Opinions and Thoughts of LightHouse Dann Verner - Just as he is!

I am lost. I am all alone in a crowded world. A cold world for sure. It’s not like it was during my youth. Society has changed. The people haven’t, but their ‘ society ‘ has. So, I am left to ask you, the total stranger, am I finally broken, never to be repaired? I blame most my demise on the era I went through my puberty in. That sliver of time between the 1950’s and it’s gospel /bluegrass/country & Western musically influenced attitude and the 1960’s Dawning of Aquarius/LSD/Frank Zappa cultural shock era. I embraced the latter lifestyle tightly. I still do to this day. Peace, Love & Hippie Dope – the artist eccentricity creating chaos in my heart. My choice to bear the weight being a vagabond twelve year old hippie nomad led me into a world where feelings were real and emotions ran free. Everything was black and white. It is what it is. Never sugar coat reality. I was always partaking in one or more exploratory excursions into the expanded conciseness

I am ' LightHouse Dann Verner'. A man who some say has lived many tragic lives. The first decade of my life I had lived in thirty-two homes. None of which I ever spoke the words, " Mom or Dad ". Only " Mister or Misses". I started my ' Walks ' at the age of ten fighting the monsters in my head.  The demons were winning for many years. I left my siblings Father's house at the age of twelve to join a hippie commune and learned how to be a Heroin addict. I have never slept in my father or mothers house since that day. That was over fifty years ago ..... Was my life hard? I think not. Every life is difficult. It is our trials and tribulations that define who we become in life. I have done many things I am ashamed of. I have done far more that I am proud of. Never let your past transgressions define your future. Hold your head high and hold the attitude that you are the best you that you can be today. For yesterday

I have not been writing much as late. I have to get back to doing so. I am overloading my mind with chaos and confused emotions. The cancer eats at me even when it is laying dormant. “Am I going to die?” or “Will I soon be a husk of my former self?” – these two questions echo to and fro within the confines of my mind. The tears I have yet to understand. They flow without rhyme or reason. Occasionally I have a warning. Many times I have not. On a crowded bus they leak out my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I have learned not to be embarrassed. We all cry occasionally. Why am I crying??? I know not why. Perhaps it is fear of the cancer, or sadness from the condition of my emaciated body, or my feelings of unworthiness. I know I have worth. I know I have been allowed to live for a greater reason than I have knowledge of. In a few mere weeks I transitioned from one tough mofo of a streetwise gangster to a 102 pound HUMBLED man. A man who at 61 realizes that honesty, ca