Do You Know How to Fly? 09.01.2017 A


The following is an excerpt from Predator, The Man Who Didn’t Exist; Do You Know How to Fly? It is the first chapter. I already posted part of it and this is the entire chapter complete now.

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Birth of an Evil Seed

Delmer Smith III was born July 19, 1971 in Detroit, Michigan to a couple who are now both deceased. He is one of multiple children from this mixed-race union. His mother, Velma Shelton, was white and his father was black. Delmer is light skinned, light enough to pass for being white in many circumstances. The mixed bloodlines will provoke identification confusion in the future when, as an adult, he is the suspect in several crimes.
He is given his father’s name and the family happily pronounces him to be Delmer the 3rd. His name, and that of his father, is a variant of Delmar (also used within the family) and comes from Spanish and “Old” French. It means “of the sea.” The choice is, perhaps prophetic in an eerie way.
The sea is a mercurial place. It can be calm, inviting, sublime, and soft at one point in time and then, with little if any warning, it will become treacherous, evil, violent, destructive, a merciless killer. And, so it was to be with Delmer the 3rd. As it is for the sea, he also will be a mystery to those he meets in life. Michele Quinones, his onetime fiancé, told me as she was trying to make sense of their relationship, “He was the man who didn’t exist.”
She went on to say to me, “I recall one day we were fishing and he was standing off behind me and I looked up at him. He didn’t know I was watching him. What I saw was a man stripped for a moment of what or who he was. He was so soft standing there, a little boy. So strange,” she smiled as she thought back. “He was so at peace. And yet, there is this other Delmer that I did not know or even suspect might exist. I saw him for what he might have been, what he could have been, not as he was.”
He was a burglar. He had a weird sexual appetite. He preyed on women who were elderly, or close to being so. Moreover, he was a brutal killer without compassion for his victims, or sense of guilt for what he did to them.
This is a man who is an enigma to many—perhaps even to himself. In his wake will be both terror and love as well as questions—questions that no one will ever be able to fully answer.

The newborn entered the world as all children do, coated in a wet blanket of blood and body fluids from his mother, which left his small wrinkled body coated in a shining slime that needed to be hurriedly washed off. But first, so his mother could touch him, the doctor laid him up high on her stomach. The newborn wriggled about and let go a torrent of crying while the doctor clamped and cut the umbilical cord. Then, nurses carefully lifted him and took him over to a table and water to clean him up.
He was quite a sight, all slick and slimy from the birth, his lungs sucking in huge gulps of air to expel in great rips of crying in protest for having been taken from a warm place and thrust into cool air beneath blinding lights, assaulted by monstrous noises, and unknown things touching him while his arms and legs swatted here and there and at everyone around him as he let his anger be known. Soon, they brought him back to Velma, wrapped tightly in a soft blue blanket and laid him down so she could hold him close. It was only a short while later that Velma and the baby were transported to her room where she could spend more time examining and loving on her baby. And then a small flood of waiting relatives and friends arrived to greet her and the newborn.
Exhausted, he had closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep ignoring the trip down the hall on the stretcher to where they lifted he and his mother onto her hospital bed. It was much later that he felt someone tugging on his blanket and holding his tiny hands.
He opened his eyes to the harsh glare of ceiling lights and a cloud of faces peering down at him all with smiles beaming well wishes. But he didn’t understand all that and he didn’t understand why they were holding his hands and marveling at how strong he was. “What a grip,” someone said. “Just look at how he holds on.” Little could the friends and relatives surrounding him then imagine that those tiny hands would grow and one day beat, sexually assault, drag, and even kill women not much older than his own mother was then.
Then he was surrounded in safety and comfort by his parents, brothers, sisters, other family members, and a handful of family friends. They most assuredly were like others when addressing a new born for the first time. They would have remarked at how tiny his fingers and toes were in comparison to theirs. Perhaps they marveled about how strong the tiny hands were as his fingers curled about theirs and tightened, never suspecting that those fingers one day would be suspected of curling around a baseball bat and beating a woman to death in Sarasota, Florida.
They would have laughed as they tried to get his attention by making odd sounds and tickling him. And he, like all newborns, probably just yawned and looked this way and that, not focusing on any one person or thing. They would have wondered about his future. They surely laughed and were excited about his prospects and, like many parents and well-wishers do, probably even imagined him becoming some famous and wealthy person, maybe even the President of the United States. However, it was not to be. A bad seed is hard to recognize when so tiny. He would become famous, in a sense, as he terrorized parts of Sarasota and Manatee Counties because of the brutality of his crimes.
It is doubtful that anyone present in Delmer Smith’s life then would have dared to predict, or could have imagined, that thirty-eight years later this then tiny bundle of life would be under arrest and accused of being a violent serial rapist, home invader, burglar, murderer, and suspected drug trafficker. All they would have seen before them then, wrapped in a soft blue hospital blanket, was a baby reaching up, sleepy eyed, with curling fingers and toes, stretching, a wonder of life.
No one could have anticipated his troubled youth or his struggle with education. This child would repeat the second grade, and then the third, the fourth, and the fifth. At age fourteen, and in the fifth grade, he was surrounded by nine and ten year olds. Then, suddenly, he was promoted to the ninth grade skipping all the years between, and placed into a special needs class. Testing would determine his verbal IQ to be seventy, one point above “retarded.”
Not one of his then admirers saw the monster he would become. However, as he grew older, there were several neighborhood events, referred to anonymously by those who knew him as a child, which surfaced in and before his teenage years, that were indicative of a troubled future. No one then recognized his lack of impulse control that would plague him. It would not be identified until he was much older and then on trial for his life.
Nevertheless, Delmer Smith has another side to him that was noted by Michele Quinones. It was also discussed in open court during the presentencing stage of his murder trial when the defense introduced two of his family members who, as young girls, had their lives significantly influenced by his interactions with them over the years.

 

 

CONTACTS 09.01.2017 A


More contacts.

Harsh Reality wrote that like my comment on “Life.” And, I did and do like it. Harsh Reality is also known as Opinion Man. He is someone who really puts a lot of thought into what he is writing and has a huge following.

Life

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MakeItUltra is another site worth visiting. The author speaks on therapy, narcissism, and narcissistic abuse. That can be found at https://makeitultrapsychology.wordpress.com/2017/08/10/5-signs-you-havent-fully-healed-from-narcissistic-abuse/

There he  offers 5 signs about narcissistic abuse. Very interesting.

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Man of Many Thoughts is another that I have commented on and is well worth a journey to his blog to see what he is writing about. Guaranteed he can set up a scenario  that will generate a lot conversations. https://keithgarrettpoetry.com/2017/08/18/dismantling-of-america/

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Then there is this delightful blog BlueFishh. The author welcomes you warmly and explains what she is all about in a few simple paragraphs. The blog used to be call Economix.

https://bluefishh.wordpress.com/about/?blogsub=confirming#blog_subscription-3

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If I could… (Friday Night Poetry Corner #142)

You have to visit this location. Seriously. The art work is interesting in itself, a bit confusing at first, but draws the artist/poet/searchers/etc (etc is a pretty big area) right in. So go, read.

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Lakshmi Padmanaban is an Indian girl who …. well, you can read about her at

https://thethoughtfulrants.wordpress.com/about/

if I tell you anything it will spoil the adventure of going and reading her blog. So, go, now. Just do it.

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jade0207  ah, this one is an area for ladies.

https://being1nsane.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/why-we-desperately-need-girl-friendships-in-todays-times/

164 bloggers like that page!!!!!!

Personally I have always had more girl relationships than male relationships. I guess I just like women more than men and, as far as my mom and dad were concerned, that was and is a good thing.  Women are just so incredible, love everyone I ever met.

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Later more on Delmer Smith and the victims whose blood he shed.

 

 

 

 

CONTACTS 12:52 08.31.17 A


HI!

Well, just a note to say that I am very tired and I don’t really know why. Really. I don’t. Perhaps it has something to do with my sleeping on the floor last night Anyway, I am taking in some amino acid supplements and hope they will help get me out of this fog.  I was told that they would and, of course, I also heard it on the internet and we all know that what ever we hear on the internet MUST be true. I can tell you that whiskey and CC over ice do not help.

So, what are we here for today? Well, first off I want to thank those who have commented on my blog, or who are challenging me, or who have just decided to try and irritate me for no other reason than it seems like a good idea.

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1.) OM is Opinianated Man: one of this entries about life can be found at

And then there was me

And that is worth the time to look up and to read. He also writes with the name: Harsh Reality

2) https://thethoughtfulrants.wordpress.com/2017/08/20/titbit-thought-25/   NOTE: I have reblogged her.

3)   https://inmyyoungerandmorevulnerableyears.wordpress.com/2017/04/22/a-poem-about-depression/

Is an excellent piece to start with researching this writer.

4) https://bjsscribbles.wordpress.com/2017/08/29/listening-for-gods-word/

5) https://dirtyscifibuddha.com/musings/

6) https://kgbethlehem.com/2017/08/20/if-i-could-friday-night-poetry-corner-142/

These are all interesting places with strong writing drawn from raw emotions pounding out a beat  that will keep you engaged with questions long past your reading what they have produced.

.com, Amazon, and at Barnes & Noble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I could… (Friday Night Poetry Corner #142)


kgbethlehem

This will be a rather unusual poetry corner. I will begin with an opening line to one of my works and I want to see you can add a follow up line to it. Also in comments, guess from the picture on this post along with my initial line, what the poem could be about.

Next week I will complete this work. Happy thinking…
If I could..
if i could see the edge of humanity as it stood apart from me.

-K. G. Bethlehem

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Listening for Gods word


While I am not a “religious” type, I am a spiritual type. I don’t believe that organized reality is actually reality. I find too many “holes” in it and I have yet to find anyone who could or can return an honest answer to an honest question. That said, an interesting area to read with lots of connections to other bloggers is at: https://bjsscribbles.wordpress.com/2017/08/29/listening-for-gods-word/

bjsscribbles

tree

The wind swirls about me
Climbing mountains, I listen
As the wind swirls, whispering to my soul
The trees whisper, speaking gently
Showing me the way
I’ve been climbing everyday
Great peaks, running through the forest
I’m tired my body is climbing
There is a sense of peace
Scampering fallen rocks, I hear my heart beating
The wind swirls about me
Many thoughts, as I come to terms with life
Difficult situations, yet I feel grounded, peace
The chill of the icy wind swirls about me

So many missing pieces of life
Catch up with me now, yet life is changing
The old pages of life, get tucked away
Binding the old story, safely away
Now a new chapter is being written
I.ve let things go, I’ve let people go

The cleansing of life is not easy
My heart tells me, it’s the right thing to do
Casting out isn’t…

View original post 102 more words

A Poem About Depression


Very powerful.

In my younger and more vulnerable years

Sometimes you can’t see the floor,
Sometimes there’s only one top or a vest,
But this time there’s more,
And the carpet is the seabed to a fabric ocean,
It’s as much a mystery to me as my own mind.

Mind you that’s fine, that’s fine, I’m fine,
Not fine as in the void between good and bad,
but fine as in the tip of an ink pen,
Narrow and thin and sharp.
I’m drawing a line in the sand,
I’m fine with being not fine,
but I’m fine.

When that human drive to do isn’t there,
Even standing is a chore,
so is brushing your teeth or your hair,
do you even care?
Why? Why should I care?
When my brain makes things seem so bloody unfair,
why should I try if the only thing I don’t sigh at is the sight of my ceiling at 5pm?

When you’re…

View original post 222 more words

A feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.


In my younger and more vulnerable years

We’re studying gender bias in psychology at the moment. Gender bias is a form of bias that occurs when one genders behaviour is perceived as the norm for all genders. So for example, in the US some clinicians were found to equate mentally healthy male adult behaviour with mentally healthy adult behaviour. This lead to many more women being diagnosed with schizophrenia and other mental health disorders, as their normal mentally healthy behaviour, differs in part to their male counterparts’.

I want to discuss the presidential election. I do not wish to shower hate over the presidential elect Donald Trump because I’ve done that. And it may feel good to let those emotions and opinions out but it’s not a way to move forward.
I’m sad Hilary lost. Simply I’m sad because I thought her economic and immigration plans were better, I’m sad because she is more than qualified for the…

View original post 245 more words