“Newspaper” Relationships

As I understand, Hemingway said that writing for a newspaper meant you needed to forget everything you learned from the previous day on the job and wipe the slate clean because there is a new story to be had for the next days headline.

In contrast, Hemingway said writing a story or a novel was to celebrate and apply what you know and learned in life..

I think relationships are the same way. Some are like newspapers and some are like a well written story or novel.

“Newspaper” relationships are all about the headline of the day. Slights, hurts or even joys for that matter experienced from the previous days story, mean little. Newspaper relationships are the days big headline with not allot of substance. At times you may wonder why you keep the subscription. If a newspaper relationship is to work, you must accept it for what it is and not rain on it with expectations lest it stop showing up on your front porch.

“Novel” relationships are like a favorite book that speaks to you. It is based on trust, commitment and mutual respect in which you allow yourself to be vulnerable, open to the story’s point of view and potentially grow as a person.

Peace-Goroyboy

Harmony (Dealing with Conflict)

I cannot speak for others but, I admit it, I want to be liked, and accepted.

I can feel anxious thinking of unresolved personal conflict with others when the relationship emotional bank account with that person is overdrawn, depleted.

What about reconciliation?

That takes commitment from both parties.

Admittedly, I have fooled myself into thinking otherwise, sometimes you CANNOT reconcile.

Unfortunately our polarized society would suggest a short sighted mindset that someone always has to lose.

What is left?

Breathe deeply and slow down for a moment…..

What is the alternative?

Harmony…. If there is power in kindness, harmony is the fuel that feeds it.

In my humble opinion, Living in harmony is quite simple:

Step 1. Recognize the others humanity

Step 2. Commit to living a harmonious life with or without them.

Step 3. Accept the possibility that you may never reconcile with that person.

Step 4. Accept the fact that others(even those you despise) have the same right to the pursuit of happiness as you.

Peace

Straw-man by Raymond Roy #FFfaw #fiction

He is a Liar!! A liar, a fornicator and I can’t stand it any longer! Mitzie had conviction in her voice as she addressed the Church board. Squeezing out a few tears completed the effect. The accused, Pastor Rigby, stunned, waiting for the church board to react. Rigby had perhaps squeezed a little out of his Church personal expenses, but what in the hell was she talking about?

Earlier that day, as the Church-administrator, Mitzie was denied vacation time by Rigby. By God he was going to pay. It started with texts to the church district office. Next lunch with the assistant pastor.

“Look Jeffery, you want that top spot don’t you? ” Jeffrey was puzzled until he saw the devious look in Mitzie’s eye. Give us a kiss Jeff, and leave the rest to me.

There was no wrong doing by Rigby but like any good strawman fallacy, her lies lit the straw-man on fire, Rigby couldn’t put it out.

Margarita glasses, “clink”in Cabo. Cheers Señor! Or should I say Senior Pastor Jeff!

Word Count-175

As a former Church Board member, Nothing could be truer than the idea of “truth being stranger than fiction”. Just as the Strawman mentioned in this story, the repeating of rumors,(even in denial of the rumors) only cultivate them toward being believed.

Written for Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy and thanks to Ellespeth for the photo prompt. To read other stories based on the photo prompt click here

Peace.

Come As You Are by Raymond Roy #poetry

Come As You Are by Raymond Roy

Unlocking the gate.

It swings open. Listening over my shoulder. Listening for someone. Anyone. To stop me from locking the gate behind me.

Is that you Jesus?

Maybe I should leave it unlocked, just in case. Not so fast..A wiseman once told me, ”Expectation destroys gratitude.” He also said, “Anger is poison you drink, and expect your enemy to die.”

“Come as you are”

What first does that even mean?

Like many other catch phrases, over used. Just something people say. Like, “love ya, love ya guys..

It’s just something people say..

Come as you are…

So you can be judged whether you belong?

Come as you are,

IF..

• You speak the same language
• You are of the same race
• Have the same sexual preference
• Never question our truth even if you know them to be lies.
• When push comes to shove don’t make waves.
• Accept that if you to leave you will now be the enemy.

“Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an known enemy”-Nirvana

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction thank you to our host.

Photo prompt “No trespassing” Copyright Sascha Darlington

A little darker poetry than usual, as my Old Man (Dad, Gerald) would say, “kinda heavy”. This is my first non lyrical poem. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

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.

Residential Farm by Raymond Roy #sundayphotofiction

“Residential” Farm By Raymond Roy

As the priest drove away, painted smiles on my new guardians, transformed into distorted scowls akin to grotesque masks in a Twilight zone episode.

The Mister, seethed,“Well Mrs., looks like we have that summer labor we’ve been prayin fer.” Mister was a scrawny crotchety person. Shoulders bare, void faded blue straps of baggy overalls.

The Mrs., although equal in height to Mister, was at least three times his girth.Belching loudly,she walked, protruding rib fat caused her arms to orbit around her body, similar to Randy from “A Christmas Story”never actually being able put them down.

The Mister, spewed an ebony stream of tobacco-laden spit, landing squarely on a saw legged grasshopper, What’s your name“Injun,? It wasn’t the word Injun, but how it was said. The tone inferred dominance. A wave of Familiar Rage sets in.

Grasshopper recovered, burst forth, ricocheting off a scrap sheet of tin roofing. The ping carried. Grinning internally, I too would have my escape, after dark.

“My given name, Binesi. It means…”

“Enough chatter Injun!”

(…”Thunderbird” I thought to myself)

“Get to work! Start by hauling that wheelbarrow to the compost pile. Earn your keep? You can sleep in the loft with the chickens.”

Word Count-200

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction a 200 word limit fictional story based on the provided photo prompt. Thanks Dawn Miller for this weeks photo.

Fictional yes but many beyond the boundaries of Canada are not aware of North America’s Residential school system which was a a cultural genocide of our continent’s indigenous people. A great novel which I enjoyed was When the Legends Die addresses the destruction of a little Indian Boys heritage while bonding with an unlikely father figure.

Peace to you all.

-Goroyboy

Indeed I Do by Raymond Roy

Indeed I Do By Raymond Roy

A deed that is done is more than simply an action,For once completed, no retraction.

In the deeds I do, I cannot regret. No future worry, no time to fret.

For it is one life I am given, I pray I do not waste, aspirations toward deeds, that feed egos, arrogance, and the two faced.

To others deeds I should make no mind, of passing judgement, be they evil, malicious or unkind.

At times, my views may seem etched in stone, but they are mine, and I alone, avow my deeds, indeed I do,

Yes indeed I DO, in the deeds, I do.

Peace

-Goroyboy

“Gratitude” by Raymond Roy

Gratitude                                  For all that brings joy and for the challenges that shape me.

Gratitude connects me to the best life has to offer..

To my family, friend and foe alike, I wish you peace this day. Amen

-Goroyboy

“Capture the day” Photo by Raymond Roy

The Prodigal Son(an epilogue)

For those familiar with the parable of The Prodigal Son 

• The younger of two sons asks for his inheritance, he gets it, he blows it, 
• Desolate, he returns, begging for a servents position in his fathers house. 
• Father welcomes him, kills the fatted calf in celebration of his return.
• Elder son bitter at the younger, is reminded  by the Father that The eldest will still get his inheritance and to just be happy of his return. 

Irresponsibility, gluttony, lust, redemption, jealousy,  unconditional love, and forgiveness. All the makings of a great parable.  

The Return of the Prodigal Son (1773) by Pompeo Batoni

There is an implication that the father was wise in emulating God’s unconditional Love for HIS children. If there is a parallel of the father and God, would God have coddled his son by giving him the inheritance? If we saw similar behavior today wouldn’t the younger son appear to be nothing more than a spoiled rich kid ? 
An often overlooked part of the story is the humility shown by the youngest son upon his return. If I were to add to the story, perhaps the Father realizes his mistake in coddling his youngest, learning that he also is not perfect. As a father of 5, I look back to my father figures and I must admit, some of the most profound lessons learned weren’t always what they did right but rather from their many mistakes. Here is to my children learning from mine. 

Peace.-Goroyboy 

The Scorpion and the Frog(Its in my “Nurture”)

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, “How do I know you won’t sting me?” The scorpion says, “Because if I do, I will die too.”

 

The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream,the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown,but has just enough time to gasp “Why?” Replies the scorpion: “Its my nature”.  –Aesop Fable

As the scorpion can be evil in nature, so to is the nature of men. Fortunately we have the benefit of nurture.  Right? But hold on. As we think we are so far above the animals, we can easily take this is a pass. “Nurturing “is commonly perceived as a beneficial, loving, and mothering environment. 

What if you are nurtured by a bunch of egotistical jerks. As a product of that environment, would you not become an egotistical jerk as well? And by the “Nurture” that you have been shaped, an egotistical jerk would never think himself as one. At least the scorpion knew who he was. 

Peace.