For years, I’ve been promoting Rule # 2 as ‘Never shit in your own nest’ and never clearly have stated ‘Rule number 1’…

‘Anything you have that you prioritize making money over you lose… ‘

The yellow bus is shaking, the steps are worn down.

The actors dreams forsaking, all except our featured clown.

There’s a a sadness to his armor and a stiffness to his smile.

He is on the yellow bus now and will be for a while.

Under makeup there’s a human; who wonders, ‘Who am I?’

No one gives an answer and the bus just drives on by.

It’s a long road if we’re lucky and a short one if we’re not.

The clown is in his mind now, where all battles now are fought.

It is s a lofty title, competitions an all time high.

The Chaos Queen is crowned tonight at the corner of high and dry.

My horse is in the running. No shackles are on her toes.

She will lead from wire to wire, and then lose it by a nose.

She will claim a great injustice, policemen will be called.

The crowd will be disjointed with most feelings left appalled.

The winner will be all smiles with a twinkle in her eyes.

The Chaos Queen will wear her crown made to fit most any size.

I’ve shared the story before about not recognizing myself in a school picture when I was 8 and because it seemed so unusual; I wondered the cause.

Last month I mentioned this to an actress who shared that as a young woman she lived in a nuns convent for a few months and there were no mirrors there.

“Were there any mirrors where you lived. ” She asked.

I could remember a small one above the pantry sink.

Ernistine said, “There were no mirrors in the house… maybe one in the parlor.”

“Yes! You are correct. I didn’t know what I looked like because there were so few mirrors in the house.”

Ernistine sold the last piece of land of that farm and now for me that farm has disappeared into the vestiges of the past… No reasons to go back there now that I can think of.

I want to tell a story; a novel.

I need to write it, to experience it again.

The first time I was in awe…

Just along for the ride.

The thunder rolled on night sky.

The lighting cleared the air.

We just layed there sleeping.

Somehow, with whom, somewhere.

We left with moon and stars in sky.

To the place past Thunder Cove

In my dreams, I heard of distant love

And on to home we drove.

She’s been quiet in the suburbs; walks a dog on cul-de-sac.

She’s getting wise on wine and proverbs; and she’s not coming back.

There’s a smile on my face now; I’m afraid its here to stay.

The cul-de-sac goes round and round; so quiet far away.

Today; got mad at nothing.

My voice it made that clear.

Sometimes you have to search it out…

But it always ends at fear.

Its a thing like pain at failure.

When that thing don’t go my way.

I have such big expectations.

How they arrived is hard to say.

I fear if God is watching then he must be plenty bored.

Not much new is going on, still driving that old Ford.

The bums are still out hangin and the drunks are down and out.

The lovers have all gone inside and the agnostics have their doubt.

The investors lost their money and the leaves are turning brown.

The church it seems so empty and that sun is going down.