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I'm not here right now, leave your name and number after the beep.......

Sunday, November 13, 2016

This life of mine...

I can see
In real time

I can see
The lie
in your eyes
In your smile
In the tears
As they dry
On your cheeks
that don't bend
I can see
What you think
How you feel
How you blink
How you sigh
How your chest
As your heart
Its last
I can see
and I think
AndI think
As a heart breaks
As it breaks
As it breaks
As as I watch
As I watch it
It breaks
Our love dies
And I think
This is what
A heart looks like
No more lies
As it Breaks
our love dies
As my heart breaks
As it breaks
 I watch it
In real time

Christopher McQueeney ©2016 WanderWithout Publications inc.
There is so much to write, so much...My Health is declining as my mind is slowly braking and I have barely been maintaining...two months ago I had to leave home to seek care for my has been a stange journey, and even though I have yet to accomplish what I set out for, I have experanced the best and the worst of humanity...there is a desperation in our country. It is not cominmg from thd very poor either. It is 

Friday, November 4, 2016


What says you

Listen for just a moment
I cant help but wonder
How is it we
Can be so close but just
Cant see
What is this thing
This thing between
You and me
To this very day
I feel it
Or the reminits of
The feeling that came
To me
All that I see
All that can be
Could be
Has been
Between you and me
It was more
Enough for me
Is a lot to greet
Every day
Had enough
To meet the end of things

Chris McQueeney ©11-4-16

My marriage was to me everything. My wife was the love of my life...of which there were three. Heather, Maliana, and Kendra, all broke parts of me on their way in, snd ripped gaing holes on theit way out. but evry one of them was worth it, by a mile.

Chris McQueeney

Friday, October 21, 2016

Greetings from the desert

Capable hands

Hello there
Third day of 39 here
Long ways
From yesterday
So far away
Time stops for no man
She is a fickle beast
Likes things
Nice and neat
When she's excited
She does bite
Likes a spank
Now and then
She shure is Purdy
Makes my heart skip
A beat
She has been hard on me
Surly hope
There is enough of her
For me to see
The look in my daughter's eyes
When she brings a life to be
In times capable hands

Chris McQueeney ©10-21-2016

Life is a curious thing. Walking down the road the other day, hundred pound pack on my back, a man started whistling at me. The neighborhood I was in was less than swanky. Don't get me wrong I am not above it, in fact it is a lot like the neighborhood I grew up in, it is just that usually when a stranger whistles at you in a neighborhood like that it isn't for wholesome reasons. I intended to ignore him but for some reason I looked across the busy four lane street and what I saw stopped me. The neighborhood was like my childhood, and the man reminded me of my godfather Lupe, so much so that I walked across the street to ask him how I could help him. His name is Juan, a Viet Nam Vet, marine, a good man. I knew none of that when we started speaking, and he probably will never know that I am publicly praising him, not because it is a secret, but because it would not occur to him that he deserves it. Juan put a roof over my head that day, I did not need it but the roof that I had secured had strings attached that I was sure would hurt me in the long run. His offer was simple, watch the place, keep it safe, and clean a little and you can stay here...I was leery at first, did a bit of due diligence to C.Y.O.A. but something about his genuine sincerity moved me just as much as his reminding me of my godfather did. I accepted his offer his, and it turned out to be a very good thing, the least being the roof he put over my head...

Juan a two time Purple Heart recipiant, paid his pound of flesh twice just so that pieces of shit like Donald trump can slander his ethnicity just to get votes from ignorant white people...because being a rich white douchebag sociopath is better than being a American of Hispanic decent decorated vet who knows what a real day of work means, and what the value of life is. Juan does not like his picture taken so I snuck a shot today...
Greetings from the desert

Monday, October 10, 2016

Just an idea

Walking in the middle of madness
Like playing poker
Not knowing
What your hand is
A straight
Or a straight flush
Sandbag or slowroll
No way to know
Where to stand
Just try to talk about it
All of a sudden
You're crazy
No longer fits
Sane people
Stop being rational
That did not work
To them
I never tried
Years of bumperbowling
To find a way
I (they) just thought of this today
Have you thought of
(You have to do as I say)
Its just an idea
A thought
You might (must) try it
Have it your way
I was just trying to help (control)
Have a good day

Christopher Michael McQueeney©2016

Sunday, October 9, 2016

So, Wander is on an adventure...not the for pleasure kind of trip...I am on a healing journey. My honest desire is to get better. 4 years trudging this insain track and I am ready for sanity, this train is ready to land...

Saturday, September 10, 2016

maybe So

And the curtains fall

The light from above
Struck off her eyes
Tricking me
Telling me lies
Out poured her words
You didn't try
Let it sit idle
Let it drift by
Soon enough
Years had gone by
All the while the only thing I could find
Her hand in mine
A tether
Denying the sky
Staying bound
As the night quenched
The light once staark
Pitch dark
The light in her eyes
Her hand in mine
Now I can go
And see what I find

Chris McQueeney ©2016not mine

Thursday, September 8, 2016

almost four years, four years of limbo...

Well, the thing is

What would you do
If you knew
It was your turn to die
Would you bury your head
Practice your lies
Tell um its fine
Can't look in their eyes
Look at that
Time to go
Really must fly
All the while these creatures
These things
Start careening inside
The cavernous expanses
Where once was your mind
What would you do
The day that you die
Harsh words on the phon
no tearful goodbye
No music to sooth
Your way on your ride
This day of your death
Started out with a lie
What would I do
Should I know
That day I would Die
The last thing I would do
Is start off with a lie
I would spend it in love
This last day of this life
Most of all though
even though I won't lie
I would tell no one I know
Or strangers beside
It's best that they go
About their lives
It is not their fault I know
Today is my day to die

Chris McQueeney ©9/8/16

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

To see or not to see...

The hubris of sight

The blind are blind
Not by design,
Nor choice
Not a matter of finding
The voice of their eyes
As if sight came about
By practice
Sheer will
Clearly defined
Followed to the line
Planned to the T
Goal oriented maps
Laid out to find your way to sight
Are you fucking kidding me?
Blind is blind
What good is a technicolor
That can only be used
If you can see
Before you tried
Think this too dramatic
Not in the least
This was simply an anology
An example
Clearly defined
To show you
How little you see
Even though you have sight

Chris McQueeney ©2016

Shadow wrote, when I read She spoke

Those moments were important to me...

Life at times
Becomes scarce
When day blends into day
Is it Wednesday
Or was that
Yesterday, or tomorrow
You borrow from yourself
Just to live another day
Only thing is
You don't know what part
Of you
You borrowed 4:45 to 6:38
And like buns in the oven
They rise to the occasion
Those borrowed parts of a life
Filling the holes quite close
Leaving me relieved
Because closer then I'll be
To the end of the day
When life has its way
After it is done with you
Had its say
You think, dam! Not so bad a day
Not knowing what going where you went
Taking borrowed parts
Left a mint
Of wreakage in its wake
One day
Purely out of desperation
Couldn't tell you why really
You walk backwards
How many
Day after days
Actually went past
Then you see
A conversation
That did not end
It was borrowed
By me
No clue what there could be
More important you see
Than the reply
Expected from me
But knowing me
Just keep breathing, being, living,
Seeing one more day
Was probably why I borrowed
This conversation
From me
Returned it when I could
And me
Standing there
Thinking for all this time
It was thee who failed to respond
Not me
How fickle
Life can be
Were I to have the chance
To go back the months and years
To that day
I the borrower came to take that
Conversation away
I would do the same
But on my hand
A tattoo would say
Don't lose that conversation
I loaned to me today
Because I treasured
All those moments
Talking and typing with
Amy May
Hello my friend
It's been many a day
Since I read your words
And I felt this way
How's your daughter
How's writing
How are things
On that end of the bridge
Not really so far away
On the off chance
Maybe this time
Remind me
When it's my turn
To say
Hello there,
How was your day?

Chris McQueeney @just saw this, Wednesday 8/24/2016

Shadow wrote a poem and She spoke of a friendship that abrubtly ended, no word, one day quite some time me feeling sad, and remorseful because I was on the other side of that poem long ago on that day...I found a string of emails that I had archived to save, because they were important, because who they were from, what they contained... Before my life was destroyed that day or the next, things are broken in my memory of that time. Disjointed, we spoke while I was camping, and away in New Mexico, her daughter and a friend had pizza and a sleepover in there somewhere amidst talk of children and words and soul treasures to be protected, stored safe below the tempest above the tidal wave, like an avalanche in my mind after digging in the mine only to find it was me that didn't respond when I was out of my mind, not an excuse just a mitigating circumstances beyond my experience...I never meant to violate you...neither by lack of reply, or contact so far away from the last I contacted you...I hope you read this, that it helps eased the hurt I caused...maybe, I truly hope, You will comment, or call, or email, so I can say I am sorry, missed you, it has been a long time Ms. May, hello, how the hell are you today?


Thanks Shadow for the reminder, your words were haunting, painful to read, for some reason, the arch of your neck, I clicked on your image then followed the link to Your blog and read the words, the words You wrote, but heard them as if She was the author, even though her writing is pros, She never got the chance to share her poetry with, look at that, a bunch of run on sentences with overly expressive grammer, haven't written pros in quite some time, almost 3 + years...not well at least...I have to pick up where I left off with
 Having Met Me After I Was Already Dead...that is a story that needs

Monday, March 21, 2016

Be smiling

Bobby Fischer
Ain't got nothing on me
I ain't even playing
But from my glare
You can see
That dumb motherfucker
Made the wrong move
I put my fucking money
On him
I would play
But I am a girl
And blond as can be
No one would play
Let alone place money
On the line
The likes of me
Some day that little shit will
Be smiling
As my documents he'll
Be filing
At the law firm I'll be running
You'll see...

Chris McQueeney©2016
check out the Mag

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Tater, my good friend, bravo to you!

TaterA few years back I decided to try something that I had always wanted to do, make hasheesh! There are several ways to process cannabis into hasheesh, but I did not like any of the options. Some of them are very dangerous, some not so much. I decided to use my own method... I am not going to describe how I went about that but suffice it to say that you can not find it by google, and was very successful! The yield was higher than I had anticipated, and I had an abundance of hi-grade hasheesh... That's not what I want to write about though. At one point I gave a good portion to a friend, with one step left...I had no idea how much I gave him, and the funny thing is that he had no idea what to do with it, he didn't need it, but hell, who turns down random hasheesh falling from the sky? Flash forward three years, and that friend tells me that he was going to use the Hash for something, as an alternative treatment modality for a friend with stage 4 cancer! He said several times that he would not have been able to do that, help his dying friend, without as he put it  "your generous donation"; I felt then, as I do now, that I had simply given a good friend something I had no use for but thought was really cool. My friend, I will call him    "Tater" to maintain his anonymity, prepared the hasheesh for his cancer treatments. Twenty one days, one gram, three times a day, holy shit, sixty three grams...good fucking yield! I went over to his house while he was preparing the hash and it reeked. I didn't say anything, I have manners like that. A little while after I got there he looked at me and said "smell that? That's your hash." Then he told me his plans for it. I took him at his word, but was dubious that it would be of benefit. Cancer is a killer. That was the last he said about it, till about an hour ago. Tater's dying friend was just pronounced cancer free, three large tumors gone! Wow, about blew my fucking mind! And still Tater offered me credit for being a part. But the reality was that it was his idea, and his alone, and any good that arises from it should be heaped on his very deserving shoulders! Now, I can not claim that it was the cannabis that brought about this miracle, but the amazing findings about the very real anti cancer properties that are coming out are telling! I am glad that something good may have come from such a bad time in my life...good job Tater, you are the hero today!

Chris McQueeney 2016

Sunday, January 3, 2016

the mag, some number

Just such as mine

The seas in the streets
This night
Were wide and deep
As I made my way to you
What bravery it must take
For me to slake
My thirst
On you
All you see
Is me standing there
Cheeks rose
Wind tussled hair
And just a glint
Of a grin
Tugging my lips
Slip past
The first glance
I traveled miles
And miles
All the while
You sat in comfort
Not knowing the effort
That was made
But this kiss
We have
I would have missed
And sadly I'd have been
Had you not stayed home
Warm and safe
Here to answer a call
Just such as mine

May I come in?

Chris McQueeney ©2016