Where are my posts, where is my blog? FOLLOW-UP




            I’m going to morph this post.  There’s so much to say, but it’s daylight and I’m going to go work out if I can.  I’m in pain.  You see every day is torment and or/torture for me in these here
United States of America.

            I think it’s the MAFIA.

            “See what they gave you?” the black bus driver said to me today, ostensibly about the blank transfer he returned to me.  “C” for cancer, for castration, “C” for Kill, that’s how I read it.  You know I hoped it was the Neo-nazi’s, for it’s been easy for me to say “Never again,” about the Jewish Holocaust.  I’m saying I’m part Jewish because “Jewish is as Jewish does,” and I’m doing too much to list here now.  My family life has been genocide for me – no wife, no kids.  No girlfriend, and I’m pissed off.

He left her, by the way.  The black who impregnated my ex’s daughter twice.  He left her.  Friday here in Cleveland Hts., a nword stood over a white cop’s body, firing into kill him.  I heard we never had a murder here, now this.  I don’t think the blacks are going to like the sectarian violence here.  Also, it was a black woman sugar sweet as they hurt me at Wendy’s Sunday.

Catholic’s have been good for shit, for me.  I sent those hundred emails for help and got nothing.

The vendetta lady?  I go to prayer group and pray for her cancer.  I told her about my grade school.  Now two drug addict hooker ladies extorted $19,000 checks plus against the pastor and the church is boarded up.

I shit you not.  Pray for me.  At my mother’s grave yesterday, my father said, “She loved me – I don’t know about you.” I told my counselor today it’s like a space walk tether to Catholics.  These people are good for nothing.  I like Naked Hope Dangling – it’s what I read.




At the JCC tonight there was some coughing, and I swore at the source and told them to take care of that.  There I swam.

To get there, I rode the bus.  To the black man wearing the A’s cap in front of me I accidentally said, “You’re going to be shot dead in the street.”  I wasn’t thinking, or was merely thinking aloud and did not wish to confront him, but it came out because I was in angry pain.  I think he heard me.

I am in pain now.

I was in pain then.  To the woman with the I pod I said, “You look nice.  You have nice fingernails.  I hope to see you…”  Here my voice trailed off as she removed her headphones.  I had meant to say “…see you again.”  I said, “Have a nice life.”  And I meant it in a nice way, and she seemed happy with the attention.”

When I grow up I’m going to write a romance script where the guy gets the girl.  On a bus where strangers meet.  This woman tonight had looks worth living and dying for, and I let her go.  Yesterday was hours looking at the Monet exhibit, and the ritzy people at the museum, and this woman today was beautiful.

Regrets, I have a few.  Maybe I can write a nature poem about the fawn I almost ran into with my bicycle tonight.  I didn’t know a dear that small could gracefully scamper.  I regret that these two poetry ladies have not returned my email.

The address I recommend is nakedhope.blogspot.com.  She published my comment.  I believe in her blog.  And may get off my but and blogroll it for free.  By now, Mr. Network manager (Me) s/b managing the apparatus to defeat evil and solve LARGE economic problems.  Instead I’m complaining of pain below the belt where my evil enemies have focused their attack.  I resolve to be a worthy writer.

I have not forgotten that my call for help fell on deaf ears.  It’s OK if this all male school asks for money – but if I ask, they haven’t seen It’s a Wonderful Life.  I have believed in them, and gone to church until… That’s another story for another day, and I do have another story to tell.



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