Dirty Little Secrets

Dirty Little Secrets


Just because I was young and naive

You kept your secrets from me

Because both our kids were young

I pray their minds are cleansed of such deceptions


Secrets, O how much they can harm

Dirty little secrets

How many deaths have you caused

Dirty little secrets,  you mar the Soul and the heart


Secrets, prognosticate the lies that now come

Why always the need to bury a truth

To skirt all of the real issues in our lives

In the mirror, what is that looking back at you

Dirty little secrets


We keep some secrets, sometimes  for life

Sometimes to protect the heart of a friend

Little white lies don’t hurt we are all told

All we have to do is just pretend we didn’t know

O the weight and the cost of dirty little secrets


I wish that perfect for a day I could be

A disgrace is all I see when dreams enlighten

When I see the secrets inside of me

Lord I come to you on prayerful knees

Please cleanse me of all, my dirty little secrets

Our Multiple Selves

Our Multiple Selves


How many people are you

How many people have you been

Question asked, not speaking of reincarnation

Do we ever question ourselves who is it we be

Do you ever question the places you have been

Do you question now the places you shall soon tread

Go look, search the eyes in your vanity mirror

Who is this person looking back, who is this person I see

Just who in the Hell am I, do not accept lying eyes to see

In this one life with enough years we are all many people

Certainly in the stages of our years this we all will be

Babies, belching, burping, and farting, as we leave the cocoon

Toddlers to teens through Sainthood and sins

All different stages of conscience, memories yet to be

Some of our pain we ingest, most we lay upon others feet

These eyes in my mirror, good, bad, and sickening they see

These lights to our Souls, who today, do they say that we be

This soul looking straight at us created all of our yesterdays

Our yesterdays and our today’s, who do they say tomorrow we’ll be

Thunder, The Memories, The Light


4:30 In the morning listening to the rain outside

Quiet massaging thunder rumbling to distill the night

Do we consider the thunder as the fury of God, or His love

O’ listen to the somber drum roll fading off into the night

Thunder the voice of an Angel singing, or a warning of light

The flash of light it changes your life from that time

A near miss, a near that didn’t, you tend to remember the time

Is it a wondrous thing that you got lit up and yet survived

In the rumbles deep and low you wonder why you’re alive

Did the Lord steer the light so we could see our own darkness inside

To The Scepter Above do we humbly and meekly bow even now

Is it guilt, shame, or pride, do we hear the Devil laughing at us now

Our final tally sheet, did we end up doing more good than harm

Something as simple as choking on one’s own spit we can die

None knows if once again we will hear the thunder roar then light

Thunder the last thing we hear tonight, or is it forever goodbye?

Poem: What Is Truth


O Governor Pilate what a question you did ask,”what is truth”

Does it matter how pockets are filled of the eyebrows raised so high

Human circumstances sometimes run on a foggy blade of a seeded lie

Do we choose to live and love or grow old and hate, what never was

What I might, I could have, maybe if I would have, now ancient lies


From seed to egg the spark of life is breathed into the Soul of life

From the womb we’re ripped and beaten about by such huge hands

First slap of many, turns out childhood can be the house of the dead

Schools, administrators, do they really see or care about the little ones

Beaten and daily abuse such loving memories of ones childhood days


Who cares how these lives turn out nothing but poor trash anyhow

Yea the little mice grow up to be big vicious rats to justifiably lock away

Prisons, beaten, molested, hate filled abuse, training guide for next go round

Adulthood the time you can revolt against all, but how we revolt, we choose

How we choose to hate, this is the tale of the legacy that we all leave behind


The beater so often suffered yet choose to give out undeserved anger and hate

Why do the children of cheaters grow up to be streetwise on how best to cheat

Turning to the good or to the bad how does the raped become one who rapes

Governments and people we are all filled with versions of what  we say truth is

If Pilate had waited for the answer would any have excepted Gods version anyway?









Poem: Missing The Farm


Have you ever had the chance to live on a farm

Doesn’t have to be a hundred acres to charm

Eight and one half acres for three plus years I got to live

62-65 Hard times here in these Appalachian Hills

Many times our food supply was what we grew or killed.


Hard times, with walls, roofs, and food we can all survive

Real hard times are coming, Farming will be a valuable skill

Four summers I curled my toes in the dirt while planting seeds

Surprising how self-sufficient you become when you have to be

Living on that little farm even so long ago memories I still see.


Fifty years ago we left the farm down on Crooked Creek

Still have a few pictures from that time and sense, good memories

Cows and chickens get fed but then there is the pigs and the slop

What do I miss the most, the lost innocence of my youth I suppose

Looking back I see that the farm was one of the better places I’ve lived.


If you are would up and bound up in some big city

Take the Hound get out into the open country air

Pick some strawberries, check see if the melons are ready

Listen to the sounds of the goats and the cattle, or the silence

Fresh ham, bacon, eggs, milk, and butter you didn’t have to buy

I would rather die poor on my farm than breathing smog in a high-rise.

(Philosophy/Poem) America, O How I Will Miss You



A Truckers Farewell Song


Hardly a month now have I been gone from your highways

Now living the sad picture of a life that I have always dread

No longer each morning waking to new air and your scenery

Your pictures hopefully forever framed now within my head

Bad health, depression, normal aches and pains age brings on

They have now ended the only life I had ever wished to live



Sweet beautiful Lady for decades you let me sing your songs

Thank you so much for all the memories both good and bad

Depression in ones old age I’ll find a way to kick your ass

Those of us who have worked like a junk yard dog all our lives

Who broke our backs and families working for a poor mans dime

Health problems and broken hearts no choice if we marry you



America, sweet Lady do you now see the cost of loving thee

A lifetime your threads I crossed Sea to shining beautiful Sea

Pretty lady your winding roads I know every pothole and stitch

Pictures in my mind forever of all your beautiful scenery

No longer will I be able to tread thee

Nor travel the roads of our cold North Sister

Your wonderful memories sketched forever in my mind

America I salute you, and I thank you, Good Night

The Years

Well, if it was 50 years ago from right now, President Kennedy would be getting murdered in about seven hours. I am 57 years old now so obviously 50 years ago today I was seven and I was in second grade in Woodlawn Virginia. I guess that most of us who are old enough remember that day. I was just a little hillbilly kid from the country who was barely passing second grade and was in a household with a very abusive alcoholic dad so my world was very small. When President Kennedy was murdered and the news reached into my life, I didn’t even know what a President was. I know that my Mom was really sad and she explained a few things to me and we did turn on the TV and watch the evening news. So, 50 years ago this evening was the first event that made me look outside of my little entrapment, the first time I had ever even thought of there being anyplace besides the little world I was in.

This anniversary got me to thinking about time, and life, and events within it. My growing up years (10-18) were in Belvidere Illinois, at that time the town had a newspaper called the Belvidere Daily Republican. One of the little sections I liked to read was where they did a section on past events there in Belvidere, it had events from 10, 25, and 50 years ago. I have liked History subjects most of my life so I enjoyed learning things that had happened where I was living in the past. We moved to Cherry Valley Illinois from South Dakota in November of 1966, we only stayed there for three months until we found a better renting situation five miles away in Belvidere. So, we moved there in February of 67 and Belvidere had a F-4 tornado on April 21st of 67. I remember thinking if I would be alive to read those articles about the tornado come fifty years later. Turns out though it is now three years and five months from that anniversary and I have found out that the news paper no longer exists. So, so much for that idea, I guess that I never thought about out living the towns only news paper. But, most assuredly I have a huge amount of mistakes and miss assumptions through out this past fifty years, but as I said, this anniversary got me to thinking about Years, times and events in my life and how quickly they float by us.

I have to admit that for quite a few years now I have wandered if I would live to see this day just as I have wandered if I will still be breathing on April 21st of 2017. About today, I have wandered how the nation would mark this day, the news media and the people of our country. I guess maybe it will mean little to the younger generations as this event at  best was just something they read about in Junior High history classes. But for the people of my age on up I would guess that most of us remember a hurt and a gloom from those days, this event was something that really hurt most people it seemed.

On November 13th of 1973 I quit High School and started working in a factory full time. I had been working several part time and temporary jobs since the summer I turned fourteen when I was de-tasseling corn twelve hours a day seven days a week for $1.35 per hour. But when I started reminiscing of events time tables with my wife a few evenings ago I was a bit shocked about things I already knew but just hadn’t brought them to conscience thought. November 13 of 1973 was just nine days shy of the tenth anniversary of President Kennedy’s murder. That shocked me because of how those ten years had flown by and so much had happened in that short amount of time. My wife asked me the other night how many houses I had lived in by the time I was ten, I had never thought about it before, but the number was twelve in four states, Virginia, Delaware, South Dakota, and Illinois. Realizing all the things that had happened in those short ten years from the murder to that first factory job is a bit startling when I started thinking about it. All the moves, three different states, a lot of different schools and always with my hateful violent Dad looking for any excuse to beat on you. Those are probably why I hadn’t thought about this time span (1963-1973) before. In my mind it seemed like it would have had to  be maybe 15-20 years.

These years that have gone by all of us hold many memories, great and good times as well as horrible decisions, times we have royally been screwed over and the heart ache of losses. I know that it does surprise me that I am still breathing upon this anniversary. I find that future years mean little to me anymore maybe because all my heart doctors have said I should have been dead at least ten years ago. One of the things I have learned is that lightning can royally mess up a persons physical abilities in life, I don’t recommend it for folks, not even some of the real butt heads I have been blessed with knowing in my life. In these years the Lord has given me I have made so many mistakes, I am on my third marriage, the first two were really lousy, I guess that’s why I call the other two x’s.

In my old broken down years I have settled down to one living area,(East Tennessee) almost fourteen years now and on Christmas day I will have been married to a wonder wife for fourteen years. I have four grown up kids, two blood, and seven grand kids, so in many ways the Lord and the years have blessed me. Now, I want you to think, think about your life, the years that have slipped on by you, what are some of your memories of these passing years? Are you old enough to remember fifty years ago today? Where were you, what were you doing? How do you think the murder of President Kennedy has effected you, (after many years of studying this subject matter) I totally believe that President Kennedy and Senator Robert Kennedy were murdered by the NSA, that has been my opinion now for many years. How do you think President Kennedy’s murder has effected the country? How do you think our country would be now if none of the three murders, John and Bobby Kennedy and Doctor Martin Luther King JR, ever happened? This would be a good clearing of the mind in a paper, or short story, or, just for your own deep thoughts.

So, these years, 50 now, what do these years mean to you? Are they just an old movie case in your minds closets? Are they a time that is filled with peace in your life? Or, are they something you have swept out of your memory bank because of hurts you don’t want to ever recall, I hope that this one is not saddled upon any of you. If you get the time drop the Word Press community some of your thought about THE YEARS.

Thank You,

Ted Savage