The Summer Heat Beats Me Down.

July 31 Saturday. This is not one of my best moments to dance. My body is so tired. The life in me, the strength in me has been drained away by something that I have known to well.

My body and eyes want to cry. I so dearly want to be strong again like the man I once was. When I am tired and weak my mind falls prey to all that has depressed me over millenniums past.

It was hot even in our air conditioned home. It seemed like my room where I tried to sleep danced with the heat of Satan's demons. Satan is and old enemy of many dear souls. The old tyranny himself, he chooses the tired and weak for his midnight clutches as he delights in the destruction and carnage of what remains of the human experiment , and a pathetic old man like me.

I may be old, but I can still rock and roll. The professional beast slayer in me would rip him apart and pound his demon hateful face into a granite stone if he dares to screw with me, and old crime fighter itching for one last screwball to send to the big house,or in this case back to the gruesome fires of hell itself.

In the movies no one can whip Satan's ass, but if he fools with me I can toss him in the garbage with the old chicken fat that waits for garbage pickup on Wednesdays.

He knows my weaknesses well. He knows all my most distraught fatigues come from a loss in my heart from a tired old wound. He waits eagerly for a moment when I seek the mercy of and empty mind where old and sad memories ripped into me like a dagger.

Satan is the dagger that shoves the dagger deeper into my tired heart. I still cry for Becky when I am weak and sick and hot from the heat to near delirious mind. Old times trying to make a living in scorching sun, like the sun beating hard on my head as I pushed metal in the open horror of l00 and more degrees of heat for seven years weeping for the mercy of my God when I felt as if I needed to suffer with Christ for our baby, and my dead mother and dad.

Mom is such a crying heart in me still , like a fresh blow to all my organs of existence. I can not bear the losses of everything I hold dear and sacred to my heart. My eyes drip with sadness when I dare dwell in such horrible abysses.

My sweet mother died. I loved her with all my heart. My sweet father died and I loved him with all my heart. The old master knows how to push my buttons, but I want be his sucker.

I have a fight left in me for the one that would torture me forever. I have the swords and I have the time and challenge for the final drama if hell's master will take a weapon of matching destruction that would be fitting for the moment. Maybe I should leave God out of this, my challenge to the master of sins creations and evil.

He has always wanted my soul since the day I was born. He wants me to become so weak that I will hand it to him as a gift with a cherry on top, this is how good he is at what he does.

My only hope is God and Heaven and by prayers, but Satan knows I have to be alone sometimes , so that is when he invades my dreams with occasional horrors of old wounds.

However It is a battle that hell will not win even in my weakest moment because my most wonderful dream is sharing Heaven with Becky and Joann someday for into the future. Too much depends on the moment of grace when I see my baby stand and walk with Joann and I in the clouds of paradise and great hope and joy in the heart of God in his Almighty Universe.

It was so hot I felt like I could not stand up, but I made it to the kitchen where the soda pop resides. Maybe I should offer the old cuss some soda. He might like cola on ice after burning in hell since the day God sent him there.

God punished Lucifer long ago. You would think the beast would know better than to screw around with God's children, but Satan is a real butt hole. I will pour him some ice cold Pepsi. I like Pepsi only when there is no coke or Dr Pepper left in the house.

After Satan drinks the soda pop with ice, I will kick his butt out into my yard where the grass is tall. Maybe I will see if I can run over him with my riding lawn mower, then handcuff him and have charges filed against him for trying to take my soul using entrapment. He has broken a lot of human laws as well.

I talk so silly when I am going nuts. Joann came back from the post office. She has no idea the foolishness that enters my mind, and then again maybe she does.

I am and emotional kind of flaky person sometimes. I would check into a nut house but I just know they will want to put a dog gone rag in my mouth and turn on electric so I could wet my pants.

A grown man should never wet his pants unless he is on a hunting trip, hunting moose, and there is no bathroom in sight, and only when he is lost in the woods.

A grown man should never wet his pants unless he has been perspiring in them on a construction job earning big bucks to buy Pizza.

God Bless Everyone.