ST26 ... Ron lived an honest life and died simple and pure

Sometimes life is just that way, tragic and wonderful.

It's a new year, new day, it always is, there’s no getting away from that. You can drag the tape thru the mud, kiss your light on the virtual plane. You can fake your comfort for all to see but you can't hide from the darkside. You can imagine yourself where ever you want, hold sweet lies in the palm of your heart, but you can't fake the glisten, the shimmer in your eyes.

In the twilight of suppression the molds are grabbling for extension. Well spoken fact finders swimming around in the soup of data and windshields rising to the surface with treasures of lies, still, the waves of blinders are logging up the view. There is more than one way to scrape off deceit and sugar from the bowls of progress but time is running thin, almost a counter clockwise vortex, backwards.

He was more than he could be.

He was more than he could be, more than he could see. He took off into the light like he was invisible, a stranger to the shift in space, time running scared and beauty flying through the romance and dreams as hope and belief sheltered from the winds of rain and clarity, he lived.

He travelled down and thru the lanes of his youth like he hadn't left, those whiter shades of pale, those eves of construction, it was all in the letter. She would never leave him, he had already gone, there is a time for every season, but not this one.

Man comes on a microphone bragging about some science, trying to prove that something exists without any verified facts but with the recognition from all the best journals….it becomes a common fact, everybody believes it like gospel…….it drives a man without a hat to wonder while walking that tight light rope to some gray freedom.

In the drive towards the coast the popular radio news is slipping under the rug of the mind with conclusions forced into a line of fire for an outcome far ahead of the sound, words and music sandwiched like a treaty. This world is false everywhere, meaning meant to deceive, money walking free inside cathedrals of power, games useless forced into the heart of the world. 

He knew things few knew.

This could be such a wonderful world he thought, if it weren't for the selfish adventurism rampid in the minds of man. Desires to go to outer space, remote jungles, fantasy islands, the club down on the corner where the beat goes on. That's the dilemma of man, thought on the constant prowl for an exotic verb, an ornate adjective, a paragraph full of passion and zest and more and more data till the head bursts. The big wheel, the beast, just can’t stop from rollin.

His name was Ron, he'd been in the military most of his life, he has a dead wife, a few kids long gone, he was in a home, he had lost most of his mind, he was ready to die, he was already dead, his will was left to the velvet vultures and the fate of late. In an earlier time he was a handsome somebody, full of the perfect knowledge, on the right edge of life. He knew things few knew. He was in demand in specific circles. He was a prize. He demanded attention and he got it. All in all he had a good life but it was done, just the ceremony on hold, waiting, if regulations would allow. These times are strange times, reminiscence of his youth in the east of europe. In the home they are stuck inside their modern high definition big screen radio wave propaganda machine, news filtered thru government agents and movies preparing the minds of all to fall. He paid his dues but just the same, he got fucked in the end. There is nothing sacred from the top, certainly not when you're crawling along the bottom. So many Ron’s.

It didn't matter all that much amidst the larger picture. There are stories hanging on every branch, twisted scenarios full of love and despair. We, the ones left scraping truth to the bone, survive, hard. It's a huge universe filled with dreams beyond control. Our little world doesn't mean much to anything, anybody but ourselves and that fades away too thru some form of happy pain.

An honest life, simple and pure.

Ron lived an honest life and died simple and pure and alone. There is not much more you could ask for. Sometimes life is just that way, tragic and wonderful, a long list of what's been lost and that list gets lost too, smooth, soft and straight thru to the end, that long last breath from a full heart we secretly live for. Ronny would always say, ‘It’s all good. It all doesn’t matter much. Be true to the road.’

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A coffee. a like, a whisper.

WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

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