Hallowed Ground: A Father’S Memories of the Way It Was and the Way It Is.

By Kirk Riley

The book is about the sacrifices our military has taken to provide us with the freedoms we have all over the world. We have fought in many wars around the world and spilled our own blood for these other countries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543478693

Kirk Riley

I AM 66 YEARS OLD AND SELF EDUCATED.I LIVE WITH MY WIFE OF 46 YEARS IN THE WOODS OF NORTH FL.WE HAVE 3 GROWN CHILDREN WHO ARE ALL HIGH CALIBER PROFESSIONALS.WE HAVE 10 GRANDCHILDREN,WHO ARE ALSO HIGHLY MOTIVATED TOWARDS SUCESS.MY HOBBIES ARE RESTORING OLD FURNNITURE,I AM AN AVID READER.I GARDEN AND SPEND AS MUCH TIME WITH MY GRAND CHILDREN AS TIME WILL ALLOW ME.I AM LEARNING TO PLAY CLASSICAL PIANO AND TAKE VOICE LESSONS.

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Copyright © 2018 by Kirk Riley.

ISBN:                  Softcover                      978-1-5434-7868-6

                            eBook                           978-1-5434-7869-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 05/29/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www. Xlibris. com

771962

Dedication to

My wife Carol

and

My mother Anna Marie

Acknowledgements

(All My Love)

Scott and Rita Woodward for letting me bend their ears and the best feedback a friend could hope for.

My daughter Jessica for always being my confidant with a hard edge.

My sister in law, Ginger the sister I never had and her never ending trust. Last but not the least—my brother Donnie for always being there and listening to my bull-shit and wild dreams and schemes.

To Aliyah for taking an interest long ago and never faith. And to my grandchildren Jaden for finding 40 years of essays and poems. She kicked this book into overdrive.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 BC Before Carol

Chapter 2 AC After Carol

Chapter 3 Rage Against The Machine

Chapter 4 The Sting of the Wasp

Chapter 1 BC Before Carol

Rise like lions after slumber

In unvanquishable number

Shake your chains to earth like dew

Which in sleep had fallen on you

Ye are many: they are few –shelley.

I started writing poetry wnen I was 17 working at a grocery store bagging groceries and writing poetry on the customers bags. Got busted and demoted to trash compacter because I had experience from working in a card factory in new jersey when I was 16, I did not like the demotion. Kept writing poetry on the trash. Walked out.

1973

Sit down, let me tell you something I hope you will understand.

I want to tell you how many ways i’m your loving man

I can’t count the ways on my hands or toes

Why my love for you. My sweet love, it forever grows

There was a time in my life that nothing worked out right

Then I met you and for all the world to see there was light

You gave me love, you gave me strength

You made feel so good

Hold me tight, love me tonight

Make me feel like I should

1971

Laugh, and you shall be happy

Cry, and be happy that you can

Remember, and smile because memories are all you have

Forget and time will linger on

Think and try to reason with patience

Live, for what it’s worth

Die, and you shall be happy

Cast aside all worldly ties

And the future is yours to hold

Free yourself from all unnatural things

And you will feel yourself getting a little cold

Don’t mind the cold

It is only a wall of protection

When you feel yourself warming up

Head for another direction

That warmth first controlled

Will spread like wild fire

And be your desolation

But if you can’t distinguish between

Love and hate, lies and truth, faults and favor

And the thin line between them all

Well just hang it up

You will never get out of your bag

1971

Void Cynic

Filled with sarcasm, he observes them

And laughs bitterly, so ugly

He is all Cynicism

Empty, unreached, unreachable, a coward

Emotional emptiness is his defence

But really no defence at all

For he lives not

Once tortured, grieved

And because of such

He stands now a fatal critical vaccum

Weak, crippled, wronged

A nothing

1971

Riding down the highway

I ran across a

Man

Who bid me to pull over

My psychedelic, hippie van

Feeling a sudden compulsion

To make a hasty retreat

I screeched to a halt

For the over anxious man

Was the ever anxious heat

Pulling his hair and stomping his feet

He demanded my licence

And produced his ticket sheet

I asked in the most controllable tone possible

What had I done

And what was the hassle

His reply, through gritted teeth

Grimacing face and shaking hands

Was that all us sissy longhairs

Were all alike and ought to be sent

To Niagra Falls and pushed off in the dam

Well needless to say I was somewhat amused

Because the poor man was void

Of all the tact that I used

I tried to reason with patience and cunning

But mind you all us sissy longhairs are alike

And the man didn’t think that it was funny

My gas running out

And his patience getting thin

He handed me a $35 ticket

With a kick in the chins

And a not so paternal grin.

1971

Ode to horse happy harry

Writhing and screaming and dying on the floor

Darkness is his home

He cries, no more

Writhing and screaming like others of his kind

The black searching darkness

Covers his mind

Writhing and screaming and begging for more

He should know better

He knows what’s in store

Writhing and screaming and screaming for help

No one’s to blame

Only himself.

My mother – forever in my thoughts

Was a New Jersey street kid that would boast about beating a kids ass that was wearing white socks. The only problem was that she only knew how to express her new found freedom by showing anger. Being an only child and raised by her aunt, having a baby was a mistake. So she has three and a husband. My father was reeling from the patrioctic emotions of ww two. New found freedom in money, and more choices of expression. Also an only child. He meets my mother and raises a family. Except she doesn’t have or want any nesting skills. Not the mothering sort of girl. Together they light the place up. Both evolving into a new state of bohemeism. My father raised by his aunt. Recipe for dysfunctional disaster. They had’nt evolvuled into the next level of hippie consciousnes. That’s where I jump out.

2016 April 29th. Here comes the spring. An explosion of panoramic colors and aninmal instincts. Time to get your green thumb dirty and hone your hunting skills.

Both my writing and personal growth in alignment with the spring and it’s waking from the cold. When the new day starts to lighten up my windows, I don’t squint, I smile. (Thank you buddha)

Most of my adult life I have believed that my loved ones who had passed away went to their next stop that place we call limbo or oblivion. Just floating around and chilli’n for that last place in heaven. Always used this as an excuse. Ying and yang.

Then I realized that what I had been experiencencing with my own personal connection was not right. Their dna and souls were in that place where they use their wisdom and energy to guide us to reunite. Now where those other relatives go. You know, the ones that you miss but you don’t miss the drama. And even worse than that. The meaner ones(now there I go being all judgemental). Let’s just say=the really bad and evil ones. We all have one.

1971

Life is like a card game

When I can’t follow suit

I use my heart as trump

You can drag a person down so far

Beat him so low

Until that hole turns into a corner

And he fights for life

To come out of it

You can’t forget

But you can forget to remember

1971

I dreamed of all I wanted

And I dreamed of all I need

Till I dreamt passed the meaning

And the thoughts that escape in dreams

I dreamed I put on my shoes

Went to the outside

And listened to my blues

I dreamed of the beginning

And I dreamed of the end

I dreamed so long on the middle

That I dreamt myself to bed

I dreamed I checked the parts of my head

And I found one part missing

And the other part dead.

1971

Forgiveness

The people of my future

And the ones of my past

The ones that wronged me

Or crossed my path

Will hear no bitterness

From my lips

Feel no pain from my wrath

The only wrath they will know

Will be of the most precious gold

A wrath of forgiveness

For those so bold

That go against their makers wishes

And their own supremely ruled destinies.

1971

No matter what your mom says

No matter what your mother does

Or how many times she pleads with you

You go ahead an be you

It’s the thing to do

No matter how much your mother cries

Or how many nights she stays awake an sighs

You live your life the way you want

Till the day she dies

No matter how much love you get

Or how insecure you feel.

1971

Unitanamis

Unitanamis commonly referred to as who’s who

All those high mucky mucks

With their pre-fabricated briefs

Moving toys on a table

And trying to protect us

Can’t see the light for the night

And the days in their way

All the fancy collared politicans

With their attaches and briefs

Teaing from house to house

Never knowing an old womans grief

Can’t feel the cold for the gold

Or the miles and miles of an old womans trials

All those tender little children

With their moms and dads

Slaughtered and butchered

With cold hard lead

Will never see another morning