There is no calculation that I have seen that can determine the reactions of people who do not get their own way.
If you want to know who are dealing with… just say no to them.
Say no without explanation for maximum Strange.
Jack was a career criminal at a time when him and his associates lived by rules and codes…
He was north of 60 when I met him and he swore he wasn’t going back inside.
Jack told me, “Everybody thinks they can go through life and not live by any rules. I’m here to tell you that you’re going to have to live by at least 2 rules. Everybody knows knows rule # 1; however very few know rule # 2… And rule # 2 is never shit in your own nest.”
It’s been 40 years since I’ve seen Jack and I like to think he managed to stay true to his rules.
There was no prior warning.
There is no beauty here to show.
It is darkness in the morning.
Here in deep Alaska snow.
I listened to your snoring.
In deep sleep so far below.
I’m not begging just imploring.
That cold wind is going to blow.
Went out walking in the distance.
There was nothing left to know.
Just some inner voice insistence.
About somewhere we’ve got to go.
There was no prior warning.
There is no beauty here to show.
It’s just more darkness in the morning.
Here in deep Alaska snow.
There is a heart shaped carve in rosewood.
There’s a line drawn in the sand.
I pray there on grace and wonder,
and there’s a baby, she’s in my hand.
There’s a virtue called forgiveness.
From a force we can’t see.
It’s how I deal with darkness.
Of how I feel when you’re with me.
I struggle now to hear you.
Seek approval in your eyes.
I hate you for your beauty.
Like I love you for your lies.
It’s a sad sad situation
Department sad but true.
You fear that they are coming
And you fear what they will do.
It’s a sad sad situation
Under heading sad but true
You fear that they are coming
No one is coming for you.
Dennis Mantin
Another day, sundown.
Another night, sundown.
Orange to black, sundown.
Fades to midnight blue.
There’s nothing I can’t do.
And here comes the night
And I don’t know why
I hear your voice
And I lose my way.
Where are you now?
Can I touch you somehow?
You’re somewhere near sleep where images fade.
And here comes the sun.
Another night is done.
Here comes the sun.
And here I go again.
Saw the man, shot down.
Heard his voice, shot down . Eyes rolled white, shot down. Breathe goodbye that sound. Fades to midnight blue. There’s nothing I can do.
Another day shot down.
Another night shot down.
Orange to black.
Shot down.
Fades to midnight blue.
There’s nothing I can do.
DENNIS MANTIN
The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.
No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.
It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.
Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.
Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”
So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.
The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.
Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.
Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.
Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.
I’m not complaining. The world’s no longer new.
Management sustaining. I can’t speak for her or you.
I’m not complaining. There’s a fact in getting old.
Silence is not explaining. Walk away is my hands fold.
A storm is more than raining. The fears are in the lies.
Winds of change remaining. Listen hard, you hear the sighs.
It’s all on God and choices.
Oh my, how that time flew.
Your words are in your voices.
All complaining. Morning dew.
You’re not as smart as Tuesday.
There are far worse things than plain.
In the garden they are calling you.
They feel cold and serving pain.
Dreams are haunted by the unforgiving…
Those dark judgemental eyes:
Turning away.
Fuck you!
The unforgiving have a prison to the unforgivens key. When the unforgiven pray to God. They hear the unforgivings plea. The unforgiving has a prison that’s dark and bitter deep. When the unforgiving prays to God, then neither one can sleep…
Chances were the premium at the chances store.
Called up their proprietor and asked for just one more.
Inside information suggested relocate.
When they closed the chances store, it sealed the users fate.
With no plans for the future and the future, it is here.
Who knew that the sun would rise and whisper last nights fear?
So we headed for the highway, which ended at the light.
Looked upon arrival, no chances store in sight.
Searching for the answers that will ease the fears.
Some will stand there crying and find few are buying tears.
All are someone’s baby lost along the way.
Strangers and sojourners who have lost the need to pray.
And I say, “Pray”
Dennis Mantin
The day the voice moved in with me, he brought his good friend fear.
Said ‘We all share your heart and soul you’ll soon forget we’re here.’
The day the voice moved in with me, peace and sleep moved out.
The addict he was at the door, and the voice he jumped to shout.
Said, ‘We like you we like it here, we know you like us too
And we know you’ll like our friends, cause true friends are so few.’
The voice would talk for hours about nothing much at all.
And all the noise would wake the fear and the drunk would wake withdrawal.
Years had passed in tears and stains and I had to kill the fear.
The voice he left in the middle of the night, said he didn’t like it here.
The voice returns sometimes when I sleep but he’s gone when I’m awake.
The strength it took to kill the fear was more than he could take.
And the drunk is with the addict and they live from coast to coast. And sometimes when I pray to God, I pray you’re not their host.
Singing, ‘We like you, we like it here, we know you like us too. And we know you’ll like our friends cause true friends are so few.
–Dennis Mantin
Dennis Mantin 
You must be logged in to post a comment.