REALLY?
Trump is president?
Well, this slimy, bigoted, narcissistic, sexual assaulter IS NOT MY PRESIDENT!
I'm still in shock! How? What the fuck!
My first post on Facebook was, 'Hey, motherfuckers, Trump is president!'
I don't swear anymore. I tried to let it all hang out. No filters. I tried to be a Trump. You guessed it ... I got jumped on by the very people who voted for this slime, those that accepted his dickness but ... God forbid, I should try to be like Trump. How rude of me. OF ME?
Don't try to be like Trump without a few billion in your back pocket.
Now there are rules. And only Trump can be such a fucking ass and be worshiped!
But I don't want to be worshipped.
I just want to be heard.
Trump as president is crazy!
Trump as president is suicide for democracy!
We just stepped into a complete dictatorship!
Hitler is truly reincarnated!
Monday, November 21, 2016
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Friday, February 5, 2016
SO TRUMP IS YOUR GUY?
So Trump is your guy?
That tells me much about you.
A bully you worship makes me sigh,
Because no self love have you come by.
He calls people awful names,
And enlists a hate that pollutes.
No respect for the President fame,
He's for all the self worship he can gain!
He calls people fat, ugly and stupid,
And yet you all fall for his divisive scraps!
His platform is so very putrid,
His words full of decayed meaning muted!
Trump will be a fatal missile,
That will destroy our democracy design,
With a Hitler like tinsel,
And a 'LOOK AT ME I'M SO GREAT' type missile!
Missiles of hate and a miscreant,
He's breeding a change to freedom for ALL,
Breastfeeding venom to his minions to vent,
And building his empire of discontent!
All the unhappy think they found a voice,
But vampire Trump feeds on that pain,
Faking to you that he's your voice,
Only as long as you believe in HIS choice!
He truly hates you, hates us!
He is of the billionaires club,
And his way is full of abhorrence,
His path full of ignorance!
Yes, if Trump is your guy,
It tells me much about you.
You hate yourself so much that you'd lie,
Full of such hate and no desire to even try!
You've closed your mind,
You have no desire to know any truth!
A mind of hate doesn't want to find,
A love for us ALL to share and bind!
No, you'd rather kill with Trump in the lead,
And spit on your neighbor,
And sleep with your gun by your feet,
Irrational fear is ALL you see!
You are a different terror to me,
Yet not different than that which you fear,
And like those Muslims you'd hate to be,
You've have your own Sharia Law to feed!
Pretending to be so noble and brave,
Kissing Trump's feet like he's your god,
Not caring that there is no one he will save,
Or that he will send you to an early grave!
This is NOT like his reality TV show!
That is for entertainment built on all that is fake!
This is your life he'll deal a deadly blow,
Becoming his greatest victim yet to grow!
Kiss your children goodbye,
Should this man become president,
Since Trump is your guy,
Prepare for all you love to die.
That tells me much about you.
A bully you worship makes me sigh,
Because no self love have you come by.
He calls people awful names,
And enlists a hate that pollutes.
No respect for the President fame,
He's for all the self worship he can gain!
He calls people fat, ugly and stupid,
And yet you all fall for his divisive scraps!
His platform is so very putrid,
His words full of decayed meaning muted!
Trump will be a fatal missile,
That will destroy our democracy design,
With a Hitler like tinsel,
And a 'LOOK AT ME I'M SO GREAT' type missile!
Missiles of hate and a miscreant,
He's breeding a change to freedom for ALL,
Breastfeeding venom to his minions to vent,
And building his empire of discontent!
All the unhappy think they found a voice,
But vampire Trump feeds on that pain,
Faking to you that he's your voice,
Only as long as you believe in HIS choice!
He truly hates you, hates us!
He is of the billionaires club,
And his way is full of abhorrence,
His path full of ignorance!
Yes, if Trump is your guy,
It tells me much about you.
You hate yourself so much that you'd lie,
Full of such hate and no desire to even try!
You've closed your mind,
You have no desire to know any truth!
A mind of hate doesn't want to find,
A love for us ALL to share and bind!
No, you'd rather kill with Trump in the lead,
And spit on your neighbor,
And sleep with your gun by your feet,
Irrational fear is ALL you see!
You are a different terror to me,
Yet not different than that which you fear,
And like those Muslims you'd hate to be,
You've have your own Sharia Law to feed!
Pretending to be so noble and brave,
Kissing Trump's feet like he's your god,
Not caring that there is no one he will save,
Or that he will send you to an early grave!
This is NOT like his reality TV show!
That is for entertainment built on all that is fake!
This is your life he'll deal a deadly blow,
Becoming his greatest victim yet to grow!
Kiss your children goodbye,
Should this man become president,
Since Trump is your guy,
Prepare for all you love to die.
Sandra K. Harrison
February 5, 2016
Sunday, January 10, 2016
The Pillars Have All Gone Now
I think it is interesting that my last post to this blog was about a pillar of my local church passing and the thoughts I had in the wake of losing him. That was back in November. It was my last post of 2015. This opening post of 2016 will begin with the loss of another pillar of my local church, Brother Max Towell.
Brother Max (Pastor Max to me), died this past week and was laid to rest yesterday. It seems to me that he was the Pastor of my church home forever. But he only moved to Ogallala in 1969 when I was 16 years old. By that time I was a wild child. A few traumatic experiences between my baptism by Ivy Conner at 13 and that 16th year of my life, found me soured on God. I was also battling something that later would be labeled depression and my teenage hormones magnified everything into a crisis, I was a mess. Pastor Max had his hands full trying to tame this wild beast and, sadly, wasn't able to do so before I sneaked out of Grandma's house one late night, a few weeks after my son's birth, and ran pell mell into a dark life until the late 70's.
Son in tow, I ran away at the age of 18 and didn't come back until 1985. By then I was in my early 30's, separated from my husband, after five years of marriage, with my son and a four year old daughter. I ran back home from Lincoln, NE to protect myself and my children. I had married a recovering alcoholic whom became very scary when he returned, like a dog, to his own vomit. Years later he would sober up and become a walking miracle! I am very grateful for the friendship we now share.
Enter, Pastor Max. He and his wife, Viola, rented me a trailer that matched my budget. They then came to my new home for Bible lessons. I'd like to say I invited him. I just didn't say no when he asked if they could come 'visit' and those visits turned into Bible lessons for most of the time I lived in that trailer. I'd also like to say that it was a wonderful time. I was a challenge to them. I still carried a chip on my shoulder when it came to God so I asked them to explain a lot of why my life was a mass of violence, shame and heartache ... which they could not. It would take me several more years before I would learn to stop blaming God. But those visits were not lost on my heart. My soul may have been hardened but their love and patience with me softened it's core. And my heart bloomed with love for them. They were there during a tough time in my life and they anchored me to Hope.
Max and the Church of Christ family were like life rings to my dysfunctional family. Sometime after I had ran away from my Grandma's home, my Mom had begun to go to church regularly and, later, her 4th husband, whom proved to be a keeper, began attending and became one of those pillars in my life that brought me closer to loving God more than ever.
I could never identify with a healthy father figure but with Pete I finally found a Dad ... a Father. He healed some deep wounds and he became my greatest draw back into the Church of Christ family. He and Mom loved Brother Max dearly and watching their faith grow made me respect Pastor Max and the Church of Christ all the more! I found I could finally pray to a loving Father because I experienced that love from some healthy 'Father' figures. I could pack away the God of violence that I falsely believed picked me as a punching bag. I finally recognized the changes I needed to make to bring this fascinating, loving, forgiving, Lord deep into my heart!
Max was there with such tenderness when Dad died. His son, Jay Towell, was then the 'Pastor' and in his inherited, skilled gift of teaching, officiated the most tender of funerals. I still hear the song he and his talented family sung, acappella, during that service. Brother Max was such a strength for my Mom during that difficult time and visited her often.
When my Mom became very sick 8-9 years ago with a major infection, Max was one of the most frequent visitors with a couple of other 'Brothers' of the church family. Most folks were scared to come see Mom, but Max showed a love that overcomes fear.
I was staying with Mom to care for her. I remember, I was having such difficulty understanding Mom's illness and keeping her home sterilized that one day, I just lost it. I mean, I really lost it! I was screaming at my Mom that I wished I had died during her difficult birth with me (I was a breach baby .... hm, that should explain why most of my walk through life has been butt first!) and hated having to deal with everything! Who should come to the door at that very moment ... Pastor Max and someone else ... darn if I can remember who came with him though. I just remember crumbling into a sobbing mess and dear Max helping me work through my despair and shame at screaming at Mom. He and his helper prayed over us and I, still to this day, feel that overwhelming calm that came over me that day. The memory still brings tears to my eyes.
I feel very sad today. Those pillars of my life that have helped me become a less dysfunctional person have all gone now. Max was the last. His son is preaching in Red Cloud, NE... so far away ... and I will miss his tremendous gift of teaching God's word.
I don't attend my church home regularly now-a-days. Something has changed. They are still the most awesome family and I love them all. I'm sure it is just me. I don't handle change well ... unless it is rearranging the furniture in my home. I like that change.
Well, Pastor Max, if you could see this post ... I would close with how much you will be missed. So many lives you touched. Such a life you lived! And an awesome banjo player to boot! I didn't remember that about you. But there you were with your banjo in that wonderful slide show of pictures they shared celebrating your life from youth til God took you home with Him. You would have enjoyed that slide show. Your family and dearest friends will miss you most. I love you, Max. I thank the Lord for you. I attribute my strong love for the Lord to you, sir. You had a big part in that love growing.
You've got another good man there, Lord. I hope to see him again. Maybe I can see him, finally, pickin on that banjo?
Brother Max (Pastor Max to me), died this past week and was laid to rest yesterday. It seems to me that he was the Pastor of my church home forever. But he only moved to Ogallala in 1969 when I was 16 years old. By that time I was a wild child. A few traumatic experiences between my baptism by Ivy Conner at 13 and that 16th year of my life, found me soured on God. I was also battling something that later would be labeled depression and my teenage hormones magnified everything into a crisis, I was a mess. Pastor Max had his hands full trying to tame this wild beast and, sadly, wasn't able to do so before I sneaked out of Grandma's house one late night, a few weeks after my son's birth, and ran pell mell into a dark life until the late 70's.
Son in tow, I ran away at the age of 18 and didn't come back until 1985. By then I was in my early 30's, separated from my husband, after five years of marriage, with my son and a four year old daughter. I ran back home from Lincoln, NE to protect myself and my children. I had married a recovering alcoholic whom became very scary when he returned, like a dog, to his own vomit. Years later he would sober up and become a walking miracle! I am very grateful for the friendship we now share.
Enter, Pastor Max. He and his wife, Viola, rented me a trailer that matched my budget. They then came to my new home for Bible lessons. I'd like to say I invited him. I just didn't say no when he asked if they could come 'visit' and those visits turned into Bible lessons for most of the time I lived in that trailer. I'd also like to say that it was a wonderful time. I was a challenge to them. I still carried a chip on my shoulder when it came to God so I asked them to explain a lot of why my life was a mass of violence, shame and heartache ... which they could not. It would take me several more years before I would learn to stop blaming God. But those visits were not lost on my heart. My soul may have been hardened but their love and patience with me softened it's core. And my heart bloomed with love for them. They were there during a tough time in my life and they anchored me to Hope.
Max and the Church of Christ family were like life rings to my dysfunctional family. Sometime after I had ran away from my Grandma's home, my Mom had begun to go to church regularly and, later, her 4th husband, whom proved to be a keeper, began attending and became one of those pillars in my life that brought me closer to loving God more than ever.
I could never identify with a healthy father figure but with Pete I finally found a Dad ... a Father. He healed some deep wounds and he became my greatest draw back into the Church of Christ family. He and Mom loved Brother Max dearly and watching their faith grow made me respect Pastor Max and the Church of Christ all the more! I found I could finally pray to a loving Father because I experienced that love from some healthy 'Father' figures. I could pack away the God of violence that I falsely believed picked me as a punching bag. I finally recognized the changes I needed to make to bring this fascinating, loving, forgiving, Lord deep into my heart!
Max was there with such tenderness when Dad died. His son, Jay Towell, was then the 'Pastor' and in his inherited, skilled gift of teaching, officiated the most tender of funerals. I still hear the song he and his talented family sung, acappella, during that service. Brother Max was such a strength for my Mom during that difficult time and visited her often.
When my Mom became very sick 8-9 years ago with a major infection, Max was one of the most frequent visitors with a couple of other 'Brothers' of the church family. Most folks were scared to come see Mom, but Max showed a love that overcomes fear.
I was staying with Mom to care for her. I remember, I was having such difficulty understanding Mom's illness and keeping her home sterilized that one day, I just lost it. I mean, I really lost it! I was screaming at my Mom that I wished I had died during her difficult birth with me (I was a breach baby .... hm, that should explain why most of my walk through life has been butt first!) and hated having to deal with everything! Who should come to the door at that very moment ... Pastor Max and someone else ... darn if I can remember who came with him though. I just remember crumbling into a sobbing mess and dear Max helping me work through my despair and shame at screaming at Mom. He and his helper prayed over us and I, still to this day, feel that overwhelming calm that came over me that day. The memory still brings tears to my eyes.
I feel very sad today. Those pillars of my life that have helped me become a less dysfunctional person have all gone now. Max was the last. His son is preaching in Red Cloud, NE... so far away ... and I will miss his tremendous gift of teaching God's word.
I don't attend my church home regularly now-a-days. Something has changed. They are still the most awesome family and I love them all. I'm sure it is just me. I don't handle change well ... unless it is rearranging the furniture in my home. I like that change.
Well, Pastor Max, if you could see this post ... I would close with how much you will be missed. So many lives you touched. Such a life you lived! And an awesome banjo player to boot! I didn't remember that about you. But there you were with your banjo in that wonderful slide show of pictures they shared celebrating your life from youth til God took you home with Him. You would have enjoyed that slide show. Your family and dearest friends will miss you most. I love you, Max. I thank the Lord for you. I attribute my strong love for the Lord to you, sir. You had a big part in that love growing.
You've got another good man there, Lord. I hope to see him again. Maybe I can see him, finally, pickin on that banjo?
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