Blah, Blah, Schtuff & Poetry Sometimes.

sorta kinda

almost

made it

equality is not

being the same

measuring up

proving anything

now

we are containers

not human

livestock

breeding stock

some of us

those who

were not

sterilized

already

dehumanized

there is

long-built rage here

another wedge

to divide us

but hey

they don't always

get to call the shots

nobody believed in

incest or rape anyway

and it's

beside the point

if I am a victim

I can own

a little piece

of who I am

I will not be

a victim

so much more reason

to kill

uncles daddies strangers

those ones

who chuckle

think they know

all the clichés about

women's and girls'

vulnerability

they won't control

the guns

but hey

women

POC

LGBTQ+

you know

we get to buy

all the guns

you can get

clock's ticking

if you have

all the choices

choose wisely

our new colors

red black and blue

there is no cheering

colors of disunion

a war of no civility

former pride

replaced with

so much shame

the symbolism

is all fucked up now

no one is writing

hymns to the state

the glaring red rockets

are shot into the faces

of We

the People

red for the innocent blood

countless murders

deepest betrayal

abandonment

intertwined with black

black for lives that matter

but go disregarded

except with evil intent

black for the darkness

of this dark age

black for the silence

of the dead decayed souls

of those who will not hear

those who will not see

who quibble and cavil

find excuses for

the direst cruelties

black and blue

beaten and bruised

ultimately

lives stolen away

blue

for the uniforms

of brownshirts

murderers

psychopaths

who claim that

their lives

matter the most

delighting in

violating sacred oaths

serving-and-protecting

themselves only

this flag

no longer

stands for

The light that burns her

Ruins her wings

I come back

Again and again

Destroyed

In increments

He tears away my safety

Like a thin cotton dress

Soft and fragile

I don't know how

Not to love him

It feels perverse

I have no good choice

The flame is beautiful

And it warms me

Before it

Inevitably

Obliterates me

quit saying:

my dog is my therapist

my friends are my therapy

my therapy is painting/throwing pots/ writing/playing tiddlywinks

any of that

only therapy is therapy

unless your dog

makes you drill down

into your most uncomfortable confusing thoughts

face the shit you have been running away from

help you find things

you can do for yourself

to be able to move on

if your friends are your therapy

when does it end

are you going to ditch them

when you feel better

what kind of friendship is that

once again do your friends want

every intimate

embarrassing

dangerous

thought/belief /feeling

on display

maybe so but

where do we go from there

how do they help

it’s a lot to ask

therapy isn’t supposed to be forever

but friendship can be

doing hobbies/artwork/games

whatever

these worthy pursuits

are not therapy

they are comforting

they can be a part of therapy

having somebody to talk to

who sees hears understands

what you have been doing

your feelings about it

where you’re going with it

great adjuncts to therapy

but not therapy

therapy isn’t fun

it isn’t easy

if you’re doing it right

therapy only makes you feel better

after the core wounds

are discovered/opened/cleaned and stitched

none of that is fun

it takes time and tears

and facing the worst of the worst

but it heals

keep your dogs/friends/hobbies

set them free

only therapy is therapy

quit saying:

my dog is my therapist

my friends are my therapy

my therapy is painting/throwing pots/ writing/playing tiddlywinks

any of that

only therapy is therapy

unless your dog

makes you drill down

into your most uncomfortable confusing thoughts

face the shit you have been running away from

help you find things

you can do for yourself

to be able to move on

if your friends are your therapy

when does it end

are you going to ditch them

when you feel better

what kind of friendship is that

once again do your friends want

every intimate

embarrassing

dangerous

thought/belief /feeling

on display

maybe so but

where do we go from there

how do they help

it’s a lot to ask

therapy isn’t supposed to be forever

but friendship can be

doing hobbies/artwork/games

whatever

these worthy pursuits

are not therapy

they are comforting

they can be a part of therapy

having somebody to talk to

who sees hears understands

what you have been doing

your feelings about it

where you’re going with it

great adjuncts to therapy

but not therapy

therapy isn’t fun

it isn’t easy

if you’re doing it right

therapy only makes you feel better

after the core wounds

are discovered/opened/cleaned and stitched

none of that is fun

it takes time and tears

and facing the worst of the worst

but it heals

keep your dogs/friends/hobbies

set them free

only therapy is therapy

***

I love that you trust me

enough to say No

when you abruptly

refuse consent

even when you see

how badly I want

something from you

There is of course

pain involved

but then I think of

all the times

all the others

who ignored your

No

and took what they wanted

treated you like a thing

baggage to be dragged along

and I will never

never never

treat you that way

because your trust

is more valuable

than my desire

(but one can dream)

Who love freely

Are proud and gentle

Funny and smart

To the Dads who try to be those things

Happy Day

Look around you

Find the kids that need you

As mothers know

And dads forget sometimes

All children are yours

Lift them up

Save them if you have to

You may well be

The cavalry

For some kid near you

Who thinks they are bad

That Dads are scary and cruel

That there is no cavalry

Or that the cavalry rides

With the black hats

All children

Deserve the good Dads

Show them

the century is young

but there has been

the worst crime

the crime of the century

this young century

has seen

children

locked up like

dogs at the pound

for no crime

but being

some color

not of their choice

and being vulnerable

little kids

in cages

and there should be

a universal howling

there is nothing worse

but we thought that before

and now

it's worse

and worse again

excuses

lies

playing lethal games with

future generations

government

to be a proper government

Protects

lives

does not destroy them

We are run by

cartoon aliens

by the most evil

for their own ends

which are evil

and now they want

to conquer the stars

the world is dying

and they want to

kill

the sun moon stars

the worst century

Or worse than no father, a father who hurt us, scared us,

Terrorized and abused us,

For those of us who don’t understand why other people want to celebrate their parents with a special day,

To whom the concept of “family” makes us shudder,

Happy Father’s Day.

Celebrate it by doing something special for yourself, because

You Survived. You’re here. Wounded, damaged, reeling from the blows and unrecognizable from the scars,

Stand up and have a Happy Day.

that game

that serious game

where you close your eyes

and raise your arms

and fall back

and someone

by prearrangement

catches you

well that is my life

and I have never

[not once]

been caught

very tired of hitting the floor

the pavement

going over that cliff

oh yeah it is

as bad as it sounds

I learned a special

crazy dance

I learned to fly

because the landing

always hurts

the whole-body disgruntlement

the splashback from

many many cruelties

they laugh

they say

he earned this

and he did

he is unloved

unlovable

we who are empathic

compassionate

do not simply

turn off

we feel for him

despite

the sting in his tail

the fangs in his mouth

the disease he spreads

his lack of basic

decency

we do not turn off

we don't do that

after his massive evil

and now

aging

demented

narcissistic as ever

supremely broken

too late now

to take it all back

my wish

let him wander room to room

sunny rooms

with his favorite things

let him tweet

to an echo chamber

let him play pretend

give him mirrors

let it go nowhere

let him go nowhere

let him have no effect

ever again

on anyone

if he must spread

toxicity

let him poison

his own air

his own water

swaddle him in

solitude

let him not

see or touch or interact

with another of his species

ever again

let him be

done

True love.

I want to see you,

be with you

when you are

at your very worst.

Anxious

flatulent

grumpy

nasty tempered

broken out skin

tangled hair

rude

smelly.

Your very worst.

Bring it on.

I’ve seen your best behavior.

Everyone has seen your

Best Behavior.

Everyone.

Here’s true love:

I don’t take any crap

from you

don’t give you any either.

But I see you

and even if you are to blame

I don’t blame you

because what good is that.

You need me when

you are being a shit.

I sit with you

Help you sit with

your own damn self.

We are

Together.

We can stand each other

Even on our worst days.

I want all of you,

not just the pretty parts

on display

for the masses.

Open the dusty vaults

take out your ugly

broken junk.

The stuff you can’t

seem

to get rid of.

Let me love you

Anyway.

That,

my darling,

is love.

Pushes out of my body

I can feel it

It seeks an answering structure

But dwindles before it ever finds it

So many times

I thought it linked up

But the first one was fake

After that

It was lost

Or mismatched

Or death got there

Too fast

I wish it were gone away

But it seems to be

A necessary part

I may not want it

But it knows no better

Than to keep

Hanging on

I feel the ache of it

Always there

They’re round and brown

Like amber

Shooter marble size

and dead or dying

I have never seen one out in the wild,

doing bug things

playing a bug song

or a bug game.

I only see them dead or capsized

on the patio, tiny legs

pitifully waving or done waving

in the air.

You turn them over and they walk a step

and roll over again

wave feebly

and die.

Surely they must have

a life

where they

play

eat

love

grow up

have a little

bug society

a bug scout troop

bug songs

bug rodeos

But I only see them in

their final

sad moments.

I am sorry and I want to save them.

I never saw one happily

pursuing bug interests.

It’s June

and they’re dying again.

All over the patio.

One day there were none,

not in the trees

or marching down the sidewalk

or rustling in the garden

Just showing up

to flip over

and die.

I wish I had seen them

at the bug prom.

Masses of them

Take the day shift

While the stars hide

From the light

They grin boldly

At the sun

And fear nothing

There are always

Buttercups

.

Crocodile god has weighed it

I am not wanting