The Magic Bullshit Shield


I imagine something and make it viewable. I write something and make it imaginable. I + mage = Image. We are all mages, tricksters and creators. ALL of us. How this expresses itself is the only variable.

I respond, with my tactile senses, to something and it moves me to a non-tactile ‘place.’ It moves me to the ‘mage magic’ place. This is expressed in so many ways. When I was young there was a girl who was on the cheerleading squad. I only have seen this once in my life and I have seen many cheerleading squads but she was exceptional.


I tried to figure it out for a long time. She had short, dirty dishwater blond hair. She had terrible acne. She could not do the splits of any of the fancy stuff the rest of the squad did. Her parents were poor and not ‘town team sponsors’ (which will often get an ‘average’ girl an ‘exceptional’ placement.) She was NOTHING at all like a cheerleader and she was not even a SNOB!

She was like no one I ever met and I liked her and so did everyone else. I asked her, while riding that ugly yellow signature school-bus, what her secret was. See, at that time, everyone was calling me a ‘witch’ and so I was studying that. In those days, way out in the tall grass boonies of Oklahoma, in those ranch town libraries, about the only thing you could find was about the Salem Witch Trials. She looked at me in a strange way and then she said, “I am happy and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I am happy anyway.”

She really WAS happy but there was more to it than that. Her personality ‘stuck out’ farther than her skin. Her soul was larger than her body. After that I started to LOOK AT people and LOOK INTO them. I learned this:

The two do not always match.

There are those walking around in this world who are very powerful people and yet do not fit any descriptors of what a powerful person should look like or be. In doing this I met many such people over the course of my life. There was the young man who was the shortest, most snaggle toothed kid in the school and yet, when he played music, the girls who hung out with the homecoming queen would ask him out on dates. Once his band mates asked him what his secret was and why weren’t they getting any action as they were tall and ripped in comparison to him. He just smiled and shook his head.

There was the hippie English teacher who was weird and stoned and yet we learned more in her class, than we ever would learn anywhere else, about language and how it works. She was tall and strange with wild black hair and everyone made fun of her. She didn’t care what they thought.

It wasn’t the ‘I don’t care’ that is a REACTION to bullies and their bull shit but an ACTION that told the bullshit people, before they reached that stage, that their bullshit was not going to work.

That was the secret. Understanding what bullshit is and making yourself impervious to it.

Bullshit proof.

So for the New Year hits that is my wish for all my friends: that you keep, or learn to wield, your magic ‘bullshit shield.’

In Tent

Desperate Chorale careen
Weighted out
Not chained to what is left

Still there is love

Scales shed
Dripping notes
Belonging to me
Such as it is


What you think
Writing glasslippery sound
Into your belief
Holding your heart arcing one
Cresendo into skies

This belongs to you

Chants about what dies
Nothing but sand
A kiss
In The Toybox
Temporal death
Snuffling growls
Days wanting
Echoing for centuries
To belong in
Electrical forever

Wanting more
Running faster
To transform
Stringed theory thrummed

Slows a moment
Blasting dreams

Gregorian voices

USB platforms
Violins backup
Chorus prepares
Contraposto punt

Numerical swords
Connnect the dots
To wail
I will stalk
Cartwheeling arpeggios
Extra lines
From star to star
With one mind
Eyes clear glazed
In tent city alight

Do you think you want to be me?

Last night, and the night before, my neighbors upstairs were having a huge party. Loud music and many guests spilled out the door. I could not join them as they were all drunk and I am allergic to alcohol (and anyway I would have to ‘sit my way’ up the stairs to talk to strangers who might feel weird with a sober disabled woman at thier party.)

It is like this all the time for years and years.

I know life goes on all around me. So often there is no way I can join it. It also does not want to come to me. No children. no grandchildren no spouse even to despise….LOLOL…

All I have, in between the ‘sick’ I fight against and do not want, are time and words and those who have known me a long time know that very very VERY slowly my skill with words appears to be eroding. I hope that is my imagination but I think maybe it is not.

Do you want to be me? Someone with years of time and lonliness, without human touch or escape with any drug, crutch or outlet who is used for sex a coupla times every ten years because desperation, in lonliness, makes even mere use welcome and elicits a pitiful gratefulness??????

Do you want to be young and strong with a future still ahead of you even if you did not get there yet, and in your life nothing is the way you want it….but you can fight and love and hike and marry and go places with your friends and …..

sigh….I would trade with you!

If God promised Hell, a creature, food then surely he would not deny Hell It’s due?

It would not be fair if those doomed to Hell on Earth and Hell in eternity did not rule in the place they were destined for? If your destiny is Hell and life is fair you should likely enjoy the home you were written for?

Otherwise it does not seem fair….

None of us has enough knowledge or wisdom to claim to know what GOD thinks….I only ask the questions of a heretic that no one can answer….

(Nor do I think any MAN living or dead can save me unless it is a real man who has real love for me…


Where is the one Khalid said was my qareen?

I NEED YOU BACK! One dream is not enough….the memory of drowning in love……