Become the Cookie!

2008-10-10 15.57.32

It isn’t ‘either/or’ it is ‘and/and’.

That is something people sometimes don’t understand about me. Most do but most are not trying to marry me. The very few who want me all to themselves, for some reason, miss the point that there are people in the world I love and the choice is not ‘me or everyone else’, the choice is ‘me AND everyone else.’

I have been in long term marriages and relationships with people who defined the meaning of ‘relationship’ as ‘either/or’. I was that was once myself and imposed a vast loneliness upon myself thinking that was the right thing to do.

It isn’t.

What happens when it is either/or is the eventual growth of dependency, martyrdom and, in the end, actual dislike. People in healthy relationships have ‘others friends’ and having those friends does not mean they are cheating and much of the time those friends are the same gender and they are not gay OR lesbian.

Human beings need approbation from each other. We need good times and a circle of love to live in. We need more than one friend and even, sometimes, if we are very lucky, more than one ‘bestie.’

I am not gonna lie and say I am perfect. I play here every once in a while and those people have respect and they KNOW that the ‘love’ that we have is based on a solid understanding of reality. I don’t stalk their pages to see what girls they like and, actually, I don’t chat that much with them either and they know I don’t cam and they respect the kind of person I am and I try to give that back and if I KNOW someone is married I step back.

But the last couple of years I hardly do that anymore either. Only once in several months. I am getting older and less interested in that stuff as anything more than ‘word games for the brain.’ A friend from a long time ago taught me this term, ‘mental masturbation.’ I didn’t do it with you either kid because I just couldn’t. I ‘lost it’ and did that with someone a little more mature. Someone who understands he and I are never going to be together and has no expectations of me and treats me like a good friend still.

It’s weird because being online is kind like interactive TV. You might really have a crush on someone and, in the old days, you got to stare at a movie or a poster and the only interaction was the one you had with yourself. Now you can go online and find ‘hotties’ with cams set up that do nothing all day but ‘interact’ and the chances of the one who is in love with that girl (and guys too these days!) will get that one for a life partner are about as probable as getting to marry Leonardo DiCaprio or Angelina Jolie.

It gets a little bit ridiculous but we can’t help ourselves even if we have self control. The world might see someone who never does anything wrong and that one might be carrying around ‘Justine’ in their head and you would never know it. That brings us back to what I started. It can never be, in the real world of real people, ‘either/or’. No matter HOW MUCH you want that big cookie all to yourself SOMEONE is gonna bite it while you aren’t looking. That is life.

That big cookie is love and everyone loves that big cookie and if you are gonna love people you are gonna be sharing that big cookie with the whole world and that big cookie might have sex in it but it really has nothing at all to do with sex and everything to do with basic human needs. The thing that makes people the most loved and envied is not how much of that cookie they can eat but whether or not they have the ability to ‘become the cookie.’

What Price?

What price is there
For living life the way you chose
How much did it cost
To get to the bench you sit on now
Watching flowers grow?

How many upside down
Glass cups of hash smoke
Broke how many cherries bled
In vans of orgies
We chose to attend
With peanut butter at the end?

How many plastic baggies fill
The land-fill
That were once filled
With Colombian Gold
Spanish missionaries never found
How much
Was every breath of nicotine
And every thing we dropped
In mystery
Not knowing what the end would be
Until it fooled us
We were free.

Yes we
Forgot who died
Who went into the wild
Sans the wisdom to know not
To eat the root
Yet wrote the book
After a life was gone
Here we are
We have to carry on
And on and on and on
Until we reach whatever we head to.

What is it that we seek
We never ask it
Until we’re weak and then it comes
In shocked surprise and dangles
Just before our eyes… yes:
A universal joke
That started with a daring toke
Ending when the hash-smoke broke
And left us standing here alone.

I would have married you the day
I ran my childish hands
Through still brown curls
But our world
Says that such a union is doomed for Hell
And so we knew it and we ever only blew it
In our minds because I’m certain
I was not the only one who felt that way
I did I knew too much
Though just a kid
I wished you would take me home with you
But you belonged to the world
For all you were a rebel man
And now the world passed us
In a thundering roar.
It’s too late to know the score and
There’s no chance for any more.

The short short days with halter tops
Were short short days until the youth stops
And the pride of place is lost
In the dub step shuffle of decades
While you hold the memories of years
Jewels falling out of trembling hands
Into the abyss of forever
All the places that you dreamed of are still
Nothing more than foreign lands
Full of the same war we fought
Over and over before just with different names
But it’s all the same King of the Games.

So here I am
Writing these words
While my old cat drools over birds
At his best place by the French doors
That maybe once let in oil-whores
That I ran with for long enough
To know what love is worth
For a night
After several drinks
When no one’s thinking
It will send and you won’t even know
The name of who it was thirty years later
You will only recall a ginger ass
Bouncing in the dark
While the starry skies flew over head
Wars came home
With coffins full of the dead
Blue skies fled across the hours and days and years….

…until it is that sunshine falls
Upon the public housing walls
And the wheeled walker
To the bus stop full of people
Your grandfather would cry to see you hug….

…or maybe smile…

…because we are only here such a very short while.

(photo by )

Authors of Catastrophe


Ride drafts
High pauses
Icy or savage
The heart pulses

Onwards questing
Small motions

Angels float
Into flight

Men fall

I will hold you
Like a prayer
Inside my mouth
Words ready
To set in motion
Ideas man-made
Melt in hot sun
Wax dripping

the last drums beat
The armies clash
Onto the bodies
Trying not to breathe
While devils cry
Unable to believe

On flaming candals
Below we run
Yet this flight from
Authors of catastrophe
It is without fear
It eats the darkness
Sound the chase
For Joy will flood
Everything broken
Will wash into beauty
It is victorious
Banking over storms
Shot through
Light meets light
Hunters horns will cease


Ceramic Angels

Back in the ‘long ago days’ I had a friend named Theresa Semlar. ‘Been over three decades since I had any truck with her but she was a nice gal as gals go and I gave her a little set of ceramic angels, that prayed, for her birthday. One day mom and dad came in my room and gave me the angels back. They said she had come to the door and said she could not keep them because her mom said they had sprouted wings and horns and devil tails and were flying around the house so I took back my present.

Those angels never flew for me.

Many years later a good friend gave me another one of those angels. It was a sweet gift and I kept it. I lost it yesterday. 24 years later it was stolen from a plant arrangement outside my apartment in the indoor planter box assigned to me.


The night before I had caught a lady messing with the plants and she told me she had ‘fixed’ mine. She is killing the plants maybe. Running around with a pair of scissors and chopping up all the plants. No doubt some people will be mad at her. No doubt at all. She looked at me and stuttered that she was trying to keep the plants alive.

Maybe she was.

Today I went downstairs and she was trying to cut down a ceiling high palm tree in the lobby and had it halfway done. I went back upstairs to water what she has left of my plants and the angel, from a great friend I might never see again in this life, was gone.

I got angry and went inside and made a sign on a popcicle stick to put in the plant pot where the angel went missing. On it I had written,

‘To the one who stole this. Rest assured it will grow horns
and a tail and fly around your room at night.”

I was going to take it outside and plant it in the pot with the, now, nearly-pruned-away-dead red Elephant Ear and something stopped me. You know that little voice inside? It said.

“What if you go crazy one day? What if the thing you are going to do in half-jest drives that woman over the edge and she jumps off the fourth floor balcony in fear that a ceramic angel grew horns and a tail and came to life now that the winter winds and the earth quakes make the building shake?”

I put my sign in the trash. My love for my old friend lives in my heart…

…not in a ceramic angel.

Every Life is Epic

Life is a choice.

We don’t have to choose to stay but we do stay. We stay to honour what God made even if no one else honours us. We sing our own songs by ourselves if we must. We wake up every day and keep going even when there does not seem to be a reason to live one more minute. We do this because of Love. In spite of all the things people have said against us we keep on. No matter how alone things are…no matter how many words are written for no reason…nothing matters except the will that says, “Carry on.”

Then, from the floor of the abyss of Hell you look up and see the angels singing, you see the stars shining, and you know you are not alone! There may be no people near but there are spirits everywhere offering you their love and help. It no longer matters what the world will do. Life and death become immaterial. You get up off the floor and stand.

Suddenly God is everywhere! Suddenly the entire universe praises in chorus! All of the petty intrigues and directed wars on this earth are shown in their true light: A play. A play directed by puppets who think they have control of something and have control of nothing. A play written by those who think they know the ‘secret’ and they know so little they would seem like infants who split one atom before the God who made every atom and allowed them to split one.

All we are given to be did not come from our own creation. We were given these things to be, even the things we would call a mistake, we are both the good and the evil. We are the light and the dark, and though we choose we are still destined to live the words written on the fabric of the universe.

Live them then! Whatever they are you have been given to be. Be that!

Never think you know what it is someone else’s job to be. You can only live one destiny here and now. Walk forwards into the strongest winds. If you cannot walk then crawl. If you cannot crawl then roll but do not stop until your heart contracts one last time and that electric force in you is freed to soar into realities we cannot possibly comprehend, within ourselves, as we are here.

When I am so full of love there is no one to give it to I send it out into the nothingness of everything on the wings of song while I think of the beautiful faces and amazing minds that are linked to mine and I know I am never alone no matter how alone I am. Prayers and intent are sent, with every direction of every cell, to pour wealth, success and happiness, even on those I cannot stand because I know very well there are those who cannot stand me.

If it is the eve of the ‘end’ or the dawn of the beginning makes no difference to the circle we stand in.

I love you God. I love you with every tear and every laugh and every sin and every good deed and everything you made me to be. I love you God like I never loved any human being on this earth because when I am alone here and there is NOTHING but me and silence YOU are here!

My reason to be.
My greatest love.

(With a nod to Martin Luther King for an idea)

A New World

Journey light
Born of the Voice
Coming into Being
Waves of sound
Spirits chanting
Soaring vocatives
Human soul
Senses recording
Acrobatic light
Your beauty
Every angel’s face
So pranic thunderous
Waves forever ripple
Spin dark wish
Above and below
Human axes
Magnetic bubbles
Bursting glorious waves
Living art on dark particles
On the walls of Eternity
Sending Love
Radio active records
Words of dead men
Trapped and released
Sub sonic
Felt in the bones
The brain rattles
You turned back
Whence did it come
The world ends
Recreational rise
Singing the light
Sing the light
Sing it into solid form
Melting lavender limned
Bijli blue
Disintegrated white
Stolen breaths from thousands
Winds rose into It
Peeling back the skies
Exposing angels faces
Whose hands
Covered those
Who lived to tell It
Re corded events chained
Upon unwilling feet
Dragging unseen weights
In helices
Carried by the sons
Carried by the daughters
Until light burns light burns light
Burns clearly
A new world

You Will Witness

Things are epic
Time for the strong
Stand into coming storms
Holding each other solid
Against weakness
Every tear
Turns to joy
Smoke caught
On trailing fingers
Writes words
Make those words
Phoenix hearts rising
Leave ashes
Leave dust
Leave them all for the blue
Mists of colours
White roofs floating
Darwish axis
Spinning webs spinning
Electrons spinning
Words spinning
I will meet you
We will merge
In the Coming
Spoken into being
A crack of sound
Struck nothing
Breaking it into universes
Almost full now
Just a few more drops
You will witness Glory

Looking For God

I love you

You know this well
Bright light
In a dark world
A father’s voice
Sings a lullaby
To the smile
Of a future


I think of you
One leaf falls
A white flower
Like a lover’s letter
Words drift
Gossamer silks
Catch Earth’s breath

Explodes slowly
Over the horizon
Thousands of miles away
Curled in your heart
All the words
Of love

Nothing cupped
In my two hands
Only prayers for you


Angels played
A joke upon my heart
With the beauty
Of your mind

No regrets
To roll in loveliness
Eternal memory
You did not know
It was me
Wearing any face
Pleasing you most

Perhaps believe
Only you alone
Yet in you are
All my loves
Distilled to a perfection


On the walls of my mind


Like a dream
Sparkling Sirius
Sword sweeping skies
Nights striding
Across the heavens
Years I watch
Looking for YOU


Why Do You Come Here?

I am turning in for the night…..I miss some of you a lot but it’s all good…..Someone asked me “Why do you come here?”

Well a big part of it is art and writing. Part of it is learning things. Maybe one of the most important parts is sharing all that with people I love a great deal.

You see I don’t dance anymore…or play a musical instrument…I don’t date anyone in real life…I don’t party…no alcohol no drugs no sex no no no no…

No real life either and getting one the way I am is not that easy….(well it could be if I had no standards but I have standards.)

What you know of me here then is, in a very real sense, the me the ‘real’ world does not see…indeed the ‘real’ world does not see much of me at all and when I am in the real world I am very quiet most of the time these days.

So this IS my world:

This IS my ‘Final Fantasy’…it even has devils and goblins and people who think they can fly….crazy people…sane people….but the best ones of all are the magical people.

So I miss you Cinnamon and it looks like I will be missing Sky too…but it’s all good…There is always another soul waiting to warm a cold and tired mind at the fires of mine.


All of it

It is worth

The river of tears

Worth the years alone

Worth the falls

Turned into flights

Worth the place

I find myself

Before a solitary keyboard

To have you

Even once

In my life

If you could see

The way I am smiling now

If you could feel

Those rivers of love

Never dammed nor damned

That will flow to you

In my forever

I will touch you

Without touching

Love you

Without owning

Give you away with joy


Many times

Many lives

I will always know you

Always love you

Always give you

What I can’t even give myself

All of it

With a Nod to Dio and Owl City

It’s a confused jumble…If you try to make it make sense you will cry alone for a non-existent home. Smile the crooked smile.


Yes tomorrow.

All behind is enough salt water to drown in for thousands of lifetimes washed out to sea and left this old beach covered with treasures. They play upon weary eyes in the morning sun setting too fast into stars whirling into your beautiful soul.

My hands are empty. Full of the nothing of the universe. Laughing. Feeling death close sometimes but not a strange threat but a simple reality. Holding clouds and sunshine and rain in open fingers splayed to play with nothing. Form and mould nothing into dreams and fantasies of love. Never hungry in my mind I live lives past imaginations and whole encyclopedias and even ‘ten billion fireflies’.

Feel the changes in the winds fall upon the earth like catching speed and falling gems breaking apart in wild scattered analogous to reality of nothing inwards outwards words swords stirred into soup some call insane but I understand it all too well…

Heaven and Hell…

You asked me what it means to love? You are like Dorothy wearing shoes you don’t know you own. How can I tell you what love means when the world calls ‘need’ love? You gave me a black circular gypsie skirt with silver sequins on it and let me wear your life you walked upon to bits and now I have a silver cuff with South American medallions and your tearful question.

What does it mean to feel passion and feel it die over and over and over until your heart grows nothing but rust and dried roses? How to answer your beautiful old child-like face as my fathers eyes use mine to see what you are that you cannot see…how to bear the reality that we all dance away from each life is swiftly as…

…yes it is gone again.

The moment.

Love rides the high skies sliced by light in darkness without name it cries tears and suffers for no return and smiles. How can you say you have not known passion? How can you ask the definition of love from one who cannot even hold the sun and clouds in both empty hands?

All the things I should have done…they mean less than the nothing I cannot hold. They did not happen. How can I explain to you what nothing means? How nothing can make you suffer until you ask for death to marry you and when it comes you stare at it and fight to live and keep on fighting when the reasons are no more than moonlight silvered day under scudding storm clouds I do not want to walk yesterday again if I cannot change it.

I only have tomorrow.

I only have the next moment.

The stairs sway and rock like the earth wobbles on the stiletto spinning drunkenly as if hit…we blew it up inside and out with mushroom blasts and radical matters and suicide crews whose melanin stayed to fight as if programmed by a thought alone that vibrated like a sound…

…like a prayer…

Pray out loud. Make the electrons dance. Pray with every cell in your being. Pray or cry because I hate to feel the force behind the words…the rent veils tattered in the sowing winds…You ask me what is passion?

It is loving souls you never touch as if they live inside your own and breath every breath you share their eyes and hands and fell the things they feel in hungry nights or bliss of the first kiss or…face and face and face and face again each star-like lovely face is cupped in empty hands full of…



I see your words
You think of me I know
Never saying anything
Wondering for the distances
How life moves on

Fly with this one
Fly with that one
But always flying
Always on the wing
Always smiling and dancing

There is a wordless cry
Screaming to galaxies
Inside you roam the emptiness
Things that decorate your mind
Your hair and sweet dark eyes

Word-falls bounce
The dark rocks point in accusation
Skies weep for the face of stones
Where roots failed to hold
The ice and snow are the cap

You would ask me what we are
We are eternity expressed
In human eyes that see
In hearts made to desire everything
Asking “Why is this my destiny?”

10th Street Gangsta Kid

Now I am not suggesting that anyone go out and trust the world without question but, ever so often, something weird happens and it makes you wonder about things. Back in the day I lived over near The Red Dog Saloon on 10th street and there were plenty of shootings and robberies that went on down there and everyone knew it. The heli were out every weekend searching for escaped felons and drug dealers…sick bird men and women and belligerent drunks. Not the kind of place you’d ever even wanna pick up a pre teen with dropped pants on the week end…

…even the kids ’round there people said they packed. Maybe it was fear because that street was the bumper hood between the haves and the have-nots but anyway there was a Friday night at, like, one am in the cold early spring one day and it was raining cats and dogs!

I was driving back home from seeing my soon-to-be ex husband at that time from the neighbouring town and there was a kid walking up the side of the flooded water-logged road. He didn’t have any protection not even a torn open garbage bag! Kid looked pretty miserable and, against my better judgement, I pulled over and asked him if he needed a ride.

It was a really weird moment for us both. Here I was; some blond white lady who just got a degree from college driving a grey Honda who pulled over and asked 14 year old dropped pants black gangsta kid If he needed a lift…

He did it turns out.

He didn’t look at me as he got in the passenger side and it suddenly occurred to me that the kid was scared…

…of me.

Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? This was most odd!

“Where’ you goin’?”
“‘Bout five-six blocks up…”

He was staring at the floor board of the passenger side with single minded determination!

I kept driving and he moved his head and I noticed he had looked at my purse, which was sitting on the area just behind the gear shift between the seats and then, from the corner of his eye he looked at me in surprise when I smiled at him and kept driving. Then he looked at the floor board again. We drove the rest of the way in a weird tense silence in the oddest reversal of roles I ever experienced.

“Here…” He said in a whisper as we turned into one of the most notorious of the properties on 10th Street. I pulled in and a huge crack of thunder boomed and lightning struck in the sheeting rain as I stopped in the main lot of the apartments he asked me to take him to…as he got out it was clear the kid had a gun. He could have easily nabbed my purse and run but, somehow, he was suddenly as vunerable looking as any kid I ever saw anywhere and, I was almost worried about him as he sauntered out into the dark rain and disappeared into the buildings.

Now I am not saying everyone should trust everyone. My dad was once maced by a white gal, who tried to kife his wallet, who was was hitchin’ on I-40 but you never can tell about people…

…no you never can tell.

The Djinn’s Daughter

When it was written before you were born
When from the womb ripped out squeezed and torn
A vision was that such a peaceful light
Would fall upon a changeling child of night
One human never knowing half was part elf
Otherworldly apart from self
Made from fire wrapped in white cloak
The Angels almost laughed upon the joke
But stopped realizing what was allowed
Would have one of themselves wrapped in shroud
To taste what only mortals have to fear
The laughter died as one by one shed tear
A surety that God could end them all
One girl half human wrapped within a pall
So they made a council and decided
That in the human world never plighted
Never trothed never mother never woman
Though allotted that being born ‘human’
For those who would truly her want to wed
She would be made only for them to bed
And any she would marry would be cursed
Until they set her free or her soul burst
And while the heavens fought over her fate
The subject of the machinations state
That those who cared so much made one life hell
Or heaven too as much as she could tell
So it was finally agreed so to be fair
That when time came she’d marry fire there
The world never knew what to make of her
All she really could be for one was ‘lover’
Or more than one or maybe even many
And sometimes for a decade no not any
For from this hybrid woman most men ran
Very few could see her as an equal man
Or know what category she would fit
That was the long and tall and short of it