how quickly the grains of sand fall
6November 15, 2014 by randalldeanscott
I don’t mean to get into the gloom and
doom of it all but
it rises up from out of no where sometimes
how quickly the grains of sand fall
counting years passed
wanting some of them back
but also happy to know there are no time machines
I move on and choose when or if at all
what moments to relive
shit who’m I kidding
as if any writer has such an option
to spill the soul
and to achieve any written words
worthy to be read
one must bleed with memories
return to the shit storms
taste the salty tears again
drink booze on college-town pub patios
recollect the wife fucking another man
playback the events in my head
when I stood watching a woman
take her last breaths and shivering
under my blood-stained flannel
on the side of the road
a drunk driver’s mess and there I was
in the middle of panic
trying to clean things up
calm and collected
facilitating an emergency response
some asshole’s bad decision and
responsible for an innocent victim
in shock with blood coming out of her ears
undoubtedly some brain damage and
a flannel was all I could do
both of us dead on arrival
if thoughts alone could save the day
I would’ve been a modern day jesus
but the world doesn’t work that way
I don’t mean to get into the gloom and
doom of it all but
it rises up from out of no where sometimes
how quickly the grains of sand fall
bad decisions
living seconds like an asshole
a hero or a lover
a student a friend
a son a brother
shit jobs and corrupt government
an hour train delay
standing behind slow old ladies
in grocery stores
ramen noodles in my shopping cart
too damn tired to watch for the ace card
folded by trivialities like a million ping pong balls
no defense paddles
just taking it day after day and consumed
often by shit that doesn’t matter
grains and grains pouring out at the speed of light
more tombstones
cremations
someone else’s storm now
if i’m to spill my soul
I return to where bloodshed occurred
drinks with old buddies
childhood disasters
a dead grandmother at age eleven
her passed-on passion for all creators
a calm and collected facilitator
when she wasn’t drinking
my two failed marriages
the first fish I caught
while having my first beer
with my grandfather
watching my father die
the one who tried too hard for friendship
instead of being a role model
a two bit junky
in and out of jail
a con man
the difficulty of looking into a mirror
when you’ve come from a shit bag
but we made peace like some might do
I return to my adolescent alienation
feel the tug of all that is temporary and
throw up a little in my mouth
the inner turmoil of rejection
the false search for hope in pretty girl’s eyes
ironically ones who bent over for dollars eventually
rich boys and football players but
rarely for poets musicians or visual artists
a naive boy indeed but
that’s where I go to open it up
random dots on the timeline of pleasant
disasters
Copyright © 2014 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved
Randall Dean Scott 
Yeah, I relate to that – nice work!
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Thank you.
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Wow, epic … I think you are becoming, unfolding, on the tall tree branch, ready to take flight. I sense your time is near. Oh, and I am certain you did your best for her, and being a witness is perhaps more contribution than you know. No one should die alone …
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Semantically I’d say we all die alone, but you’re right…it’s good to have loved ones around, friends, lovers–or just someone who gives a damn. I didn’t want to give a damn that night but I did somehow. That stuff/caring just surfaces. I don’t beckon it. It just turns up. And most days, it’s a royal pain in my ass. Hope things are going well for you, sir. I got a new gig recently and things are looking up. Hoping to hear the same from you.
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It does just come up, like the universe knows who needs us a any given moment. I was thinking exactly what you said as i wrote this. Semantically we do all die alone … I did get a project mgr gig recently, starts on Monday. Its contract but could go long term. Intersting stuff to. Glad things are looking up!
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Well, shit, congratulations! I’m happy to hear that it’s interesting. My new thing is more programming related, front and backend, stuff. The number of peanuts is reasonable and the best part is that it’s work from home, or anywhere for that matter. Once I find the balance of work/personal, I will be more likely to write more words rather than giving four hours per day to the commute. It’s also nice to have the option to travel around a little, taking the work and the writing on the road once in a while.
Truly happy to hear your news! I’ll be trusting that the temporary status morphs to permanent. Have a great day, dude!
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