Dead Four Daze

Dead Four Daze, 4/21/2016, Deon Mumple

I used to be able to handle the shock
When life dealt a hammer blow
I might cry about all the hard knocks
I could pray, wait, trust, and just know

But now death hits harder, this life is stupid,
I want something else instead,
I can’t fight any more, I can’t just stay hid,
And God hasn’t left me dead

I used to be able to answer with faith,
And pray, confident, when things went wrong.
But I feel undead like a zombie, or wraith
And I’ve felt like this way too long

I used to see miracles answer my prayers,
I used to celebrate: God scored!
Now just questions and silence come answer the scares,
And my prayers have been ignored.

I’m like Mary and Martha and anyone there
After Lazarus was dead four long days:
We asked You to show up! Do you even care?
My faith died, my soul’s in a daze.

The more I wait, feeling the death of my soul,
I wonder if He’ll save me.
Which god is the real God?  What’s the end-goal
Of killing someone who believes?

I sit in the darkness with everyone else here,
And I’m told I should light up the night
So prove true now, I ask, I’ll proclaim all my years,
Let darkness be eclipsed by Your Light!


420, 4/20/2016, Deon Mumple

Today I don’t care that that today’s four twenty,
I don’t care where or how you want to spend your money,
If you like to do something that’s your harmless fun.
Just don’t oblige me and don’t hurt anyone.

Today I don’t care if you’re self-indulgent,
I don’t care about preference of personal scent,
Just don’t make me smell it or break any laws
That’s my preference, you’re free to root for your cause

I don’t care what you do, choose your own little vice,
But don’t hurt anyone, that’s my only advice,
All I want is to be left alone to have mine,
I might have some vodka, or maybe some wine.

It’s just sad that the laws “to protect us” can hurt
Or restrict us from things that we think we deserve
They land harmless people in jail, to spite plenty
Better things they could do with my hard-earned tax money.

When it’s legally bought,
Or until you get caught,
Go blaze your (C.) sativa
This is America.
For freedom you’re free,
‘Til your freedom hurts me.

I Wish That I Could Clone Myself

I Wish That I Could Clone Myself, 4/20/2016, Deon Mumple

I wish that I could clone myself and give my selves away
I’d keep a few to mow the grass and clean the house all day
Fix the drywall, take the kids to the mall,
Drive to the store, and so much more,
Except I know I’m frustrating despite my varied skills,
If it’s all genetic the clones still couldn’t pay the bills,

The clones would all see life’s too hard and selfish people rule
They might surrender like I do sometimes, I’m such a tool,
Pour me a drink, so I won’t think
Life really sucks, things fall apart
On second thought maybe cloning is not the best of plans,
If only someone else could help me wash dishes and pans!

(I’m sure Fox owns the copyright to this image, brought to us by the creative genius that is Seth Woodbury MacFarlane.)

(image borrowed from the following brilliant blog, presuming fair use:

When I was a Child

When I was a Child, 4/18/2016, Deon Mumple

When I was a child my life wasn’t carefree,
I wasn’t dumb or blind, I could clearly see,
There were things to suffer and things to endure,
I heard “Life’s a disease and death’s the only cure.”
But I had hope.

Like an arc of electricity, awakening me, to the heart,
Hope got me through life, faith made me feel smart
When I was a child I felt hope in the air,
But right now all I feel are pain, lies, and despair,
I had a dream

When I was a child I believed dreams came true,
I just knew it could happen.  I just… I just knew!
That’s only true for a fortunate few
I give up, though I’d tell you not to
Dreams made me try

It makes me more depressed to know I can’t even try,
I’m so tired of trying, I don’t want to; I can’t even cry
My heart beats a hopeless sickness, my dream’s shattered.
Tell me “no” again, God, not that I ever mattered.
You could change things.

I really believed then, that, God cared for me,
Now I only know He loves you unconditionally,
But I’m not a child any more and life’s beating me
I hurt, and I’m tired of trying so hard to believe
Now, I want proof.

It makes me a “bad” follower, being so hopeless
Once I thought God would clean up all the messes,
But life boils down to stress upon stress,
All I feel, when what I need is for God to bless, is,
I’m abandoned.


If There Were (tw)

If There Were, 4/18/2016, Deon Mumple

If there were a death it was mine yesterday,
When my soul wanted to kill my body
Only logic barely
Held sway.

But trapped inside, my soul is still dead
I’m only here for friends and family
They think they still need me

Serenity has got nothing on me
I have no wisdom, I have no courage
I’m powerless to change
Fuck me.

If there were a death it would be today
When my soul still wants to kill my body
Feeling eternally

I’m left feeling empty, foolish, useless
I can’t escape; I’m trapped, immobilized
All attempts, all I’ve tried,

I realize reality’s no fun
Everyone’s dealt from the same deck of cards
I want to give up hard
I’m done.

If there were a death, maybe tomorrow.
Wish I were alive.  If I could insure
Others wouldn’t be hurt
I’d go.

Happily Ever After

From, I’d prefer to think of it as “prompted,” although my inner voice, the unfiltered cynic, says I’m forcing it today.  I chose to use 12 words and then randomly decided to use the words in reverse order.  I made it into a Shakespearean Sonnet, abab cdcd efef gg is the rhyme scheme and I made a sincere effort to do the iambic pentameter 10 syllable rhythm throughout.  I’ll let you be the judge of all that, so without further “ado about nothing,” here are my


Random words:

  1. blushing
  2. butter
  3. bake
  4. shock
  5. wealth
  6. guarantee
  7. tree
  8. craven
  9. overjoyed
  10. ball
  11. statement
  12. queen

Happily Ever After (Shakespearean Sonnet), 4/15/2016, Deon Mumple

She is the queen of every dream, my wife,
And I, by statement, have captured her heart,
I asked her, “Will you dance the ball for life
With me?” She made me overjoyed, depart-
ing from the craven man she’d left behind,
And seeing me worthy, under our tree,
With guarantee of romance, ours to find,
A wealth of untapped love she brings to me,
To bear shock, soften bruising from the world,
The bake of sun, the freezing winter cold,
Gazing at butter skin, and hair, soft-curled
And blushing face, flirting until we’re old,
The tree, growing, branches with family,
And she grows older, yet, ever lovely.

Rant: Do ignore s’il vous plaît

I’m just irritated enough to bonus post on my blog, but it’s just a rant so don’t pay me any mind.


I mean, “JEREMIAH’S LAMENTATIONS!”  I have been meaning to use that as profanity, to leak it into general usage.  Just wait, soon it’ll be used as much as the aforementioned. By “aforementioned,” I mean, “FUCK!!”  I’m just in a mood to say “FUCK!!!!!”  So, FUCK!!!!

I’m just angry, that’s all.  So it’s not worth anything, but i have to say something.

I wish life was fair.  If life was fair jackasses wouldn’t fuck with the world for their own personal gain or self-aggrandizement.  If life was fair people who do good things would be recognized and commended, not because there’s a hidden motive but just because they did something good.  Alas, everybody wants something and there’s a whole cost/benefit sheet people mentally tick off before they bother do do something, after they figure out whether what they’re doing will be of benefit to themselves.

If life was fair people who do bad things would be punished, forced to do restitution and make things fair, and then summarily ignored and shunned by the community for anything else they do that’s bad.  People should earn trust and be given positions based on their qualifications and skills, people should be promoted from within before someone is brought in from the outside, like a hired gun when you’ve already had a volunteer doing work for years.  People should earn rank, not have it handed to them on a silver charger because other people could benefit from helping them.  [[Conspiracy theory:  George Bush and his son both got to be president because of their help with the coverups surrounding the assassination of Kennedy, ordered by, let’s just blame, Lyndon Johnson.  Tit for tat; it’s how our beautiful, fucked up world works.]]

Just today I watched a flurry of emails go around my company where certain people, who others in importance actually liked, were commended for shit I do every week.  No, I’m not bitter.

Yes I am bitter.  It sucks.  The flurry of emails was like a few rounds of applause, so I thought to myself, must be nice to be recognized for what you did once, I’ve only done the same kind of thing once or twice a week for the past fucking 9 years.

And the other day it was performance review time and the new boss didn’t know shit about shit so the person suggested I ought to do more and offer more creative ideas to help my company.  I rattled off a list of things I had been offering as suggestions for the past year or two to my old boss who either buried the shit, didn’t do anything about it, or took credit for it as if they were their own ideas.

I heard things like “oh these are good ideas.”  And then the new boss emailed my review for my acknowledgement and didn’t edit it to show I had contributed ideas.  So the new boss gets credit for them now.  And still doesn’t know shit about shit.

The followup emails that came around after the first, were more sucking up.  Hot air.  Kissing ass.  The stench of it went all the way to the head of my office and then back down to the favorite children.  I don’t play those fucking stupid games, but if I did, I’d probably be a fucking company president.  These people are appreciated for doing shit I do all the time without recognition.  These people are appreciated and I’m not noticed.  I’m fucking invisible because I don’t blow big horns to draw attention to myself when I give my tuppence.  I do what needs to be done because it needs to be done, when it needs to be done, and I often do extra things just because I get a personal satisfaction from it.  Mostly I do things I think are the right thing to do, just because they’re the right fucking things to do.

BUT. (or do I mean, “BUTT?”)

I hate the way the world works.  I don’t need to be liked but it sure would be nice if the world was fair about how it passes that shit around.  And after you’re high enough on the totem pole everybody hovers around your ass and tells you how sweet your farts smell.

It smells, all right.  Like bullshit.

Our Family of Writers

Our Family of Writers, 4/14/2016, Deon Mumple

I read and enjoy your writing-
Everyone else is exciting.
I can pray and watch the outcome,
Life is bleeding, I feel so dumb
When I spin so out of control,
Wish I could hide in a safe hole.

But in other lives I see hope,
Not so much joy, but we all cope,
We support our fellow writers,
Like a concert: see our lighters
Raised to celebrate each other?
We’re family: sisters, brothers.

I share your joy when you’re happy,
Feel the anger when life’s crappy,
Try to say something, encourage,
When you struggle, feel a dark urge:
We need each other.  Stay with us.
I’ll doubt life, keep faith in Jesus.

I hate life sometimes, to be true,
But I always hope good for you,
I commiserate and support,
Although it’s hard, life is too short
Not to care for one another
We’re family: sisters, brothers.

I count on you, know you’ll be there,
When I need to hear that you care
When life bleeds uncontrollably,
You’re my tourniquet, to save me,
You and writing soothe life’s blisters,
We’re family, brothers, sisters.

The Fittest and Survival

The Fittest and Survival (or, Cheating Darwin)

To get what they want, smooth liars pretend well,
And they may get it a while, but they end up in hell,
At least that’s what I’ll tell
My soul, to avoid
Being so often annoyed.
Still saddened for those with whom they have toyed

They make the news sometimes, thieves, wolves, and cheaters
Reality shows pick up the scum and wife beaters
And would-be world leaders
But I will refrain
From categorization,
Or definition, or defamation.

You can rationalize, call it whatever you will,
The “fittest” don’t always deserve survival,
But they exist still
Since deceit still can sell
Before destiny’s bell
Takes wicked souls to a well deserved hell.


Alien, 4/12/2016, Deon Mumple

Look out from my telescope, hear the radio blare
Static and the alien, flying far out there
Flying undetected, straight for Earthen soils,
Everyone’s too busy with personal toils.

Look out from my doorway, fear and trembling there,
On my doorstep, alien’s returning my stare.
Poor thing has crash-landed, he looks unhappy,
What’s he think I can do?  Can’t even help me.

Look out at a stranger, one who often cries,
Unshaven and unkempt, dirt, dark-circled eyes,
Can’t escape the planet, can’t settle his score,
Telescope nor doorway, he’s in my mirror.

Look out from my mirror, is that really me,
Fading before my eyes, to invisibility?
Living undetected, no one cares at all.
No one sees the alien; he is far too small.