Memories of Vaughn’s Mill Road

loup
11 October 2017

moonlight beams over mountain tops
the changing color of the leaves

a faint Autumn breeze haunts the valley
and her creatures

it is not only the leaves that change
every year I become a child again

fireplaces burning throughout the cold nights
evening stars shining a blanket over our nocturnal souls

–LGK2002

I wrote this after my parent’s passed away in 2002 – jotted it down on the notebook. I stumbled across this poem this morning. I miss them so much, sitting on the deck with them, listening to the night sounds of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

angry prose

loup
30 June 2004

JRock doesn’t admit it but he is a writer. I love to read his stories. He pulls from day to day stuff, sometimes a headline or two creeps in. What draws me to the work is the anger. The force with which he writes. If you think Stephen King is scary you haven’t read JRocks work. J writes what I think … in that dark corner room of my mind, the room where I have to keep the door locked to survive in this politically correct nightmare we call life.
J told us of some losers in Oklahoma that tortured some puppies recently. I read the news about this and wondered how I could find this useless fucks and … well… unlock the door so to speak.
Like I told you J often writes what I think … and he is writing a story now called “Independence Day” … “I locked my forearm around his mother‘s neck, the back of her head pressing against my chest. “Those puppies were scared weren’t they. They had tears in their eyes. They didn’t know why you were doing what you were doing. Dogs trust, blindly… THEY SHOULDN’T!!”
It’s brutal, and I dig it. I have thoughts like this all of the time.
Some people think I am crazy for thinking the thoughts that I do — but don’t worry. It is when I stop thinking those thoughts and start acting on them — then you should worry.

getting started

loup
18 July 2003

I thought having this set up would inspire me to write more. So far it
hasn’t — the rants and thoughts and ideas are still trapped the dark
maze that is my brain. I was standing in the shower this evening, for
the second time today — damn this sweaty weather — thinking. I think
about everything in the shower. I need to find those soap crayons so I
can take notes. Some of my best thoughts are when I am naked and wet. I
guess there isn’t much for this situation other than to just write.
After all a writer writes — isn’t that what they say. I doubt there is
little interest out here for what I have to say but then again I never
did anything because I hoped someone would care enough to show
interest. I guess if you are reading this and you are interested —
thanks and stay tuned, if you aren’t then look out because I think the
dam is about to burst. It won’t be pretty … honesty never is.

lessons in the desert

loup
16 January 2003

lessons in the desert

he said leaving is never easy
and she walked out the door
a dust devil came for her soul
as she realized she wouldn’t see him anymore

the dreams still haunt her
what could have been and things left unsaid
did she really ever know him
or was it all in her head

the desert sun baked down on her
the day she drove away
a stronger woman for it all
but oh what a price to pay

LGK – 16Jan04