Written by M. H. Skropka
Take the Castle off my collar.
I've done my sentence, I could scream.
I am now a proud civilian.
No more warrior, no more team.
Free-e-dom!
Even in war and peace
I will drink my coors and bud light.
Free-e-dom!
I serve the great Rat Race
and the Great American Dream.
of..
Free-e-dom!
FREE-E-DOM!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Untitled
Oddness
A spledid little thing
Wanting, Demanding more
Than my tatered concienceness can offer.
Life
Lived still-framed before my eyes
Each picture framing a moment
A half-remembered living Ansel Adams
The masses turn a brief wandering eye
at the liquid tangle of allergies falling from my cheeks.
Or so they tell themselves.
Will these white-hot flames ever stop falling from my eyes?
A spledid little thing
Wanting, Demanding more
Than my tatered concienceness can offer.
Life
Lived still-framed before my eyes
Each picture framing a moment
A half-remembered living Ansel Adams
The masses turn a brief wandering eye
at the liquid tangle of allergies falling from my cheeks.
Or so they tell themselves.
Will these white-hot flames ever stop falling from my eyes?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A Time of Past Reflection
It is amazing what you will remember when you really try, no matter how much you try to block it out. That being said, lets talk about my father, the original Michael L. Skropka. A very average man that touched no one and had no effect on anything. Or so I wanted to believe.
I was watching Notorious tonight. All in all, great movie, but i digress. There is a scene very near the end where Biggie's Mother is riding in the funeral procession and she finally gets a glimpse of just how many lives her son touched in his short career. This scene took on a wicked flash-back trip to February 14th 1998. I am riding in a "family car" on my way to the funeral of my dearly-departed father figure.
I of course was brooding and numb inside. The last words I said to this now dead man was, "I can't believe you are doing this to us. How could you do this to Vickie? I will never forgive you. I hate you!" To my credit, that is a promise that I kept for SOME time, nearly 10 years to the day. But anyways, I digress yet again.
When we pulled up to the grave yard, I remember thinking that it was a busy day for the dead. There must have been at least 20 or so funerals going on that day, or so I thought. The graveyard was packed to bursting with mourners. which I later came to learn were all there for MY FATHER! There were people there that he had touched in one way or another through out his short life. There were people from his job: people he worked with directly, his parts suppliers, his catalog contacts. There were people people that he had befriended in high-school. There were people there that he had just casually talked to on a daily basis. There even people there that we never found out how they were connected. The fact remains that you never know how many lives you TRULY touch. Only upon death can we reflect, and by then it is too late.
There is one last thing that has to be said, but this absolutely the hardest thing I have ever had to say:
Im sorry, I forgive you.
R.I.P.
Michael Louis David Skropka
September 29, 1950 - February 12, 1998
Brother, Son, Father, Friend
I was watching Notorious tonight. All in all, great movie, but i digress. There is a scene very near the end where Biggie's Mother is riding in the funeral procession and she finally gets a glimpse of just how many lives her son touched in his short career. This scene took on a wicked flash-back trip to February 14th 1998. I am riding in a "family car" on my way to the funeral of my dearly-departed father figure.
I of course was brooding and numb inside. The last words I said to this now dead man was, "I can't believe you are doing this to us. How could you do this to Vickie? I will never forgive you. I hate you!" To my credit, that is a promise that I kept for SOME time, nearly 10 years to the day. But anyways, I digress yet again.
When we pulled up to the grave yard, I remember thinking that it was a busy day for the dead. There must have been at least 20 or so funerals going on that day, or so I thought. The graveyard was packed to bursting with mourners. which I later came to learn were all there for MY FATHER! There were people there that he had touched in one way or another through out his short life. There were people from his job: people he worked with directly, his parts suppliers, his catalog contacts. There were people people that he had befriended in high-school. There were people there that he had just casually talked to on a daily basis. There even people there that we never found out how they were connected. The fact remains that you never know how many lives you TRULY touch. Only upon death can we reflect, and by then it is too late.
There is one last thing that has to be said, but this absolutely the hardest thing I have ever had to say:
Im sorry, I forgive you.
R.I.P.
Michael Louis David Skropka
September 29, 1950 - February 12, 1998
Brother, Son, Father, Friend
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