Tuesday, February 25, 2014
by Mark William Darus.
Rachel is my eldest daughter.
She is ferocious, can be exceptionally evil and blood thirsty. Incredibly vengeful, having a killers instinct and an uncanny ability to manipulate almost anyone around her.
That being said, I must add this.
She has perhaps the most open and accepting hearts of anyone I have ever known. Willing to help anyone in need at any time to a fault. She may have gotten this from me either thru genetics, or simple time spent with me.
She may also have received her worst traits from me, possibly more from genetics than anything else.
Since she moved away from me, she has matured a great deal. She struggles, yet no different than any of us when it comes to paying things and simply having coin to do so.
While I was driving home home from work this morning at about 3AM, thoughts of Rachel flared into my head in the form of musical notes, images, phrases, notions...
Safe in my yard, I opened a New Belgium Rampant IPA (india pale ale) and thrashed out this song for my daughter, Rachel, AKA, CRASH. Using my neighbors, Dave t's (((thanks, Dave!))), wifi connection, I was able to upload this.
I think this fits my eldest daughter.
If I were in the last tossings of living, i can think of no one better to care for me than you, Rachel. You can maintain an emotionless detachment to get things done and do it without the patient feeling dignity lost on their part as you'd wipe away shit covered bed and flesh to get it done.
Rachel, you have the rarest of gifts, and yes, it will haunt you til your dying day. i know this from experiences I had hoped you wouldn't know, yet like me, you never give up on any soul God brings us. no matter their condition or the harm it will bring to us.
You have empathy to the max. This will, more often than not, make you a target for others.
Yeah, like that advice could change you anymore than it had am impact on me...
Seeing Gretchen take care of her mom day in and day out, made me know you would/could handle the same with incredible dignity and grace if you had to take care of me while dying, shitting myself, urinating on you as my father dying pissed on me while eating imaginary pork chops as he sang, albeit poorly, the song Paint your Wagons.
I Narc'd on you to the cops a while ago...
You've done great since then...
I am proud of you, Rachel.
Mark William Darus 02252014
Monday, February 24, 2014
What of Zita?
by Mark William Darus.
Awaking slowly, her limbs registering COLD to her mind, as her splendor arms and legs are spalyed out in the tiny bathroom. Hear ears capture the sounds of that of a dripping faucet, relentlessly digging into her.
Eyes open, as if from a dream while she smells the sickly sweet smell of menstrual cycle on overload.
It is iron, her mind captures. Iron.
Her memory takes her backward to the day of her first female movement.
Her first period.
The stench of blood filled the bedroom she shared with 3 brothers and its slowly dropping temperature work her inner thighs as she got suddenly colder with its movement.
Frightened, embarrassed, and lonely, she reacted like most 7 year old.
Her eyes took focus, slowly at first, though faster as her heartbeat climbed.
Looking up from the whitish cold ceramic tile flooring, her lids opening, taking in bits at a time, she began to see shapes before.
Off-white tiled walls dripping reddish stains descending to the floor.
She begins to move, brumette hair caked in blood, looking like some Russell Stover candy monstrosity, as dull brown hues mix with vibrant reds.
...to be continued....
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
With you (inside me) a song.
by Mark William Darus
I lay awake inside my bed
Alone though you are in my head,
I think of brief times we've shared so close
Wondering if you are just a ghost,
Memories of the look in your eye -contented smile upon your face,
The way your fingers touch me soft -our sweat mixing oh so hot,
I felt you climb into my heart -as our bodies moved as one,
I hate myself for thinking ,
sometimes delusion attempt emotion against physical realities
slowly creeping in like a B-movie villian
wishing to steal me away from myself,
fighting the pain of letting go,
no pain involved
yet mind screams DANGER
as physical pleasure takes hold
torquing my flanks
gentle fingertips caressing me limbs,
Taking me inside her deeper.
and took each other in,
My penis into your flesh,
Drawing my mind at your gasps...
No defenses to hide within myself
as muscled backs arch
Melting of individuality
taking you into me
as you took me into your body...
With you inside me
My mind racing thoughts of you,
You took away my blues and made things matter,
With you inside me (inside me)
soft hands rubbing my chest
much better than the rest
i felt you understood me,
Days talking on the phone
a sense getting closer to you
though I am without a clue
for this attraction,
With you inside me...
I am lost but yet i'm found
my head is spinnin' round
of bright tomorrows,
With you inside me...
Wanting you like no other
so far away and yet no bother
I find i need you in my life
and if scares me senseless,
You've left me
and that is all okay,
you brought me back to a stage,
YOu took to lands forgotten
making me realize there is more
Allowing others inside me....
Mark William DArus 02192014
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
PSYCHOPATHY: ANOTHER LIFE. A Personal Awakening.: DEATH: HOSTESS BAKERY AND OTHER PLACES.: Caption: Me?! Eat the last of the Pringles.... Death of Hostess and other American places. ...
Monday, February 3, 2014
Picture Yourself in a Boat on a River.
Mark William Darus
Perhaps guilty in the stealthy, cold legal eyes you are under the radar of, though considered insane by the professionals that interviewed you from those very same professionals, you end up locked in stir for life.
Finding you guilty of murder as easily and scientifically as 1 plus 1 equal 12 and one half in a nuclear laboratory, they contradict themselves greatly. Mesmerizing jurors, baffling courtroom witness with the tongue lashings of their legal jargon and outright manipulation of valid words, emotional thoughts even, shared innocently, they extract microbes from molehills mountains become created.
Imagine each and every day is the same as the last...
Yes, most of us feel this way each and everyday of our lives as we either make breakfast while preparing lunches for others, juggling these things while getting ready to deal with what lays ahead of sending the kids, hubby, wife prepared for their day.
You awaken everyday via the time precursors that determine our lives events. Get showered, dressed, eating, forced by the pressures of income and time. You run madly. Marathon seemingly neverending with your day.
Wow, that was an utterly stupid and idiotic thing for me to write. We all have and carry things we don't wish to talk about, yet chop us in two with every encounter.
Wasn't it wrong of me to point this out to you?
Haven't wits-end ever greeted you options when your state of being has been pressed to it's limit? When a point of a 'clicking' in an audible sence rings in our ears and all things rational go sideways as you cross the terminator of light and dark . Madness profound takes hold finding a child dead before you after decades of your relentless care failed long after years predicted for this babe of your to have lived by doctors and clinicians.
Picture yourself alone on a boat on a river, caring for a child with a disease that medical professionals give about 18 years living with the best of care. Family members pitch in like a husband as well as friends to do the best they can, granting you breaks, as you, this childs mother, feels a sinking pain as they help you in your struggle, a pain that will never leave you.
The worst pain imaginable to a parent, that being you will live longer than your child.
Think about this for at a second. Imagine a future where you outlive your children. Sure, some of my readers have had cases if SID's (sudden infant death syndrome), and i am thanking for their sharings on a future entry i am working on.
Take a second and walk with me to a death space.
Repeating days like that of a skipping LP record or bad CD, things play back endlessly as minutes are hours turning days to weeks as months churn to years, decades alter thought in your life as you, THE MOTHER, face all as you welcome their aide, occasionally mustering it up to feed those that help you with a meal as a sense of obligation as they tell you to take a well needed break.
Have you ever been to this place so challenging and, perhaps dark with sadness?
You have a loved one in your charge, your loving care, knowing they are going to die while you are living.
You do what you can for the dying one amongst you holding hopes so high in all futility against medical decision given.
Have you ever had a friend or family mermber dying of cancer before you? Have you seen them in the final stages leaving you as their body fails, crumbling frail fleshy shroud tumbling down as their mind and words greet you as they slowly pass-away on final visits with them? Decaying physical life meets your eyes as they give their final words.
In all honesty, I nearly killed myself when this happened to me. Damn right, at my mothers cold cheeked bedside, I glanced at the opened window in her room and wished myself to be dead.
At that time, I thought me better dead than alive. (Keep in mind. At that time, I had a wife that loved me and two daughters. I wish I could say that mattered looking back over nearly two and a half decades, but it didn't then.) My mind scrambled between my lips moving toward my loving mothers face met a coldness i had never known. As my hands touched her cheeks, my lips met her forehead.
COLD COLD COLD
DEAD DEAD DEAD.
Your hands touching room temp cheeks of the body that was your mother, the smell of anticeptics, fecal matter and a memories touch of Chanel number 5.
A mind runs.
No response from contact below us and our best intentions...
Be honest to yourself as you read, perhaps feel this, within yourself.
I believe the mind fractures at that point, splinters shutting down and runs for a safe place to survive with those that have an emotional base/
Reason is lost, knowing this persons death would come in our lifetime, meaningless by the sheer impact of it actually happening before your very eyes.
You get the news of death, and depending on your level of reasoning and emotion, you process it as you do. Be it your long suffering parents you and family placed in the good hands of the modern Death Farms, where like cattle they are cared for with the right amount of coin until they kick and you get a phone call.
My wishes: This woman sentenced to life get an even break or retrial.\\
I cannot release her name, but given all trial evidence she IS innocent by the clinical definition of insanity. She tested insane.
It is my belief she did not kill her son. I think she found him dead and wished to end her life a\nd calling her husband with her findings.
From that first calling, her honesty lead her down a path to oblivion.
To a life of incarceration .
I am digging in to do what I can.
I believe she did not commit murder.....
My hands still held as i type this. by a family members wishes.
This woman is innocent of murder.
Mark WilliAM Darus.