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    Headstall
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Headstall's Reflections - 33. Chapter 33 Ray Gun

And again I ramble... just some silliness....

Headstall’s Reflections

 

 

Chapter 33 Ray Gun

 

 

Tears today

Back pressed against cold steel

Water drips

From condensation on the barn roof above

Little circles dot the knees of my pale jeans

Little circles dot the green Marine shirt I wear

Different sources, but they look much the same

As I play fill in the dots

Everything looks bigger from this perspective

Too damn big—all of it

Weeds, brush, manure pile, hopes, hurts

A memory intrudes

Of ray guns that can shrink

They were in some ancient cartoon of my youth

Can still recall the noise they made

I could sure use one of those now

Silly thought

Knees, hips and back are beginning to protest

They want to know what I’m doing

How much longer

Nothing productive in crouching here

Good hiding spot though

Another silly thought

No one’s looking for me

Wipe the water from my jaw

Continue to my eyes

Dab at the wrinkled corners

And stand up

Ripping my shirt on a protruding nail

And a little skin to go with it

Dammit

I liked this shirt

Yeah, that ray gun would fix the hole

But it’ll be a reminder life gets your attention

One way or another

We’re born alone and we mostly die alone

And there’s a bunch of stuff in between

That’s it

Time to get back to my upset wheelbarrow

No good lying on the grass

Out of kilter

Neither am I

Need to get back to my chores

If I don’t do them

They won’t get done

I look around, shaking off the gloom

Of a dreary day

Thing are back to their proper size again

Manageable size

I don’t need that damn ray gun

Still, it would be nice to have one

For the next time

Thanks for reading my reflections....

Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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I weep with and for you my brother. I am in awe of your use of words and pained by them. Are the hearts of poets more easily hurt then those of others?

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On 11/17/2016 06:10 AM, dughlas said:

I weep with and for you my brother. I am in awe of your use of words and pained by them. Are the hearts of poets more easily hurt then those of others?

Hey, dugh. Thank you. I can't speak for other poets. I just know that we have an outlet for our hurts, and I admit to being a sensitive person. My heart resides on my sleeve... I appreciate your comfort, my friend... cheers... Gary xo

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Wonderful poem Gary, though i'm sorry for the reason it exists. Poets dont hurt more, we just have a way to express it. And when we do, we hope others can find beauty or peace and solace in our words.
hugz my friend xoxox

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On 11/17/2016 06:57 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Wonderful poem Gary, though i'm sorry for the reason it exists. Poets dont hurt more, we just have a way to express it. And when we do, we hope others can find beauty or peace and solace in our words.

hugz my friend xoxox

I agree, tim. We have that outlet, and it makes it easier to be able to share those hurts, and have others understand... and see something they might not have otherwise... find something they might need. Thanks for the kind words and the hugs... cheers... Gary... xoxo

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I am sorry for the hurt you endure, the water that seems to appear in droplets where they oughtn't to be. Your ray gun makes the hurt and melancholy a little less blue, a little more bearable. But still, the hurt is there, even though the words flowing over it might take a little of the sting away. But you reflect on this so artfully, so insistently, that it will resonate with me.

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On 11/17/2016 09:33 AM, Parker Owens said:

I am sorry for the hurt you endure, the water that seems to appear in droplets where they oughtn't to be. Your ray gun makes the hurt and melancholy a little less blue, a little more bearable. But still, the hurt is there, even though the words flowing over it might take a little of the sting away. But you reflect on this so artfully, so insistently, that it will resonate with me.

Thanks, Parker. You caught me out. The ray gun is a deflection... I sometimes shake my head at how bare I sometimes allow myself to be. Yeah, there's hurt, but I find ways to cope. Poetry can save my day... or at least let me deal for a time. I appreciate your caring support... Gary

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How you manage to capture what's inside me, I have no idea...but you do it anyway.
Some might say that we are all destined to die alone, for that is a journey where you cannot and would not want to take others with you...but to me, it seems that those in the gay community face that prospect more often than others.
Many people have the solace of relatives at their side, but for gay men, there is a good chance that older ones lost their families on coming out, and with little chance to adopt or bring their own children into the world, they are bereft of family. This is true in my case, at least.
And how sad is it to out-live one's lover/mate...dreams of a common future ahead, but in the end, one of you will go first into the Eternal Dark, leaving only memories. Again, just like me.
Even, or despite all this, there is some spark which refuses to give up, to lay down one's burdens...the new dawn could bring something to change our lives, and we won't know what, or who might trigger that change.
Keep dreaming for us, my dearest friend!

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We all need to ponder the proportions of things, as we cope with our upset wheelbarrows.
And you do it beautifully, as you perpend, through poetry, the size of that tear life's nail makes in our favourite 'shirt.'

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Well things like upset wheelbarrows do need the help of a shrinking ray gun sometimes ;) I hope the sunshine eventually came out so you could finish the rest of those chores :hug:

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On 11/17/2016 11:58 AM, ColumbusGuy said:

How you manage to capture what's inside me, I have no idea...but you do it anyway.

Some might say that we are all destined to die alone, for that is a journey where you cannot and would not want to take others with you...but to me, it seems that those in the gay community face that prospect more often than others.

Many people have the solace of relatives at their side, but for gay men, there is a good chance that older ones lost their families on coming out, and with little chance to adopt or bring their own children into the world, they are bereft of family. This is true in my case, at least.

And how sad is it to out-live one's lover/mate...dreams of a common future ahead, but in the end, one of you will go first into the Eternal Dark, leaving only memories. Again, just like me.

Even, or despite all this, there is some spark which refuses to give up, to lay down one's burdens...the new dawn could bring something to change our lives, and we won't know what, or who might trigger that change.

Keep dreaming for us, my dearest friend!

I think we can all relate to what others feel, CG. It's beautiful, and I think true, what you say here. And I will keep dreaming... I'll keep picking up that wheelbarrow, and I'll accept the rips in my shirts as they come. I just needed a moment... thank you, my dear friend... cheers... Gary....

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On 11/17/2016 12:08 PM, skinnydragon said:

We all need to ponder the proportions of things, as we cope with our upset wheelbarrows.

And you do it beautifully, as you perpend, through poetry, the size of that tear life's nail makes in our favourite 'shirt.'

Thanks, skinny. Beautiful. Thanks for the kind words... cheers... Gary....

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On 11/17/2016 01:02 PM, LitLover said:

Well things like upset wheelbarrows do need the help of a shrinking ray gun sometimes ;) I hope the sunshine eventually came out so you could finish the rest of those chores :hug:

Well, the wheelbarrow is back in the barn, and while the sun didn't come out yesterday, it has today. I still want that ray gun, though :hug: I hope you are having fun in the sun right now... Cheers... Gary....

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