She Died On Me! She Was Always So Popular! The Phone Rang Off The Wall! The Call Was Always For her! Never For Me! “Lance is an asshole! Talk to Madelyn—She is Nice”—
Bullshit! She was Not Nice To Anyone But Me. In Her Heart. We Knew and Understood “The Game” But We Never Verbalized it; We Did Not Have To”
I miss her so much
I cannot write anymore on this right now.
I’ll get back to it.
My heart is still broken.
Some may ponder
Wonder
Why
I Love her so much
Here is the reason
For All Seasons
She Always Stood By Me
Through thick and Thin
She was My Athena,
She
shielded
Me
From the World
(Even When I was in Iraq)
She was always there for me
Constant as the Northern Star
Change the name from ‘Richard’ to ‘Madelyn’
Then You May Catch My Drift:
Fuck it!
This was The Joni I wished to share!
So There!
Constantly in the darkness?
Where’s that at?
If you want me, I’ll be in the bar.:
Joni is such a complicated / fascinating brilliant woman,
as was my Madelyn, my sister
My much loved and missed sis
Goddamn I Miss her!
****
Lance & His B’Loved Sis:
I truly wish I had more pics, but I don’t–my misfortune, not yours.
“Henry The “Just A Dog, Dog”–And Now His Watch Has Ended” (Drinkin’ Will Kill You Slow; Delirium Tremens (DTs) Will Kill Ya Quick.) Losss of a B’Lov’d Dog Will Fuk up U’re World. Forever
He was just a dog.
But he had a vocabulary!
He was just a dog
He understood… words!
He was just a dog
He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here,but suffice to say…)
He was just a dog
He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.
He was just a dog
He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.
He was just a dog
Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was
He was just a dog
Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?
He was just a dog
No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on.
He was just a dog
He had a ‘King’s’ name…
Yet, he was still just a dog
He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…)
Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.
The best dog ever.
A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .
And now he’s gone.
And my heart is broken.
But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!
Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.
***
Kipling said it best:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find – it’s your own affair, – But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone – wherever it goes – for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent, Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve; For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long – So why in – Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
***
Linda: “Heart Like a Wheel”
“He spoke in tears of fifteen years How his dog and him They traveled about His dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves”
He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here,but suffice to say…)
He was just a dog
He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.
He was just a dog
He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.
He was just a dog
Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was
He was just a dog
Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?
He was just a dog
No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on.
He was just a dog
He had a ‘King’s’ name…
Yet, he was still just a dog
He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.
The best dog ever.
A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .
And now he’s gone.
And my heart is broken.
But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!
Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.
Kipling said it best:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find – it’s your own affair, – But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!), When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone – wherever it goes – for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay. Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent, Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve; For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long – So why in – Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Linda: “Heart Like a Wheel”
“He spoke in tears of fifteen years How his dog and him They travelled about His dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves”
If He Should’ve Died Five Years Ago, That would Have Been Five Less Years I Spent with Helen-The Saint Jude Research Scientist From Cambridge, England, She Actually Grew Up There. Why Am I always Drawn to Te Super-Duper Intelligent Ones?
I have Spent Half My Lif Married to. or Living with Very Brilliant Women. Yet…
The Happiest Times, The Best Times. Were The Times I had With Rhonda, My Second: A half illiterate Okie-From-Muskogee.She Truly Loved me and was Good to and for me
My Whole Life Has been One Horrible Mistake
Followed Hard And fast by yet Another.
Yet People are Always telling me How Fucking Brilliant I am.
I ‘m sorry; I just
don’t See it.
My Whole Life Has Been A Failure
Well… It’s A Bloody Mary In-Mournin’
But, I’m all Outta Vodka.
And I have Not Seen A Celery Stick, Or A Bottle of
Tomato Juice–Newton in ‘Bout Fifteen Dog-Years.
Lord Only Knows
LastTime Some
Ew Iberia, Louisiann’er Tobasco Touched This Cowboy’s Lips
I Think
Yeah! I Do ‘Think
From-Time-to-Lime
I “Tink’ Last Tomato I Witnessed Was In Ammam, Jordan,
And I Really Would Love to Have Those Years Back, But Not At the Expense of Losing My/Her Dog. The Price is Too High. I Would Never Buy. He was The Super-Glue That Held Our Very Un-Tenable ‘Relationship’ Together
So, At Such Hallucinations, Deluding Times, I Am Very Careful When Backing My Chair Away From My Computer, So As Not To Disturb Him. But Then I Painfully Recall That His Watch Ended Two Years Ago. And I Am Forced To Bear That grief All Over Again,
An’ Let Me Tell You My good Friends, I Ain’t Strong Enough To Keep Re-Living These Painful Emotions. I’m Not Over That Yet. Beginning To Think I Never Shall Be.
He was just a dog.
But he had a vocabulary!
He was just a dog
He understood… words!
He was just a dog
He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here,but suffice to say…)
He was just a dog
He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.
He was just a dog
He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.
He was just a dog
Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was
He was just a dog
Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?
He was just a dog
No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on.
He was just a dog
He had a ‘King’s’ name…
Yet, he was still just a dog
He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.
The best dog ever.
A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .
And now he’s gone.
And my heart is broken.
But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!
Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.
Kipling said it best:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find – it’s your own affair, – But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!), When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone – wherever it goes – for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay. Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent, Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve; For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long – So why in – Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
“He spoke in tears of fifteen years How his dog and him They travelled about His dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves”
—JJ Walker & Mister Bojangles
I still grieve.
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him Traveled about The dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves
He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here,but suffice to say…)
He was just a dog
He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.
He was just a dog
He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.
He was just a dog
Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was
He was just a dog
Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?
He was just a dog
No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on.
He was just a dog
He had a ‘King’s’ name…
Yet, he was still just a dog
He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.
The best dog ever.
A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .
And now he’s gone.
And my heart is broken.
But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!
Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.
Kipling said it best:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find – it’s your own affair, – But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!), When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone – wherever it goes – for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay. Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent, Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve; For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long – So why in – Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
“He spoke in tears of fifteen years How his dog and him They travelled about His dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves”
He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here,but suffice to say…)
He was just a dog
He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.
He was just a dog
He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.
He was just a dog
Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was
He was just a dog
Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?
He was just a dog
No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on.
He was just a dog
He had a ‘King’s’ name…
Yet, he was still just a dog
He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.
The best dog ever.
A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .
And now he’s gone.
And my heart is broken.
But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!
Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.
Kipling said it best:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find – it’s your own affair, – But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!), When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone – wherever it goes – for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay. Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent, Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve; For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long – So why in – Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
“He spoke in tears of fifteen years How his dog and him They travelled about His dog up and died He up and died After twenty years he still grieves”
