A Poem: Bedtime

Bedtime

By Robert J. S. T. McCartney

As I lie here and rest my head
Next to you, where we’ve made our bed

In the dark, where my eyes dare play tricks
My view obscured by the plight of the night

The light, faint and ever growing tired, it mimics
A heart, and lungs, breathing

I often worry, though
That, how of which you lie
Restful slumber; your silhouette
Is as much as death, forever sleeping

So I cling and often toss and turn
Waking to the demons that dare try to come and take you away;
Wildly swinging, and shooing them tirelessly
“Begone, pest from another plane!” I growl

And so I’ll fight until my eyes do tire
The morning light comes, and then you stir
Then I can rest until the night comes again

As long as I have you by my side
I’ll try and try, defend and brave against the darkness and the demons that lurk

Otherwise…

I’m nothing without you
I can sleep when I eventually die

For my wife.

A Poem/Tie-in and Post: The Prelude

When I did my other little ditty about “Time,” I had another spur of the moment kind of thing that led me to do the following piece.

This one, I felt I would include in my third or fourth book of The Lodestone Files: Among Us: Contact, Assimilation, Control, Extermination series.

Those moments I find enjoyable; random spurts of creativity, and one where I am not at war with my mind in focusing on something (like that sweet, sweet sleep) and being restless until I have to be up 20 min before my alarm goes off. Of course, now that I mention that, I probably will be tossing and turning and God knows what else.

In any case, it’s a visit to my therapist in the AM, where I will divulge my last few weeks of ups, downs, and everything in-between. So needless to say, I am looking forward to that shut eye, unloading of what’s gone on, and what the time until the next session will be.

On the plus side, I am going to go to sleep with Mile High by Morphine playing and that’s pretty good. Ah. Love it. When I need a good wind-down time song, chillax, or be me. . .pop on some Morphine and let the music weave its way in.

I digress, though.

If you’re interested in the first book of the series, download it on Amazon (free in most areas; if it’s not free in your area, let me know! I’ll get you a PDF copy. You can also opt-in with your email, here.


The Lodestone Files: The Things in the Shadows: Among Us: Contact, Assimilation, Control, Extermination Book 1)


If you’ve already done Book One, we’ll I have number two done and readily available. If you opt-in via email, I will send you a PDF copy of that too.

Well, that’s about it. I’ll be catching some Zs and stuff. More to come tomorrow and all that jazz.

Until then,

RJM


The Prelude

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

The time is almost here,
A time we should all fear.

The time is almost here,
A time we should fear.

The time is here,
We should fear.

The time to fear,
Is almost here.

It’s almost here,
We should fear.

What it could become.
They

Who
It

Them
Things

Who are you?
Who am I?
When?

It’s near,
We fear.

Near
Here

Fear
Near

It’s already here.
They’re near.

All there is, all that remains. . .
is fear

This text was hastily written on what remains of a wall in a dilapidated apartment building. A crumpled skeleton lays on the ground nearby. Perhaps, the remains of the author or another unsuspecting victim.

The prediction of the alien’s invasion so many years ago.


A Poem and Post: Time

I have a story outlined in my massive stack of “Untold Tales: Volume X.” One of them, in which I will actually be finishing up here soon, is something along the lines of a double-edged sword. It’s sweet. It’s terrifying. It’s loving and caring. It’s selfish and damming. The end is coming, and life as we know it will cease to be. One man’s vision and in all of his smarts creates a time stasis field where he can live out the rest of his life with his family until the True End comes.

It probably sounds confusing because when you start involving time and getting all “timey-wimey.”

So, I figured I would have a piece dedicated to the inevitable friend and foe of us all, next to death. Time. It’ll appear again, soon.

There will be new things coming up as well as far as writings (or musings. . .whatever have you. . .) goes.

Until next time,

RJM


Time

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

My greatest enemy and my most cherished friend.
Grandfather, father, husband, brother; bringer of the end.

You’ve watched me grow from afar.
You’ve shown me what life has to offer.

Lies.
Truth.

Beginning.
End.

That it is continuous, whether we are in it or not.
That we can exist, be remembered, and our lives forgot—

—Ten years it’s almost been.
Nothing more than a drop in the endless sea.

I’ve lived, yeah, I’ve seen,
What this mortal life has yet to bring.

You are my enemy and my friend.
Still, I will welcome you, all of you, at the end.

 

For Gene Wilder

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams…” — Ode by Arthur O’Shaughnessy


Gene Wilder 1970

“Gene Wilder” June 11, 1933 – August 28, 2016

For Gene Wilder

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

{1}

Now it’s time, to say goodbye,

And to say thank you for the life.

Of the times and memories, you leave behind,

The smiles, laughs, and tears—your brilliance shined.

 {2}

And so it goes, without to say,

We are truly grateful for the way—

You entertained us throughout the years.

Even, though, we’re sad with your passing,

We’ll get through it like you would prefer, smiling,

Laughing.

 {3}

For there is no place, like the one we know,

Quite like our imagination.

For you live on there and in our hearts,

We’ll forever appreciate your work in the arts.

{Make a wish}

Rest, and farewell,

Somewhere over the rainbow.


This was originally published via A.B.Normal Publishing.

Z

For our oldest princess (and cub), Zelda. Happy birthday, pumpkin. Mommy, daddy, and Aeris love you—always and forever.


Z

Today
Here and now
Celebration
Declaration

Of my oldest pride and joy
Reminiscing
Forgiving
A pain that won’t go away

I’ve watched you grow
From a baby to a young girl
You smile and it warms my heart
But still I can’t let go

Yesterday
It hurts the most
For that’s when I cried
The hardest. Ever. In my entire life.
The thought of losing you, and your mom—my wife

My life
I thought, was over

So I would sit

In the dim lit
Room of darkened thoughts

Reasoning
Blaming

Guilt
Swelled over the wall

I had built up
To keep all out
It came crumbling down

I was a father
A husband
All in one day
But
Would I remain that way?


Tomorrow
I know that the day will come
To let you out of my arms
But before then
I’ll tell you
I love you
Every day
I remain

Just know though
That I’m sorry
For the things that others say
But I know though
That if they knew you
And the place from which you came

They’d say “thank you”
For showing us
Angels really exist

And though I may cry
For when I say goodnight
At the thought of it being the last

I know though
That one day
I’ll see you with us once again
And it’s not the last

My warrior princess
Made from power and wisdom
You are my courage
And our love

Pure and everlast

You are our Zelda
Our little miss sass

Poem: Black

Black

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

All these scenes I’ve painted black,
To hide the pain, I’ve yet to have attack—

Me; nay, us, for the day will eventually come,
An assassin lying in waiting, where it shall strike from?

They say to “go in faith” and “take this tome,”
Tis often true, tragedy strikes close to home.

Where I’ve found myself on my back,
crippled from a fall; an attempt to snap—

My neck, my limbs, my life. . .broken,
The words I’ll never utter, never spoken.

As darkness comes and overwhelms what I see,
I know you’ll never understand who I really was. . .me.

“It’s better this way” I once thought,
To give up, that it’s all for naught.

However, I’ve learned that there is much more, to this thing called life.
And that is why I am so happy to have you as my wife.

Though, I fight, the right and wrong; with the light and dark,
I know you’ll be there to guide me along the way, on this journey we embark.

For I now see, I was selfish and wrong,
That alone, I was weak but together, we are strong.

The scenes will become clear, and on that day, we may weep,
For when one goes down to eternal sleep.

That’s alright because at least we will be there,
No one else, with nothing left to care.


This was originally posted on A.B.Normal Publishing’s site.

Poem: The Division

The Division

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

Divided we are and united we fall,
Here we stand behind this wall.
Not one of brick and mortar,
But one of mud, slinging slurs, hate, and more.

Today is the day, now more than ever,
That we should stand shoulder to shoulder and raise our fist against the order.
For they will lie, cheat us, and steal,
Like they always have; anything to make a deal.

“Divide and conquer,” that was the motto,
To keep us oppressed, apart, broken, “lead” to follow.
For so long they have succeeded,
To keep us down, battered and beaten.

Now is the time, for us to rise up,
That we will no longer be silent and told to shut up.
Corruption, hate, fear and lies; hold no place, not in my heart,
It’s time to end it before it starts.
Where color, sex, and orientation; it matters not,
It’s important to erase our mistake, our disgusting blot.

United we shall be,
With them at our feet.


This was originally published on A.B.Normal Publishing’s site.

My Three Lights

Northern Lights Photo from Flikr.

Northern Lights/Flickr

In a world consumed by darkness,

There are but three beacons to pierce the veil.

In a world consumed by sadness,

There are but three beacons that enable me to prevail.

In a world consumed by misguided anger,

There are but three beacons which chain me to stability.

In a world consumed by madness,

There are but three beacons which help me practice humility.

 

In my world there are but three lights,

There to help me get through my trying times.

Where they exist at such great heights,

Because you will need help often than not, not just sometimes.

 

For what I once was,

For who I am now.

I am better now because of my three lights.

 

 

Flikr has no affiliation with me or A.B.Normal Publishing Media Group, nor do they support my work and/or practices.

In Death We Trust

"Cemetery Love" Photo by Markus Biehal. Markus Biehal has no affiliation with me or A.B.Normal Publishing Media Group, nor do they support my work and/or practices.

Photo by Markus Biehal. Markus Biehal has no affiliation with me or A.B.Normal Publishing Media Group, nor do they support my work and/or practices.

You can have all the likes, all the hearts, all the smiley faces, and all the “friends” in the world. You will still die alone.

You can have all the riches, live in the biggest house, and drive the fanciest car in the world. You will still die alone.

You could have all the knowledge, know the tricks of any trade, and have all the time. . .in this world. You will still die alone.

You could have done the best things in life, and yet, still, you will die alone.

Though you may die alone, you may hope to have your friends and family surround you, unfortunately, they may not be able to. It is important to know that they might not be able to. It’s not selfish (on either account) for it is life. Unpredictable.

Nothing we say or do may be forgotten, and there is nothing we can do about death. It happens, just as naturally as we breathe, eat, or sleep.

Like everything else you will come to experience in life, nothing, is ever easy. But perhaps those actions, those moments that defined your life, they will help cope with that loss, or when it comes time for your own.

Keep your faith, if you want to.
For it is in death that we are all equal and free.

Robert J. S. T. McCartney
A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group

For Starman

Photo of David Bowie by Adam Bielawski.

From David Bowie’s Wiki.

Goodbye, Major Tom, you’ve finished your fantastic voyage.
Rest easy, Starman.

If you can, say hello to Mr. Fahrenheit. Let your voices together fill the cosmos’ labyrinth.

Here, we shall don our red shoes, not to dance the blues or to mourn, but to celebrate the life that was yours.

A space oddity, the rise, and fall of Ziggy Stardust, a Goblin King. . .
We shall endure, though without you, but we shall do our magic dance that you taught us. One that lifted our spirits and freed so many from The Bog of Eternal Stench.
We’ll not see you as the man who sold the world, nor the man who sat in his tin can…but the man who showed the world, and went through life’s changes.

Ashes to ashes, wild is the wind, Starman, Ziggy Stardust…you’re the prettiest star.
A blackstar, who is no longer under pressure.

Rest easy, Starman. Ground control, over and out.

Robert J. S. T. McCartney
A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group