The Inside Story

“There is no condition of stasis in nature. Every living thing is either moving toward growth, change and development or it has begun to decay and die”.

-Dana Marks, The Inside Story

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Do I believe in hell?

Do I believe in hell? Hell yeah. But it’s not beneath us. We’re in it. We tread on its surface everyday. For those who don’t tread light, they get burned. Yeah sure, pockets of good exist, but so many are stuck in a ditch, looking out while the devil looks in. Even you’d make a deal to escape. Handing over innocence for a hand. All while the hand pulling you up doesn’t give a damn about your innocence. Shit just got very real. Drugs. Violence. Poverty. Decadence. A tunnel of perpetual darkness. Being in the wrong place at the right time becomes your otherwise known as. He had so much potential, they say. Mom and dad’s tears, yeah, they’ll pull you through a nickel. But a quarter is a whole different ballgame. And there’s no winner in prison. Stories are shared. Dreams that never were, reminisced. Together, ya’ll support each other. Together ya’ll support a failed system. On the outside, nothing’s changed. Pain. Suffering. ME. Our primal ways more evident. Rehabilitated? Just stamp your form sonny, like Red said. Because you kill yourself, you go to hell….HERE.

Feelings from my heart. Had to release them.

Dedicated to the Mothers of Bedford

The way it is.

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Time. It moves. Quick. Sometimes faster than we wish. Often without us. It’s one constant entity in life that can disrupt our spiritual harmony. We run alongside time. We chase after it. Occasionally, it chases us. Time is akin to oil. Our expectations to water. They don’t mix, but we want them to. So we force them together and chaos ensues. Time shatters our expectations. Assumes his proper position on top. Why? Simply because it wasn’t time. Adhering to its mantra, time continues to move. Our expectations seem sedentary. But they’re not. And time is looking back at us. Because our expectations are only a matter of time. And time realizes that. Yet something is still missing. An additive. Time knows this ingredient, it’s realization. Time also knows that he needs this to mix with expectation. But this can’t be rushed. And time has to keep moving. Expectation gets comfortable. Loses view. Figures it might as well get used to being on the bottom. Time continues to pull life along. It removes contaminates. Chips away at dead skin. All while expectation sits. Ready, but with no expectations. Then. All of a sudden. Time removes a stone. Expectation opens it eyes. Grimacing at the light. Realization sits, gleaming, waiting, within arms reach. Expectation’s belly begins to ache. It’s nervous. Nearly atrophied, expectation moves languidly. Closes in on realization. Stands eye to eye, then latches on.

Fruition.

Day of the Dead

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I love hearing, reading about stories by Native Americans, sometimes also referred to as Indians. Here’s one I read about yesterday.

When I was a kid, a young Indian boy got bucked off a horse — he hit the corral and broke his neck. They had a big wake for him. This was summertime. It was a log cabin, and they had opened part of the wall to let the breeze through. In the middle of the wake, this horse stuck his head in the cabin. He was foaming at the mouth and the water from his mouth was dripping down on the floor. One of the men said, “That’s the horse that bucked this kid off and killed him.” And so they said, “Let’s capture that horse!” So they ran out and they got on their horses with their lariats and it was pretty close to dark, so they had lanterns. They chased that horse about five miles into the badlands. In a box canyon, they had the horse trapped — it couldn’t get out. And there was the horse laying dead, and it had been dead for about three days, same time as the boy. But we had people back at the cabin wiping up where the horse’s saliva was. This was a real visitation. You have that quite frequently. Instead of saying that the world is material and it evolves into spiritual, what the Indians say is that the world is spiritual and it manifests itself in the material. So if there’s a strong spirit, the spirit can take on physical form.

Will the Circle Be Unbroken? – Studs Terkel