22...NO MORE!

The most widely used and generally agreed-upon number of 22 when discussing veteran suicide rates (a number I use as well) is actually (quite likely) much lower than the true rate of how many of my brothers- and sisters-in-arms take their lives, after losing their battles with their demons, daily. It is an epidemic that can be slowed, sometimes just from being a friendly ear (it helped me all those years ago).

If you know someone having a hard time, either give them the hotline number (1-800-273-8255) or call it yourself. Hell, volunteer to work the hotline. As I said, sometimes all it takes is someone listening to help ease the fight.

Don't be afraid of us, don't chastise us. Until any administration gets off its collective ass and completely overhauls Veterans Affairs, especially the medical division, any help that may be given will, in most cases, be gladly received.

Do not shun us, do not taunt us. We deserve as much consideration as any other group of Americans.

And we have most certainly paid for it, at a much steeper price than most can imagine...

Keep soldiering on, my brothers and sisters!

#22is22toomany

Going live...again

So, due to an overwhelming amount of 'yes' votes, I've built a webpage/site that will host not only my book, but any and all new writings I produce (including the two y'all read here first over the last few days), as well as submissions from other authors.

Check it out: RTS Works

...is like trying to grasp the wind.

I showered you with attention;
I spoke your name in love;
My feelings for you was no invention;
It was you I placed above;

Now when I look your way;
You turn your head and sigh;
And soon, I fear, will be the day;
That to each other we say goodbye.

© 2016 RTS Works

Trying to postpone the inevitable...

I'll have a beer;
Maybe ten and three;
Then maybe I'll be near
To forgetting all my misery

There's a piece here;
Some more over there;
Fragments of every fear
Are scattered everywhere

You say you care;
Yet you are never around;
Giving you everything that I dare
Is apparently not enough, so I have found

I must try and move on;
And save what dignity I've got;
The cloak of aloofness I must don
For the patience of Job I have not

And when you ask
To where have I gone away
The response given, from behind the mask
Shall be, "where never again will I be led astray."


© 2016, RTS Works