“Thaw”

“Thaw”

“I don’t want to talk about it, but the quiet might be worse”-Sabrina Song “Thaw” Official video

Powerful lyrics, so reflective of the times we live in. A long emotional winter.

“Emotional Winter” photo by Raymond Roy

Personally over the past year, an increasing number of my relationships, typically after “Speaking my truth” have grown cold and I have literally run out words to say. Left only with the heavy dense fog of silence residing in what seems to be ever widening gaps.

I recently heard that in Vietnam, there is a saying, “before you speak your mind, wait for seven heartbeats” (perhaps a lesson to speak from the heart rather than the mind). I suspect the isolating truths I spoke were not from my heart but rather from my mind(ego). As Tolle puts it so well in “The Power of Now”, Egos win when they convince us to focus on the mistakes of our past and the worries of the future. Living in the present moment is the ego’s nemesis.

In the present moment, neither the past nor the future exist……

By design we all need to feel loved, be treated with kindness, and dignity. We need the warmth of an emotional Spring. I am ready to “thaw” by striving to live in the warmth of the present moment and stand ready to count to seven in order to speak from my heart, and not my mind. I hope you’ll join me.

-Goroyboy

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Professor on drums” (A Tribute) #Fridayfictioneers

1979: Protest folk music was dying down and Disco had reached its peak.

“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive” blasted through the vibrating buzz alarm of the 1960s turquoise clock radio. (Time for school)
“Spirit of Radio”by Progressive Rock band Rush
Lyrics by Peart
Neil Peart that is, aKa The Professor

Photo Source Pinterest

“If you choose not to decide, you still have me a choice”
“And the meek shall inherit the earth”
“Conform or be cast out”
Prophetic words to pubescent outcast teens, proclaiming Peart understood.
It’s been a year since Neil’s passing,
RIP Professor Sept1952-Jan 2020

100 Words

Photo credit Rolling Stone magazine

Thank you Professor🤘🏼-Goroyboy

This was written for the photo prompt for Rochelle Wiscoff’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge . Although not a traditional short story. Given the photo prompt of an empty drum set along with the appreciation I have for the artist/poet/lyricist, Neil Peart I found a tribute was in order. additional stories based on the photo prompt can be found here

The Yard Sign

I often walk or bicycle around our small town’s neighborhoods with my wife. As the upcoming election nears, front yards are adorned with candidates names displayed on yard signs, banners, and even up flag poles at times in place of the American flag.

Perhaps 50+ %of the yards in town are garnished with political collateral and not inconspicuously, 99% of the endorsements represented one party.

As life would have it, I happen to NOT support the highly visible party on popular display.

So…I ordered my yard sign.. when we returned home today, there it was in the front yard.

As I pushed the sign’s wire supports deeper into the dry clay soil, I swear I heard it say something, “What am I doing here?” “Are you sure this is the correct address?”

“ I heard your last sign got stolen”

As the day faded toward dusk, I was on the my front porch with my back to the street, painting my front door.

“I like your sign a voice called out”, I turned to see a lady walking her two dogs stopped on the sidewalk in front of my yard. “Thank you. Kinda stands out from all the others in town, doesn’t it? “ I replied.

“Yes it does” she chuckled nervously..

I responded, “ there is probably more opposition support in our town than people want to let on to.”

“I totally agree, I was actually afraid to put out a sign” she nervously shared.

“If you are afraid to put out a sign in your own front yard, perhaps that says allot doesn’t it? “ I said.

“Yes it does, but I feel better now after talking to you. Thank you.” she said as she lead her two fluffy companions onward..

“I feel better as well, Thank You, have a good evening”

I returned to my painting but not before looking at my yard sign, Which seemed to stand up just a little straighter.

-Goroyboy

A sign can also be a “symptom” which conveys meaning. Vote!

“I will rise (2020)”, a poem by Raymond Roy

Photo Credit: Candy Staton Gammoh

I will rise….

Distant sunrise, cool morning breeze,

above the clouds, I rise with ease.

Like Ironman flying, I rise above,

Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.

Gone is the weight of daily drama,

Which one is better, Trump, Biden or Obama?

Photo Credit: Denise Fullner Kittleson

I will rise,here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,

no conflict, hatred, color of face.

Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.

I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.

I will rise….

Revamped from an earlier version which I felt was timely. The peaceful pictures generously shared by friends reminded me that we will return to the stardust from whence we came.

Stay Well. https://dversepoets.com/

-Goroyboy

“Comfortable Chains” #abuse #selfawareness

It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere“- Voltaire

Who among us doesn’t at least for a moment think the fool Voltaire speaks of, is someone other than ourselves?

We all have chains don’t we?

Chains come in many forms, pride, hatred, greed, spite, envy, These seem obvious as they exude evil.

But what are the “revered” chains Voltaire spoke of?

May I propose they are the shackles of codependency, and physical and/or emotional abuse? Why don’t victims break free of these bindings?

Unfortunately, victims can be so beaten down that sadly this abuse provides a warped sense of security. Knowing that they (the chains) are if nothing else, always there.

Be safe and take care of yourself first so, you can care for others.

Peace.

Frozen in Time by Raymond Roy

Why are you looking at me like that?

Did I do something wrong?

My senses suddenly become sharper,, ears feel hot, “tick…tock”..I hear a clock ticking nearby

Tick tock, tick tock

Survival mode, pupils dilate

Tick Tock…

Why is the door locked?

Tick tock…

I feel I should run but my feet weigh heavy like cinderblocks

Tick tock..

Under my loose fitting shirt, I feel a bead of nervous sweat run down my rib cage

Tick…..tock….tick ……..tock….everything is in slow motion,

I am terrified, Why can’t I scream?

Tick…..tock You manipulate me like clay..

Tick tock…Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock

If I say anything, I am a bleeding heart victim and an attention whore.

When you are a victim of abuse, you don’t always understand what is happening which IS one of the reasons many victims fall prey.Innocence. Especially children. You become frozen and confused.

Once you realize the brevity of what happened, guilt and shame set it….you feel alone. This is a lie.. You are NOT alone

Peace

-Royboy

The Long Path By Raymond Roy #poetry

The sign means STOP, to all refugees, it has been years since we have seen any trees.

Rifle and young child upon my shoulder, radiant heat off a Turkish boulder.

Granite boulder on our neighbors land, we seek escape, from a tyrants hand.

Unwelcomed people, we accept a fate, choosing to live, versus war and hate.

The air is thin, the sun warms our backs, free of smoke, and air attacks.

We are here, our will is strong no matter the path, how steep or how long.

I look upon my mothers face, we move forward at the elders pace.

Word Count-100

Written for Friday Fictoneers Hosted by our wonderful host Rochelle Wisoff. Thanks Rochelle!

Photo prompt Credit Bjorn Rudberg thanks Bjorn!

To read more stories based on this photo click here

-Peace

-Goroyboy

“You Must Like Butter” By Raymond Roy #writephoto #domesticabuse

You Must Like Butter” By Raymond Roy #writephoto

The bright yellow flowers were reminiscent of when as a child, we would hold a dandelion under each other’s chin. If your chin reflected yellow, it meant you liked butter.

The fringes on the brand new fat rubber tires created a whirring sound as the whipped against the bicycle frame. A campfire effect of the warm sun on my back with a cool headwind brought a clammy sweat to the hair on the back of my neck.

Turning off the road onto a cleared soil path carved in the canola field, the ground was like a grainy dampened beach. The soil almost pebble-like yet firm enough to keep me moving forward. The canola plants were in full bloom.

The musky sweet scent sang a sirens song to the nectar drunken, pollen-laden sleepy bees as they made their way to work.

I found it difficult to keep my mouth full closed as my upper lip continued to swell. The iron rich salty blood crusted on my lower lip, the crimson vital fluid I had swallowed, sat in my stomach like a dagger.

At the base of the ridge I coasted under the bridge to the coal shadowed stream. As I ducked under the bridge. A small cloud formed from my warm breath as it floated out from the shade into the sunlight.

Pulling my hoodie sleeves up, I plunged my swollen hands into the icy stream. Cupping water up to my puffy lip, it was difficult to drink as if I just came back from the dentist. I took off my hoodie. Washing my face and the back of my neck felt good, I felt alert.

A few river rocks rolled down toward me. I sat down, on the moss laden bank, knowing they had come for me. “Melissa Taylor!! “ a voice yelled from atop the bridge. “Melissa Taylor!!, We have a warrant for your arrest!”

“What took ya so long?” , I yelled back. As I sat in the back of the squad car I remembered they left my new bike back there. They one he forbade me to buy(with my own money), hopefully a needy child will find it and make good use of it.

“Why did you kill him Melissa?”

“Just keeping a promise.”drool stringing down as I struggled to be articulate, “I promised he would die the next time he laid a hand on me.”

The full sun had come out, I could see my reflection looking from the backseat into the side mirror of the car. My whole face had a yellow glow from the golden fields.

I guess that means I like really like butter.

Peace

Goroyboy

Domestic Violence.

If you are a victim or know a victim of domestic violence, you are not alone. You are not what someone else says you are. You are who YOU say you are. Domestic Violence Help Line

Written for Sue Vincent’s # writephoto photo prompt. Thanks Sue for hosting.

“Biggest Kid on the Block”, guest blogger, USMC combat Veteran. 

I am humbled to to have my first guest writer on my blog. Even more so, I am honored that he is a fellow Marine, willing to share his point of view. A point of view from a vantage point of view, few can say they have experienced. To fully appreciate his perspective, approximately 7% of the US population have served in the Military. Around .08% of that is in the US Marines. One final statistic, The Marine Corps (including the Reserves) make up only 10 percent of the total Dept. of Defense force, experience 23 percent of the combat related deaths. Myself, I am a Aviation “In the rear with the Gear” Marine Veteran with much respect to my Marine Brother. 

As a nation we are in an uproar if someone takes a knee or burns a flag. Want to give back to a Vet? Here is your chance, take a few moments and listen. In return he would love to hear your thoughts as well. Semper Fi Brother. -Goroyboy 

It is hard for us to look at ourselves. As people, we don’t always get along with everyone, and it’s generally their fault. Trying to look at our situation from the outside is unnatural – we made these decisions, how could they be wrong? How could I be the source of my interpersonal issues?
The same issues apply to our country. How can we see from the perspective of others? How do we get in the shoes of a Pakistani citizen observing the war in Afghanistan? The North Korean civilian who was born there, and wants to live peacefully? How do we really understand the perspective of those directly involved but not on our side, or indirectly involved and observing? Being a nation with an understanding of others and empathy will not only reduce the world’s issues with us, it will provide our children the role model that they need. Enemies become friends, or at least associates.

This is even more difficult than looking at our people issues described in the first paragraph. In international affairs, we don’t know the other parties involved, and there are many self-proclaimed “experts” who have an agenda, and want to sway the masses. Statistics and “facts” are provided to sway us, causing uninformed or poorly informed decisions to feel well researched and thought out.

We’ve all met people that have nothing to prove to anyone. Walking away from an unnecessary confrontation is easy for them. They don’t need to show you that they’re tough or smart or kind – they’re just going to live how they do, and let others form decisions on their character based upon their actions. I believe our nation should conduct itself in the same way. We should never puff our chest out – we don’t need to. We have a booming economy, limitless food, a powerful military, and countless other programs and advantages. Why are we the guy that has everything going for him, and still has everything to prove? We are the biggest guy at the party, but still can’t back down from a fight if it’s offered. What does a fight do for the people?

The Korean Conflict ended (kind of), and we stayed there with thousands of Army troops. WWII ended, and we left troops in Italy, Spain, Germany, Japan, and many other stations. Again, get in their shoes…how would we feel if other troops were in our land? If Japan had a military base in Norfolk, VA? Or if Germany had a massive base just across the border in Canada, and did combat drills on our border? We have highly deadly warriors in South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia…I don’t know about Australia and Antarctica, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Is this necessary? Do we need the option to conduct quick strikes all around the world? Is this a job that we could leave to NATO troops? Would reducing our worldwide presence reduce us as a worldwide target? I know we think we’re protecting everyone and doing everything we do with nothing but altruistic motives…are we sure?

As a US Marine veteran of multiple deployments to theaters of combat, I can tell you first hand that armed conflict is a bad thing. There is a time for it – when diplomacy has FAILED. If you are always the first to strike, then maybe it’s time to ask yourself if you are the aggressor or the protector. I want our military to be known as a sleeping giant, not a bully. I want to see us develop fair international policies, and apply them to ourselves in the same way we apply them to others. If we are willing to kill people in other nations due to our perception of events taking place in the world, we must see that other nations will view that as acceptable to do unto us. I want our nation’s kids to grow up without fear of an attack for which we blame others, but which others view as a strike to protect themselves. My idea of patriotism differs from most of my friends and colleagues these days. Patriotism is creating the right future for our next generation, not dominating economically and militarily.

Even if you disagree, thank you for taking a few minutes to be in my shoes and hear my perspective. If yours is different, tell me, and I will listen. I will not know going into it that I’m right and you’re wrong. I will listen, and maybe change. I hope we can all do the same. 

“Media Sheep” by Raymond Roy

Hush don’t bark, quiet please, we sheep are watching “news”. Listening for that one report, that will give us precious clues.
Clues to Bias “Insight” that will, assure us of who we are, helpless sheep following talking heads and pundits near and far.

Sheep of the left or sheep of the right, blinders firmly in place while news sponsors, muse with delight.

What’s “true” is perspective, listen only to reply, puppet news media, drama factories, oh so sly.
History teaches if we choose to learn, that wisdom comes to the brave willing to discern.

The virtual chasm that divides us, surely cant be the American Dream, step one might be turning the channel of the “news”, the “news”  on the extreme.

Is this what Ted Turner envisioned when he started the 24 hour news channel? An endless loop of the top 3 “gotchas” of the day, with opposing networks pressing bias opinions rather than a neutral point of view. It reminds me of the death of radio disc jockeys being replaced by prerecorded music hits. There is an intimacy that has been lost. Until we come together to cross the gray area casym with our fellow man, we are like a ship adrift with the only chance of rescue is being tethered to a tugboat of one extreme or the other. 

Peace. Goroyboy