From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

Posts tagged ‘anger’

Why Am I?

Trying to come to grips with the sense of sadness, loss, confusion, frustration, angst, and oblivion, that my Father and the millions of others, who suffer with Alzheimer’s disease or other forms of Dementia, live with every day.

Staring into the emptiness
Trying to understand
Nothing making sense
Why am I?

Memories lost
So tired, So alone
In a world full of strangers
Why am I?

People seem to know me
Think they understand
Can’t see the real me
Why am I?

So angry, so lost
Where has my life gone?.
Help me, help me, help me!!
Why am I…


School crossing or Race Course?!!

Oh the wonders of humanity!
On the one hand, we are an amazing bunch. Look no further than the Mona Lisa, The pyramids, the Sistine chapel, The empire state building, the international space station etc… All of these are man made, and showcase our skill, artistry, creativity and ingenuity to the nth degree. Not perfection, but not too shabby either.

Then there’s the other hand.

I won’t touch on the current global/environmental/political insanity nor will I speak to crime, violence and the very many other social ills that plague us all daily. As pertinent as they all might be, that is beyond my purvue.

No, my issue is much, much closer to home.

Parents of young preschoolers who dress their young charges in the warmest winter clothing, and who lovingly hug and kiss the children goodbye whilst instructing them to behave, to play safe and to listen to their teachers. So far so good, right?

Some of these, though, are the self same individuals, with the children on board decals proudly emblazoned on their rear windows, who will tear off with reckless abandonment in their minivans, attempt to reach maximum velocity out of the parking lot, and then proceed to careen right through the school crossing without slowing down. (let alone actually stopping, and seeing that the kids get safely across.)

The poor crossing guard should be receiving danger pay. I’ve personally witnessed a few such occasions where the poor soul has had to jump aside to avoid an oncoming vehicle there. I guess his big red sign with the embossed, iridescent lettering, is too vague?!!

Just today, as I came from dropping my Nephew off at his preschool, I had the distinct impression I was strolling along the Indianapolis race track during the time trials!!!!

Slow down !!!!!

Please understand, I’m not painting everyone with that same brush, there are far more caring individuals who obey the traffic laws, and who don’t have a self indulgent desire to cause bodily harm, at least in my neighborhood, anyway, but my word, those who do, do so in style!

City counsel has done everything in their power to keep our school kids out of harms way, but their crossing guards, additional signage etc, will only help if people bother to obey them. That could be your child stepping off that curb!

How the same Human Race that inspires such beauty and wonder, in the world, can show so little regard for its own kind is beyond me.

Sorry for the preachy tone of this post, but I just needed to get that off of my chest, before I implode.

Be safe everyone.

~ Cliffy



The red seemed permanent, I rapped anxiously on my steering wheel, and glared at the traffic light  in as intimidating a manner as was humanly possible. Staring hadn’t worked either, I’d blinked over a dozen times and yet still the angry crimson orb peered, back at me, as constant as the throbbing in my brain.

Several car horns , repeatedly voiced their opinion of our current predicament, but mine did not join the chorus. It was with me at the front of the line,

I was so tempted to abandon my little Corolla, and walk home; I probably would have, too, if I hadn’t just made the final payment on her, two weeks earlier, and if home wasn’t, at least, twenty-three kilometers away, of course.

With so few vehicles approaching from any of the three, alternative directions the other temptation was to jump the light and get on with my day. Why didn’t I ? That is a great question, I am glad you asked it in so timely a fashion.

Not twenty feet from where I waited, with rapidly dwindling patience, sat a Vancouver City police car. It was unoccupied, but I somehow sensed that it’s driver was, even as we speak, scrutinizing this scene from his window seat in Madison’s Cafe.

I wondered how long he could possibly leave it before he intervened, and ushered us dutifully through the intersection. A new city ordinance against the use of a cell phone whilst behind the wheel of a running motor vehicle was, for the moment, preventing me from summoning  himself, or one of his colleagues.

A few cars were, now, performing illegal u-turns; Others were zipping past me, in the inside lane, and turning right. I counted to twenty a half a dozen times, but still I waited, and still I stared at that, confounded, red light! It would have been so simple to break that law, many others would have, of that I am sure. Curse my parents for raising a lily-livered, law-abiding citizen!

I turned on the radio, half expecting to be mentioned, on the traffic report.  Speaking of traffic, it was backed up, behind me, by now, for several city blocks at least. People were hollering, horns were blaring and my head was pounding like a thousand Ringo Starrs. I rested my right hand on the hand-brake lever, and sat poised with one foot hovering over the clutch, and the other by the throttle. My patience was at an end.  I was all set to break the law!

The guy behind me finally lost it, he yelled at my rear-view mirror while waving his up-raised fist in some sort of unfriendly salute. His big-block Chevy engine roared angrily, clearly in tune with its agitated owner, and his vehicle pulled out and around mine in an, impressively, aggressive leap.  As his head drew even with my passenger-side window, he glowered at me and I clearly remember the throbbing vein, dancing away on his glistening forehead; well that, and then as the Chevy accelerated into the intersection, the squeal of protesting tires and brakes, and the gut-wrenching  explosion as two perfectly good vehicles became one mass of smoking rubble.

copyrightCopyright 2014 – Clifton J. Lewis

The Prizefight

This short story is based on an actual event. Names have been fictionalized to protect the innocent. 🙂

The Prizefight

By Clifton J. Lewis
The two men, glared at one and other across a
dilapidated wooden fence, the tension between
them palpable. Hatred fairly oozed like so much putrid
perspiration from every pore.
.Kyle Macgregor spoke first.”It belongs to me! I seen it first and I intend to stake
my claim!
“That may be so, but its my property! Owen Smiley practically spat out the words between sneering lips,
.“Possession is nine tenths of the law; that makes it mine now, don’t it?””You son of a …”Macgregor swung a meaty fist, but Smiley ducked smartly, and countered with deadly
aim. Kyle winced and fingered his tender jaw.”You’d be minced meat b’now!” He bellowed, “If I were ten years younger!””Oh yea, You and what army? Come on, fight like a man!”Macgregor lunged and missed again; he grunted  with the exertion and grabbed at the
fence to steady himself. The rail came away in his hand.Recovering quickly he hefted the wood and swung it like Babe Ruth’s favourite bat.

The makeshift club struck Smiley square on the shoulder, and sent him sprawling
across the lawn.

Macgregor laughed.

“Not smilin’ now are ya, ya smug buzzard?”

Smiley grimaced as he clenched his injured shoulder. Outrage blazed in his glowering
eyes and beat red complexion.

“You nose-picking coward,” he hollered, “can’t fight w’ya fists, so ya break up m’fence to
do it!”

Macgregor scowled.

“Your fence…..! I don’t need no feeble stick to kick your behind. Come over here ya mealy-
mouthed buzzard; I’ll thrash you old style!”

If he’d been in a comic strip, the steam would have been erupting from Owen Smiley’s
flared nostrils. He snorted and bellowed like a rampant bull as he charged.

The eight-foot section of weary fence was no match; it surrendered with a single blow,
and was quickly trampled under foot.

Macgregor growled and jumped on him, and the two brawlers tumbled to the ground.
The Canny Scot and the Wiry Welshman fought tooth and nail. They clutched, clawed,
and pummelled each other like savage beasts, neither man yielding an inch until finally
they both dropped from sheer and utter exhaustion.

Pam Macgregor was hanging sheets on the clothesline when her neighbour, Denise
Smiley, arrived on the scene. Neither seemed surprised at the sight of their bruised,
bloody and battered husbands.

“Oh lovely,” said Denise sarcastically, “I see the boys have been at it again.”

Peggy grinned.

Denise chuckled, looked over at the two weary combatants and slowly shook her head.

“Yep, they sure have. I swear that fence is down more often than a duck!”

“So, what earth-shattering event was it over this time?”

Pam was trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Well, it would seem that the first pear of the season fell from our tree on to your side of
the fence.”

“Oh yes!” Said Denise, “Here it is, and what a nice pear it is.”

It was big, plump and had a ripe rosy blush on its skin that foretold of the sweet
juiciness to come.

There was a mischievous grin on her face, as she dashed, pear in hand, into the house.

“Hey, she can’t do that, ” Yelped Kyle McGregor; “it’s my tree!”

Owen Smiley shrugged, the good humour returning to his elfin eyes.

“It looks like she already has, boyo”

Kyle’s complaints were quickly muted as his neighbor’s wife reappeared. She was
carrying the same pear, but now it was cut perfectly in two halves.

“Well I guess fair’s fair” Said MacGregor as he awaited his share of the fruit.

Denise handed one half of the pear to Pam, and the two fighters watched in
dumbstruck silence, as their wives, with looks of sheer ecstasy on their saintly faces,
happily devoured the prize.


The Wayward Wind

I wrote this poem about a week ago, and wanted to find a different method of presentation. I decided the verses combined nicely with some cloud photos that I took recently, and paired them with my recording. Does it work? Let me know what you think. Thank-you. Best Wishes, Cliff



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