Wake Me Up For Mass

When I opened the door Papa was sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, holding a shotgun. There was an empty bottle at his feet and a glass of melting ice on the end table beside him. He stood up, holding the gun in his right hand he allowed the barrel to point towards the floor.

“Did, did ya see her die?”

“What do you mean?”

“My la, la-love.. did you see her die?”

“No Papa.. you should go to sleep”

“Na-no nobody tells me what to do”

He stumbled, kicked the bottle on the ground and used the shotgun to regain his balance. The barrel clanked on the floor. A tear swelled in Papa’s eye. He spoke trying to hold it from running down his face.

“You- you could have done something.”

“You know I couldn’t have”

“She was always disss-Ah-pointed in you, eva since you let Ellen get abused by those ba –ba boys”

“Why do you have to bring that up now? Let me take you to bed Papa”

“What I jus tells you? Na-no nobody tells me what to do.”

He stumbled again, and as he regained his balance the shotgun went off. Papa had blown a hole in the floorboard. The blast had upset Gus the family dog. The gun fell to the ground and so did Papa as he began to cry. I knelt beside him and moved his grey hair out of his eyes revealing his wrinkled face. I looked a picture on the wall of Mama, Papa, and brother Jack. All of them so young, it reminded me of simpler times. Times I dreamt about flashing back to. Times when Papa would take us fishing and Mama would be cooking. Times when Papa would walk in the house grab Mama and say “Miss Rita you drive me crazy” and Mama would say “sit down and eat, I been cookin all day”. But those days are gone and are replaced with days like this. Days where Papa drinks, and I search for the man he used to be in the wrinkles of his face.

“Come on Papa, let me take you to bed. I’ll wake you up for mass in the morning”

“I can’t sleep, them sa-sa cicadas keep me up all niahght”

“Yeah, they keep me up too”

“I’m sorry, Andy”

“It’s alright Papa, I understand”

I grabbed Papa under his arms and walked him up the stairs. His old body felt bony and thin. I put him in his bed and turned off the light. Before I could close the door he yelled out

“Hey Andy!”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to wake me up for mass, I got some quah-questions for that sons of a bitch named Jesus Criahist”.

I chuckled and shook my head.

“Sure thing Papa”.

 

PD

stumpedwise.

Price of Nothing

Low funding,
yet High in mind
Trace the footsteps in the snow
A subject of the object 
Just without comprehension. 
Yet that trail we trace, 
Ends somewhere under a rainbow, 
or perhaps a dark and damp road

"At what cost, is not the cost of what.
However, it must be nothing"

Priceless,
There is no idea finer
Except for the sign in the window, 
It was never on
But how ‘bout those odds
They bet to show.
the sign never went on

Another dark Friday, early in the morning
So let’s buy what could otherwise be stolen
“Is that why they’re all angry?”
“No, it’s the sanity that keeps them mad,
It’s the only reason they wait in line”

"So madness keeps us sane? 
There is no sense in that."
 
"Yes, but there is no cents when it comes to sense."

Ahh, Priceless
But why the lack of self- worth?
Well it's all worth while, don't ya think?
Something must be worth something, even if it's nothing


then what is priceless,
it's nothing
nothing but an idea
The concept for those in spirits, 
Who attempt to drown it all out.
Drown out the noise of that treacherous question? 
“Excuse me! Is this on sale?” 

TQS

stumpedwise.

Sea Watch

In the hot sun is a place called home;
It’s where people are born and
where people fall in love:
Skies so blue you must squint to look at it,
Waters so green you must go under to see through,
Sands so rolling you must sleep on it
to feel it.
When you find a place like this
the wind will never blow cold ever again.

PD

stumpedwise.

How…

How do you make something right when it’s been so wrong?
How do you take back time when you’ve waited too long?
How do you do what no one showed you how?
And what the hell are you supposed to do now?

We live in a world subjective by perspective
Discovering life’s clues like troubled detectives
But solving a mystery with no Sherlock Holmes
Is like expecting Watson to crack a case on his own
Maybe you’ve done a few things, made a few moves
Settled comfortably into one of life’s grooves
Turned down opportunity because you saw so many
Just to really open your eyes too see you haven’t got any
In a game of hopscotch with destiny and fate
You find yourself disgruntled by in its limited space
So you look for direction in some other place
But the unknown gives you chills and you’re jumping from sweat
Searching for something you may never get
Or thinking you know what you haven’t learned yet
And time keeps burning at the end of a cigarette
While you wish you had known what you know now
And maybe then you’d know just how…
But before you can count from one to ten
You have the same experience all over again
And that’s just the way it works my friend

How do you make something right when it’s been so wrong?
How do you take back time when you’ve waited too long?
How do you do what no one showed you how?
And what the hell are you supposed to do now?

PD
stumpedwise.

I

I’ve floated here for far too long
gazing upon many other pools
but here I remain
Hands like raisins
that make me believe I have better grip.
Until a sweeping view inside of my head
reminds me again
It’s just figment after figment.
Anything but.
Not just going to bed,
But falling to sleep.
With the others who talk fast
and think slow.
And soon enough
Lungs like fishbowls.

~Lex Ihnk~

stumpedwise.