Just passed 9,000 disciples on Word Press and Face Book

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

Just passed 9,000 disciples writing it my way and just wanted to say thanks america. When I started this blog ten months ago I was very nervous about my writing and not to optimistic about ever finishing my book. 9048 disciples later and my book published 60 days ago I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve got 50 of my books next to me right now and they are about to be mailed out to all the local book stores, radio stations, and T.V Stations in my fair city to spread the word. Think happy thoughts for me America and keep buying books. Who knows, some day may see my book in barns and noble and remember you found me blogging and living my way. Thanks for reading, buying books and giving hope to a writer trying to live life his way.
As always link to my book on amazon below. For 9,000 disciples I have lowered the kindle copy to three bucks and will keep it down for a few days so if you haven’t bought my book yet give it a three dollar try. Link below.


Long Live the Writers
And don’t forget to live life your way

Taylor Oceans

Taking Chances

America I took a chance this week on one hell of a woman.  The one who broke my nose during sex if you have read that post.  Its hard for me to be close to people.  Sure I will help my friends and I’m a considerate Gentleman always holding the door and shit. However when you have been ditched, beaten, robbed, or shot at a few times you armor gets a little thick.  Its harder to let people in and your happy to remain an enigma.  My friends and family don’t even know I write. But this weekend I let my guard down.  I gave her a chance, she stayed with me for five days and we had a wonderful time.  The sex was too hot for even my blog.  But I took a chance on her and she took a chance on me.  I was nervous, I was challenged, I was excited, and my heart was racing.  And it felt good.

I took a chance America.  I left my comfort zone and thrived.  I had the confidence to jump and I had a great weekend.  Take a chance this week America.  Leave your comfort zone.  The statistical veil we Americans cover our faces with to hide from the dangerous, the unknown.  Stop being so fucking safe America, listening to whatever CNN Doctor is filling you with fear and doubt with the newest risk that will kill us all.  We all are going to die.  We are all shiting, eating, fucking, murdering soon to die animals.

Life is fleeting, far to fast, like sand running out of the hour glass never to return nor repeat. Before you know it, your waiting for the grim reaper to open the door with nothing to help your courage but a list of regrets.  A hollow idea of what your life should have been.  America I have seen the grim reaper and he is one mean shit.(not going spiritual on you its a metaphor).  I have stared down guns and dodged bullets.  I have almost killed and almost loved.  But I’m going to change and this weekend was a great one.  America stop listening to the pussies who say be happy with what you are.  Take those books and wipe your ass with it you will get more use.  Don’t be happy with yourself however don’t hate yourself.  Realize that we all are fucking, shitting, mistake making animals, but unlike most animals we are self aware.  I think therefore I am.  We can see that we have the power to better ourselves and never stop bettering ourselves till the grim reaper shows his face and says dude you ruled…  But its your time time to leave the party.

Through learning, pain and chances we find who we really are and if you don’t like what you see change.  Four years ago I was a coke addict, who’s only relationships was with the strippers that passed through my bed room. I can’t remember one of their names not one.  I wanted more.  I quit coke, I quit dealing and have the empty bank account to prove it.  But I took a chance America.  I bet on myself because who the hell else will?  Take a chance America and better yourself. she is one hell of a woman.

Feel like taking a chance right now?  Try my book.  Just published and available on amazon.com right now.  I know I’m a long shot but sometimes a long shot can pay off big.  Link to my book follows. http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384734018&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Long Live the Writers

Taylor Oceans


P.S.  America



The Battle

Lying in the mud under a fallen tree, I could see them closing in on me. A group of twenty camouflaged hard-asses fanning out just before their attack. Armed to the teeth, about half with automatic weapons and plenty of extra ammo. I was on point, my friends in positions down the hill waiting for the assault. Behind trees and rocks guarding our outpost, my men waited in ambush. Our outpost, a two-story structure with firing holes and elevated firing platforms. A slapdash affair quickly constructed in case of attack. No more than fifteen feet high, a roughly circular structure with around ten firing slits with good cover. It more resembled a castle turret than a fort.
I volunteered to take the forward position. With our backs to the river, we knew they had to come this way. A series of fallen trees is where I picked my ground around one hundred yards ahead of the fort. I knew I was the youngest in my platoon with one distinct advantage. My small size made it incredibly easy for me to hide. A ditch was a grand canyon, a bush a jungle, tall grass a forest of cover. I had figured I could dig under a fallen tree, hide myself in the mud, and surprise them as I had seen Arnold do in Predator. When the enemy had passed, I could take out the middle of the line from behind and run my ass back to the fort. Hopefully with all my blood still in my body. I had waited for what seemed hours in the mud. The terrestrial crawlers of the forest making a playground of my hair, ears, and nose, but fear of snipers kept me still, kept me silent.
And now after such anticipation, I see my enemy. Fanning out, they cautiously approach without sound. They are twenty feet from me now and I can make out their faces. Grizzled fighters all of them. Calm, cool, awake. Their eyes darting left and right trying to fix my position. Ten feet away now, my heart is beating out of my chest. Why did I do this? I watch one of them walking right at me. He is going to step on the tree I’m wedged under. No mater what happens, I cannot move or make a sound. If I do, I’m dead. Pressure crushes me as he walks over the tree. It presses my head into the mud covering my eyes, nose and mouth. I’m suffocating. Stay calm, think. Clear your mouth without exhaling or using your hands. I dart my tongue out of my mouth and suck in sweet oxygen. Fighting the urge to gasp, I must control my breathing. I can’t see with my eyes covered by mud. Suddenly, a shot rings out. Our snipers have struck first. I feel a weight hit the tree as one of them falls on it. Not directly on top of me, but I knew one was down. First blood, my boys.
“Contact, Contact,” they scream as they return fire on my friends. I wanted so bad to spring to action and start firing. I would start my battle blind and in the crossfire I had to wait. They shout, “Kill them all” and I hear them charge into the series of trees I selected for my ambush. I knew they would use them as cover when they advanced. They’re walking right into my trap. Shots and hits ring out everywhere. The tree I was under was taking fire. Frozen in place, I must hold my ground. I must stay till they all have passed. Another screams in pain as he is hit over and over again. He was so close I could hear the rounds impact his body. Another has just walked over me and another. I only hear one more behind me; the rest have passed. I hear one of them say, “I got one; shot him right in the head.” Which of my friends was it, I thought.

Sorry America… Buy my self published book to get the end.  Told ya I had been saving the good chapters for the book.  Buy my tales. Link below



digital kindle copy for half price


Be the first of your friends to discover my book.  Finished and published only a month ago.

Happy Halloween

Hello America here is a Halloween present for all of you. Normally this blog is only the rough drafts of my book, but here is a final copy pulled directly from the book.  Don’t forget I’m selling my book for half price for only four more days as a celebration of 8,000 disciples.  So America get out your credit cards and take an 8 dollar chance on my book.  You guys like my blog so try the book and its bonus chapters not included in the blog.  As always thanks for reading and thanks to those who paid full price for the book.  I have only gotten one book review back and would love to post more.  After you read my book email me your thoughts at playingyourhandright@gmail.com.  Link to the book below


And remember no drunk driving.  Don’t want to buy my book fine, but I catch any of my boys driving drunk I’m slamming your balls in the hood of the car.  I catch any ladies drunk driving I’m paying another lady to hit you because gentleman don’t hit ladies.  But they sure as hell will pay to have it done.

Long live the writers


Back in the day, I was tending bar at a Halloween party. I was 23, the girl’s house we were at was 21, and most of the kids were underage freshman. So anyone would figure I’m going to get busted for contributing to the delinquency of minors. I figure if they are already delinquents, I cannot contribute to what is already done. So the party is going great, I’m making some money for the girls, and I can drink as much as I want, including Jell-O shots.
Then it happened. COPS! RUN! And every one scatters. Now I couldn’t run because the girls looked to me to deal with such problems and I was fucking one of them so it’s either fix this or find new Halloween pussy. I like a challenge and always have a plan.
Tape in my wallet and a second Halloween costume. Knowing when one of those delinquents gets caught drunk by the cops, he will be asked who gave you the booze. The delinquent’s response will be “Chewbacca,” due to my fine choice of costume, one that covers your face. When the Cops showed up, I ran upstairs to the girls’ room and under her bed was my plan B bag; get one. I rush into her bedroom dressed as Chewbacca to find a random girl sitting on the bed. Without saying anything, I dive between her legs to get at my bag under the bed she is sitting on while stripping off my chewy costume. She is in utter shock and in two seconds I’m in my boxers in the middle of the floor taping bags of illicit material to my stomach and putting on a toga. In ten seconds, I’ve changed from chewy to Socrates and taped my bags of “party favors” to my person and am heading out the door. I left that girl on the bed bewildered as the turkey in the previous chapter.
I got three steps back downstairs when I realize the house is full of cops interrogating the girls. All at once the cops turn and see me and I suddenly realized how truly drunk off my ass I was. The cops tells me to come down and asks if I know Chewbacca. Bear in mind, every girl in the house knew I was Chewbacca. It was as if God himself put these words in my mouth and before I realized, I had already spoken. “Yeah, that son of a bitch got behind my bar, was giving out drinks to the underage kids, and selling drugs. He ran out the back when you guys got here and you may still catch him if you hurry.” Those sons a bitches ran out the back door so fast, light would have felt handicapped. I look at my Halloween date and it was wet for she had just discovered my genius and hoped that genius extended into the bedroom. And on that night it did, kids. I said party on to the rest of the delinquents and the music started back up. Later that night, I hit it like a head on collision and walked home knowing I had renewed my gold standard of Gentleman’s behavior. Stick with your woman and please the fuck out of her.
Now, for the tape in the wallet. This can keep you out of jail. If you can’t be safe, be smart. Use a gift card of some sort, to hold tape in your wallet so in case of a sudden search you have ready tape to attach any illegal merchandise to your person. Take an old card in your wallet, I use a Marshall’s card, and cover it with tape. Duct tape is the norm, but I vary it because duct tape cannot quite do it for me. I use a breathable waterproof surgical tape. If necessary, this kind of tape can be left on the body for an extended amount of time yet is very comfortable.
So Gentlemen, in conclusion, before you go out on All Hallow’s Eve, be sure to remember your supplies:
An initial costume that covers your face.
A plan B costume that may cover your face.
3 condoms, as always.
And the card in your wallet….with surgical tape on it.
With these supplies and proper Gentleman action you can never go wrong on that favorite of slutty holidays.

8,000 Disciples Book Sale WordPress and FB combined

Hey America thanks for reading, buying books, and supporting my dream of being an author.  I just broke 8,000 followers WordPress and FB combined and as a thanks for reading I will be selling my book for 8 bucks for one week.  From 14 to 8 cutting all my profits to help spread my book and to say thanks to you guys.  Damn Publishers get the rest.  The one week long 8,000 disciple sale ending on the 4th.  Try my book, tell your friends and help a struggling author break out.  Thanks for reading my rough drafts, your feedback has helped me make my book even better then what you guys get to read for free here.  Don’t forget bonus chapters only in the book so buy it and enjoy.  43 chapters and 200 pages of my greatest defeats, my greatest triumphs, and some other funny shit.  Three years of work, 19 Editors fired, near death in five of the chapters and around a grand or two of my own money to write you guys this book.  Now available for only 8 bucks.  Link to the book below.


Long Live the Writers



Sick for final exam in English class

One day I was very sick. I had no clue what day it was, because I get sick once a year and I go down hard. I had a huge fever, coughing, running nose, nausea, and a bottle of liquid codeine my doctor had given me. Think I had strep but honestly was so fucked up this story is the most blurry . Now I had planned to curl up with my bottle of liquid codeine, rum, and sack of weed when a furious bang enters my ears. It continues, and after a minute of deduction, my codeined ass realizes someone is at my door. Now I sleep naked so I may have not been wearing pants for this part because I don’t remember this part. It was my neighbor who was also in my English class waking me up to go take the midterm. Now before I know it I am in her car. She is driving me to class and I still have my bottle of codeine in my kung fu death grip. Next thing I can remember is she is literally helping me across the street like an old man. This sweet thing is tiny trying to carry my dead weight ass across a busy intersections as I swig my codeine. Next thing I remember, someone is putting a midterm exam in my hand and I have to put down my bottle of codeine to grab it. I’m so wasted I almost spill my codeine bottle. I look up to see my professor shacking his head at me, as my fucked up ass fumbles with a pencil, bottle and test. These three things are clearly to much for me to handle.

So one hand on pencil, the other on the bottle I dig into the test. Now I’m not well read, but our colleges are a joke. Seriously all you graduates, I’m sorry I never did graduate, but what I did was really, really, easy and over priced. I was closer to finishing then you would think with all the drugs and on schedule to either graduate a year early or a semester early. I took twenty three credit hours in a semester once double booking a class. I also worked a full time job. Now ten minutes into this test I’m a third of the way through it. I’m consistently slugging on this bottle and laughing hysterically at the stupidity of the questions. There was Shakespeare, and Greek mythology, and all kinds of shit I covered in high school. So I’m just laughing my ass off pissing everyone off beside me while my friend pokes me with her pencil trying to get me to shut up. Twenty minutes have gone by on a test that should have taken an hour and a half and I’m already to the essays. I have no idea what I have done but my body and brain are some how filling in bubbles. I’m completely surprised by this as I watch myself take this test laughing on codeine.

Then the essays some dumb shit about Dante’s inferno another high school book and I finish the test second with an hour to spare. Now this is in one of those big auditoriums with a two hundred other students in it. All of which are pissed at me for being so loud either coughing, drinking, and laughing. I stumble down the stairs from the nose bleeds falling onto two people as I go. I walk up the professors desk and trip on the steps. His desk was on a stage in the front of the auditorium. The pencil the test go flying. Still vertical top off and not spilling a drop is the liquid codeine. I’m on my back in front of 200 hundred of my classmates, one applaud professor, and three teachers assistants. Holding a bottle of liquid codeine in the air attempting to not spill it while lying on my back.

How do I get out of this jam?  Buy my book and find out.  Link below.


Thanks for reading and I hope you have enjoyed my rough draft.

Lost in the woods

Ever seen the show I shouldn’t be Alive. Well, luckily for your reading pleasure, I’m as dumb as some of the people on that show. Personally I thought they shouldn’t be alive because if they were my kids I would have smothered them by now, but we all make mistakes and judging by this book some make more mistakes. So its Valentines day, my girl wants to go for a romantic trail walk in the mountains of HER GODDAMN HOME TOWN. I was from the sea four hours away. And yes I was birthed by the ocean that’s why I sail so well.

So supplies consisted of a bottle of water in my back pocket and her bottle of water. She had half a pack of smokes and I had a fresh pack. Also a lighter and three condoms. Take condoms everywhere. Take them to see your parents. Maybe they will introduce you to the slut next door. Don’t take one condom. Guys, they break, and if she is having fun why not keep on going, and for you fellow stallions you can just wear the fuckers out and swap them out. And a cigarette case with six joints. Conclude our supplies.

We set off into the woods. Nice day partly cloudy 55 degrees, a warm February day and its about one, two o’clock. We set out into the Appalachian trail. Mountain terrain, heavy forest, light under brush. So were walking down the trail. Good time for a joint. Come to a T junction, I follow her, loving to look at her ass. She was a tramp stamp model.

Walking, walking, smoking, several forks, which way do we go? I don’t know I’m baked. Spark joint two. Smoking, walking, four o’clock, smoking, walking, T junction, walking, smoking, T junction, walking smoking snub it. Drink, looking at her ass, flirt, spark joint three, smoking, walking, really baked, walking, smoking, talking, T junction, HER HOME TOWN, HER IDEA SHE IS LEADING, valentines day. Can we fuck? “Not yet…” she replies Walking spark joint four… Really Really Really Really high.

Of course at some point during this moon walk, she turns to me and says, “Which way?”

So confident as a gentleman I say this way. Luckily we were on a single path and only forward or back were my door number one and door number two. First junction this way. Second this way. Then we come to a three way split. I silently think to myself, “Door number one cold death in mountains, Door number two death by mountain lion, and door number three possible escape if I win at this life or death game a few more times. Five o’clock the prediction of early showers comes true. I’m in the fucking mountains with half a pack of smokes no water and only two joints left and they are getting wet. So finally she asks the question, “Do you know where you are?” I thought to myself yeah lost in your fucking back yard. It was funny though because the whole time I just wanted to tap that hot ass. If they found me frozen to death I’ll be giving God a high five as I hit it from behind doing the doggy style Popsicle. So I say the only plan I’ve got going on since my last sun sighting two hours ago baked out of my mind. We walked west into the woods and if we go west we go deeper in the Appalachian mountains and die tonight of hypothermia because MacGyver couldn’t make a fire in this down pour. Or we could go north where the nearest house is 40 miles away and we die before we get there. We go south and its twenty miles to our town, but it will be dark in two hours so we die tonight anyway or we hopefully get east and somehow run into the highway. Of course I sugar coated it a little, but she took it very well. I was expecting five stages of denial, but I got a calm ‘ OK I’ll follow you.’’ If your reading this pooh for getting us lost, but props for taking it so well. Again twenty minutes from her house she had lived in for ten years. My house four hours away, my second school year in this town where I never left campus. If you knew the town you’d know where I never left campus. Any who in the wood in the fucking rain hopefully going east. Six o’clock we come across a shack. O can’t stress this enough, a shack. Ever make a really cool fort as a kid? Well its called a shack in the rain when your 20. Tin roof in a storm and stick walls. Again the fucking wall is made of fucking sticks and I can see through 50 percent of it. So I ask if I can hit it and she says if I can get her out of there. A reason to live at least. I’m shallow.

So I rip the shack to pieces to make a portable shack and we trek off into the woods carrying a piece of plywood over our heads because its fucking cold as shit in the rain in the mountains in a fucking T and shorts and flops I’d like to add. So walking, portable roof, can smoke joint five on the go. Hour of light maybe, we are walking fast at this point but as fast as a plywood caterpillar or a wooden jackass costume because I know we both felt pretty dumb at this point. Hey what happened to (name omitted ha ha) O he got lost in the woods one day high as shit and died. A hiker found his body a week later after a mountain lion mauled his ass, turned half him into poo, and pissed on the other half after fucking it.

Then suddenly sunset came. Fear, panic, thoughts of cannibalism,

Do I eat her?  How did I survive to write this rough draft?  A hint…Big foot did not help me.   Buy my book and find out.

Link below


Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed my rough drafts.


When Sailors Fly

So just to be clear, I really, really, really, don’t like flying. Something about going 600 miles per hour, in something as thick as two beer cans, a few miles above sea level, where you can’t smoke. So any time I fly I get there two hours early. One hour for security and another hour for drinking as much rum as possible. When I board my flight, my drinking arm has been in the upright and lock position. So I’m sitting in my seat slugging rum and cokes as fast as my liver will allow when I realize there are only five people on the flight. The service is amazing and I sober up long enough to realize that the stewardess are chilling in the isles passing drinks down a line straight to me. I thank god for small miracles and I head to the head (bathroom to sailors), to empty my bilge (pee), to make room for more fuel (rum). Dropping your ballast is pooing to those wondering. Before going to the head I turn to one of the stewardess and say one more rum and coke please. After dropping a gallon of rum I emerged from the head and thrust before my face is a perfectly manicured hand holding a rum and coke at eye level. Is this love I thought?

I ask the girls where all the passengers are and they remind me I live in the murder capital of America. No one flys in or out. I agree with this rationalization and we struck up a conversation. Since there were no passengers convinced the girls to have some drinks with me. A few drinks later and I have a revolutionary idea. To cover the little counter top in the kitchen with empty miny bottles. With the help of four good looking stewardess; and the game is afoot.

I would like to point out that this flight was the short leg of a cross country flight lasting about an hour and a half. The game started thirty minutes into the flight, and the math on how many bottles is mathematically staggering. A three foot by two foot counter covered in miny bottles. Those woman could drink. I was drunk.

The next thing I know I’m on my next flight headed to my destination. My lay over is a complete mystery to me. Only two more hours of beer can aerobatics I thought. My hopes and prayers went out to those girls on their next flight giving the pre flight instructions drunk. “Your emergency exits are around. There are oxygen masks that will be deployed in the event of an emergency or oxygen party. The cushions your sitting on can be used as a flotation device. Don’t worry about people farting on them for the past three years because this flight is over land. If we hit anything it’s going to be a mountain. In the event of a crash landing don’t forget to place head between knees in crash position, and kiss ass good bye. The sky martial is a post traumatic stress patient just back from Afghanistan  His bullets can and will penetrate the hull causing explosive decompression, killing us all. The pilot was just caught cheating on his wife, has lost the will to live, and a six pack deep. Finally, his plane hasn’t had a proper maintenance in six months. Thanks for flying shitty airs now sit down and shut the fuck up the fasten seat belt light is on.”

Will I make it to my destination?  Buy my book to find out.  Hope you enjoyed the rough draft.

Link to my book below


Thanks for reading


First Book Review

My first book review.  Thanks to all those who have bought my book so far and to the rest get out your credit cards because its a good one.    But don’t take my word for it take the word of a satisfied disciple.

A book review in verse)Playing Your Hand: Showing America How To Live by Taylor Oceans



Taylor takes you with him on his adventures. His style of writing brings humor to the most simple of takes. Beer pong and drug dealers, sex toys and Mitzvahs, fires and and log rolling…oh my!

You’ll read about the boy turning to a gentleman. The kid turning to an adult. The Nieve turning experienced and all in 200 pages. This book is a compilation of stories that will grab your attention and make you take notice. It’s not for the faint of heart and requires all who venture forth to strap in and keep your hands inside the car. Once the ride is moving there’s no turning back.

There is something in this book for everyone. The war with his friends. The fire that takes his eyebrows, the Valentines day special. For every vice a fix and every itch finds a scratch.

From glass pipes to glass dildos and glasses of scotch. College buddies and drug buddies and fuck buddies alike…Taylor proves life is there for the taking, you just grab hold and enjoy!

So take my advice and read this book.
Weather paper, Kindle or even the Nook
You’ll Thank me later so please give it a look.

Review by me….Nik 10/17/13

** Taylor’s blog can be found on wordpress…. Playing Your Hand Right: Showing America How to Live

Thanks for reading everyone and here is a link to my book if you decide to give it a try.  I would love to post your reviews.


And a reminder to new disciples.  This blog is my drunken free writes and rough drafts.  I know they are full of errors.  You want edited, formatted, rewritten tales, buy my book.  Plenty of tales in the book that are not on this blog.  So no need to tell me about typos.  Just enjoy the stories.  However if you find any in the book let me know.  Thanks for reading


How am I going to be an optimist about this?

Should life be easy or hard? When my Dad died or more acutely refused his meds and let AIDS kill him slowly I was left to my own devices. How am I going to be an optimist about this? My Mother had already left me at 18 and moved to Canada. We don’t talk anymore. How am I going to be an optimist about this? 22 in a new city I lost my Dad and my farm on the same night. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I became a drug dealer to get myself killed because I was alone. Going out like Scarface sounded better then death in bed like Dad. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I developed a coke habit, and became rich as shit and a great success at dealing, til my partner was killed in a drive by. I looked in the mirror and saw my strung out coked up ass and was ashamed by the years, dollars, and talent wasted. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I quit coke, and dealing. I wrote a book Playing Your Hand Right avalible at https://www.createspace.com/4262251 . First week of sales. How am I going to be an optimist about this? The same way I always do. Remember I’m Taylor Oceans and I can do anything I put my mind to. That’s how I’m going to be an optimist about this. I will sell my book even if I have to sell everything I own but my lap top and steal wifi. And that is the message of my book and my life.  We can do anything and you only fail when you quit. And I don’t quit. That’s how I can be an optimist about this.  Next week I will sell more.
Should life be easy or hard… Hard. Its the only way you find out what the fuck your made of. And I’ve become a Gentleman America. I wouldn’t trade my hard life for anything. It gave me Moxie.  That’s how I’m going to be an optimist about this. I leave you with one of my favorite poems modified for the Gentleman, by a Gentleman.



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Gentleman, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

And if you feel like being part of a changing America buy my book Playing Your Hand Right:Showing America how to live it just might make an optimist out of you.


Available in digital copies on kindle as well link below