My friend Bill said, “Have you recognized yet that you’ve been delagated to being a dinosaur?”

“You mean like from your children? They don’t listen?”

“Like they don’t even see you, let alone hear you.”

“Yes, I have… I’ve been taking my kid to task for just that.”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s our age.”

“Fuck. Really??

The longest night & the shortest day.

A quiet cold has the longest stay.

Inside, it’s warm and quilted beds.

I’ll be patient here, no booze or meds.

The shortest day has the longest night.

The mind plays tricks.  No need to fight.

I’m older now. The age it shows.

I’ve aced the fears and heaven knows.

A large gaping mouth set upon this gigantic head… Held up by a tiny neck, unable to swallow those desires…

The horror! The horror!!

Now I have the visual of the narcissistic view. They fear they don’t exist…

I recognized my nature.

Not much was steeped in good.

There was this strange sensation.

Like maybe I just should.

Forget it all and start a new.

Take the narrow view to wide.

Take my head out from my ass.

And maybe look outside.

Not all is gain or glory.

Not all is pain and strife.

The road the path the choices made.

It’s a wild ride this life.

A rich man drives a taxi.

A poor man drives a Ford.

But my old man

Goes down the street

With four wheels on a board.

MARGARET MANTIN

I have had an amazing 2024!

Working, writing, and playing have all been successful and satisfying.

I have decided to publish a  second book. This book is of poems, paintings, and other anecdotes; which I will title: RAGE LOVE AND MONSTERS.

Or

RAGE LOVE AND OTHER HUMANITIES.

Something along that corridor.

WordPress is a wonderful platform to test all this material and thank you one and all for participating…

Merry Christmas and a Happy 2025!

When men feel stress, they process.

When women feel stress, they talk.

Generally speaking, women feel uncomfortable with the men’s process because it happens in silence.

For a man to talk when he’s stressed only increases his stress.

I’ll just leave this here and go away for a while and write…

Talk among yourselves

OR

Process by yourself.

I have a rule at home that goes something like this. I don’t care what you tell them out there in the world, but here at home; you tell me the truth.

If I find out that I’ve been lied to, then I usually react in a frothy emotional outburst.

I have noticed that my reactions have neither slowed down the rate of the lies or changed anything.

Therefore, I am beginning to believe that truth is a myth we tell ourselves. Clearly, I don’t know the answers for certain. However, since I used to be physically beaten as a child in an attempt to stop me from not telling the truth; I see this development as steps in the right direction.

Hence, the frothy emotional outbursts have ceased…

Once you escape.

Create a safe distance.

Enter therapy!

Heal…

And try again.

If fortune shines your way.

You find someone who is kind and loving. 

Only then  will you realize that a younger version of you made that choice.

There is color in the flowers.

And moisture in the rain.

The rocks are hard and heavy.

And the soil holds all pain.

I’ve been dancing in the meadows.

I don’t dare to stay too long.

And only under darkened skies.

Where the thunder plays my song.

No more confab with the foolish.

Or the prideful, boastful voice.

I take it to the world at large.

And pretend I have a choice.

Sometimes, I miss delusions.

In the busy city streets.

And the chaos and confusions.

But not the tv’s, texts and tweets.