Timeless

My heart is
A 1950s movie,
Printed on film,
Sealed in tin,
Smelling of
Ozone and vellum,
Gently warmed by
The hum of
Electric light;
Click-clacking in
A familiar rhythm
To familiar timing,
Burning away at
The dust of yesterday’s
Misappropriated lust.
She’s semitransparent,
Like projections
On white-painted panels,
Whose seams
Create the illusion
Of overlapping
Worlds,
Converging as one.
My heart beats to
Your footsteps,
A battle-march
We once danced
Together,
Briefly halted,
Resuming apart;
Parking lot waltzes,
The lambada of public
Displays
Of personal shame,
And the final
Sagayan
Where winners claimed
Defeat.
My heart draws in
Hope
And expels courage
With every contraction,
Birthing new sweetness,
Driving rivers of
Richness
To universes afar.
She has grieved
As the widow,
Retired like the
Sun;
She’s rested like
Winter,
And resisted the
Fall.
I’ve dreamt of the
Wonders
Of digital age,
Of miraculous manifestations
By wizard and sage;
But naught can compare
To the golden age
Of my life:
When memories of a time
Long gone by
Consume my heart’s
Movie-house stage.
I await on my mark,
Willing the apparition
Reflected upon me,
To take his true form.
That timeless classic
Of bygone day,
Echoing off inner chambers,
Preserved by consciousness’
Seventy-millimeter,
Fragile, yet unfeigned.

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brb.

I never go backwards.
I
Went
Back
For
You.
Bummed a smoke
From Cerberus
At your buzz-in gate,
Saw a maiden
Throwing ash
From astride her pegasus
Bike,
Called grandmother fate
With a message
To relay,
You arrived
Just in time
To send me away.
The path forward
Has been
Off
Every day since.
Did the world
Diverge
Or did I?
I never go backwards.
In every dimension
Through every simulation
On every timeline –
I’d do it the same.

Birth Day.

2019.
You
Were
The
Last
Thing
That I
Wished
For.

Karma.

Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self;
If they deserve it,
If they started it,
If they asked for it,
If they did worse:
Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self.

Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self;
If it was unjust,
If it was unjustified,
If it was unkind,
If it was evil,
If it was twisted,
If it was unpredictable;
Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self.

Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self;
So rise up,
Fight for your freedoms,
Courage in your conviction,
Do not stop until
The day is won;
But, take heed:
Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self.

Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self;
Keep sight on what is wanted,
Create and steadily build,
Let the source of all creation
Reveal the miracle by grace,
But with honor and integrity,
Warriors true to codes of light:
Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self.

Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self;
Karma, binding law,
Heavily weighs on every soul
And returns to be resolved;
Souls light as feathers,
Seek free heart, spirit, and mind:
Anything done to another,
Also is done to the self.

Sister.

I forgive you
Because you’re scared and you know that your position in life is not guaranteed.
I forgive you
Because you’ve been bullied into accepting a system of belief that you are less than.
I forgive you
Because you’ve been rewarded by showing loyalty to entities that are not loyal to you.
I forgive you
Because you cannot fathom a life alone.
I forgive you
Because the love you seek is the love we all seek.
I forgive you
Because someone somewhere convinced you that you are broken beyond repair.
I forgive you
Because you’ve worked hard and struggled long and feel the futility of it.
I forgive you
Because you believe that you are following a righteous path.
I forgive you
Because I understand the power of addiction – including the addictive nature of people pleasing.
I forgive you
Because you have been convinced that your power has been taken – that you never had any – that you will never have any – that you don’t deserve it.
I forgive you
Because it is within me to do so.
I forgive you
Without needing a reason or cause.
I love you.
No matter what.
No matter what.
No matter what.

Shadow-Puppet.

You’re a poem now,
(My poem)
Crumpled and torn
From my book of
Shadows
Borne into light.
You’re a match-stick man –
All angles,
Elbows, and knees;
A puppet loosed
Of his strings.
It’s not
Even worth penning
About, how translucent,
And unraveled,
Disheveled –
A cinder block
King.
I think fondly
On other tenants
Who treated
Thier roles with
Haphazard care.
I fondle the edges,
Trace memory’s ledges,
And flick what remains
Of you into the
Pit
Of another night’s
Interrupted slumber.
One gentle tug
On silver cord,
I drag you back
Into the light
On my mind’s stage.
Dance my shadow puppet,
Recite poetic refrains,
Glide through
Gentle dreamscapes tonight.

Black-Days.

Some days I can
Revisit
Those sepia-stained
Memories,
Like looking through
Aged glass,
Long-slumped, distorting
Light and shadow
In a seductive
Interplay –
And tears pooling
In corners of
Mind’s-eye, turned
Within, stirring
Insides-out.
Sometimes I emerge,
Riding ripples
Of new strength
Like riptides
Carrying this tired
Corpse
To familiar shore;
Sometimes I drown
In inky pools
Of dread,
Pressed down by
The words and retorts
Endlessly churning,
Undulating and decomposing,
Compressed between
The weight of today
And the shadow of
Yesterday.
I’d scream if
I thought it
Would matter,
If it would cause
You to turn this
Direction –
To return and rearrange
Those unspoken words
Strewn along the
Streetlights
Between us,
Like laundry someone
Forgot to bring in
Before sunbaked and
Faded, falling
Crisp as sprigs of
Fresh mint
To the bottom of
Your glass –
I’d cry, or laugh,
Or beg, or demand,
Or stand mute,
If by so doing,
That sepia-stained
Memory of what I
Hoped to hold onto,
Might fall out of
Time
And restore us
To that timeline
Lost to the void;
Where once possibility
Diverted by
Corruption and lies,
Told by the pain
Borne by another –
Stripped me bare and
Tossed heartily to the
Street running between
Our returns home,
With torn sidewalks and
Angry traffic
Ever pressing me aside.
These Black-Days
I scream into that
Cavern of creation
Between existences
And demand what was
Promised.
Black-Days fade into
Black-Nights and I
Sink verdant roots into
Thirsty earth and
Release this mess
Of human bargaining.
I’ll revisit this
Pain tomorrow.

Just to Be Sure.

7 billion
Other people
On the planet
(Or is it closer
To 8?)
And at least half
Of whom are men,
And yet none
Are you.
Of course I’ve
Not yet met all 3.5
To 4 billion
Just to be sure.
I’m pretty sure
The other half –
3.5 to 4 billion –
Women alive
On the planet
Who are not me,
Are probably
Better
In every way.
And so it stands
To reason,
That you will
Be just fine,
And probably have
Already met someone
Better attuned to
Whatever it is
You were always
Looking for;
Whereas I will
Be forever
Rejecting
The other
3 billion, 4 hundred ninety nine
Million, nine hundred ninety nine
Thousand, nine hundred ninety nine,
Or so,
Not you’s –
Just to be sure.

Momento.

Last night I dreamt
That I had been loved –
Not by one,
But by two.
I felt the golden
Light of love,
Like the everburning
Sun,
Illuminate me from within;
As in this lifetime
I’d always hoped to find.
And an old friend,
Long lost to this
Cold marble plane,
Guiding me to the two:
One tall and blond
And somber as a gentle
Watchful ash;
One short and Asian and
Full of bubbles and light-stuff.
I walked with my pair
And felt no pull
Of jealousy, or doubt, or
The resentment which builds with
Each budding betrayal.
We three were purposed,
And hopeful, and comfortable,
Like a favorite sweater.
It was move-out day
And I was leaving rehab,
And the world was
Available fully to us,
And I had a dreamy knowing
That this was but a beginning.
I awoke from this
Future foretelling, alone,
My body returning to its
Sinus-clogged mortal springtime
State of planning my daily
To-do’s;
But a stray thread from
That dimension of dreaminess
Lured my wandering attention
To linger over
That feeling of possibility
Once more, like a lover
May linger over a
Momento.

Freedom.

You didn’t see it
When I was investing
In me because
To you
The only worthwhile investments
Lie
Outside built on lies
And the backs of those
Who bleed true.
I invested in
Freedom;
Not won through battle,
Nor won through purchase –
But won through declaration
That I should be free.
You shamed me
With every taunt
And twisted every
Intention
Kept in shadows.
And when I spoke
So that you may
Know
Truly what layered
And lovely
World was painted within,
You silenced me
With reproach.
Mistaken identity,
Misappropriation of mentorship,
Mislaid trust,
Doling out approval
For only that which
You deem worthy.
That which the cold
Shadow of 3am
Touches
In still corners
And deep crevasse
Only serves to
Obscure the path from
Envious onlookers.
I invested in
Myself,
The only investment
My soul knew to
Approve of.
I loosed her
Upon my life
And allowed the
Swollen tide
To carry me
Beyond time.
My choices
Will never follow
Your predicted pathways,
Because our worlds
And our purposes
Are not the same.
Eagle,
You proclaimed.
Lonesome eagle
Whose sharp-eyed gaze,
Dipping down
Among sparrows to play,
And search for
Those dwindling others
Who know these heights.
Why play the game
Of pretending
You understood,
When students teach
Masters
And ever betray
Their own corruptions,
While stalling,
Hoping to decipher
A soul’s
Silent cries?
Freedom,
Peeled from layers of
The skins sewn by
Others,
Heavy with judgement
And self-loathing.
Freedom –
Though not a hierarchy –
Still steps to climb
And sacred laws
To shed
As easily as
A mother’s tears.
Upturned truths,
Twisted
History, and muddied
Memories.
Climbing farther from
Those gnarled and
Twisted roots.
Before these
Great laden doors
To stand,
Stripped bare and
Standing tall.
I was invited.
I invested
In me.
I invested in
Life.

Leave Her Alone.

There will be times
When it won’t seem
Fair,
When the damage
Done by others
Will need repair,
When you will be
Asked to fill in
The gaps
From missiles launched
And historic attack –
So if you’re not
Committed to
More than your share –
If you’re set on
Punishing her
(Again)
For the sins
Of another –
Then leave her alone
She can’t have you
There.
If you give
Promises as
Empty as
Summer skies and
Winter winds,
And if you’re intention
Is based
On some future fantasy
Full of pretense,
Then do her a favor
And go wish on
A star –
But let it carry
You far
Far from her –
She needs solidly laid
Plans and sturdy
Built stones and
Foundations firm;
Anything else will
Bring her house
Flat to the ground.
There will be times
When her smile
Will fall
As freely
As her tears –
Her praises will
Turn to curses
And her skies will
Grow dark
And you’ll wonder
Where she’s gone
Off to
Without so
Much as a spark
Of the joy which first
Drew you into
Her enchanting ways –
And if you’re not
Invested in bringing
Her all the way
Through her darkness
Into brighter lit days –
Then take your selfish
Demands of her magick and
Positive vibes
And remember that no
One can carry
The entire weight
Of both worlds
At all times,
And look at the ways
She’s selflessly
Sacrificed her fire
And light,
See who’s placed
On her demands
No human can
Possibly
Fill,
And remind her that
She will
Always
Have a haven
Whether she’s
High or low –
If your love is based on
What she provides to you,
Then you will soon
Find
Her fierce storms
Change direction
And her fury
Will level you
Low to the earth.
She’s lived for
Years alone with
Herself and her thoughts,
Or in defense
From false champions
Who projected their
Failings and fears;
And she’s learned to
Be strong –
Mentally and physically too –
And she only wants
Peace and to finally
Breathe freely,
She wants the space
To exhale
Knowing today is secure,
And while tomorrow
Isn’t promised,
It’s presumed to be
A continuation of
Growth
With a solid partnership
On which she can rely.
If you’re not
Committed
One hundred percent
Then leave her –
Please leave her –
She’s better off
Shallowly breathing
Alone and tired
Then trusting in false
Promises and
Believing more
Lies.
She doesn’t
Want to change you
Or make you
Grow up,
She’s not
Into projects
Or force-filled
Boxes.
She doesn’t want to
Entice you
With curves
Or feminine flair,
She doesn’t want to
Beguile you
Or trick you
Or deceive you
Or make you feel
Wrong.
She just wants
Easy – peaceful – simple
But real.
She wants honest
Transparent
Reliable
And emotionally aware.
So if you’re not
Interested
In being read like
A book
Or if you’re
More intent
On revenge or
Domination
Or savagery
Or toughness
Or denial and blame –
Then please leave her
Please
Please
Please
Leave her
Alone.

Solid.

I only ever wanted
Sweetness
That was never offered,
Never wanted to
Defend
Against tempers
And tyrannical siege.
I only ever wanted
Gentleness
That was never present,
Never wanted to
Feel the void of
Love’s deficit
Like a collapsed star
Removing what was Me
From the dry and
Hollow husk
Of me.
I only ever wanted
Tenderness
That told me that
I was desirable
And which stoked inner flame;
Never wanted to be sealed
In a vacuum,
Extinguishing
Every desire and daydream –
Containing me as
Some exotic wisp of air.
I only ever wanted
To feel supported
By steady measured
Consistent
Care;
Never wanted to feel
Mishandled, used, and
Expected to carry the
Weight and burden of
Big talkers’ empty promises –
Lies that cheated a future
Of ease and enjoyment
And bountiful fare.
And so, I build
On firm foundation
All that I thought
I’d find:
Solo,
Solid,
Slow and steady;
Emerald gaze set
To future mirage
Materializing
With grace
Manifest effortlessly.

Thank You.

Thanks to you
I no longer allow
My self to be optional.
Thanks to you
I no longer entertain
Even the first
Glimpse of disrespect.
Thanks to you
I no longer endure
Unreciprocated attention.
Thanks to you
I no longer hold
Back when an emotion
Is confronted.
Thanks to you
I no longer lie
To myself about what I want
And what I can settle for.
Thanks to you
I no longer struggle
To feel worthy of
All of the things my
Pure heart desires.
Thanks to you
I no longer suggest
Favors that only work
In others’ favor
Which I would
Never have agreed to
Except that I wanted to
Seem so agreeable.
Thanks to you
I no longer permit
Myself to wonder
What life would look like
With someone who acts
Like they would rather
Live life without me.
Thanks to you
I no longer say
Things that I’m supposed to say
When I’d rather just
Scream.
Thanks to you
I never take anyone
Or anything
On face value.
Thanks to you
I’m not nice
I’m not kind
I’m not submissive
I’m not compliant
I’m not agreeable.
Thanks to you
I’m suspicious
And cynical
And callous
And hard.
Thanks to you
I’d really rather
Always only
Be all alone.
So,
Thank you!

Leave.

What if I’d
Just left that night?
What if I’d
Just not tried
Or bothered to
Assert myself
Or insert myself
Into my own life?
What if I’d just
Run away
Like I always run
When I’m not
Too afraid but life
Is too much
And nothing is
Ever going my way?
What if I’d just
Left?
How would it all
Have played
Out, would you
Have followed
Or were you always
Going to stay,
Plucking too ripe
Fruit from the ground
And settling for
That blackened sticky
Rotted taste?
Were you only really
There to take?
And take and take
And take what you thought
You could get away
With taking
Without a thought
Of the price –
For all bills
Eventually have their due.
What if I’d just
Left?
The first time I was
Bothered by the
Ease in which your
Lack of respect
Was scattered about the place
Like my hair,
Falling out in
Fistfuls.
What if I’d left
Each time I wondered
What I was even doing
There in the first place
And at every misinterpreted
Understanding and vain
Attempt to create
Connection
And after the moments
When you fleetingly
Opened
To me –
Only to close
And in your repose
Turn to iron and ice?
Why did I stay?
Why did I fight?
Why did I try?
And why did you
Watch me scramble
To find the parts
Of my soul
You ripped out
Of my clothes
Knowing full well
You would never
Ask me to stay
Or follow me away?
Why didn’t I just
Leave?

You.

You will ask yourself
Who you are
Whilst staring down
Darkened hallways
And peering through
Partially cracked hollow
And hallowed doorways,
Attempting to sort
Light from shadow.
You will strive to
Give label,
Assign meaning,
And extract some reason
From each shadow figure
As if placed there
By God;
And not merely
A trick of
Physics,
Or evolution,
Or the butterfly wing
Discovering its
Usefulness
Whenever the first
Butterfly erupted
From its own destruction.
You will lose yourself
In mazes and hazes
And will listen to
Every wrong direction
Given by every
False
And falsetto
Voice of authority.
You will seek purpose
In each way to every end
And you will question
Every motive,
Even motives
You forgot to have.
You will lose the narrow
Definitions which confine
You;
And in wandering
The cavernous expanse
Of You
You will find no end
And no beginning.
You will find bends and alcoves
Which contain every
Dark and dire
Thing
That you were told
To be afraid of.
You will find the
Evil,
And dread,
And sin,
In every appetite
At every gaping maw
Of every abyss
Bottomless –
You will fall
And you will find
For lack of landing
There is no fall.
You will forget to distinguish
Up from Down.
You will right yourself.
You will rise.
You will find the most
Precious stones,
And blindingly pure light,
And miraculous manifestations
That seem to defy
All known law.
You will discover that
The impossible is
Merely that which
Cannot be labeled
Or fit into narrow
Confines
Within your human mind.
You will attempt to identify
Every hue and shade
Like the box of
Crayons with the special
Sharpener –
Even the glittery ones!
You will travel through
Every type of matter –
Through pure waters
That gently move
Over smooth stone,
Through deep mud
Which bubbles and stinks
Of decay as it
Rises to the surface,
Over craggy cliffs,
And through slippery sand.
You will venture and adventure
And you will never tire
Of the oddities and
Eccentricities
Which comprise the
Kaleidoscopic mosaic
Of you.
You will bend and defy
Order and the structures
Which attempt to
Define your existence
On the planet and your
Expression of being.
You will travel so far
And so fast as to loop
Time and space and
To return to stare
Into your own stunned
And sunkissed face.
You will ask of yourself
Every question; and you
Will investigate every
Doubt and concern;
And you will find
Guises, and places, and uses
For every thing which is
Found within.
And you will cease
To assign roles,
Or rules,
Or to attempt to confine
With narrowly defined
Descriptive language.
You will discover that
All that is you
Is so vast
That you cease
In being anything
At all.
Beginning without end,
End without beginning,
All and nothing.
Your philosophy will
Swell as the highest
Tsunami and will
Smash and thrash against
The breakwaters of your
Consciousness;
And you will cease to
Ponder.
You will grow tired
Of the analysis.
You will be incapable
Of recording, and inventorying,
And accounting for all that
You think and see.
And so you will become
Light.
You will become space.
You will become emptiness.
You will cease in your being.
You will transmute.
Life and all that she has
Birthed
Will pass through you;
Just as you pass through
A beam of light
Streaming through that
Partially opened door
Standing guard,
Defending hallowed halls.
And once you have
Finally discovered the
Significance of
All there is –
About the everything
Of everythingness –
It will all shift,
Turned end over end,
And spilling about;
And there will be new
Everythings contained
Within the sacred
Experience called
You.

Void.

You were a void
That I poured
My love into,
Searching the skies
And cold stone eyes
For some spark
Of return –
Reflection or refraction
Either would do.
“This is going to hurt,”
I screamed from
The corners of my
Mind, swollen
To accommodate
The breadth and length
Of you.
Each parting foretold
The finale
And somehow I knew –
Hold tight
This night will not
Repeat. This retreat,
The end of one dream
Whose nightmarish
Awakening would
Shatter the glass,
Ever turning
Starry eyed and spangles,
As shadow men and their
Ladies dance for
Master and Mistress
Upturning collection plates –
Thirty pieces and
Cold kisses
And your lingering
Betrayal. We’ve folded
Time and shattered space
And damned our filthy
And abominable race –
“This is going to hurt,”
I screamed
At the ghost who
Escaped unscathed.
My world has shattered.
I am changed.
My illusion is broken.
My heart is uncaged.
You were a void –
I burned as a star,
Until consumed by
Gravity and entropy,
I earthward did fall.

Hardheart.

My heart
Has not deviated
Though my
Mind
Cannot see the way,
Through deviant indecisive
Cobwebs strung
O’er the entrances
And stealthy passages
Between ventricles –
The violent tremors
Of which
Like harpstrings
Sing of forgotten
Praise;
And each sunrise
And resetting
My mind sets backwards
In time –
This broken-handed clock
Stuck now for
Nearly three years’
Worth of days.
Evidence neatly piled
In damning stacks
Around us both arranged,
Barring our paths
Obscuring our sights –
And still I sense
Like a tunnel-cloud
From the West
Set upon the bay;
But then again
Perhaps it’s just
My own curiosity –
Do you still set
Deadeyed gaze
Towards my tear
Stained ruddy face?

Warrioress.

War is easy.

Last night I was dreaming I was with a friend at an art show and she made the most amazing magical creations and was setting up her booth. She wanted it to be just perfect. So she asked for a dark booth which meant she had to be careful about the types of lighting that she displayed. The organizers kept coming by and giving her violations for not complying but they could have really just talked to her and she could have worked something out. Instead they brought a fight to a fighter and so of course she fought back. So she’s about to get kicked out and they tell her she has to go do something that’s the equivalent of a snipe hunt. She is fuming and really seeing red. I’m talking to the organizer who is primarily fucking with her and trying to plea her case. I’m explaining how she does everything with her entire heart and all of her love and how she wants everything to be perfect, but when you come in swinging she is the type who will send you out in a body bag. All they had to do was just talk to her. She was looking for this her entire life. She was terrified of something going wrong. She wanted everything to be so perfect. She just wanted to make her display the perfect display of the magic she creates. Her. Not the other people at the show. She’s worked her whole life to get here and to have it be so f-ed up is destroying her. She’s not the one to cry she’s the one to fight back and to keep trying and to find a way.

War is easy.

It’s peace that really fucks people up. When you tell people they are free and no longer need to fight to serve an authority, watch as they turn on each other. People like being told what to do, who to serve, how to behave. They want it simple.

A person who thinks for themselves is complex. They reason things out. They consider the outcome. They wonder if it’s right or not. And a person who thinks for themselves is upsetting for those who follow herds- even minority herds.

When you’re born into this world, your family will have volumes and volumes of unwritten rules for you. Worse yet, when you enter school you’ll find that the rules you learned and the rules of the social setting are somewhat bastardized versions of each other. You look around and see the other kids seem to have no problem adjusting, but you don’t know where to stand or how to look or what to say. It irritates the other kids.

If you were socialized like me, you learn quickly to adapt to the expectations of the adult because the adult is the one to fear.

So now you have a set of rules at home and one at school and as you age you encounter more sophisticated relationships with your peers and in different settings.

If you’re me you learn to blend into cinderblock walls, smoke under the bleachers or in your car during pep rallies, keep peripheral surface friends, and befriend the most broken and alienated invisible kids to learn their secrets of not being seen.

If you’re me you write poetry to the posters on your walls and dream of a life completely different but always “someday”. You form relationships in your mind with hallucinations because those illusory images are realer to you than the corpses animated in the halls of your school.

If you’re me you have a strong mother who maintains strict control with violence and you meet her violence with your own pent rage to defend your younger siblings.

If you’re me you HATE that monster.

If you’re me you are aching to love and be loved and yet you understand so little about other people and the monster carefully caged inside is ready to defend at any moment. You push people away for their safety. You learn to do some damage first with your tongue – you find the chinks in psychological armor and rend. You learn to use words and intellect to play the game of protecting the queen. And you never have just one plan – because plans can be thwarted. Instead you hide, you identify the exits, you use the ability to blend in and make yourself invisible. And if you’re spotted you become the best friend, the funniest person, the most social. You hide in plain sight.

If you’re me you will spend your entire adulthood unlearning the ways of war and learning peace.

You will rewrite the narrative from control, competition, dominance and submission, kill or be killed, winners and losers, defend defend defend, scarcity and sacrifice, and punishment; to freedom, collaboration, cooperation, innovation, creativity, abundance, nurturing, rewarding, cheering.

You will evolve and you will find the world ever more alien than before.

You only want communion and people will accuse you of competing. You will only want celebration and people will accuse you of domination. You will only want freedom and people will accuse you of control.

You will know these problems exist within THEM and you will remember how you fought an unwinnable fight and lost.
You will want to reach inside of them and rearrange things for them so that they can arrive where you are. You will share with them your lightcodes and you will hope to see them rewritten.

But no matter how far you travel from your home, there will still reside inside of you a warrior ready to defend when challenged. There will come a time when you feel cornered. Someone will pose such a grave threat that just as the thing that you’ve wanted your entire life is finally within your grasp, you will unchain the sleeping warrior.

Fear.

The fear of having what you’ve always wanted can be greater than the fear of giving in to the darker parts of ourselves. We think we are fighting back against an enemy – and yes we have enough of our own evidence to make a case that we are – however that war will be our own undoing. We will be swung upon and we will come back swinging but the carnage will not be predictable. We will unleash our inner Kali and we will obliterate the one who we want to love thinking them a participant in the grand plan laid out by our enemy.

We will only see the Shiva too late.

The warrior must learn to master her own anxiety and fear before there can be peace.

The truth is that there are people around us all the time who have their own plans and machinations and not all of them want the best for us. There are “enemies” hiding in every bush. But we have mastered those snares and traps they lay for us. They do no harm. We walk over bear traps as easily as we walk over grass.

There is indeed something specific and special about the foe who is effective. They play on specific insecurities for a reason. They show us the things that we’d rather not look at. They emerge from and play in our own shadows and that is why they can get to us. And they use our fears against us.

Fear creates shadow puppets that appear real. It creates the illusion of enemies all around us.

And the awakened person who is afraid can become a greater danger than those still sleepwalking. They question everything and then question themselves. Their instincts are somewhere between war and peace and are unpredictable. They recognize no authority and thus act without concern for rules or tradition. They are simply fighting – at first to protect – and then ultimately for the thrill of the fight.

At the conclusion, it doesn’t matter which shades were real and which were fear-manufactured if all is lost. All that matters is the loss. There are some wounds that will not heal from words or time. And if the one who was wounded has learned anything, they will make their own choices and they will choose their own freedom – even if they too were committed to misunderstanding.

Whether anyone else ever sees or knows the truth as recorded by the eyes of the warrior makes no difference. What matters is the actions that others witnessed as innocent bystanders.

I wanted friendship and love. I wanted acceptance and communion. I wanted freedom and full self expression. I wanted an evolved and peaceful relationship outside of the narrative created for us by social structures.

And just as I was enjoying having everything I wanted – I allowed my fear to unchain the inner animal.

I did this to myself.

But just as anything else I did in vain, I myself have taken accounts and I have been responsible, and I have tried to make amends.

I only wanted to have a place to display my magick and watch the gleam in others’ eyes as they appreciated it. The enemy may have been real, and the threat may have been immanent. But my training in peace was surrendered to reflexes of war. The peace was broken as the world spiraled into madness. I released my inner pandora’s box and the world is now burning. The rage carefully held inside of me for 41 years was unleashed. And I made sure that the one who I wanted to love the most was consumed by it.

I’ve never gone backwards. I’ve never wanted a thing once its time has expired. I’ve always kept moving and evolving and learning. But then I’ve never destroyed an innocent before. Yes, there were some mistakes made. But not ill-intended and not with a motive to do harm.

I went back to beg for forgiveness.

But I’m not fond of begging.

I was sent away.

To me, I made impossible choices and did the only thing I knew how to do. To them – I’m more monstrous than I am to myself. I spoke up for myself. I regained my voice. The world I created on the inside and protected from others was now spilled out around me. I was open and unhindered by the rules of the social structures I’d been forced into. I could and would say whatever I wanted to, fuck the consequences.

But just as my voice has returned, a voice has returned to the world. And its message is ugly and filled with fear and hatred. Corruption has seeped into every holy place. Misteachings abound. The world is awakening but the warrior spirit rages. Wrongdoings in every facet are coming to the fore and those who have been harmed seethe for vengeance.

War is easy. Peace is really fucking hard.

What is it that you REALLY want here? How much revenge will reset the balance? Whose blood do you need to taste?

What martyr will be big enough to quell the human monster?

The world is not so alien anymore. And that’s the trouble.

The world is an echo of my own personal rage – the darkest parts of myself that I want no one to see. Those committed to misunderstanding. Those whose machinations are so glaringly obvious – yet successful! To see the cogs as they whir and to see how easy it could be to destroy the entire works – and yet understand why each piece and part is essential to where we are going.

The devastation that must happen before there can be new growth.

Watching from the eagle’s roost is one of the loneliest hells that exist on this plane.

We can get there from here – but we may not like the cost.

The warrior must master fear. The warrior must be discriminating and wise with her weapons. The warrior must wait and watch. The warrior must not submit to the program of war, for the program of peace is what really matters now. When the enemy comes in swinging, the master must be master of herself first. She must choose to disarm her foe with the gifts she so proudly exhibits. She must use charm and wonder and humor and grace and arrive at a creative conclusion.

And the warrior must accept that they will never understand her fully. She must continue unencumbered by their opinions of her.

And she must accept her greatest loss as her greatest teacher and must learn to protect the things and people who she loves the most instead of destroying them out of the need to protect herself.

When she has mastered this next level of skill, she will have access to both the light and the dark and she will then create something which has never been seen by human eyes – the heaven on earth to rival Atlantis, Alexandria, and Enoch. Peace will indeed reign and ripple through the world. And her Beloved will return to her – no matter the distance.

Like all parables, this is part paradox, part fantasy, woven with a thread of truth.

Phantom.

I looked for you
On his lips
In his eyes
On his tongue.
I dreamt of you –
Still telling me
When to do
What you wanted
Me to do –
While he played
A sad understudy
Version of you.
I stared up
At him open-eyed,
Hazy-eyed,
Glazed over like
Fresh sweat
You baptized us
With.
I screamed at him
For his failure
To be you as
My body rolled
With explosive
Vengeful
Pleasure.
A stand in –
A stoop in –
A step in –
A sad replica
Of paper mache
Memories
Already dissolving
In the pool
I left for
Myself to
Take care of later.
And when he’s done
I’ll look for you
In another.

Helped.

I awoke from
A dream
Of continuity.
We were still
Entwined and I begged
(Like I often did)
To remain
Close to you.
You were closed
To me –
Like you often were.
I loved with
The fires of
Freya –
And you were
Cold stone
Walls and indigo
Ichor –
Stomach churning anxiety
And emptiness.
You were my
Favorite addiction –
The spike I drove
Into my own side
Willingly.
I would have done
Anything for those
Rare glimpses
Into your personal
Abyss,
Which you hoarded
And guarded;
And I tortured myself
Always wondering
Why you protected
It from me –
What flaw did you
Imagine
Was so dangerous?
I begged.
You retreated.
And so I left you –
Like I often did –
Because my own
Cold bed
Was more comforting
Than a man made
From stone with
Walls of iron
Reminding me I’d
Never be enough
Of anything
To share his
World with openness.
I asked.
Help arrived.
From the unlikeliest
Of places –
Just as it often does.

Help.

You need help
Is something they
Love to say
When they feel
Helpless –
When they want
An excuse
To justify
Why they refuse to
Be helpful.
And if I went
To you today
And pled my case
Would you find
Yourself helpful?
Or are you still
Betwitched by
Psychotic self interested
Monsters
Still clawing at
Your better
Intentions.
You called yourself
A friend –
And like any
False friend
You were silent
When you should
Have been
Helpful.
How do you
Enter a person’s
Body
And withdraw
As the world
Crumbles
Into madness?
And while the
Evidence piled
Against you,
Why do I still
Reach out
When I need
Help?
Help.

Kaleidoscopes and Mixedtapes.

Memories are kaleidoscopic –
Turn the glass
And the entire world
Is turned on end;
Tumbled over,
Jumbled over –
Time retools and reshapes.
Time is a mixedtape
Stuck in my ’92 Tempo;
Brown ribbons spew
Like spaghetti
And we’re surprised when
The winding back
Makes sense of the senseless.
Some mixedtapes
Will never
Disentangle.
Some kaleidoscope’s
Blurry edges
Will never
Focus.
The neon sign
Tattooed across my
Aura reads
“OPEN” –
It is instructional
And descriptive.
In that moment when what
Was real was birthed
Between carefully controlled
And overthought thinking,
And the sloppiness
Of it all was
Exquisite:
Imperfect Perfection –
Like tangled
Mixedtapes
And unfocused
Kaleidoscopes;
While the good little
Boys and girls
With painted faces
And painted bodies
Somberly trudged
To the funeral dirge
Playing on repeat
Beneath the mixedtape
Tracks –
While they sleepwalked,
And sleeptalked,
And sleepfucked –
And sold themselves for
Something a little stronger
Than heroin –
There was nothing
Hidden to decipher.
Chaos’s trickster
Birthed this world
Like her finest web
And chaos’s trickster
Remains the guardian
Of the fates –
Guardian of stories –
Guardian at gates
And portals –
Guardian of
Kaleidoscopes and
Mixedtapes.
Garbled songs,
Garbled pictures –
Sliding in and out
Of focus;
All was madness
From the start,
And sorting the
Insanity by group
And type,
And labeling the
Intangible;
The indecipherable;
The deeply personal –
In order to bring some focus
From the kaleidoscope glass –
Is lunacy
By prescription.
Turn the glass,
Enjoy the view,
But to the spider
And the fly
Kaleidoscopes and mixedtapes
Are merely child’s
Amusements and blind
Metaphors.
Choose your story
And pick an ending
And enjoy the view
As the world turns
And burns
And sleeping children
Gnaw at sticky webbing
And cut the bridge threads
And learn that
“OPEN”
Can also mean
“See”.

That One.

That girl talking
To herself
In a room full of strangers
Making strange faces
Because she must not
See herself the way she should
See herself.
That girl walking
Into empty rooms
Somehow never alone,
The company she keeps
Is always by herself,
Yet always on display
As if followed by a crowd
Of other selves: self-directed
Automatons.
That girl thinking –
Always thinking –
The endless chatter
Relentless as time
Shattering any intrusion,
Her subject may always
Change on a dime,
And she’s never really listening
To things she rathern’t hear.
That girl singing
Songs she doesn’t really know,
Words she forgot to remember,
She talks to the chairs
She stumbles into
As if she likes them more
Than other people
Because a chair never let her down
Unlike all the other people
Talking to themselves
Always on display
Absorbed by their own chatter
Enthralled by their own singing.
That girl waiting
For something that may never come,
Something she invented,
Something none will ever fully
Measure up to
Even though no actual boundaries
Do define or confine
What she imagines will be;
Amorphous blob of
Self-predictive pleasure
Failing to exist outside of
Her expansive imagination
Like all others who failed
And fell
Before her
Still clinging to hope
Like a single rose
Or half-drawn sword.
That girl choosing
To cohabitate with a daydream
Rather than settle for
Paper soldiers and
Meaningless words carried
On the backs of her children.
That girl holding
Herself and all of her dreams
And nightmares
Close like her favorite stuffies
Long fallen on the floor
Of childhood’s bedroom,
Where parents preparing to die
Before her life would begin,
Protectively snoring across the hall,
Slept on.
That one.

Anti-love

I called people out on their shit when I thought that was love.

I refused to accept people as they are when I thought that was love.

I had expectations about what another person was supposed to do for me when I believed that was love.

I held resentment and called it being the bigger person when I believed that was love.

I punished with silence instead of fighting when I thought that was love.

I withdrew out of a need to protect and out of anger when I was disappointed when I thought that was love.

I sought escape versus confronting my feelings when I thought that was love.

I worked my ass off at making money and a home instead of a relationship when I thought that was love.

I held myself in to protect others from me when I believed that was love.

I was always doing what I thought love was untill I learned that these things are what love is not.

Independence Day.

4th of July
Independence day.
You and me at my place.
We ordered food
And watched YouTube
On autoplay.
We talked and
I got high and
We had a few drinks
And broke my couch
(It was already broken)
And you asked me
What I wanted.
So I told you
About open eyes
Meditation
And breaking the glass
And opening the
Third eye
And the proper way
To do penance
On Maha Shivaratri.
But I think now
You meant something
More immediate
Than ascension.
I told you
About the
Kundalini snakes
And how I had to
Google it when
It happened because
I’d never even heard
Of it before.
You showed me
The music video
You were so proud
Of and I felt
As if anything
Were possible.
It is possible.
I didn’t imagine
On that day
How much I wanted
Less independence,
More like other people,
And how I’d end up
Doing it alone.
It’s bittersweet.
Getting what I
Wanted but
Giving up what
I never expect
To want so much.
Giving up
Meat and sex
Were easier
Than giving up on
The idea that you’d
Ever find your way
Back.
Independent of anything
I’d ever ask you for –
Independently choosing
Because you’d felt the
Same all along.

Your World Is Ready.

Your world is ready
And it’s miraculous
And easy.
Don’t worry
Just breathe
And allow life
To be breezy.
Your world is ready
And it’s full of
Possibility.
Don’t hold onto
Past lessons
They’re already
Behind you.
Your world is ready
And it’s coming
Up daisies.
Seeds scattered in
Love and choosing,
Watered and
Blooming.
Your world is ready
And you’re your own
Dorothy
Swept up into a gale
And speeding to
Infinity.
You’ve already met
Your wizard and you
Know the other folks,
And they stand
At your ready
When your heels
Together click click click.
Your world is ready
And an adventure
Is brewing.
It’s custom
Made by you
And your soul’s
Divine knowing.
Your world is ready
And it’s filled
Up to the top with
Opportunities for loving.
Keep a ready eye
On the skies
Filled with rainbows
And pot-of-gold endings.
Your world is ready.
And so are you.
Just breathe.
You always already
Knew exactly just
What to do.
💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Giving Up.

It feels like betrayal
To finally say goodbye
To the beautiful moments
And the happier times.
It feels like cheating
To give up on half-realized
Promises, and half-created
Palaces, and half-made
Measures, and half-lived
Dreams.
It feels like defeat
To admit it’s just
Been too much,
Too heavy,
Unhealthy,
Hearts breaking in half.
It goes against
Everything fairytale-taught,
To not be ready, willing,
Eternally waiting
For what wasn’t really
Meant and made for me.
It feels like giving up.
It feels like a loss.
It feels like saying goodbye
To possibility and hope.
Flies buzzing ’round
The rot
Flew off long ago,
And I sit in this
Boneyard
Heavy with yesterday’s
Mem’ries silhouetted
In shadows playing
On repeat.
It may just be
A flick of the flame,
A trick of the eyes,
Or maybe more lies
I’ve told myself
Just to cope.
The lingering stench
Of sweat and tears
And the ever-present
Self flagellation of
Guilt and remorse –
Have ceased being
Sexy and are
Just plain sad.
That world over there
Filled with miracles
Unceasing,
Has already proven
It’s seeking
Me just as assuredly
As I seek for my freedom
From the self imposed
Prison
Of yesterdays
And all the ways
I tell myself I
Coulda shoulda woulda.
So today,
I breathe and release
With eyes kept forward
Onto the horizon
And allow life
To move me swiftly
Out of yesterday’s cage
And into
The joy I’m choosing
Even if I can’t
Yet feel it.

Not Sorry.

I’m not sorry
For keeping so much
Inside,
I’m only sorry
I never felt
Safe enough to
Share.
I’m not sorry
I feel too darkly – too
Deeply,
I’m only sorry
I never felt
Free enough to
Speak.
I’m not sorry
I want the
Fantasy,
I’m only sorry
I never felt
Worthy.
I’m not sorry
I am so human,
I’m only sorry
I never felt
Held enough to be
Vulnerable.
I’m not sorry
For all the ways
I tried to be
What everyone else
Asked for,
I’m only sorry
I never made myself
Important enough to ask
For what I wanted.

Full Credit.

You provided the tools
But I did the building.
You provided the ruler
But I did the growing.
You provided the wound
But I did the healing.
You provided the access
But I took the opportunity.
You provided a story
But I did the telling.
You provided a lesson
But I did the learning.
You provided destruction
I did the rebuilding.
You provided hope
I did the faith-walk.
You provided a means
I did the measuring.
You provided possibility
I did the choosing.
You provided an idea
I did the creating.
You provided a direction
I did the exploring.
You provided the contact
I made the magic.
You provided the vessel
I did the summoning.
You provided the faith
I did the believing.
You provided the intensity
I did the intending.
You provided a mirror
I mistook me for you.

Half-Done.

I dared to love you
And that was my sin
My treasonous act
Of selfish desiring
To keep each moment
Like a random stone
Polished on the shore.
I wanted you fully
Not to see you
Thrive
But to see you
Continue to be my
Only stability –
Carry out my insanity –
Compartmentalized consistency
Always just out of
Fingertips grasp.
And to you it was
Nothing while I held
On by two frayed
Heart strings
And you and she
Mocked me –
The one person who
Could harm me –
Because you had to
Do harm.
You had to prove
That you were
Just like the rest
But worse.
You had to undo
What was only
Half-done at best.

Temporary MEASURES.

If you hadn’t
Broken my heart
I’d have never
Found my voice.
If you’d never have
Held my head
While dizzy-frenzied
Spinning,
You’d never have
Held my heart.
If you’d never
Brought me to
High-heady heights,
I’d never have
Returned so many
Beautiful times.
If you’d never
Pretended to care,
You’d never have
Meant enough to
See the job through.
If you’d never mattered
You’d have never battered
Down the iron bars
Which held me firm.
If you’d been just
Another faceless name,
I’d never have been freed
From the past’s
Icy grip.
If you had been here,
I’d never have healed;
You’d have held me
And I’d never have
Learned to hold
Myself.
If you had been
Here, I’dve continuously
Bled as the wound
Reopen; while distraction
And intoxicated confusion
Tear at my trauma
Masquerading as love.
You were a safe place
To hide, while the
World turned, funnel-cloud
And frenzied
And toppled us on our
Other side.
We walked outside
To survey the wreckage
Only to find
It would not have
Survived
Life’s storms.
What is the measure
Of a temporary
Retreat from the
Troubles we both
Carried?
It was sacred and
Full of holes
And incompleteness
Left us wanting
What is no longer
Wantable, no longer
Attainable, no longer
Holy.
Head and heart
In such disagreement
About what was never
Agreed to – it was
Only the temporary
Measure.
You’re unfeeling-free
And I await
Permanence while
These loosely knotted
Bindings flutter
Behind me like wings
And I feel transformed;
But really I am
My birthself, my
Trueself, my
Authenticself, my
Non-Temporary soulself.
Will I morph again
Before finding the
Measure of another
Like me?

BIG.

You think you know
Me because you see
How I look
And how I walk
And how I move –
But I guarantee
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know
Me because you know
A few of my opinions
And you’ve seen my
Current habitual patterns
And you detected a
Quirk or two –
But I promise you
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because of that one time
We got into a fight
I said something that
Sounded like the truth
That I’d been trying
To hide –
But I fully endorse:
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because you’ve seen me
Laugh and you’ve
Seen me sick
And you’ve seen me high
And low and in distress –
But I must impress
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because of my gender
Or race
Or culture
Or social status
Or job
Or education
Or the way I answer
Questions on a test –
But I will assure you
As I’ve reassured the rest:
I’m so very much
Bigger than that.
Profiling me according
To a human checklist
Will fail,
Diagnosing my
Mental wellness will
Not avail
You with an iota of
Understanding until
You are ready to get:
I’m bigger than all of it.
My soul is the universe and
It flows through
Me as me and also through you;
I’m the same as that
Tree and flower
And the birds and the bees
And I’m as free as water
Carving out new landscapes
Returning love to
The seas.
I’m free as sunshine and
Moonshine and the light
From a flame.
And there’s nothing
Defining or distinct or
Hierarchical
Or special or different –
It’s uniquely the same.
I’m a glimpse of the light
As it reflects from
Your eyes
And I refract
And bend and appear
Disguised
In this human suit
Perfect for me
And the pleasures I seek.
You will see what you
Choose and ignore the rest
And I’ll let you
Because I know you will
Discover the same
When put to the test –
In my bigness you will
Discover the enormity
Of you.

Stay.

Those who would say
You’re so hard to love
Don’t really see you
And don’t understand
Love.
You’re freely given
Wild and deep with
The same fire that
Reminds them that
Nothing forever does
Keep.
You’re honest
And have no room
For hidden agenda
Nor secrets so deep
Your insides are too
Filled by
Cascading,
Colliding,
Coalescing,
Sacred geometry.
You don’t care about
Temporary pleasures
Vanity treasures
Or rumors or
Unwanted opinions
Of others.
You know what’s not
Been working,
You’re clear about
What you want
And anything less
Is unsettling
At best.
You’ve mastered
Yourself
Within as without –
Your autonomy you keep
Refusing to allow
Another to seize from you
Your God-given duties
To choice
And a voice;
No trading blame
Nor taking responsibility
For someone else’s
Action or emotional
Rebounds.
You’re wise and
Test for truth
And if shit hits the fan
You’re never far from
Your walking shoes.
It’s alright,
Sit back,
Enjoy this moment
In silence or not –
Whichever you want –
You’re free to go
Whenever you choose.
(Although,
And I’m not ashamed
To admit –
I rather hope
You’ll stay.)

Repass.

Darkness recedes as
Light enters slits –
Heavy-lidded opening –
And all is peace
For one moment.
There is no suffering
Nor pain as all is
Disconnected wholly
From fleshy receptors.
My bones are great
Limbs of some
Ancient tree and
Divorced from consciousness
As I reside somewhere
Outside of myself –
Miraculously.
For a few blissful
Moments I am unaware
That I am –
Merely some wisp
Already entombed
And not yet birthed –
Suspended in possibility.
Pain is no longer pain,
But great bolts of
Sharpness:
Darkness –
Like black boulders
Lodged in spaces
Where energy should flow.
By grace
I slip back
Into the void
And my light
And your light
Dance together
Outside of the limits
Of time and space
As we plot our rebirth.
We are close now –
It’s almost done.
The world will grieve
And we will be free.

Crowned.

This heaviness in gaia’s
Pelvis
As this new child
Of heaven and earth
Crowns;
And old stories
Emerge
To foreshadow
Past foreboding,
Hoping to control
And to give shape
To formless
Becoming
Form.
We taste the light
Like honey,
And walk in sway
To that angelic tune
And keeping pace
With the unheard.
We’re not pretending –
Though you would
Never believe
Reality as it
Occurs
Within us.
We see through
The unseen,
And undo the undone,
And watch the
Undertow as chaos
Bend and flow
Into something
Predictable-akin.
Our doing
Is simply being,
As purpose
Flows
Through us
As you.
We experience
That which only
Those ancients and others
May decipher
As future forgotten
Truth.
Release the grip of the past,
That old uncertain path.
Let go of what was
Before;
For we never shall
Need her again.
Children dream
Of new creation,
And masses cry
Enmasse
For relief.
We can touch
And taste and
Sense it,
Though quite out
Of sight and
Far from belief.
Forget what was
If it’s truly unwanted.
Let go if
Expired is the need.
Put away
This bridegroom’s
Fair garment,
Twas rent in twain
Under false pretense.
We carry our codes in our skins,
And each combination
Part and piece of the whole.
Wheat falls to the
Priestess’s storehouse,
As chaff scatters
Away in dark winds.

Apart.

If we’d chosen it
We could have held each other
As the world descended
Into madness;
We could have
Made sense of
The senseless –
Simply sensing what
Our own bodies,
And hearts,
And minds,
And souls,
Breathed between us.
We could have –
If we’d only chosen –
Written our own
Reality
Independent of any
Need for the
Simulated stories
And hearsays,
Claiming as proof
That which the
Sounds of our
Own heartbeats
Proved to us.
If we’d only chosen,
We could have
Made shelter in
Brambles and thickets
And bathed in warm pools
And foraged for sustenance,
Even just for
An afternoon
Away from the concrete
Confinement, housing
Television and internet
Bouncing off the backs
Of our eyeballs –
Feeding the fears
With invisible stuff
Stuffed into the
Ethers where
God’s angles
Mutter utterances
Into the machine
Still churning
The swill drank
By good churchfolk,
As flesh and blood
Pleas for safe
Passage through these
Times,
And punishment
For imaginary crimes
Committed by the
Good folk who
Walk thier own paths
Awry
Apart from the
Not yet departed.
We could have
Just gone fishing
And let the sun set
On humanity’s
Debate,
Humming like crickets
Who haven’t decided
To feed themselves
To fishes.
We could have just
Made a simple choice
Listening to the only
Voice
That mattered –
That frequency
Humming between us
Wherein we seemed
To always understand
Without speaking.
You wanted us apart
And the world
Has literally gone
Mad
Since that day.

Let Go.

Do you remember
What the world was like
Before you were told
Toughen up,
Be strong,
Be bad,
Be savage;
Hold it in,
Don’t cry,
Don’t show weakness,
Don’t let even one person
Get over on you,
Get into your heart,
Or into your mind
Or into your lane.
Do you remember
Sweetness
And cuddles
And warmth
And freedom?
Do you remember
How it felt to
Just be:
Summer dewy grasses
Tickling bare feet
And birds singing
Tinkly-chortle-songs
Through verdant trees?
Do you remember
Trust
And faith,
Before they took from
You childhood’s grace?
Do you recall
The breath of the
Breeze
And the smell of
Wet metal
After precipitant
Release?
Can you travel
Backwards,
Eyes closed,
Breath held
For just another
Sweet moment
And be the you
From your birth;
Without the quills
Sewn under your
Skin by others
As phantom-protection
From artificially
Mass produced
Illusory dangers –
Thier screams rising
To crescendo
Please let us go!
Step out of
Your fear
Look around you
And see
The world as she is
Quite nurturing.
The battles are
Fought
Mostly inside
In spite of
The make-believe
Dramas told
Round cold tv light.

Wait.

This woman was no weakling
And never needed carrying
Nor tending to;
She was raised
Carrying the weight
Of her brothers and sister
Bearing the weight
Of her parents’
Backwards age.
She did not need
Affections or attention,
As she was quite used
To feeding her own
Tender heart
Kept safely confined
Within sinewy wrapped
Iron bones.
She never needed
Reassurances or emotional
Patting, petting, or prodding;
She was born with
Fire under foot
Moving her ever
In a direction
Far from the place
Of her birth.
She needed no weapons,
No armor was required;
For she preferred the
Cool calm
Of watching from shadows
Until measured and
Careful steps may take.
She listened to hear
And watched to see
And carefully calculated
Future moves.
She had no memorized rules
Of the games she played
Yet played them
With expertise.
She had no need
For disguise;
For the ugliness
She bore on the
Outside
Disguised well
The purity of her
Heart and soul.
She had no use for
Deception or lies
For most common people,
She found,
Were fooled enough
By their own
Doubt and denial
Of what was
Plain truth.
She would not wait –
And yet
She found herself
Quite confounded
Befuddled
Puzzled
And bemused
As those who seemed
To speak truths
In common with hers,
Who claimed
To love the purity
Which was housed inside
The bones surrounding
Her loyal heart,
And who swore
Oaths of fealty
To stand beside her
And to build together
A peasant empire
Custom made
For an imperfect two –
Danced their way
Free of their own
Carefully told deceit
By manufacturing ever
More betrayal
Like long ribbons
Furiously spinning
And flurryingly,
Flying,
In the air between them.
She closed her eyes
And sank into
Her marriage bed
And surrendered to the sleep
Of the dutiful bride.
Ophelia sleep-walking
Poppied breath and
Lidded eyes turned inward.
She wove her sinewy cage,
Her human-boned corset,
Tight around her
And handed the reigns
To her phantom-sister
As she dreamt of the
Gilded dirk which
Would finally free her.
She had never any need
For weapons
Nor armor
Nor disguise
Nor deception
Nor lies –
In her rebirth she
Would re-learn
How to be that
Fair and foolish
Maid:
But with open eyes
And cold stone heart
And watchful glare
And questioning mind
And patient stillness
And measured,
Shallow,
Breath.
She waits.
She’ll never allow
Herself to be rescued
For kidnappers and
Knights
Share the same
Silhouettes.
She’ll never allow
Herself full
Release
Nor submission
For that fairy tale
Was told and exposed
Lifetimes past.
She’ll never pretend
To be stupid
Or soft
Or innocent
And barter her intellect
For protection.
She can not bear
Another nightmarish
Sleep.
That social construct
Which makes her into property
Will not do.
And she’ll not
Play the games required
To win a noble heart
From a scared boy
Hiding behind
High walls and
Booby-trapped fields.
Come willingly
Or stay where you are.
She’ll not live
By so many rules
Which were written
By the hands of the
Afeared.
She waits.

Photo credit: Clayton, R. P. (2021). Photographs of Sand Grain Sizes. Virginia Beach, VA. https://news.tcc.edu/rodney-clayton/

Everything.

Your marks were
Invisible
But permanent.
I catch them
In glimpses
Dragged hastily
Across the mirror
Like my old
Bathrobe
Draped carelessly
Over my homework chair.
Sunlight moves
In just the right angle
And I wince
At the memory
Which strikes
That bottom-left
Corner of my mind
Releasing phantom
Memory pain.
There is an alternate
You and me
Moving through the
Kitchen of my consciousness
Still drinking coffee
And laughing
The way it was
Supposed to be –
The way we both wanted it.
If we’d chosen
Differently,
Would the world
Now be at peace,
Or would we be
In pieces?
Wishing things
To be different
Does not make
Them whole,
And makes us
Wholly insane and incapable
Of any true authentic
Exchange.
I would have changed
Everything
To have
Everything
The same.

Once in Awhile

Once in awhile
I wish that I could
Tell you things
Like how it
Really wasn’t about
You
And how you helped me
Even now
You help me
Without even being near me.
Once in awhile
I wish that I could
Show you
How much better it is
Now
How much better I am
Doing without you.
Once in awhile
I wish that I could
Explain to you
All that’s happening
How things have been
Blossoming
Like that tree I planted
The day I last saw you.
Once in awhile
I wish that I could
Express to you
The way my voice
Came in
The day that I told
You how I felt about
You
How I believed in us
Even the separate us
Because that was what
You wanted.
Once in awhile
I wish
And let go
Because I know
Some wishes
Live better
In our hearts
And die
When they meet
The icy stare
Of reality.
Once in awhile
I feel as if
I could still
Change it
If only I
Believed harder
In the unbelievable.
Once in awhile
I still wonder
If what I’m missing
Ever really was,
Really there.

Allowable.

You’re allowed to take up space.
You’re allowed to show your face.
You’re allowed to be heard.
You’re allowed to be seen.
You’re allowed to be angry
And to seethe with righteous rage.
You’re allowed to feel broken
While you wait for the pain
To subside into healing
And to rest and to cry and to
Give in to dark tides
And to be weak
And to feel small.
You’re allowed to be emotional
Or emotionless
Or stale – stuck on a feeling
You can’t seem to escape.
You’re allowed to be loud.
You’re allowed to scream
With wild beasts
The words composed by your heart
As it beats sonnets
To you in private –
That pulse your
Private inward universe –
The inverse of
What’s typically acceptably known –
Singing you awake
As you take a moment
To plan your next play.
You’re allowed to be
Exactly where you are
For as long as you choose
To be exactly You –
Whichever You –
You choose to show up as.
And you’re allowed to
Decide –
Where to go to from here.
You can rest
You can withdraw
You can be silent –
Saying everything
By saying nothing at all.
You’re allowed to run forward
Swift as March winds,
To gallop with wild mares
Or soar o’er verdant trees
Slooping and looping
Through currents high
Above blues and greens
In that space between
Space and cottony clouds.
You’re allowed to
Roll slow
Like innocent brooks
Sunning and tumbling
Slipping over sand and silt
Gentle treasure flowing
Steady and enjoying the view.
You’re allowed to sleep,
To surrender
To that dark unknown,
To slip into that space
Beyond wakeful control.
You’re allowed to not know,
To not plan,
To not strive,
To not measure,
To not compare,
To not push,
To not try.
You’re allowed grace.
You’re allowed love.
You’re allowed peace.
You’re allowed tender embraces
And sweet breathy sighs.
You’re allowed ease.
You’re allowed to just be.
Be.

Hate proof. Video

how to create a hate proof bubble that is so strong that nothing gets through except for what you want to attract. Take a look

Seemings.

To the one
Who can see
Only enemies,
Your kindness
Will be returned
As “fake”.
To the one
Who has no
Voice,
Your joy
Will be returned
As “domineering”.
To the one
Who can see
Only users,
Your boundaries
Will be returned
As selfishness.
To the one
Who can see
Only abuse,
Your voice
Will be returned
As blame.
To the one
Who only knows
Trauma,
A simple
“No”
Will be returned
With great pain.
To one who
Chooses
Thier own path,
Thier own life,
Their own feelings,
And thier own way,
All will be
Recived
With clarity,
With love,
With understanding,
And grace.

Wishful Thinking.

If there’d been
A way
I’d have found it.
If there’d been
A choice
I’d have made it.
If there’d been
More time
I’d have held it.
If there’d been
More clarity
I’d have seen it.
If there’d been
Less confusion
I’d have been
More decisive.
If I’d seen sooner
I’d have chosen
Something different.
If there’d been
More –
More
I’d have held onto it.
It was so wrong
In all the
Right ways
But wishful
Thinking
Doesn’t create
A happier ending
From something
Started with someone
Who was never
Really
Meant to stay.

Antihero.

You were a mistake
I enjoyed making
Though if I could
Do it again,
I’d have done
It in a different
Order – let the
Growing come first
Let the healing
Precede the wound.
But perhaps it
Was only our trauma
Which between us
Grew into something
Intense and temporary.
It’s one of life’s
Dichotomies
A grand conspiracy
Which says the shortest
Stories burn the
Hottest and the doomedest
Anti-heroes are the most
Heroic.

The World is a Helpful Place.

This is a paper I wrote last semester for soc2. I could add to this recent events which bring to light systemic corruption which allowed yesterday’s events to even occur.

Remain in love and light.
❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

The World is a Helpful Place.

The world is a helpful place. Our textbook presents data and research on the various failings of social institutions in the US and the resulting despair, corruption, disenfranchisement, and grim outlook. (Henslin) Although the information we study combined with myriad social issues we face today make the world appear hostile and unfair, the world, indeed, is a helpful place.

Consider the time periods in the past wherein various forms of government practiced extreme control of the people and nearly every factor in life was predetermined by status. A ruling noble family had a duty to protect and provide for the peasant farmers. A general or decorated war chief had a duty to “Queen and Country.” Men would have been obligated to provide defense for the women and children at home, provide new opportunities to expand control of resources, and to provide resources for said women and children. Men not fighting or politicking would have had a duty to a trade or profession most likely dictated by class. Women would have had a duty to educate children, create and maintain a home, and defend the home-front in the absence of a husband at war or engaged in travel or trade. Children would have known what their role and duty was well before reaching apprenticeship, marriage, or a career. (Hanagan) Indeed, the freedoms we exercise today have been largely taken for granted as society has evolved. Although wealth created certain privileges, we have no proof that the wealthy are any happier. If the wealthy enjoy a less stressful and happier life, we have no proof that the poor do not have that same happiness with life – blissfully unaware that there could ever be another way.

Documentarians who visited the third world and lived among the poorest people in the world found interesting data. The title The Happiest People on Earth says all we need to know. The people who are barely surviving compared to western culture are the happiest. During the course of the documentary, director Bello Galadanchi uncovered the contributing factors of this happiness are isolation, strong community and family ties, and an attitude of love for life and gratitude for everything life has to offer. Because the people featured had so little, they appreciated it all. Because they had so little, they relied on family and community ties to work together and care for one another. Because they were isolated, they had no technology to constantly advertise to them and so there was no desire to purchase and consume items. Value was placed on family and tradition versus “stuff.” (The Happiest People on Earth)

By contrast, industrialized capitalist nations are inundated with technology- including the technology to record video and edit the resulting footage into a documentary to show to those in wealthy communities how others live. This is helpful in designing a better future for both the industrialized and non-industrial nations. The world gives us ample opportunity to discover and explore what is really the most meaningful to us and our lives by examining a variety of cultures and how they thrive. This exploration helps us to see where we came from, how we got here, and how to better improve lives for all people on Earth.

The recent tragedies around Black Lives Matter and the murders of African Americans, (mostly males) by law enforcement have brought to the forefront issues which previously lived in the shadows and went ignored. If it had not been for the shutdown of COVID and resulting dependence on media for entertainment, many people would not have seen the horrific video evidence of George Floyd’s murder. It was a tragedy that shocked so many and yet, the world is a helpful place. We finally had irrefutable evidence in our newsfeeds and on TV of a system of institutionalized racism which spurred important conversations among families, religion, political representatives, scholars, and researchers. We uncovered groups of people who perpetuate racist ideals and we identified possible solutions to reeducate people and weaknesses in our system. (Hill, et al)

The world is a helpful place. Prior to COVID-19 we had a growing number of viral and bacterial outbreaks which were largely ignored by the American public because they did not seem to affect too many people. (WHO) A simple Google search returns article after article where we still see places with low population concentration where “anti-maskers” have shown a rebellious outrage at the idea of the Government trying to protect their health and the health of the nation by enforcing mask regulations. Prior to COVID, the education system in the US had been brought under scrutiny. With the wild uneducated speculation and resulting movements which deny science, we see that American ignorance is deadly. (Henslin) Another Google search will return many articles reporting spikes in numbers after many social gatherings by young adults. Famously, spring break in Florida and the reopening of the Disney World Theme Parks caused enormous spikes which were immediately dismissed by those “anti-maskers.” And despite media attention, many Americans, regardless of political affiliation, still believe COVID-19 to be a hoax. One article reports as many of 75% of Americans believe a conspiracy theory about the legitimacy of COVID-19. (Schaffer) My sister is a nurse. It is not a hoax. COVID-19 has shown us our failings and weaknesses. Our dependence on media has brought this and other failings into the limelight.

The world is a helpful place. If you look at numbers throughout US history, the statistics are clear: War, crime, poverty, and other social issues are on the decline. (Henslin) We believe they are getting worse due to the constant stream of media attention on the problem and very few positive reports of change and actions which benefit Americans. Indeed, human beings are habitually wired to seek out the problem and only do something about it when it is loud enough. The fight or flight instinct has conditioned us to look for danger. On the other side of fight or flight are reason, creativity, innovation, and play (work for enjoyment versus pressure to perform). These four elements are abundant in the world but have been conditioned to emphasize attention to problems. Even our US system of dissent dictates that the squeaky wheels get greased.

Once upon a time, I believed that companies had vested interest in keeping a highly educated and happy workforce. The exchange of money was important to the company to stimulate the economy by creating a cycle of payment to employees who will then spend money buying from their own employer and other companies who their employer may also have investments in. Infusing the economy with educated and skilled workers who are adequately compensated reduces crime and poor health which reduces costs to everyone – especially companies who spend enormous amounts of money to protect themselves from cyber and real-life theft and on employee health insurance. A better paid workforce is good for everyone.

I used to believe that politicians entered the political arena to make change for the better. Lawyers, judges, bureaucrats, police, and the military were viewed as being there for our own good. Corporate billionaires were believed to be caring people who relied on the teeming masses to support their lavish lifestyles and thus viewed this relationship as harmonious and beneficial to their personal interests as well.

Today, public opinion is highly skeptical and low on trust. We are shown evidence of corruption and theft and we believe that those who are corrupt perpetuate the entire group. One bad billionaire spoils the bunch! With world poverty, climate change, and war being unnecessary now due to technology, we see the wasteful habits of the middle-class and the overindulgences by the upper classes as being criminal when there are others still suffering – despite the numbers which show that we are doing a lot of good in the world. If it were in the best interest of companies to invest in these social issues, we could eliminate them easily with little loss by the wealthy. The impetus to continue to do things in the old ways die out as social ideologies change; and dissent demands change.

The world is a helpful place. And it continues to grow in its helpfulness. As we evolve our ideologies evolve. Humans have been through revolution after revolution wherein “the people” have wrestled the freedoms over their own lives and destinies from the “powers that be.” The prisoner’s dilemma dictates that due to low trust, people will always choose their own self-interest versus the interests of the people. High trust creates community, cooperation, and love for life as witnessed by documentarians.

The world is a helpful place and when viewed as such we see a clearer picture. Free public education, state sponsored college education for the poor, entitlement and wealth transfer programs, large-scale food production, efficiencies in all production, telecom, the cell phone; all just a few examples of the helpful world in which we live. (Henslin) And if we foster these relationships around trust and helpfulness, we eliminate the need for dissent and public disruption. And the world is so very helpful that we are learning that now, as we navigate both the bright and darker sides of 2020.

The world is a helpful place. It’s our job to shift our perspectives and see it that way again so that we will walk in the direction of unity and community versus division and disenfranchisement.

References
Hanagan, Michael. “Ruling Families and Dominant Classes in Modern European History.” Sociological Forum 1990. Periodical. 2020. .
Henslin, James M. Sociology: A Down-to-Earth Approach. Parson, 2012. Texbook.
Hill, Evan and Christiaan Triebert, Drew Jordan, Haley Willis and Robin Stein Ainara Tiefenthäler. “How George Floyd Was Killed in Police Custody.” NY Times (2020). 2020. .
Schaffer, Katherine. A look at the Americans who believe there is some truth to the conspiracy theory that COVID-19 was planned. n.d. 2020. .
The Happiest People on Earth. Dir. Bello Galadanchi. Dolar Pictures. 2015. 2020. .
World, Health Organization. WHO.org. n.d. Website. 2020. .