Wednesday, June 30, 2010


THE COURSE CHOSEN 06-29-10 (In Memory of Rachael Ruinard 08-02-74 – 06-29-00)

I must finally, completely convey to you
There is nothing, not a whit that you can do
To stop the course of whatever I choose
Don’t take it as something you have to loose

It’s a new beginning, your life without pain
You depart, my time provided no gain
You can shudder now, let go, live again
It will soon be as if I had never been

It is time to exit, to quit hurting others.
I’ll set my schedule after seeing my mother.
She’s the only one I don’t always bother.
Quick breath, I pull back in time, I see.
I’ve led her to the brink of my insanity.

I tell her goodbye once more to soothe her
I spare her the knowledge, my agony hurts her
But soon I will be six feet under

I have no more will with which to conspire.
A certain something is now required.
A trickle of strength from those I’ve inspired.
I’m tired, tired, just deadfully tired

My path is written in a fat wide ink
A river unwritten, of which I can’t speak.
I agreed with you on an indivisible pact.
It is broken now, by your unspeakable act.

I try to drive off the causeways sometimes.
But I live another day, which is no surprise.
I think back to the moment of my demise.

At that very last moment, at the end of my life.
When I’ve convinced myself be to numb and blind.
Some sort of enigma rearranges my mind

Instead of watching my certain fall to death,
I wake up to the smell of my acrid sweat.
In the nick of time, one small blink of an eye.
I pull myself back from the electric fence.

I’m too scared to let go, please do me a favor
When I near the fence, push me into the wire
There I will leave towards my destiny, higher.

I’ll have gone with peace, one no longer desired.
Soon I will be pulled from the eclectic wires
To be tossed into undying pits of their fire
Or the dogs may eat me when they so desire

You have your conventions and believe your convictions
I’m not just a patient with all sorts of addictions
I am your social condition with all its afflictions
I am hurt. I am real. I am not your fiction
Leave if you want, my path is clear
your trepidation is ugly, I sense your fear
You have no experience of what you see here
I do. I react to the evil that’s near.
You gave me up, you turned me out.
You did not know what my life was about
I believed you cared; I felt your concern
Only I decide, now, which way to turn.
You had to let go, my hand slipped out of yours
My life was quick, my thoughts endless hours
It is right for me, I don’t feel God’s ire
I will sleep better, I am not a liar

Above the gloom, doom, and my own deception
my unknown spirit is once again woken
Your eyes try to say something unspoken
But its not really you, you’re a humble God’s token
I will never again bow beneath myself
To gain the acceptance of someone else
I do what I do, I take my chances or else
Mother will bury me under an Oak’s dark shelf.

Once you held on, but your hands became wet
You haven’t learned the real lesson yet
The blame is a claim I own and regret.

(Written by sjhunt-bloodworth 06-29-10 rev from 04-17-09 Rev from 12-22-09)

Western Short Stories


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Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Love Stories


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Animal Stories

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I don't do it for the fame nor the glory's I just like to write animal stories.