Older.Honestly, when I applied for a part-time job to fund my insatiable appetite for luxuries, I never expected to learn a single useful skill for my professional life. My parents always lectured about how I would learn how to apply myself and learn how to be a good worker and all of that crap, but I didn’t see that plus in getting a job. I saw cash, which led to a nicer car, which led to girls. I guess if one doesn’t go looking for life lessons, they have a much deeper effect when they finally hit you. When it hit me, it hit me hard. I never expected that my life would change from parking stranger’s cars. After lobbyingOlder.
Dad, Father. The earliest time I can remember hearing Free Bird, I was somewhere around six or seven years old, and I was coming home from my grandfather’s funeral. I was riding in the passenger seat of my father’s well-worn Blazer. I was too short to see over the dashboard, but because of the occasion I was permitted to sit in the front. I remember this very vividly. Because of my height, I couldn’t look out the windows, so the details of the car interior were more prominent. My jeans didn’t fit right, too short. White socks stuck out from beat-up Converse. A tear ran dDad, Father.
Cold Winter's Hearts. The blinding snow, as it fell, had a noise all its own, a loud rush by his ears. It blotted out all senses, no smell, no color, no taste. The constant white was disorienting, and it coated everything around him, a white sheet that erased all memories of this place. He moves on, lost to his surroundings, but determined. It covers his tracks, and the trail in front of him, isolating him in a blank room with no hints of direction. The cold itself freezes his emotions, leaving him a hollow soul in a place of no forgiveness. The silence is deafening. He is alCold Winter's Hearts.
Philmont.This tale is true, and mine, It tells of a place, far Across the world, yet close In mind. Memories of My tested soul, come forth Scarred with rocks and dust, Reminding me of pain,Philmont.
Suffering, survival. For years the haunted sands Will fill my wretched head.
With glory in my mind, The frontier called for me, A traveler and man Of great aspiration To explore and traverse Its western hills of tan. Ten days I was to hike, Across the desert horizon, A journey made by few.
Delusions, visions Of grandeur and prestige
RETURN TO GLORY
Artistic
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Terminat hora diem, terminat auctor opus.
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