Author: picturesassembledfrommemory

I am the one who goes to confession, 
in that little room, 
where all those skeleton bones are stored. 
The ones that everyone knows are there, 
but never spoken of, 
on these games we all play, 
with one another, 
and then there are the times when those awful realizations come, 
and the one we owe an apology to are no longer her to recieve it. 

I replay, 
a thousand slights, 
but mostly, 
I avoid the realization, 
that I am the problem. 

I have come up against the wall, 
the one you have so carefully constructed, 
all around me, 
with all your misconceptions, 
and carefully planned reminders, 
that I deserve, 
what I have gotten because, 
of my ability, 
to show grace, 
and always underneath her words is the condemnation of my father. 

He was much more right than wrong, 
much more right than wrong, 
much more than all of us have given him credit for, 
not merely an obstinate old grouch, 
he was generous, 
loyal and intelligent, 
I could not see that through my own selfishness, 
now, I see the same from my own children, 
and I pray....

"Forgice me Lord, I was once a selfish child and now I am just a stupoid man...."

T. S. Deary

1/25/24

Sitting with the window open on a bright Saturday afternoon,
steady wind blowing through the trees. 

The sound, as it passes through the stand of bamboo across the street is inviting, soothing and realxing to me.

Sitting by the open window reading, that music framing the mood, 
there is nothing to worry about as the day passes on. 

Further down the street, 
the bamboo is much taller, 
towering over the houses, 
more like the massive pine trees that line the way. 

Walking the dog, 
I listened to them sway and rub against each other, 
making music in time with the wind. 
walking into the late afternoon in steps with the rhythym, 
no cares, 
no worries, 
as the day began to fade into evening. 

T.S. Deary 
1/24 - 1/25/24

Have you ever noticed that those who throw the word democracy around the most are ususally clueless about how our government works?

Have you ever noticed how they change their point of view to fit the situation and then rely on talking points to further their narrative even when their narrative no longer has merit? Think of the recent past. Americans were bombarded daily about the nefarious collusion between Russia and the Trumo cmapaign. Indeed, there are still die hard people clinging to this farce. Think of the Mueller report. Think of how Democrats shrieked at protecting htis investigation at all costs. NOw think of how this multi million dollar investigation proved aboslutely nothing. Nothing!

Have you ever noticed that the Left calls election dnial the cardinal sin of the l;ast decade? They hold this to be a secualr balsphemy. At the same time They say nothing about Hillary Clinton> Hillary Clinton has not stopped denying the results of the 2020 election. SHe and numerous other Democrats have never, never once, accepted the results of the 2020 election. It is simp;ly not in their ability to admit that the political outsider out played their chosen pone to succeed Obama. This is not the voice of American Democracy. THis is the voice of absurdity. Clinton is the very emblem of electin denial and the Deomcratic party are her congregation.

Then there is the great echo chamber that is Congress. Consider Adam Schiff. Schiff spent years saying that he personally had explicit and irrefutable proof that Trump was an asset of the Russian government. Well, where is it Mr. Schiff? Schiif is a fool and not hte only one who is singing off key in this chorus of nonsense. Hillary Clinton is the conductor of this chorus then Schiff is the loudest, off key voice. Then there is Jerry Nadler. Nadler was one of the loudest and most moronic voices calling for the definitive results of the mueller investigation. Again, an investigation that proved nothing. Now consider Jamie Raskin. Raskin was one of the loudest voices behind the urgent need to impeach Trumo because Trump asked Zelensky to investigate his political opponent. Forget about the fact that that Trumo was easily acquitted. Raskin stood daily on the floor of the Senate, mumbling quotes from the Founders and provong nothing. Because American deocracy demanded it. Now consider the fact that Zelensky is the newest Saint in the cannon of the Left’s church and their highest and most divine sacrament is abortion.

Consider the Supreme Court of Colorado. This robust gaggle of idiots has decided that to protect Democracy they have to remove a candidate from the ballot. Isn’t preventing a choice in the election something that these morons are supposed to be against? If the Left is so confident in the ability and record of Joe Biden then why not let the record speak for itself and beat Trump at the ballot box. Saying that Trump participated in an “insurrection” and is therefore ineligible for reelection is a complete farce. January 6th was a riot and those who participated should be prosecuted and dealt with according to the law. The rule of law. Another of the mantras of these idiots. And a mantra that they only apply to certain circumstances when it suits them. The Civil War was an insurrection. A war started by Democrats in an effort to preserve slavery. Incidentally, they, Democrats, also kept Abraham Lincoln off the ballot. Then of course there is good old Joe Biden. One of the dumbest and most dramatic of hte ministers of this Church that worships, Democracy. This raging bag of hot air once said that the U.S. government has bombs and planes and nuclear weapons and could not be topelled by citizens with guns. THen he turns around and invokes the idea that a guy with a horny hat came close to overthrowing the government by sitting in Nacy Pelosi’s chair.

The use of the word, Deocracy, to describe our system of governemnt is deliberate and done by design. Surely the people who refer to our system of government as a democracy know that the Founders did not create a Democracy and that this was done by design. Democracy is rule by the mob. The mob has its own brand of tyranny and it is to be avoided. The way to avoid the tyranny of the mob is by creating a govenrment that respects and protects the rights and wishes of the minority. The President has never once been elected by popular vote and this too was done by design. If only we were a Deomcracy then Hillary would have been President. Conversely, if the Electoral College, had worked in favor of Clinton then the Left would never stop praising the genius of the Founders. The resaon that the people in pwwer call the United States a democracy is becasue they want to send the message that the mob, the tyrannical mob, is the seat of power in America. That is why they do not condemn the horrible actions of those who burnt cities to the ground in 2020. Calling the U.S. a democracy also absloves Hillary of repsonsibility fo rlosing to Trump in 2016. She got more votes so she should have been President. Nonsense. The President has never been elected by a popular vote, ever. Clinton was outplayed in a game of chess and she has never admitted it. She lost and no amount of yelling and breath holding will ever change that.

Consider all of this the next time one of these narcicisstic morons starts lecturing you about democracy. Answer their cries with facts and knowledge. Answer their cries with the fact that the U.S. is a Republic and insist that this was done by design. They count on your ignorance nad unwillingness to state the truth. Those who listen want to know the truth. Those who yeel, obstruct and continue to insist that they are right are either ignorant or trying to convince you that the mob, the tyrany of the mob, and not God is the provider of your natural rights. they hunger,not for justice, but for power. Power is their currency and in their game that is all they want.

Timothy S. Deary – 1/3 – 1/20/24

It was so offensive to when when the results of the test were sahred out loud, 
the way you leaned back in your chair, 
that sarcasm dripping from you lips, 
that smirk upon your face. 

Did you notice that I did not bite the baited hook that you threw my way? 
Did you notice that I refused to play the game? 

This need you have to elevate yourself at the expense of others?
Did you notice how quiet I am and how I never relinquish my dignity at your command? 

These games that prop up your fragile ego, 
so childish and predictable, 
so glorified by compliments, 
so eager to eat them up before anyone else can respond. 
so much to say, so many words, nothing for anyone else to realte to, 
just keep talking and the words will fall where they will, while the rest of us sit and warch in awe. 

All of us, 
amazed and wishing that we all had waht you have, 
living and breathing the things that we all hope for, 
so much to be learned just by watching you, 
so much to gain just by listening to you, 
Oh! to be you for a day! 
to sit where you sit, 
to be lost and found all at once, 
so in need of grace but never able to say so, 
or able to give it to others, 
always on the prowl to be told that you are the best and then hiding away once your pointed words shot off, 
turning to reload. 

Then there is me, 
over there in the corner, 
away from your constant need for complements, 
and the subtle ways you fish for them, 
sometimes the smartest person in the room is not the loudest, 
sometimes the smartest person in the room is the quietest one. 

That's me in the corner, 
taking it all in and quietly, 
realizing how much you love the spotlight, 
sitting there in the center of the room, 
not over by me in the corner, 
where the only validation comes from within, 
where the voice you hear is one of self validation, 
the only voice that can really be relied on. 

That's me in the corner, 
wondering when the words you speak will slow down so someone else will be able to get in a word or two? 

From the corner, 
I can see the whole room, 
I can see who is watching and who is not, 
me, 
there in the corner, 
quiet, 
remembering everything said, 
and everything answered, 
no noise from me, 
no objections, 
only remembrance. 

T.S. Deary 
1/18 - 1/19/24

"These things they go away... replaced by yesterday."
Micheal Stipe 

Don't open your mouth young man, 
just let it be, 
there is no need to bring it up again. 

This obsessive secrecy, 
this need to remain quiet, 
this passive aggressive pageant, 
nothing gets resolved. 

Award winning acting on a lighted stage, 
widespread conversation, 
only never with the one who needs to hear it, 
growing resentment, 
all these thoughts that will never be let go. 

Just check the boxes, 
control the emotions, 
the reign of resentment, 
shattered bonds, 
shattered brotherly relationships. 

Don't speak, 
keep your thoughts to yourself, 
Don't speak, 
waves will rock this boat. 

Don't speak, 
let those secrets fester. 
Who are you anyway? 
no one cares what you have to say, 
beside the point, 
all is over now, 
and these things are not worth taliking about. 

Someday you will know all, 
as I do now, 
just how blind we all were all along. 

We were so sure that we would never be like them, 
yet here we are, 
exactly like them, 
knowing all along, 
no one understood. 

This is not and has never been about a sum of money or some empty house, 
not about a desire to hold on to something that is not mine, 
no windfall to come my way, 
there is only the echoe of what was, 
and what is now, 
all these echoes bouncing off of empty walls, 
soemtimes silently spoken in this long and empty silence that has settled in between us, 
with those verbal slights, 
once made through clenched teeth, 
still never known to have been spoken, 
just a long and lonely silence, 
of ongoing bitterness that marks the passage of time. 

Until time fades and the memories relax, 
and that blame that flies around in the minds of others, 
will come to roost and until the day comes when it will fly back to me to rest on my shoulders, 
and all along, as always, we will never really understand, 

Glittering generalities, 
this propaganda of tradition, 
less than honest self evaluation, 
reflection of memory.

Mother may I?
Mother may I? 
please be relieved from all this tension.

(just as long as you don't say anything, nothing at all, not even sorry.) 

T.S. Deary 
1/8 - 1/18/24 

Nothing, 
nothing at all was left, 
at the rimof memory. 

Everything had fallen, 
into a drunken, 
smoked out, stoned, haze, 
all selfish involvement. 

Spending time, 
diving deep, 
finding nothing,
despite looking, 
nothing to see but black. 

"I am no one... I am no one..." 

Something, 
something still pulled me, 
toward the light I barely saw,
still held down by scattered thoughts, 
ignoring those divine tugs, 
on the outer edges of the rim of memory. 

"I walk away...I walk away..." 

I am aware of the serious consequences of harsh words, 
an impulsive slap, 
unpredictable rages, 
and how those vibrations continues to echo around the rim of memory, 
and today, 
I can see the outline of my face, 
in a long ago mirror, 
fixed on a wall, 
near the rim of memory, 

I drank the blood of Christ, 
my lips on the rim of the chalice, 
in my minbd I could see the light, 
long supressed, 
coming back to my mind, 
still hazy but starting to make sense. 

"I am no one... I am someone..." 

The door, 
remaining open, 
and when I reach, 
that threshold, I pray it remains open, 
dark, becoming light, 
slowly returning to a sense of being. 

T.S. Deary 
11/30/23

Sometimes I wonder how to reach beyond that crooked smile and those  blazing eyes?
I wonder, what is he thinking? 
What feelings are lodged inside of his heart? 

(he goes jumping from one thing to the next...) 

Eyes, darting from one thing to the next. 

To me it seems that he has had the same look on his face his entire life, 
as if he sees things no one else can,
as if he hears things no one else can. 

Running from one thing to the next, 
as if some invisible fuse has been lit, 
once it burns down, 
he acts as if there is no time left to waste, 
in finding something, 
to begin again, 
and again, 
and again, 
until there is nothing left, 
and then, 
he is still looking for soemthing new. 

T.S. Deary 
12/14/23

"Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger."  James Joyce

He noticed how she held her beauty ion her face, 
especially in her eyes, 
her mouth and her expression, 
perfectly framed, alluring, 
but he could never explain it that way.

What he wanted most of all was to touch warm flesh, 
to hold it against himself, 
to make the way he felt watching he walk last forever, 
or at least longer than the seconds of glancing at her in the hall. 

(exciting, enticing and terrifying all at once...) 

The space between longing and action, 
the space between actor and act, 
the space betwen wishes and fact. 

Her with her hair in the breeze, 
him, warching with eyes that blink intermittently, 
standing against the wall in his tight blue jeans, 
head all full of lyrics that match the scene so well, 
her long hair flying when she runs, 
and her snile set against the setting sun. 

Infatuation lingering on the edge of his thoughts, 
caving ion on his memories, 
played again and again, 
trying to sleep, 
with that rush of blood to his head. 

He could not begin to tell anyone, 
anything significant about her,
except that when her eyes met his, 
he wanted to run to her and then bring her to him. 

(hard as he thought he could not tell anyone who she really was or what she wanted to be...) 

He only knew how she walked, 
because he always walked behind her, 
and she always seemed to be somewhere else, 
ear buds and her head all full of music. 

Then came the slow realizations, 
building walls, 
changing visions, 
widening those spaces, 
between infatuation and reason, 
sending those realizations along wiry nuerons, 
messages that are only read slowly. 

The starry eyed stare becomes clouded, 
the world gets in the way, 
chnaging moods and feelings, 
and then, 
that rush of blood to the head, 
from a beating heart, 
slows down, 
and in irreversable moments, 
he realizes, 
he does not know her. 

T.S. Deary 
12/14 - 12/15/23 

T.S. Eliot famoulsy wrote that the cruelest month is April. I have found that the cruelest month is January. Eliot spoke of how winter kept us warm under that blanket of snow. I dont say that January is cruel because of the shorter days, the frosty weather or the New Year’s Eve hangovers. I label January as the cruelest month primarily because the month goes on and on. To me January never seems to end. Each day of January feels like they come one after another in a never ending, cruel reminder that all the fun has ended and now there is nothing to look forward to. Decemeber has been turned into a month long, Saturnalia like, party that ends immediately with the appearance of January. The best proof of this sentiment are the dead and discarded Christmas trees that begin to appear on curbs on December 26. THe finality of January is cruel. The depression begins for me the minute New Year’s Day is here.

I can link this impending change in mood to a string of personal losses that I have experienced during January. In facr, two of the most signifcant losses I have experienced in my life occured in January. During this month, my father and my grandmother both died. I am always brought back to memories of windswept cemteries and frozen ground. Alot of emotions and not alot of answers. These scenes weigh me down and add to the growing depressive feelings as if they have hands of their own and seek to pull me down. These memories are like Christmas gifts on an annual subscritption that keep coming back and giving year after year.

January feels like an interruption to me. I am a future oriented person but I never see the future in January. I only see the past. The used up, mentally exhausted, better left alone past. The wasteland of lives over, with the only recurring memory of them being the way they ended. Mental cruelty and obsessive grief.

December always feels like an ending month. December is a month full of excitement anf joy. Everyone, alot of us pretending, to be happy and excited. The parties and customs all revelove around the expectation that the waiting of the Advent season will come to an end and that the joyous arrival of the Lord will have made it all worthwhile. The joyous end of waiting ends for me in January. The feeling wilts and dies just like the browning needles of those discarded Christmas trees that begin to decorate the curbs on December 26.

December will end and January will begin regardless of my wishes. January is to be endured and tolerated, not celebrated. I am content to wait for much more freindly months like April.

T. S. Deary

12/30/23

December 27, 2023