“Command of Fate”

Command of Fate

Upon the snowy plain shadowed by a dimming sun,

Take this moment, your moment, cherish it,

Like a bar of gold, it cannot be taken with when life is done.

 

Emotions consume the thoughts, visiting in daydreams and nightmares,

A created prison, the fences high and electric,

A life sentence of torment, no parole here as the heart tears.

 

What is it worth, the caring, the anger, thoughts that make no real matter?

The happiness of the smallest joy clouded,

As a flag ignored and unlit, the weather fades and is left to tatter.

 

There is no control of fate, as the story already been written,

Succumbing to ignorant prophecy,

Surrendering to tread not swim, shy because once bitten.

 

As an eagle stalks its prey, or protects its nest,

Subtle balances of forces within,

Profound thoughts come to the mind, given its needed rest.

 

Command of the battlefield, calling each solider to bear arm,

Acceptance of inevitable conclusions,

A warrior survives,  the fate of this war has done them but mental harm.

 

I know, I know, not my usual stuff, settle down everyone!  I just wanted to try something different.  The picture is my grandfather.  He would have been 100 on Armistice Day. Read through it a couple times and fall in love or divorce it.  

Also, a little plug to one of my favorite bands, Great White.

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“I See No Color”

I See No Color

I see no color, in a sister or a brother,

But I am red, bravery and valour,  the color of blood that was shed.

 

I see no color, in a father or a mother,

But I am white, pure yet innocent, as we stand colorless for what is right.

 

I see no color, in a soldier or any other,

But I am blue, vigilant seeking justice, high in the air watching over you.

 

When I pass by, stand, you live free only because heroes had to die,

I see no color, you do, in life and one another.

 

My color you see, together, were made by sacrifices taken to be free,

Stand for me because I am you, your flag, red, white, and blue.

 

What does it take?  To me, the hypocrisy of freedom is when people do not realize that the same reason they have the “right” to do this and that derives from the price that was paid.  Sure you have rights, but do you have respect for where those rights actually came from?  There is a time, place, and way to exercise those rights. We can get the most out of everything our freedom has to offer if we are responsible.  

Freedom, hell no it isn’t free, it is an investment that cost, and continues to cost.  Understand what the cost of that freedom was and still is, and you will understand that to exercise the return from that investment came at a dear price. 

I love this country.  I don’t always agree with decisions that are made, and like this post, I am able to make it known.  Agree or disagree, that is your freedom.  We can still have a beer at the end of the day. 

Thank you Veterans for your service!

Thanks for taking a look. 

“Goodbye Dark Stranger”

Goodbye Dark Stranger

 

You lied to me today, and said this would never happen again,

My heart was pounding for little reason,  filled with adrenaline.

 

You promised that there was a way to take control of these things,

I don’t believe you know what you are doing, and each time it stings.

 

You lied to me today to make me believe things were better,

The ideas are mere words, unraveling like threads of a sweater.

 

You say next time will be different, I can walk away without anger,

It has never happened, and who appears is a dark stranger.

 

He trusts no one, never resting and has no peace,

Willing to do whatever is needed, the chaos he causes does not cease.

 

The damage he has done is like a hole in a battleship’s hull,

It is still a ship but sinks, because the water has made it full.

 

You lied to me today because surely you believe,

You actually have an answer and think that I cannot leave.

 

Or was it because you thought I wouldn’t notice that nothing would change,

Comfortable torment fills this life, decisions made however strange.

 

This time I don’t  forgive you as I have done many times before,

You will do it again, the cut is to deep, I will not take it anymore.

 

I tell you the truth today, this dark stranger, it’s time for him to go,

Silence your lips and listen, these things that you will have to know.

 

You have been here my whole life, even in my youth,

But I have learned that to lie, you must first know the truth.

 

No longer do you get to make all of life’s decisions,

The past is script that is forever, but now I am making some revisions.

 

Words before they are spoken, will be made with careful thought,

Better ways of living will be learned from the bad lessons you have taught.

 

I tell you the truth today because things will be done now the way they should,

Repairing the pieces that you broke, broken pieces you never would.

 

With nothing left to say, you are no longer welcome here,

Smiling I switched off the light, and turned away from the mirror.

Poetry “I Am Here”

I am Here

  

Look at me, right here, take my hand,

I will make sure to get you out of this sand.

 

Don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me,

I am going to tell you how things are going to be.

 

You call me Jason, but that is not my name, but don’t stress,

asking about high school, blinking away tears, I say yes.

 

Remember that night when we took your dad’s car,

Hit that mailbox and snuck into the bar.

 

What about that winter when we ditched class,

The principal chased us, slipped, and fell flat on his ass.

 

I promise you they are coming, I won’t leave your side,

We will all go together, it will be a short ride.

 

I know you are scared, and it is getting late,

Stay with me now, you are doing great.

 

Do you remember Jenny from just down the street?

Her hair always a mess, running around in her bare feet.

 

When we get back, I think we should go catch some fish,

You can stay at my house, mom will make you her favorite dish.

 

I nod my head and tell you that help is near,

When we get home, we will sit down and have a beer.

 

I know it hurts, we are almost there,

Where you are going, you will get the best care.

 

I am not letting go, my tears about to erupt,

We are team, please don’t give up.

 

The earth began to shake, swarmed by my brothers,

They took the young soldier, placing him next to the others.

 

As the door closed, I watched as they sped away,

Turned back around to face the rest of my day.

 

The images of them all flooded into my head,

It didn’t matter who they were, I never would change what I said.

 

Each face, tragedy, and triumph from this and others,

Please God let them return to their fathers and mothers.

 

Another asked, hey did you know that guy,

I said, I have known many like him as time has gone by.

 

I said a quick prayer for the soldier before entering back into this deadly game,

I wish I could have been more specific God, but I didn’t even know his name.

LEOetry “Clear for a 101”

Clear for 101

I got the call and ran to my squad car,

Where I was going was closer than it was far.

 

This place I know well, and they know me too,

The same old thing, maybe this time I will try something new.

 

Three units were headed that way, maybe four,

I strapped on my seat belt and slammed the door.

 

The engine roared as I tore out of the lot,

A deep inhale flooded my nose of booze and pot.

 

There would be no siren or flashing lights,

It had already been a long evening of drunks and fights.

 

I turned the first corner, then left to avoid a train,

The street lights made the road glisten, from tonight’s early rain.

 

I will get there quickly but safely, the most important call of the night,

Just ahead a familiar sign, comes within my sight.

 

I will be the first maybe the second squad to arrive,

That familiar feeling in my stomach returns, reminding me I am alive .

 

The car comes to a halt as I throw it in park,

This job can be dangerous, especially in the dark.

 

We may go in, or have to wait for the rest,

Each call different, each factor will determine what is best.

 

Two more show up, the first there was the officer on that beat,

Clear a path for the police, when the call comes that it is time to eat.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry, but not sorry, to build a little suspense with the call. I laugh at this because this can be so true.  I try to be realistic, but fat guys like me need to eat. In some “ten code” language, a “101” is a request to take a break and have lunch.  That is subjective because you can quickly be called away regardless if you requested a break or not. 

Much like my poem, “The Five Foot Table” many life’s decisions are made by cops in a restaurant booth.  Important decisions like, family, retirement, complaining about policies, or maybe even the last call for service.  Not only police, but all first responders, and soldiers have a limited opportunities to eat or use the bathroom.  When that opportunity presents itself, it is wise to take it. 

At work and home we can control a lot of things.  One thing a first responder can’t control is time.  You never know when that next call is coming, or what may lie in front of you.  Time can be your friend or your worst enemy.  Manage it, treat it well, and with any luck, it will be good to you.  

Please stay safe out there and thank you for your service. 

Poetry “To Myself a Lesson”

                                                               To Myself a Lesson

Closing my eyes, I left my body, only for a little while,

 an escape from reality, allowing for temporary denial.

As I walked a path, images of my life were left and right,

hearing every word ever spoken, every picture in my sight.

Like a theater with movies playing at the same time,

 watching each tear, each laugh, each mountain I had to climb.

Over here I am a child outside playing ball,

staying until dark, coming home to my mother’s call.

I looked to the left and watched a small moment of my life,

 it was my wedding day, so happy, and such a beautiful wife.

Ahead was my family on Thanksgiving Day,

heads bowed down, as they all began to pray.

Their prayer was for peace and health, thanking God that we are free,

  before the last amen, they said a prayer for me.

My family was together, but I wasn’t there,

 consuming sadness set in , it didn’t seem fair.

On the right there was a man lying face down in the snow,

I stood above him, his life gone, who he was, I did not know.

Behind me I saw myself yelling at those I cared,

They all looked confused, hurt, and even scared.

I tried to close my eyes, to watch this tore me apart,

 but I had no eyes, my words caused pain and broke more than one heart.

Turning my head, I saw a man standing threatening to do harm with a knife,

and me with my gun, prepared to end his life.

Next to this was a man on some tracks waiting to die,

wanting a train to kill him as it quickly rumbled by.

Above was a young girl pinned in a car, not moving or speaking,

broken glass and metal scattered over the road made of tar.

To the side was a young soldier standing guard at his post,

calling for help, that scared me the most.

“I am coming to get you, it will be alright”,

my vision blurred with tears as the image faded from my sight.

I tried but couldn’t move, so I looked down,

I had no legs or body, and there was no ground.

What am I, where am I, get me out of the place,

that is when I turned one more time and saw my own face.

It was me I was looking at, standing there with a smile,

a look of peace and calmness, something I had not seen in a while.

I almost didn’t recognize myself, appearing as I once was,

the chaos of each image muted, becoming quiet as an insects buzz.

The other me made a motion to turn around,

this time I was able to move, below me solid ground.

We walked together for some time, not saying a word,

stopping by a door, then my own voice I heard.

“Hey there buddy, I am really you but you haven’t seen me in a while”,

 I stared directly at me, my face in denial.

“You look at me like a stranger, but I have always been here,

 the hardest times you faced, I was standing near.”

“Your anger tried to push me away, that is no way to live,

but it was me whispering in your ear, move on and forgive.”

“Life has created who you are now, but you were first me,

today you choose your path and the person you deserve to be.”

I stood amazed, and didn’t say a thing,

wishing I was me again, able to accept what life can bring.

Finally, able to speak I asked, “ Hey, am I dead?”

The other me laughed, “No, this is a dream, but not like your others, you are safe in bed.”

“How am I supposed to forgive these things that matter?” hoping he knew,

My other me said, “Forgiveness isn’t for them, it’s really just for you.”

“Let go of the anger and hate that keeps you awake every night,

your war is over and now it’s about us, and no longer our fight.”

With a laugh he said, “let’s go” and knocked on the door,

it opened and inside was my new life, everything that mattered and more.

“Are you coming with, or are you going to stay where you’re at?”

 In front of me was a table, my family, and my chair where I always sat.

Before I could answer, my old self was nowhere to be found,

 I searched all over, my eyes darting around.

My old me was not gone, realizing I was always him,

 the light was bright ahead of me, behind the images became dim.

From the air my own voice called, “There is something you must know,

once you walk through that door, these memories will stay and never go.”

“They will be with you for as long as you live,

but I promise you will get out of your new life, exactly what you give.”

I smiled for the first time in what seemed like in years,

My family greeting me with hugs and cheers.

My voice called and said, “Hey, there is one last thing”,

forever in my ears, these words like a soft song will sing.

“It will better from here, but sometimes your mind will still roam,

your peace and happiness are found, now that you have finally made it home.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I don’t really know what to say about this, so I won’t. I will let it speak for itself. You may draw your own conclusions. 

If you think you know someone, or do know someone that can benefit from it, share it.  That is why all of these are here.  I feel I can reach more people on a platform like this before it is too late.

I recently had the honor to read some of my work at a Healing Warriors program that emphasized how healing, through art, whatever the form may, is so helpful.  I am still speechless at the stories, writings, and artwork created by these amazing veterans. Thank you all so much for your service that allows people like me to write what I do. 

I write today because I enjoy it.  Is it any good?   I have no idea, that is not why I write.  I write because these words, much like a painting from an artists brush, come from my mind and end up as typed characters on my computer screen. 

Thank you all for reading this very long poem.  I still have a tough time reading it out loud.

                                                                              DTH 

 

Poetry “Every Cloud”

                             Every Cloud

 

From a high above cloud God looked down,

At a farm below, and the white snow on the ground.

 

He saw his children who live in this place,

Had committed themselves to his word and grace.

 

Through good times and bad, God saw and knew,

This family tested, proving that they are honest and true.

 

When storms didn’t seem to end, and life was filled with doubt,

God didn’t leave, he was with them throughout.

 

The clouds can get heavy and cover the sun’s light,

Take comfort in knowing the clouds are his, and do not block his sight.

 

With a smile on his face, God listens, hearing each prayer,

Every moment seen, every cloud, God’s chair.

 

                                                                                D.T. Hudson 2018

Farming is a tough business.  Where I come from, we rely on honesty, hard work, and faith.  You have little control over things such as the weather, market prices, disease, or other factors.  You just have to do your best and hope that it is enough. 

Even when those around us tend to take the path of lying, cheating, and stealing, it is important to remember that the path chosen is the one you own.  You are not accountable to me.  A wise person once said, “What cometh around, goeseth around”, or something like that.  

It is easy to give up, cave in, or just quit when things seem like they are impossible.  Whether it be a financial hardship, loss of a loved one, health issue, or just simply being wronged by another, it really is not your fight. Let the arrogance of another be their downfall as the path they chose leads nowhere but to darkness. 

Whether you believe in God, Karma, or another higher power is not for me to judge.  I think we can all agree that most things happen for a reason. We may not always like the situation, but typically we learn from it, and it works out for the best.  Let your higher power take care of these things.  Rock on people, rock on!

P.S.  How cool are drone photos? Thank goodness no one decided to be close to nature and take an outdoor bathroom break!

Poetry “The Guitar Lesson”

                                                             The Guitar Lesson

 

My father once gave me a guitar, I proudly displayed for all to see,

He taught me how to play, creating the music of my life for no one else but me.

 

Time taught me the world would be less confusing if everyone spoke in one tongue,

Indeed, that exists through music, every note played, every note sung.

 

But my life more closely resembles this instrument I choose to play,

Music through sound, telling you exactly what I want to say.

 

This guitar can be used to speak words without moving my lips,

Or a street performer happily sharing song,  just playing for tips.

 

Moments in life mostly resemble this old guitar,

High and low notes change quickly, without moving very far.

 

Played by ear or sometimes with sheet of music to follow,

Some are electric, others shaped round and are hollow.

 

The neck is divided by frets, much like time separates all life’s events,

Each space a different note, each memory past or present tense.

 

Different chords played many ways, it really does not matter,

One fret up makes it sharp, and one down is flatter.

 

Like life, a good song depends on how much time you put in,

Never perfect, yet sounding better with practice and discipline.

 

The chords are like humans, making rich tones as my fingers move around,

No matter the brand of guitar, they all make a similar sound.

 

How it’s played is the difference, neither right or wrong,

Picking the melody instead of strumming, making it sound like a different song.

 

But the song is the same, masked by each individual technique,

To live life is to celebrate another’s difference, each special and unique.

 

It took this long to realize this guitar’s lasting impression,

Learning that anyone can understand me through music, was my most valuable guitar lesson.

 

                                                                       Thanks Dad

                                                                                                                                D.T. Hudson 2018

Guitars, and music in general, have become such an important part of my life.  The holes in my office walls where I missed the studs trying to hang pictures are covered by these works of art. 

My dad got me into playing guitar at a young age. The good old 50’s and 60’s music like “Wipe Out” and “Run Around Sue”.  He and mom were hard-working farmers.  I was the pain in the ass middle child that moved out soon after graduation. I had no farming aspirations or abilities whatsoever. Regardless of who I am or what I did with my life, music would always be a staple. 

After moving to Arizona to avoid these cold winters, he really took to finger picking and playing gospel. I can not tell you all what a joy it is when he and mom come here (in the summer of course) to visit.  We sit and play guitar, talk music, and simply discuss guitars in general. Considering play hair band rock, our duets get rather unique. However,these special times have truly become one of the best parts of my life. 

I am a drummer by nature, but I have always loved to play guitar.  Unlike a piano, the notes not only go vertical on the neck, but also horizontally. There seems to be unlimited things you can play and there is always constant room for improvement. Am I any good, hell no, but I have fun trying. 

The amazing thing about music, these guitars in general, was that no matter how different of people dad and are, we will always have this in common.  For me, that is one the greatest things in the world. 

 

Poetry “The Wind”

The Wind

There is a place that sits high on top of a hill, in the summer it is green, in the winter the snow will fill.

The lake with blue water is now frozen over, a white blanket  has covered this  field of clover.

The winter winds run through it like a riot, but today this land provides much needed peace and quiet.

Abundant tracks of wildlife made while they roam, nestled in the trees, a place they call home.

It could be now or one hundred years prior, the view catches my eye and I stand to admire.

A soft breeze touches my face, making its way to my ear, whistling by, there is a voice I can hear.

The wind calls my name as before, but this time I listen, while snowflakes in the sky flash and glisten.

This voice is familiar, often I chose to ignore, words of true peace and happiness, please tell me more.

Forgive those around you, and you will live much longer, forgive yourself, and you will be much stronger.

Know that there is bad, but good will prevail, let go of your anger, let it set sail.

Accept who you are, not what you will be, do all these things, then you will free.

I tell the voice that in this life, nothing is free, there are prices to be paid, the cost is on me.

The voice let out a small sigh, and said you must move forward, instead of asking why. 

What is around you has been here for years, it has seen the world’s happiness and its tears.

You are part of this place as much as it is part of you, full of life and love, every day brand new.

Take this gift for which you did not ask, be true to yourself, take off your mask.

I left the hill, the words a carousel in my head, and vowed to try to do everything the wind had said.

When I returned that summer, the wind blew but did not call, never again heard, winter, spring, summer, or fall.

                                                                                                      D.T. Hudson 2018

      There is this place by where we used to live. We referred it as the POD land; long story.  The view to me was amazing.  Overlooking a beautiful Minnesota lake, I often dreamed of putting a home on the property.  The problem was, I didn’t have the resources to even come close to achieving that dream.  So instead of building a home, I would just sit an admire the beauty mother nature had given this place.

     Throughout my poems, you can probably tell that my mind works on dark and light levels.  For instance, when I am working a project, specifically art, my thoughts are almost verbal conversations that I have with myself.  I would be lying if told you I didn’t sometimes also answer myself, but that is a different story all together.

     This picture of the land in the winter is near and dear to me.  I am fairly certain someone purchased the land and put up very large and lavish home.  That is the beauty of photographs and poetry.  I can remember it just the way it was, or maybe still is.

     Thank you for taking a look at “The Wind”.  I appreciate all of you reads and comments.

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