Arroyo

  1. For a moment
    Time forgot Her place
    She hunkered down
    Roaring with Wind
  2. Breathing with theĀ Earth
    In red-land arroyos
    40 years gone
    Time painted her face
    She sang for a moment
    One eternity
  3. Here I was birthed
    Swirling around me
    Wind sang too
    He put a veil
    Over my head
  4. Of winter birds
    Circling the heat rise
    City capped
    For a moment painted
    In arroyo red

The Magic Bullshit Shield

Imagery.

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.

Why?

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.’

Big Pharma

She went for the job interview at the pharmacy and they said the last part was a lie detector test.

(She never forgot this it haunted her all her life.)

She was trying hard to find a job but no one believed she was. They thought she was trying to sabotage it so no one would ever hire her. People in her own family had no idea how hard she tried.

She had just lost a job as a waitress because she could not remember the seating of the tables fast enough and everyone chided her,

“You read so fast and you are so smart and yet you can’t even recall the placement of tables in a restaurant? You MUST be lying!”

‘Liar’

All the time she heard that word over and over like the words ‘witch’ and ‘crybaby’ and ‘loser’ and the list of words was endless. She was trying to get a job in the local pharmacy with the ‘shi shi’ girls. She really thought she could do it and the interview went so well….

She went into the office where they did the lie detector stuff and decided to be totally honest no matter what they asked. She did not rehearse anything. They hooked her up and she was terrified of the gadgetry but managed to mask her face. This was IT. She had to do well!

The man kept trying to get a reading. He adjusted the gear. He adjusted the terminals. He shook his head. He set the operation up twice and that made her even MORE nervous. Surely this was not going to wrong! She had failed so many times. She didn’t know why she was so smart and so stupid at the same time. All she knew was that most people hated her, jeered at her, or ignored her in embarrassment.

“What’s your name?”

She told him the truth.

Have you ever done drugs?

She told him the truth.

Every question she answered with bald honesty and he shook his head again and cut the interview short. He would not answer any questions.

She lost the job.

She went to the pharmacist and asked him point blank why she didn’t get the job. Her papa made her do it because he wanted to know what she was doing wrong in the interviews so that she could get a job.

“Why didn’t I get the job?” she asked the pharmacist.

“Well…” he looked down almost ashamed…”Well you lied about everything.”

“But I didn’t lie! You know my name and family and the answers! You know them before I gave them! The test was just incidental you know I answered truthfully YOU KNOW ME! My name is Mary Shannon McCloskey and I answered EVERY QUESTION with total honesty!”

He looked almost embarrassed and said, “I know you answered honestly but we can’t employ someone who thinks they are lying about their own name.”

She looked at the girls behind the pharmacy counter. All beautiful. All with perfect hair and teeth and smiles. The pharmacist reached out and scraped his finger on her nose. She hated that because her nose is what everyone made so much fun of. Her flat chest and her huge nose. He waved his finger in her face.

“Blackheads. You have blackheads.”

She dropped her head and went out to her papa’s sedan. She told him the truth. “They say I am a liar. I told them my real name and they say I am a liar. I told them the truth and they say I am a liar.”

Her papa’s face looked sardonic.

“You are a liar.”

She went back later to ask for that job if it wasn’t taken. There was an older woman behind the counter.

Ruth.

Ruth was not beautiful on the outside but she was on the inside and she watched that girl-who-always-failed ask for that job and called her over,

“Hun. I want to hire you.”

She looked over at the shi shi girls in their ivory tower and she looked at the hot grill and the bacon press and the soda fountain. She squared her shoulders and said, “Yes I will work for you.”

It was the first real job she was ever good at. She wasn’t very good at it at first but the clientele of one of the last ice-cream soda parlours in America were forgiving. Ruth did not mind her screw ups and soon she was the best damn grill cook ever and, at the end, could open and close the whole little corner on her own but every day she had to LOOK at the people she was ‘less than’.

One day she said a cuss word loud enough to hear it. She didn’t mean anything bad by it.

That old pharmacist came sailing around the corner and started to yell at her about using bad language in front of all the shi shi girls and the customers and everything. She lost it. She cried so hard that everyone in the store left. She forced the pharmacist to let her call her papa to come get her on the public telephone. She sat out on the curb for two hours and when he got there she was finished crying.

Dry as a dead bone in a desert. She had nothing to say to anyone for two days.

He was angry but not surprised. Why should he be surprised? She was a loser.

I Will

I seek the hands reaching
Eyes seeing only the dirt below

I grab your unsuspecting hand
A part of you will desire to run
A part of you will desire to run with me

A pulse jumps through your palm
Moving the hairs

Chilled

Night aires playing
With stars in your head
Rewriting old words with trails of light
As beautiful and new
As they were five million years ago
When we tracked the trails of heaven
Through Sumerian skies

This short disgusting lovely thing
We call ‘life’
It is the epic of the Universe
Permeating every layer of existence

Come with me
Let these hands linked reach past the edge
Above and below
A force to my magma
Fires of the skies
Oceans full
Glowing

Be my song
Be the smile life writes on my face
And I will write you as the hero
At the apex of the arches
Triumphal

The grass will be thick and soft
Hillsides will be gentle
You are all existence
I am the void

Together we are majestic
Together we are beauty

It’s time to go now
I will let go of you
Like I have let go of every teacher
Who was a student at the doors of my heart
You will slip into the void
From fantasy into concrete
Your feet will walk
Where things are hard

This is how it is
When we fly

To know
What shakes the abyss with madness
To bathe
In what fills all space with light
Living inside the surface
Of an iridescent bubble

I orbit your sun
You shine on my face
Nothing held back

Nothing

She Sings the Words Alone

  1. He sent them:
    To me, all beautiful women
    He could have for a smile
    Or a quest like war
    Killing love for it’s own sake
    “Still I wanted him
    To love me.”
    She sang the words
  2. Suspended,
    Before the chase
    Blood covenants spilled and broken
    For promises
    For kingdoms
    Twist yours into mine
    “Birth these devils for us
    Double blade inside you
    All your life.”
    She sings the words
  3. My heart hold itself now
    For a song
    She sang words I dreamed
    She belonged where I wanted to be
  4. Now a snake awakens
    Rattles shaking
    Bare your smile for the kill she sings
  5. He never wanted me
    My own hands caress my soul
    I ride my own horse
    I write my own place
  6. He can say
    He did
  7. He believed it too
    She sang a song
    That emptied his chances
  8. To keep me forever
    Greek chanting chorales to the play
    “I am the alien .” she sings the words,
    “Winds and thunderstorms
    Make love to me.”
  9. Background noises
    Sounds of men who used to be
    Passed into yesterday
    Epic even though they fell
    For other loves
    I do not even own my own
    It flies
  10. Lost
  11. Over dark continents
    Seeking
    Learning
    That nothing is worth
    The pain of everything she sang
    Words carried drops of confusion
    Smelling
    Of old perfume and inverted logic
  12. Really it was men
    Stumbling in a giants footsteps
    Trying to walk
    In prints to big to fill
    Carrying a broken heart
    Before she broke
    She sang the words
    I put into her mouth to sing
  13. She came near
    Once she filled my nose
    With the smell of sweat
  14. Now she sings the words
  15. No one ever really heard them
    Humans don’t know
    How to hear the aliens
    The glory of life swells
    It plays arias of love
    It plays with hearts
    Letting out the life
  16. Stopping
    Each beat forced
    Ideas ripped away
    She sings the words for angels
  17. Juxtaposition
    A punishment of words she sang
    Breath hurts the chest
    Tight
    Notes shot from taut strings
    Sounds killing
    Metal tipped destroyers
  18. My own soul I love alone
    I eat alone
    I drink it’s blood alone
    I sign it’s agreement
    In blood by myself
  19. The roar of crowds is for others
    Men worshipping are not for me
    They no longer worship God
    They worship Giants
    They worship youth and strength
    They worship beauty and power
    Yearning for magic
    Quicken your feet
    They are walking

You Are Loved

Silent fog
Without sound
Morning light
Evening creeping
Clear cold black rising
Light pulsing
Why do I care
When I meet you
Through crystal prisms
You are loved
Warrior again walks the skies
Into the blanket of night
Holding myself
Composing unheard songs
Where care is never returned
Someday when time ends
Rituals
Left in the dust
In my arms
Dreaming of Life
Symbols
Giving love
Teaching
Slowing bit by bit
Alone
Even in the sunlit day
Cymbals stuttered once now lost
Being lived somewhere
Flingers now clack keys
In the soulless universe
Who will recall my words
Left behind
There are always stars
The strings
Between these layers
Ringing no more
Crying
Don’t leave me here
Unheeded nor needed

Facebook Asks Me…

…What’s on my mind?

Fantasy
Sexual odes to Love,
Iridescent bubbles,
Slow dancing with angels,
Infatuated euphoria,
Transforming,
Music that makes me smile,
Writing love songs to my beloved
Sprung full grown from my brain
After giving me a headache

What’s on my mind…

Dark eyes filled with stars,
Leather and sheesha,
Galloping across the plains,
Mountains in the distance,
Hawks on our wrists,
Flung skywards
Full of prayers

What’s on my mind…

Deep blue evening,
Round pebbles making water speak,
Hung around your neck
Wear me,
And I will wear you,
Leaning on the tree to big to move,
Breathing in you
Breathing out you
In and out moving
Into darkening
Cool

What’s on my mind…

The room The screen The words The end.

Facebook Islam

I saw a story today that was good and sweet and idealistic and I liked it in spite of the fact that it could not possibly apply to everyone: it was an IDEAL. When I tried to make that point my comments were deleted. The fellow who posted it is a really nice guy and means well so I am not angry with him. He was making a point about how girls should act, (girls with loving families and friends and marraige prospects), and he could also say the same thing about boys as well….

….so here it is:

FACEBOOK!

The story was about a girl refusing to keep communicating with a guy via a cell phone. In the story she is used as an example of proper Muslima behaviour. The graphics were of a girl, (not a woman), but the messege was that women should not talk to men even via long distance mechanisms like cell phones and this also implies anything like the same such as computers and I-pads and such. I assume that males should also not speak to females as the same rules should, in all fairness, apply to both….why the story had the guy acting like a dog and the girl like an angel I guess is rooted in culture.

ANYWAY!

This story is posted on Facebook where men and women can both comment and maybe if they use alot of holy words it is OK for men and women to comment in the same place, to each other, on the same story. But the story says they should not be. Hmmmmm….OK….

Here I need to make a point: if you are on facebook and online and talking to a female and you are male and you believe in strict sharia then what are you doing here? In a perfect world you should have only family members in your list and even certain family members are off limits for you to speak with.

Hmmm…..

Ok what about things that you want to accomplish?

You want to preach the word?

Well here on Facebook you will be talking to women not in your family.

So you can reach them by deleting valid points?

Many people do not NEED Facebook they have family and friends with them 24/7. They have love and support and health and all thier needs even if they cannot see when life is good because we are ALL human like that when things are not exactly as we desire.

Maybe you are a musician or an artist and this forum lets you have expression. You will be talking with people all over the world. So guys cannot talk to females, (unless maybe they are not Muslim), and girls cannot talk to anyone even if they are amazing artists?

But what about people with few or no people in thier lives? What about those that are more alone than you can imagine and the only thing lacking are the physical BARS made of steel because of physical ‘bars’ made of illness; no one to hold a sad hand or speak to a sad soul except here on this box? What rules should we be held to then and who makes those rules and how? What if you consider yourself as ‘travelling’ because you are the only Muslim you get to see with rare and brief exceptions because people live very very far away and many American Muslims are liberal anyway and have no problem talking to whomever they please. This includes people like me….the forgotten ones.

I will tell you this now…my angels in my life are not extremely ‘holy’ and not all of them are Muslim and most of them are sinners just like me…and no matter how good hearted the holy ones are they cannot understand what they have not lived….

….my life.

Thank you

Me.