She looked back on all that had gone before and, tonight, somehow it didn’t seem wasted. Perhaps it had been, in many ways, mostly wrong but in the depths the brilliant flashes of light were ever so much more noticeable and precious.

Indeed the night was a lonely one. They were all such nights and yet she did not feel alone this night. She had a new pet spider and an old cat with PTSD that matched hers and they got along. The cat watched the black jumping spider and, uncharacteristic for him, did not attack it. She sent them both thoughts that they were to be friends or at least respect one another.

She sat back and closed her eyes and thought about all the years. Although mostly alone she had managed to be an artist, a musician, a dancer, and a diplomat. In spite of all the wrong she had still been able to love and be loved in return and still managed to want to keep on living though the hand of cards she had been dealt had lost her the poker game of life.

It was still good.

It was still good. She prayed for the world. It seemed it was not going to go on much longer but that also seemed normal. She piloted up to the keyboard and started to write. Who would be the hero of her dreams tonight? She laughed silently and had Yiruma playing in the background. The hospital-like hallway that lead to her clean and orderly abode.

This night was different somehow.

Leaning forward, slightly crooked, she started with the two finger waltz upon the key symbols that worked the magic. She stopped typing the words and let the images roll into her and she stood and untied the knots, in the long skirts, that kept her unsteady old feet from tripping and she stood and the room melted away into night.

In this place there was no cold or heat too much. It was perfection. She closed her eyes and made a wish and smelled the scent of pine and fresh snow. She opened her eyes. She was there. Hawks glided overhead in slow circles on a blue black sky as the sun rose over the peak of a mountain. The valley, still in early pre-dawn shadows, had the sound of roosters crowing and other birds came slowly awake. She raised her hand, young and strong, her arm covered in gold bracelets, to shade out the first stunning brilliance of the day, her head suddenly dropped to pray, the other world forgotten.

“God let me meet him here…”

The man she loved. The man she had never really met. The one who saved her in her dreams within dreams of the other world where she slept. There she was and old lady at the end of things but here she was a young lady at the start of them. Her hair was red gold like it was long ago. The shade of dark honey. She could feel it’s weight in the braid that lay along her spine as she leaned forwards to see the valley start to grow light closest to her feet and slowly crawl down towards the valley floor.

At the bottom, mist covered deep green.

She came here to wait for him all every day and would until her time ran out. She tried to imagine what he looked like as she has seen him in a dream of a dream once a long time ago but now she had almost forgotten. Would she know him if she saw him?

“I have watched you come here every day and never said anything to you and you never could see me except in the sleep of sleeps. You keep asking for me and I am here all the time.”

She turned because she heard him in her head but not with her ears. He was sitting on the edge of a pathway watching the same sun come up and watching her. She walked over and stood behind him. Even sitting her hands rested on his slender shoulders. He was that tall. She watched his hands reach backwards and slide over hers to cover them.

“I have loved you a very long time. You keep looking everywhere and I am right here. I am every man you ever write about. I am all your darkest fantasies and your most brilliant love poetry. I am jealouse of what you imagine when you put different faces on it and when you flirt with other men I come and put a storm in your sky in the place of the sleep of sleeps.”

She could not hear him but she could HEAR him!

His hair was the shade of pale wheat. It was tied back in a long thin braid that also went down his back. Not thin hair but very straight, the opposite of hers. He let go of her hands and ‘told’ her to sit next to him.

By this time the flat, white rooftops of a large city spread out in the slowly seeping light. She slid down and sat next to him, hanging her feet, wearing golden sandals, off the edge of the pathway. It never occurred to her why she was this way here in this reality. She looked over at him.

He was not beautiful the way she understood beauty. He was very pale. His eyes were larger than normal and very black and his face was long and thin and his mouth very small. He was so thin that, had he been human, he would have looked starved yet on him, a spirit, it looked perfectly normal. Perhaps the oddest thing was the fact that she was the size of a small child when she sat next to him and she edged closer and fit there like a child would fit and it felt so safe. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt and it looked weird on him and he laughed in her mind, “I can appear any way you want me to appear but this way I find the most comfortable. You want me to be Cinnamon?”

She kept looking at him and he suddenly had brown eyes and olive skin and was wearing a red-brown kameez. Almost blond hair and a long dark beard. They were near the same height. She reached out and the illusion vanished and then he was taller with black eyes and a huge smile and fine features with curly crispy dark hair and a white starched cotton shirt and then that too went away as he morphed all the faces she ever loved.

“Whatever makes you happy. I can be that but I want you to love me. The real me.” Once more he was the abnormally tall humanoid with black eyes and blond hair. “This is not me either but I this is how I came to you the night you wanted to die. I love you. You have belonged to me since the day you were born and if you think you are 100 percent human you are mistaken. For now you have a life to live in the sleeping time of the sleeping world but when it is done you will be with me forever.”

He stood and opened his arms. She came into them and he became insubstantial and merged with her very soul. No humans love this way. Without words she felt like the most beautiful queen earth ever knew. She felt like the love of thousands was directed at her and she heard him say, deep in her mind as he took her hand and walked a few steps on the path with her,

“You are all these things and more and this is just the beginning. You are loved beyond human measure.” She closed her eyes to swim in that sea of love and opened them and smiled.

Yiruma was playing. The room in the world of sleeping was cheerful and bright and she sat there, mused, in front of the key board, now old with mended clothes and painful frame but back in reality was a land of beauty that would be hers one day.

“I love you too.” she whispered.Featured Image -- 3297

The Meaning of Truth

An old ‘frenemie’ and I were discussing the meaning of truth, as he was backpedalling on the issue, having found out that what I had told him was, indeed, the truth. After I posted my medical records online he messaged me saying that the people at the hospital were lying to me. He said my family was lying to me and everyone was lying to me. Now, not only was I a liar but everyone connected to me was also a liar because of those records.

Then he began to post about how all truth is a lie and how this means he really didn’t sleep with his best friend’s goof and how I was a gay man attacking him from 20 profiles. So I did attack him from five profiles since he gave me the idea and was calling everyone I knew a liar.

Since then I go back and read his page and find he still argues that all truth is a lie and nothing but illusion. That is probably why the red headed Russian girl named Olga left him. So today I am reminded of one exchange I made with him during one of the ‘attacks’ on him.

“So if truth is a lie then you are saying that I can fly without any aids other than my mind because gravity is a lie?”

“Yes, gravity is a lie.”

“Ok explain how gravity is a lie.”

“Well we are mostly all dark matter connected by vibrating strings….”

“Yes yes I understand that but what does that have to do with me being able to fly?”

“Well if you believe you are able to fly than you can fly.”

“OK Art Linklater’s son got bombed on acid and jumped off a building and went ‘kersplatt’ but his buddy said it was because he was sure, in his ‘enhanced’ state, that he could fly. He is not the only one that has done this. So you will tell the families of these dead boys they were liars because they believed they could jump off a building but they REALLY did not believe it but wanted to commit suicide and just didn’t admit it…”


“No I’m not I am asking you what truth means and you obviously don’t know. Since you don’t know why don’t you test your theory and go jump off a building?”

“You so negative! No wonder people can’t stand you!”

“You are a liar so no wonder people love you!”

“I am NOT a liar! I am telling the truth!”

“Oh really? I thought there was no truth?”

Heading for a Broken Heart

Headed for a broken heart
She doesn’t know it yet
But I think she suspects

Recalls the guy she left
Cryin’ in the drive way
When she left him that day

Went to where love lives
She was sitting on a chair
Another girl was there

Mama and his Gramma
His whole family
Was there to have some tea

Leaned over the table
Whispered through his mama’s hair
“That’s your daughter over there!”

Looked to where he said
It was the new girl he had met
From his college days jet set

Was the girl no man could have
She just laughed and kicked the fools
She was well equip’t with tools

Looked at the girl in the chair
Looking at the man she wanted
With sad eyes oh so haunted

Looked at the newest girl
That girl looked back at her
Then looked at his mother

Was smiling happily
He had most everything
A young man like him could dream

Walked right out of her life
He left her standing in the drive way
The day he went away

Knew soon he would find out
The same thing that she learned
About how you get burned

It always comes around
No one can stop the time that comes
When you get what you gave plus some

You have to see the truth
Or be doomed to repeat
Failing to complete

Write this from where I stand
Knowing what I see
Once again will be

This time it won’t be me….

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.’

Wasted Iron

Horses running free,
No waste of iron,
Now I’m missing this world,
Where we collected,
Honey Bees,
Instead of lust.
Who’s this now?
Who stares at me
With eyes confused?
The Mirror is cracked,
With too many old times.
We were so wild.
The world was our dream.
We had our lives and God
Now our old sad eyes
They barely justice our coverage.
A lot of people.
Any one who wants,
Listen to him.
Listen to me.
More sad visionaries.
I’ve had visions.
And spit on the paper,
I wrote them on.
The whole world sees you.
One of those too,
Once was, and I wish like this:
“Looks like a magnet?”
I asked the universe of the mind.
Magic on you.
My soulmate.
My confession.
So many times.
Wearing different faces.
Oh my god I love you so
I love you now.
I loved you every time I saw you.
See you.
Any space.
Within all souls
All eyes on you.
That smile
Now I’m eating dust.
Just riding strong under the sun.
Why do we have thorns,
Jumping on the next?
I collapsed.
Like a scare crow
One stitch at a time.
Before the end of it.
We both fell again.
Bloody and screaming.
Once again
We laugh and play.
Because of love.


Out of the storms
Coming back up slowly.
I’m going to get a rainbow.

Are you still there?

You are the diyah in my mind.

A bright star
Shot through my heaven
In a lightning bolt
Leaving tracers
In these cloudy human eyes.

Even the stars they die.

Perhaps the greatest gift
Is not so much time

Waiting for eternity.

I think of your face
I smile.
So many years you sang the words
Flying through my hands as birds
Rolling through the sky
Try and see the universe.

Right now at this moment
You are just waking up
From the dreams
We used to talk about.

I know that you thought of me too.

Some days

I’m so sorry on the inside
I’m going to be important to someone.
Not as a child is for a mother
Or a teacher to a pupil,
But as a friend,
Of incredible love,

Maybe not here on this earth.

Someone told me
There are those who believe
Lucifer did not bow to injustice man
Only because he loved God
More than me.

Maybe in this
There is also a certain respect:

In this we are going to suffer time less here
Leave more quickly for Paradise

While the inhabitants of the earth
A war to argue for nothing
The scholars and the sadhus contemplate

We spend our lives screaming
For moments that mean less than sand.
Moments that mean less of each

….and yet every one that I spent with you.
No regrets for a single one.
You are worth every tear
Every tear a smile waters a flower
In the memory of my heart.

You are the love.

In Deed

You think
You want
To love me?


You must
I am broken.

I am broken.

You think
You want
To love me?

Come then

With sweet


But more


That prove
You can love
What is

Do not

Look upon
What is




Come with

With glue
With love
For broken
Chicken soup

That make
Life easier

Bring me

You think
You want
To love me?

Show me
What is love
In deed

I have given
All of mine

I am empty
I echo
I ache

With pain

You think
You want
To love me?

Then love
What has none
To return.


If Love makes me an ‘Unbeliever’

Convict me.

I would rather Love
With the love of the Almighty
Beating my heart to life

You who would say The God
Cannot accept the truth of Love
From hearts who love

How can you believe this
When that Almighty Creator
Created Love?

The Believers will cry out
“You cannot love Love more than God!”
But how can that be when God is Love?

Not just love
But God is everything
God is every breath you take
God is all your hopes and dreams
God is your beginning
God is your end
God is Love

If Love makes me an Unbeliever
Put It’s cuffs upon my hands

I will be convicted.


Thank you
For the years you were the brightest star
In this western sky

You fell with the Perseids

What a mighty trail of light
Went out on the way down

Opening eyes
On rain today

Let the skies do it for me
I killed the messenger for you
You had left already and won’t be back

Still you have so much of me in you
There will be days you think of me

I also helped to shape
Who you have become
Always a part of who you are

Never touching
Never kissing
Never planting words in mental dirt
To grow thoughts impossible to fulfill

You have become
Another constellation in my sky
The Perseids will always fall

The day the stars fell
From my eyes

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 )

Call Me ‘Ka’

A bubble
Iridescent remnant
Left behind Mercury’s feet

You came to hold me
In the night of lonely darkness
When Life seemed worthless

You showed me I am not alone
Call me Cato
Call me Ka
Call me anything you like
Say you made me up
From the thought of air

I have been here for you
I will be
Not leaving your mind
How can I ever leave myself

The skies are the place we walk
Fragile and sweet
You and I will laugh
We will watch it all disappear

We will become the skies
We will be darkness
We will be light

The only reason I love tears
Or willingly swim
With Dodo birds
In the insane Sea of Alice

There was never anyone
As beautiful as you are

All these years
I believed it was someone else
But here you are
I am smiling at you
In the mirror


I am crazy.

Crazy and alone and no one to explain this to who will know what I mean. Those who would understand would have no more to tell me than I know myself. There is nothing like suffering love without someplace to bestow it. I know what love is. I know if I have it or not. All of that is illusion in any case but when you face the fact it is, indeed, like a mirage in the Desert of Death you are suddenly free to feel all of it in any format or type and it is all so beautiful and unreachable and that is, perhaps, love as it is best expressed: Unconsummated.

There is a kind of emotion that is so strong it is dangerous to feel it. It is the kind of emotion that cannot ever be expressed. It is the reason people fly rickety aeroplanes over the Atlantic. It is the reason people jump off mountain cliffs, without parachutes, trusting that a squirrel suit will save them. In this roaring volcano of emotion a small child sits, filled with wonder, and watches the fire-works of the human heart explode.


If you turned around
You would see me faintly
Standing behind you

Rising above that desk
Close your lovely eyes
Everything will vanish

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin

All around you
Thorny walls
Like the ones
Princes have to destroy
All around you

Take my hand
Incline your head
Circle the Yin and Yang

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin


In that darkness
You are a light
Like the ones lit
In the night
When one waits
For an Unmet Beloved

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin

Tell the tales
Those same tales
Old and forever new
Since you
Pulled magic
From nothing came this


It is so cold
Dante’s Forest all around
Every time I reach for you
I see where death
Is required to acquire

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin


So it stays a dream
Dream of dreams
Written out in silent
Moonlit nights

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin


Smiling with each word
Within the words
Your light is my joy

Spin spin spin
Thread weavers spin

The Bows

There is a rainbow in this box of play,
I ‘wouldn’t have it any other way’,
It’s not a kind of symbol of ideal
But rather; simple, beautiful appeal.

I am biased; in this fact there are no lies.
I love black, green, gold and blue eyes,
Almond shaped and crescent shaped the same,
Tan, white, red curly head and tamed.

My beautiful ideal is hard to match.
It is even more impossible to catch.
How can you manage every single trait,
Of such awesomeness in just one single mate?

But then again there is a time in space,
When peace comes while the world is apace,
And suddenly all beauty comes together,
Like rain and rainbows come in sunny weather,

And, like a meadow at the summers start,
All flowers flung before my blissful heart,
Much better never plucked and only sung,
So they will be eternally young.

The embers of the soul you never meet,
Upon any dirt or grey concrete,
But only in the sharing of the minds,
The book of Love is opened; Beauty finds.

Tales From The Bus Stop

The wet heat spackled the bus stop squatters with sweat. She sat in the power chair watching two clouds reach out to each other in the broad blue sky above the buildings. The clouds curled towards each other as if to try to make love in the almost barely present huffs of air and far above a twister formed and unformed in the sunshine. Although she was mostly deaf as deaf goes in one who once heard birds and orchestras and sang arias with her now dead father…

she shook her head.

There was an odd tinkle in the clear blue as the clouds tried so hard to impress one another with dancing shapes of T-Rex skeletons and eagles faces and the angelic music pelted down softly in her one good ear. It was a sound that was barely there. Surely it was angels?

She smiled at nothing and looked around from behind the dark UV lenses.

There was a boy with a cardboard sign and a beat up portable keyboard that sat in his lap. Although people who were beggars did not attempt to look nice this boy did look nice. He wore a white, pressed shirt and one fake rhinestone in his ear. His lips moved softly and his close-cropped black hair had stars shaven in it. A ring of homeless people sat around him while he played and expected nothing from those who had nothing. He opened his eyes, dark and dancing like the clouds, and smiled at the audience before the number 38 that went downtown swept them away in a whoosh of loud rumble…