The Race

Here we were again, Taz and I
Having cantered the course ,
One half mile from start to end.
Now standing beside the trailer
Waiting for the flag to drop,
I intently watching the hand
The hand that held the flag.
Taz pawing anxious inside.
Then the flag was drop,
And our time began to run.
Opening the trailer door,
Taz walked out onto the ground.
Putting my foot in the sturp
I swung onto her back,
And without urging
Taz jumped into the canter
Which we held as we crossed
the wooden platform 30 foot long.
Slowing to the trot just long enough
To grab the proffered rope which
I dallied to the horn as Taz Jumped
Into the gallop, not even slowing down
As I drop the rope dragging the log
And charged to the first turn.
Barley loosing speed we turn right
And headed as fast as Taz could go
To the jump strait ahead.
Unhesitating over and on down
To the next turn, we passed the judges
At a full run to the next turn.
And there they were, three small
High, but not to wide hills in a row.
Taz was as eager as I and we went
Into the first one way too fast.
As Taz came across the first one
At the top she jumped and I lost my seat
As Taz started down I was still going up
And when she hit the ground I was slammed
Hard into the saddle and bounced
Bounced right over her head
Landing flat of my back on the ground
Right in front of Taz.
Taz is 16 hands, and the hill was over
Eight feet high, a real long ways
To the ground, but I never let go of the reins
But I did loose my hat.
Taz, excitated by the race, drug me around
A while before calming down.
After she came to herself, I stood
And remounted and continued on.
Taking the second and third hill
At an appropriate speed.
Then down into the water ditch for 40 feet,
Out of the water, we made the next turn
And started the last quarter mile.
A hard sprint with two more right turns
As hard as we could we charged to the finish
It was a beautiful fall I was told,
But I only finished 9th out of 22 riders.

Looking For The Lost Step

All the many, many times I have danced alone because no one could follow the song that danced through my body, leaving my mind in complete acceptance to the dictates of the music as I gyrate, whirl, and spin around the dance floor my feet picking the rhythm and beat of the song they will follow. Fast then slow changing from the lead to the bass then to the rhythm, from the voices, back to the guitar, then to the drums across the floor the music takes me like a comet throuth the universe.

Then, there was a time I found someone who melted into my steps as though they were a part of me, breaking away from me only to return to continue our search for the lost step that brought us together. Into the Zen of the dance, the whole world becomes nothing more then the dance with the music taking our souls to worship God. But she, like the rest, never to dance every dance with me, or I with her, and for she, as each before her in turn has walked off the dance floor without me, and left me to my own devices.

I dream now of this one, the one I wish to dance the rest of my life with, oh she said that she could not, but then she did and turned herself loose to the music, to the dance, and to me. Until she returns to me I will dance along, and when she returns maybe we will find that lost step together.



©Rexx

Looking

Ah, being in love with love

Makes for a hard road to walk

For love is ideal

And relations are real.

Infatuation!

Now that is a burning reality!

A hot burning fire

That consumes every thought.

But as the fire roars down

To its ember, infatuation ends.

And if love is not born

Then the relationship dies.

Cold and dreary are

The dead desires

Of a burnt out

Relationship

 Leaving the jilted lover

An empty husk

A form with no depths,

Filled only with memories.

Memories that light the fires

The burning fires of desires

Desires to find true love

Loving the ideal love.

Ah, the ideal love

Where does it exist?

In whose heart does it burn?

And can it live in reality?

I believe that it can and does

And not just in a dog’s heart.

Just not for all of us,

For some it is delegated to a dream.

Life Worth Living?

The following is a response evoked from me by a question posed: Who get to decide if a life is worth living. A friend of hers had just been told that she had a 50 percent chance of giving birth to a child with Downs Syndrome.

Left for itself to decide, in the overwhelming majority of the time the self will decide that life is more desirable then the most horrible life. I am reminded of an event that occurred some years back when I was taking my Mother and adopted brother for a ride in the Smoky Mountains near Chimney Rock.

The road between Asheville and Lake Lure are laid out just lovely, very, very curvy, but the curves are set such that you can traverse them at a high rate of speed by cutting across the oncoming traffic lane. This was of the time of year that the foliage had died off because of winter and you could see in time to make your decision to cut the corner or not in plenty of time to do it safely.

I was driving my mother’s car, a Chivy Capri, Mom was in the front seat, and Jim, my adopted brother,  was in the back. I was just rocking that car, just under the ability of the car and up near my ability to control it. I do not know about the rest of you folks, but for me, that is when driving becomes enjoyable, when you are at the edge of your abilities, the rest of the time it is just a chore that has to be done. When we got home that afternoon Jim told my Mother that though he had never flown before he felt that he had now. Sorry, I regress.

The point of this story is that as I did a power slid around one long slow curve a cat ran out from the side of the road. Ran right into my left front wheel! I beaked down and in my rearview mirror I could see the cat dragging it’s hindquarters off the road. I backed up to where I was near the cat, and got out of the car. It was in real bad shape, paralyzed from the waist down, an eye half out of its socket, and blood running from its eyes, nose, and mouth.

It was in my mind to put the cat out of the misery that I had put it in, and walked toward it very slowly, speaking in a low, soft tone telling it how sorry I was for the condition I had put it into as I put on the glove I had taken out of the car with me. The cat was having nothing to do with it, as I got close it started dragging its broken, pain racked (I am sure) body away from me. Before I could reach it, it took off way faster then I could run, for believe me I tried to catch up with it as it dragged its broken body away from the mercy I had in my heart. It, at first went of the road, then turned and drug itself along side the road, and found a culvert it could crawl up into, which it did.

No mater now reassuring I tried to sound, no mater now well I tried to make my intention seem, the cat was not going to deliver its life into my hands. What life it had left it was going to spend, as it deemed best, pain racked and taking each of its remaining breath through the bubbles of blood in its nose. It was not given into me the right to decide if its life was worth living or not.

When a parent makes the kind of decision that you have put before us there are more then just the life of the baby involved. If you can afford to pay for all the additional expense that you know will come along with the birth, you have every right to spend your money and time as you see fit. I do not believe that you have the right to expect someone else to pay that expense. Insurance companies have the right to set the criteria of what they will pay for, and what they will not. If you would have the government pay for it you are forcing me, the average Joe taxpayer, to pay for your decision.

Another consideration that the parent must come to terms with is the fact that a child with Downs Syndrome will most likely out live them. I have know sever people who, in their old age, had a Downs Syndrome child, though in their forties, still a child. I used to live next door to some folks in this situation, my children, five and six, played with their boy, and he, near thirties, played at their level. When his parents died, he have to go into a nursing home, his life, as he knew it, was going to change dramatically. He will never know, once they are gone, the love and comfort that they chose to give him as long as they could.

The answer to the question is that life worth living is going to depend upon who answers it.  The cat said “Hell Yes!” I said that he would be better off dead.  The mother who just conceived a child with a big chance of being born with Downs Syndrome will have to decide.  I know what the child would say if it were asked, but the mother she has to decide if she want the rest of her life to be anchored to a six year old.  I will not judge the decision for I see both sides.

A new, forged of the old

I have came to this day,
As a new day,
A parting of the way.

Leaving the old
For the new.
A new, forged of the old.

For this day
Is born of yesterday.
Which was in its turn

Was begat by all the days
That passed before.
This coming after that.

And that leading to this.
Born a child,
Grown to a man.

A man with dreams
Whose plans always
Fell short of the dreams.

Time did show
That this is not
Always bad.

For if you shoot for the stars
And only reach the moon, You are
much higher then the ground.

Now I am to this place,
A place where it seems
I can find all I ever sought.

A man can only take
Himself so far, He need
A woman to make it complete.

An unshared life is no life at all.
But both must desire to share,
Or there is no sharing at all.

Now to this new day of which I spoke,
She looks to share as much
As I wish to share.

So like the Phoenix from its ashes
I take flight into her arms when I find her
Seeking the solace only she give so freely.

But not only in her comfort
But to the adventure we can have
Waiting for our taking.


To My Darling Hoped For One.

© Rexx

Fall To Your Knees

When you fall to your knees
And pray for sympathy,
You have lost my empathy
And gained my enmity.
For I don't give a shit,
And I don’t care a whit
For a whiner.

But if you fall to your knees
And pray for strength
You have gained my respect
And I may fight your fight
As though it were my own.
For sometimes things aren’t as they seem,
And sometimes they are just as they seem.

Someone once sang,
“We came into this world
Like a dog with out a bone’
Riders on the storm”
And we go on a looking
For that bone,
A place of our own.

Looking to fit.
Hoping for a home
We ride the storm
Until we find a haven,
A place of acceptance.
And someone who will
Share that bone.

Don’t come to me
Looking for sympathy
For things are tough all over.
Rather come to me looking
For someone to share a bone.
No pity here, just someone
Who will watch your back.

The only sure thing
You will ever know
You will find in the grave.
Until then only uncertainty,
And confusion
Between periods of certainty.
Knowledge precludes faith.

So drop to your knees and pray,
For wisdom, not knowledge.
For strength, not pity.
For counsel and guidance,
For love to guide your way,
Along the way you must
Live the life you are living.

Never come here thinking
That I will understand,
For I hardly understand my
Own way, let along yours.
Your way is your way to chose
And remember, not to choose
Is to choose!

So fall to your knees and pray.