Blind to racism?

The cake is a lie. Liberty is not justice. We are not free.

The cake is a lie. Liberty is not justice. We are not free.

I attended a screening of American Denial. Although we were unable to complete the film because of DVD issues and a computer that suddenly needed 30 updates before it would operate, what I did get to see raised questions that I couldn’t answer. I want to share what I need to ask.

Are you looking at the evils granted by the color of your birth, as an oppressive blind man?

Are you buying your humanity, your right to exist, with the color of your education?

Are you willing to deny your blood, to embrace the hangman’s rope, in the name of love?

If you deny the demands of your father’s beliefs, are you also murdering the heart of the mother’s whom weep?

Did racism have to become, as opposed to the 1950’s and 60’s when it was “okay” to throw coke bottles at a little girl walking to the store with some change she’d saved jingling in her pocket, ironically, an underground railroad of hatred?

Does racism use the same tools of oppression as misogyny does or are they different? How are they similar?

When is impatience for things to change given over to frustrated tolerance that bubbles lava-like under the surface of civility? How long do we have to be patient before things actually change? What needs to happen before real change takes place? Isn’t 60 years long enough to think people would grow up already and see each other as humans? Or is it 160? 260? 560? How long is enough before it’s too much?

I declare, I am

I declare I am

I declare I am

I declare by action

You can not call yourself a dreamer of dreams

Unless you first close your eyes to willingly sleep

To strip away reality that’s solid to your skin

Throwing blankets against the world’s forgetful sin

Standing not in the sands of the shores

But drowning in desires begging knowledge of more

You can not call yourself a writer of poems

Unless you first strip back the skin to know ‘em

Stripping down to muscle, blood, grinding bone

Becoming so grotesque, by default, displayed alone

Repulsing your own belief that you were enmeshed

Engaging your spirit fully until it bleeds through your flesh

You can not call yourself an artist of the arts

Until you’ve ripped shreds of everything you know, torn it apart.

Chopped off arms, legs, noses, fingers, and ears

Assembled them into a shape that disappears

Become a nothing awaiting rebirth to this plane

So you can become a God/dess of your own domain

Between the Worlds

A Snow Owl

A Snow Owl

I wander along in blues of sparkling seas

I witness a sail in the distance waving at me

I place hand over eyes in familiar stance

I wave back with my hips, a shift of my dance.

The forest closes in with a crackle of leaves

I’m not afraid, it’s welcoming me

The music turns up with bird songs and buzzies

The brook tells a joke that gives me warm fuzzies.

In a blink of an eye, my feet hit the sand

the painted desert that smells like Christmas is where I am

A solar flare singes my skin hot and prickly

but pain is small price when one lives this richly

A single leap, a precarious bound

I’m traveling highways, heeding the sound

of the zephyrs of change as they dervish round

Should I see you as I move, ever by the winds tug

You may not know my face, but you’ll know me by hug.

The 46 and 1,600

Face Palm

Face Palm

Did you hear my brothers and sisters crying?

Why didn’t you help them when they were dying?

Why did you hand your loyalty to the master?

Why did you close your eyes so much faster?

You are saddened by the forty-six which I get,

But 1,600, abused by power, doesn’t bother you yet?

You carry a weapon, a gun to protect and serve,

I respect that, understand that it’s life you try to preserve.

I do not hate you. I do not wish that misconstrued.

I’m not even angry with you when you don your black and blue.

Did you hear your brothers and sisters crying?

Can you turn your back on unarmed humans dying?

Are you still willing to obey that Master?

Or are you awaiting orders during confrontational disasters?

I am saddened by the forty-six deaths legit,

But I’m more disturbed that 1,600 doesn’t bother you yet.

You carry a weapon, to protect your brothers in blue

I thought it was to protect civilians, people like me, too.

I respect the courage it takes to head out into the streets

Never knowing if your loved ones again you’ll ever meet.

I do not hate you. I do not wish this misconstrued.

I just wish you’d seen my human siblings, like your brothers in the blue.

Art OUT, Knoxville Pride

"L" is for the way you look at me

“L” is for the way you look at me

"O" is for the only one I see

“O” is for the only one I see

"V" is very, very, extraordinary

“V” is very, very, extraordinary

"E" is even more than anyone that I adore

“E” is even more than anyone that I adore

And love, is all that I can give to you

And love, is all that I can give to you

The original is being donated to Art OUT Pride event in Knoxville, TN because LOVE seems like the best reason to give to great causes, isn’t it? I saved the scan so that prints can be made available for anyone that needs a bit more love around them can buy them. I feel like singing about love today. How about you?

Be gentle

Better than tulips!

Better than tulips!

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whose eyes may not see

the expression of your sexuality

as a sign of unsuppressed individuality

because I may be jaded or blinded by misogyny.

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whom is terrified to be

the open-hearted embracing destiny

to stake my claim on my personal history

as one not bound by mainstream society.

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whom is unafraid to be

every breadth and depth of clarity

a shining hope against disparity

standing human by human in equanimity.

Be gentle with me for I have stepped outside of me

the one they knew can no longer be

because who I am, I was born to be

I can no longer hide, I am finally free!

Be gentle with one another

treat neighbors like sisters and brothers

for as difficult as it seems

we all long to meet our dreams

so we fight the hard fight

sometimes not recognizing the hopeful light.

Be gentle of heart

but wild with your grace

May hate never play a part

in your peace or your faith

Be rich, my friend, with philanthropy

Be gentle, so very gentle, with this fragile human;

me.

Preying Hands

Preying hands

Preying hands

I took my vow of silence when I unwillingly walked the aisle

I knew that once sealed, I was lost. I hoped to be.

I kissed his lips knowing they were poison

I tenderly held his hands that blessed me with curses;

beat me, berated me, tore me down to the floor where

I prayed at his altar with bloody knees,

“Please! I won’t sin again!”

I genuflected my resolved acceptance

of my worth from his unholy blessings and unlawful prayers.

I lay prostrate, willing myself to Mother Mary

Falling short of grace;

denied her forgiveness.

With the community choir ignoring the sermon

of discipleship he insisted I learn,

fifth in hand

I begged physical communion

I knew he’d lay down the fists for lustful sins

grunting self-satisfied “amens” of self-approval.

While I lynched my own redemption

on the clothesline laden with our dirty laundry

begging silently with screaming stains of humiliation

Betrayal drip drying fresh spilled secrets

Everybody listened

Nobody came.

Everybody knew

but denied my name.

Until

I found my voice

Until

I left six bullets in the clip

putting them safe in my pocket

one still in the chamber.

I knew you were a crappy shot

I won my life in a daring public race of rushing roulette

As I ran among my neighbors that I’d shared bread with

taken their children on vacation, gifted with Christmas

Challenging them to shine a light,

to allow me one phone call from my personal prison

Each house darkened but one remained.

My prayers finally answered

by confused badges of protect and serve honor.

I surrendered my protection

my haven

my home

because his shame lied

lay bruises on my arms.

Hear this, Father of my ex-communication,

I am again holy.

I am true in spirit.

I walk in grace while you walk in your valley of darkness

I pray you find your way to your own righteousness

I pray you never feel the transgressions you offered to me

visited upon your person

I pray that understanding of your offense

be never washed in the blood of another.

Amen and Blessed Be

Meditations

Meditations on Creations

Meditations on Creations

Nag Champa burning

Otherworld music calls

The gateway is hear.

My hands are not mine

The Muse creates using them

I watch with true faith.

I look to the sky

I speak freely with her heart

She is me, I am.

United we build

a beautiful world vision

grateful for our tools.

We walk the path strong

while we tread feather lightly

leaving no footprints.


I’m using this music as my “GATEWAY

Love Madly

Earth, Air, Fire, Water

Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit

Let’s fall madly in love with one another.

Entwine our spirits in a magical weave of devotion,

Inhale the earth scents we have become

Absorb our joy in reciprocal rhythm of unity

Believe, as I do, that we’re stardust and oceans

Temporarily sent:

To right here, right now,

Breathing each other passionately

Taking each other like communion without the gravity of solemnity

Let’s allow ourselves to indulge so we can commune

Rolling together on grassy hills, giggling wildfires of laughter

Consuming the stars, the moon, the planets like the delicacies they are

Enriching this moment with the wishing flower’s breezy dance

Barely touching skin to earth from flying currents of jolting surprise

Let’s fall madly, deeply, forever in love.

Instead,

We’ll just hold hands, hug tightly

While watching us fly the blooming skies nightly