I Believed Now I know

I Believed Now I know
Written by Donovan L. Green
7/23/2018 7:37 PM

I believed and walked in faith.
I knelt and prayed and wept.
I bowed and gave my life.
I cried in shame and repented.
I stepped out and blindly walked.
I stumbled along in ignorance.
I fell and prayed and stood up.
I waited for love and guidance.
Alone I stood in the dark waiting.
Quietly I listened to hear my worth.
I prayed for my purpose to be revealed.
I struggled and failed to find meaning.
Day after day and night after night.
The only voice I heard was my own.

Discouraged I walked strong and firm.
Abused and neglected I stood tall.
I announced, professed, and declared.
I was certain stepping stone to stone.
I prayed and begged for a hint, anything.
I waited and listened stumbling along.
My hands and knees bruised and scraped.
Tired and weary I asked for relief.
Alone I waited listening and looking.
The only voice I heard was my own.

I shouted and yelled and shook my fist.
I cursed in vein and challenged my maker.
I threatened and degraded and swore.
I stood at the edge between heaven and earth.
Guide me or else, comfort me before I fall.
I stood at the edge and looked away.
The only voice I heard was my own.

Providence was not with me.
Guidance and mercy nonexistent.
Love and comfort absent.
Abandoned and forgotten
The only voice I heard was my own.
And I was the only one that could hear it.
Like shouting into a dark endless void.
My voice silenced upon leaving my lips.
The only voice I heard was my own.
And here is what I kept hearing.

Nothing is real except the pretend.
It’s all fake and imaginary cereal filler.
My purpose hidden without meaning.
I didn’t ask for riches and glory.
I asked for forgiveness and got shame.
I asked for love and was abandoned.
I asked for understanding and got confusion.
I asked for guidance and no path was given.
I asked that I may give love and I was banished.
I asked that I may show mercy and all left.
I forgave all and stand accused.
I offer my love and have no takers.
I offer my guidance and am laughed at.

I am patient, strong, and withstanding.
I may be the only one who ever loves me.
I may be the only one that can forgive myself.
I may be the only one to give myself guidance.
I may be the only one that can provide comfort.
I may be the only one to realize purpose.
I may be the only one that can define meaning.
I may be the only voice I ever hear.
And my voice tells me that there may be only one
thing I will ever be successful at, never haven given up

I am to myself the god I once believed existed.
I show myself the love I never received.
I forgive myself of my short-comings.
I provide the guidance I need to love life.
I comfort myself when all else has failed.
I cannot explain my purpose, so I give it away.
I define a beautiful meaning for my life.
And since my voice is the only voice I hear,
I speak softly and gently with the firmness of a bear.

Unsung Hero

Unsung Hero
Written by Donovan L. Green
7/10/2018 8:23 PM

Chunks of shrapnel lay buried beneath his skin in several places. He’d been shot at many times and hit once. With the bayonet on the end of his rifle he killed the enemy that had attacked and stabbed him with a knife. Not sure when one caused the deeper scar. He had been a brick layer’s helper for a few months after graduating high school before he donated the rest of his life to the Marine Corp to go fight in Vietnam. He completed his first four years of service as a drill Sargent before meeting and marrying my mom and becoming my step dad.

We never did get along very well. I was born to defy authority and he was born to enforce authority. I was about 13 the first time I firmly stood my ground. He had the 100-yard stare mastered. The look was probably what his enemy saw just before grasping his life ending wound. I saw the look many times before leaving home the day after my eighteenth birthday. I never stood my ground against him after that time.

He was the toughest old bird I ever saw. He was born in rural southern Colorado and raised in the rural bad-lands of Oklahoma, one of the places I was raised. He had a history of health problems, many stemming back to his tours in Vietnam. He didn’t sleep well, had nightmares, and awoke frequently during the night. Mentally he seemed stable but was stubborn. I can sum him up with one word, unreasonable. For instance, I wasn’t allowed ever to give my side of the story. Whatever anyone ever said against me, every accusation was the truth against me. I would only receive more lashes with the belt if I wanted to say anything in my defense. For me to speak to him was “back-talk” punishable with the belt and the rest of the day in my room.

One Saturday morning when I was about eight years old we went to a place where a building had been demolished. We picked clusters of bricks clumped together with mortar and loaded them in the back of old pickup truck. They were heavy and had sharp edges. My hands were torn up by the time we had the truck loaded as I did not have gloves. I knew the misery with the bricks was only just beginning. I would have to spend my Saturdays meticulously chiseling off the mortar trying not to brake any whole bricks. I was so relieved when I finally completed my task and had them nicely stacked in a cube shape. Then, he said to move them around to the other end of the garage. Moving the pile of bricks to various places around the yard became the go-to chore when I finished all my other chores and I asked to go play with my friend. What a bastard. I went through similar training with telephone poles, rocks, firewood, and various other heavy burdens.

We moved around a lot while I was growing up. we moved across town and across states to ne states. I was the moving crew at the other end of a lot of heavy furniture including some useless piece of garbage wood burning cook stove which weighed a ton. Somehow being yelled at made me strong enough to move my end of it. moving all the junk that should have been left behind was only part of the torment. Leaving my friends behind each year made making friends more and more difficult as it seemed like a bad idea. I went to six different elementary schools, nine schools in total by the time I barely squeaked my way through senior year of high school.

I’m pretty sure my stepdad viewed me as nothing more than a financial burden and the only way to ease the problem was for him to get his monies worth of work out of me.

I don’t really know where I was going with this, just an unpleasant reminiscent about life growing up. this is undoubtedly spurred on by my little brother’s emails, which he includes me on, about his up coming trip to Colorado to scatter his dad’s ashes according to his wishes. My little brother (half brother if you will) doesn’t know any better. He is considerably younger than me and he had a very different life growing up. He had a dad that treated him a lot different than the way I was treated. He also had a mom, my mom abandoned me when I was ten years old, my first little brother was born. I was the son of a bad experience for her.

Why do so many children have parents that suck? Why do so many shitty people ever have kids anyway? As bad as I had it growing up, I know there are a lot of kids out there in far worse situations than I ever imagined. I was worked like a horse but otherwise abandoned. I was malnourished, had rags for clothes, and played with rocks and sticks which could be cars and buildings in my imagination. So many kids have it so bad. I wish there was a way to help every single one of them. I would send all of the bad parents, including mine, to Antarctica and give every kid good parents. Wouldn’t that be nice.

I do not do anything my parents did. My stepdad ruled by fear. I strive to be the most patient and understanding dad. I offer my kids to rely on me as much as they need and I offer them as much autonomy that they are comfortable with. I want to brake the chain of bad parenting. My goal is to give my kids the ideal dad I wish I had had when I was growing up and even now. I have two handsome intelligent sons that are doing a good job in life. I’m not the dad I wish I had never known, I don’t parent the way I was taught. I think through about how to raise responsible adults in a manner in which they are and will continue to be successful in their lives and love and respect me all the way on their journeys. My stepdad was never proud of me, but I am proud of my two sons.

I want to be the hero for my sons. I want them to think of me when they need help, have questions, and talk to me about their ideas. I want them to trust in me and feel safe and comfortable. I want to teach them to ask the right questions and to think about things, especially consequences of actions. I want them to have good manners and be polite, and thoughtful, but not out of fear, but from their hearts. Me stepdad wanted to teach me to work hard, I want to teach my sons to be diligent and smart. My sons say things that make me feel great and proud. Out of nowhere I get a compliment that makes my day. I don’t always feel like a great dad. I wish I could do some things different. I was young and dumb when they were born and I was impatient and not very understanding. Fortunately I was able to recognize that I was on the path of my stepdad early on and was able to change who i was and focus on being that dad I wish I had had.

A Love Poem

A Love Poem
Written by Donovan L. Green
7/14/2018 8:27 PM
I want to write a love poem, something from my heart beautiful and smooth, romantic full of emotion we’ll never be apart, dancing, arms locked forever. I will spill my heart out and tell her she is beautiful and pretty.

I love your faith in me that you are always with me
I love your loyalty to me that I’ll never be replaced
I love your dedication when I need you most
I love your honesty when you share your concerns
I love your resilience to the outside forces
I love your inner strength to follow me
I love your determination to see things through
I love the peace that surrounds you pure and easy
I love the harmony flowing from you through all
I love your desire for me that gives you strength
I love your passion like a wildfire that clears the clutter
I love the love you have that abounds unlimited
I love the quite tranquility you bring to the storm
I love the storm you take to the wicked and unruly
I love your hair so shiny and silky smooth
I love your skin so soft and golden tan
I love your eyes so bright and happy
I love your smile so pretty and genuine
I love your neck so tender and gentle
I love your arms wrapped around me
I love your belly button tight and uncovered
I love your hips a little curve just right
I love your legs long and smooth
I love you standing tippy toe
I love your arms over my shoulders
I love your eyes smiling up into mine
I love your nose touching mine
I love your lips as you kiss mine
I love your breath as you whisper in my ear
I’ll love you for ever and ever no matter what.
I love your lips touching mine soft and sweet
I love your warm breath whisper in my ear
I love your silky smooth hair tickling my face
I love your body on mine sweet and tangy swirling
I love your finger nails in my shoulder blades
I love the shape of your body the way you move
I love the way you see when your eyes are closed
I love the way our fingers inner twine and grip tight
I love to hear your heart racing with my heart
I love to feel you breathing heavy with me
I love the way you lie relaxed easy next to me
I love the peaceful glow your aura all about you
I love your head resting gently on my arm
I love your hair flowing gracefully around me
I love you and everything about you
Forever and ever no matter what.


Written by Donovan L Green
5/22/2018 2:35 AM

I see all these people (women) talking about having been touched inappropriately. They talk about how it has ruined them, about how much psychological torment it caused them, and I wonder how come no one has ever wanted to touch me?

I’ll tell you what is inappropriate. Two people together, with motive and opportunity, and being ignored. Let me tell you what the psychological effects of being a little boy and not ever having been touched by a female school teacher or anyone else is. It has left me feeling undesirable, unwanted, and discarded. All those times I raised my hand for help and was completely ignored. I didn’t want to know what 2+2+6-4+3 was, I wanted my teacher to come over to me, lean over next to me, put her arm around my shoulder as she knelt next to me with her hand on my knee and asked me what I was having a problem with.

I can only dream and imagine what it must be like to be human. Because surely two humans next to each other, must have the natural tendency to interact in a human way. To want to touch and explore sensuality. She could tell me softly, closely so I could hear when her lips separated from each other as she spoke that math is only the excuse as to why we were together. The real reason is so we could learn about each other, human interactions, a closeness that we were kin, of the same kind with a natural attraction towards each other as she slowly moved her hand onto my thigh.

To go through life never having someone brush against, lean into, or rub across me makes me feel that I am unwanted, undesirable, and less than human. Is there not a single woman out there that just in the course of normal daily interaction has just wanted to feel me, even through our clothes, even just briefly for a moment? Am I not human? Even a fucking goat can get a pretty girl leaning against him with her thigh as she preps him for the show competition.

I think I am going on television. I am going to name names. I am going to talk about how psychologically deserted I feel because I have never been given the attention that I deserve. I’m tormented and stressed, up at 2:30 am writing out my thoughts and feelings of never having been touched inappropriately. Trying to cope with the fact from a little boy through adulthood into maturity, that women have consistently refused to acknowledge me, to recognize me as man. Not school teacher nor street walker pay attention to me. A homeless stray dog gets more attention than I have ever been given.

We all need love, and I’ve not that either, but how about just some simple affection? We all need it. I promise ladies, I am man and I will not reject you, there is no inappropriate touching here, only inappropriate disregard. Brush against me as you lean over to shop for apples at the grocery store. Rub against me as you squeeze pass me moving through the doorway at the convenient store. Let me know I am human and that I exist.

Easier to Be

Easier to Be
Written by Donovan L. Green
4/26/2018 10:14 PM

Easier to be an atheist than to believe my life was given by the God of love.
Easier to believe i have been cursed than to believe that it’s all just coincidence.
Easier to be an atheist than to believe that even the devil won’t buy my soul.
Easier to believe in destiny than it is to believe in the myth of freewill.
Easier to be an atheist than to believe this could possibly have any purpose.
Easier to believe in eternal damnation from a previous life than strive for better.
Easier to be an atheist than to believe god locked me up in a room with Satan.
Easier to imagine that I am going to someday accidental stumble into my one and only, my forever love, my soul mate, my angle, and she and I will fall madly in love and live happily ever after than it is believe anything I have ever been told by anyone.

Never a Chance

Never a Chance
Written by Donovan L. Green,
4/20/2018 9:37:16 PM

Was never even close
Not ever a thought
Was not supposed to be
Should have never been
Cheated having life
A life was given though
No soul designated
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

It’s me all that – am
All – will ever be
Nothing more – could be
You know it’s just me
Cheated having spirit
To me a spirit was given
Like spit in the wind
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

– wonder alone along
Discarded and deserted
Down the dirty path
Seeking acceptance
Discouraged and depleted
Instead find nothing
Nothing but the same
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

It’s me, all that – am
All that – will ever be
But it’s all – have
All – ever have
Nothing more could – have
Like spit in the wind
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

Ever since the beginning
Alone – laid alone – played
Nothing else – never knew
Alone – stayed and alone – prayed
Never afraid still – paid
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

The price for the gain
The life should never been
The soulless discouraged
Nothing more than the same
Just a broken spirit
An old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit

But it’s all i’ll ever have
With my old rusty broken
Discarded unwanted spirit
Down the dirty path
Seeking acceptance
The only success to ever be
Is never haven given up


Written by Donovan L. Green,

It doesn’t matter what your name is, where you are from, or who you are.
It doesn’t matter what color your skin is, what language you speak, or where you are from.
It doesn’t matter if you are well educated, uneducated, or still being educated.
It doesn’t matter if you are a fast food junkie or a raw food vegan.
It doesn’t matter if you are an athlete, a couch potato, or amateur sports enthusiast.
It doesn’t matter if you collect stamps, comic books, baseball cards, or fast cars.
It doesn’t matter what your favorite sports team is or whether they win or lose.
It doesn’t matter what your favorite television show is, movies, news, or sitcoms.
It doesn’t matter if you are poor, wealthy, or just the usual working class.
It doesn’t matter if you have a lot of friends, a few friends, or none.
It doesn’t matter if work day shift, night shift, or the graveyard shift.
It doesn’t matter if own a house, rent an apartment, or live under a bridge.
It doesn’t matter what you think about politics, the banks, or the stock market.
It doesn’t matter what church you go to or how big it is, or who else is in it.
It doesn’t matter if you are straight or gay, or some other option.
It doesn’t matter if have a great job or just a government subsidized freeloader.
It doesn’t matter if you volunteer your time to a good cause or donate your blood.
It doesn’t matter if you believe in god, multiple gods, ancient gods, or no god at all.
It doesn’t matter who you know, who knows you, or who knows who.
It doesn’t matter who you follow, who follows you, or who follows who.
It doesn’t matter if you smoke reds, blacks, golds, shorts, 100’s, menthols, or herb.
It doesn’t matter if you drink original, light, extra light, zero, or free.
It doesn’t matter what city you live in, what state you call home, or what country it is.
It doesn’t matter if you are short, tall, average, fat, skinny, chubby, pretty or pretty ugly.
It doesn’t matter if you are a school teacher, or a naked shaman in the jungle.
It doesn’t matter if you believe the earth is a globe, hollow, flat, stationary, spinning or a bowl.
It doesn’t matter if you believe the moon landing were real or just a propaganda campaign.
It doesn’t matter if you believe the sun is a big ball of fire millions of miles away.
It doesn’t matter if you think the moon is made of swiss cheese.
It doesn’t matter if you believe there are more than seven billion people.
It doesn’t matter if you believe that extraterrestrials are running the government.
It doesn’t matter if you believe in democracy or aristocracy, capitalism, or socialism.
Every single person on this world is, and always is, contributing to only one and the same single end result.

Churning elements from within the earth to its surface.