s got a hand grenade!”
Yet another female voice from the opposite side: “Put down the gun, cracker. Now!”
“Please don’t shoot me.” I put down the gun, slow like. Then I put the pin back in the grenade, slow like. My Mom always said curiosity killed the cat. So much for the Power of Prayer.
I see one man and two women walk out from the protection of the trees. Only the man is not pointing a gun at me. “Are you alone?” Asked the man.
“Yes.”
“Good. What’s your name?”
“Jonah. What’s yours?”
“Erik. That’s Jo and that’s Rebeka.”
“Can you please stop pointing your guns at me?”
“Stand down, ladies.” Erik ordered.

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