The House of Flushing


The first fish in our story was named Five. Five died trying to live out of water because Claymore insisted, as a goldfish, he could do it. Five believed and leapt from the water. Goldie tried to stop him, but Five wanted to believe so badly, nothing Goldie said could dissuade the ambitions of the follower. Five flopped for a bit on the tank stand after his leap of faith. After a several minutes Five expired and began bloating.

This all took place in and around a small aquarium, in a small apartment in a large building in a big noisy city. The walls of the apartment, where the fish could see, were dingy gray except in the bathroom where the walls were a soothing green-gray. The toilet sparkled cleanly from where the sunlight streamed in from a small window that wasn’t visible from the tank.

The remaining fish in the aquarium were: Claymore, a beautiful maroon Betta fish, Goldie who shone like the sun, Flipper who had black fins, and Tipper who had a black tipped tail.

Claymore was an intelligently charismatic Betta fish. He loved to coax the unintelligent goldfish that lived with him in the aquarium to believe in silly things. His nemesis, Goldie, a voice of reason, couldn’t be convinced of the nonsense. Goldie never believed anything Claymore said because Claymore was always wrong.

When Five died, Claymore held a meeting.

“Tonight, when the human comes home, we’re going to watch as Five is carried away in holiness. He will be released into the water where he will become baptized as a new fish, then sent to a better place. Behold, the holy fountain filled with rejuvenating water!” Claymore gestured with his fin towards the porcelain stool visible in the bathroom. Hanging above the toilet was a beautiful wall hanging with a human woman wearing a blue robe and pointing to a rose encircled heart on her breast

“I can see it. I believe it. Oh, Claymore, you’re so smart. Will I be sent to the fountain when I become like Five?” inquired Flipper. “I do hope so.”

“Of course, Sister Flipper.” Replied Claymore with false wisdom. “If you follow me, I’ll make sure you get there. The Mother of the Holy Fountain will guide your way if you only believe.”

Tipper, the follower, decided that if Flipper was going to do it, so would he. He wasn’t very good at coming up with ideas of his own anyway. He depended on his friends to show him what was right. If he ever felt like he had an idea, he’d just talk to Claymore or Flipper and they’d set him straight.

But Tipper knew that if he went to Goldie, all that fish would tell him is, “Think for yourself. Don’t be a follower.” Goldie made it impossible to get anything accomplished.

That evening, their human returned to find Five bloated and quite ripe next to the aquarium. Claymore called Tipper and Flipper to the worship service.

“Just as I predicted, our human has discovered the failure of Five to survive his leap of faith.” Stated Claymore in a stage whisper which caused Goldie to burble angrily.

The female human set down her belongings with a frown on her face. She disappeared into one of the rooms that couldn’t be seen, returning with a pair of long slender tongs.

“See how the human won’t taint the body with her flippers? She is using tools…”
“What are tools?” inquired Tipper.

Without allowing the interruption, Claymore continued, “As she carefully lifts Five, watch as she transports him to the holy fountain. Pray with me.” He intoned as the human dropped Five’s body into the commode. “Dear Mother of the Holy Fountain, accept the body of our brother Five. Rejuvenate him into a whole and living flesh.”

The human pushed the holy fountain’s silver button, a whoosh of swirling sound, and Five’s body was carried down the tubes.

“And now, my dear brethren, we wait. In three days, a new living Five will return to us.”

If goldfish could blink, Tipper and Flipper would have been in rapturous prayer. As it was, Tipper blubbed a bit, imitating Flipper. The wait began.

During the period of waiting, Goldie spent a lot of time swimming around, thinking deep thoughts. Like Claymore, Goldie taught himself to read by observing anything the human set near the tank. He could even proudly recite his address, understood there was more than just the aquarium they lived in, and despised Claymore for toying with the others of his kind.

As predicted a new fish showed up on the third day, a fancy-tailed goldfish with white tipped fins and tail. Tipper and Flipper rushed to greet the new Five.

“My name isn’t Five. I’m Gardita,” flounced the newcomer. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because! You returned to us, just like Claymore told us you would, Five.”

“I told you. My name is Gardita, not Five.”

Gardita hid in the plastic plants near the bottom, avoiding contact with the two lunatics. She and Goldie watched as Flipper and Tipper followed Claymore around the aquarium as if he were a God. She watched as two of the others gave up extra shares of food. Claymore grew larger.

The two leaders of the aquarium approached the new fish at the same time.

“My name is Claymore, welcome to our place of holy pilgrimage.” Articulated the Betta-fish. Tipper and Flipper swayed behind him with pure faith seeping from their scales. “I apologize for the ardent fervor which my disciples are enraptured by, but they just saw you resurrect as the new Five.”

“Don’t pay attention to him. Welcome, Gardita.” Interrupted Goldie. “I’m the only sane one around here, it would seem.”

“Why do they keep calling me Five?” probed the pretty new fish. “No matter how many times I tell them.”

“That,” said Claymore as he slapped his flipper over Goldie’s mouth, “is because I showed the way to holiness to my swimming friends.”

Goldie bit Claymore’s fin.

“No, that’s because he lied to them. He told the last fish here, whose name WAS Five, that he could live outside the bowl. He convinced him to jump to his death.”

“No, I showed him the path to righteousness.” Countered Claymore.

“You killed him just because he believed you.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Disrupted Gardita while swimming between the fighting fish. “Claymore, you killed Five?”

Tipper and Flipper swam in front of the large Betta-fish. “Not at all. He showed Five how to become holy by taking a leap of faith.” Chorused the submissive fish. Claymore merely watched as his two faithful followers described the rousing tale of Five’s glorious death and subsequent resurrection into Gardita.

“But, I’m not Five. I’m Gardita. I was hatched in a giant store among many other fish. I was chosen because I was the prettiest one of all of them as you can tell,” the pretty fish fluttered every so prettily. “I am a girl, not a boy.”

“They can’t hear you. They believe anything that idiot tells them,” urged Goldie. “You’d be best to avoid them.”

“I think you’re right.” Agreed Gardita.

But her promise didn’t last long with Claymore constantly whispering in her ear. She fought valiantly against Tipper and Flipper reassuring her of Claymore’s holy message. Gardita couldn’t take it anymore. She committed to Claymore’s message. She became Five.

Five died trying to live out of water because Claymore insisted, as a goldfish, she could do it. Five believed and leapt from the water. Goldie tried to stop her, but Five wanted to believe so badly, nothing Goldie said could dissuade the ambitions of the follower.

Five flopped for a bit on the tank stand after her leap of faith. After a several minutes Five expired and began bloating. The cycle continued.


The Abuser’s Abuse

Forgiveness is easy for some

They let the nefarious acts,

Committed by an ABUSER,






But I cannot swallow deceit, for

I’ve tasted the destruction

from the pants of Mephistopheles,

felt weapons to my head,

heard the bloody rhetoric

with innocent ears,

clawed my way from denigration,

Felt the punishment unjustified.

I recognize what I see.

I will not say I’ve seen something else.

I will not lie and say it’s okay or maybe.

I will not wait and see.

You can’t gaslight me.

I’m calling it straight out, ABUSE

From an ABUSER

in a position to ABUSE.

I will not excuse ABUSE for anyone.

I will not TOLERATE





Love Bless You


Love = God

If God’s original intent was to be perfect love for creation, then does it not make sense that Love, in name, is vain? Because, it created itself to be adored; in fact it requires adoration and glorification. It means that without the nurturing, cherishing, and honor done to those loved, it kills the very thing it proclaims to protect.

This is particularly accurate in relationships. If one or both allows life, possessions, or other things to come in between two people whom love each other, that love can rapidly become resentment, frustration, and anger. But when time is spent to prioritize the bond shared between two people, love does, indeed, flourish. So in this sense, love is not above wanting or needing to be appreciated.

But then what of the flowers that know nothing else but to be beautiful? Or a worm that worships at the flower’s roots? Or the bees that tend to the needs of beauty without a thought to why they pollinate the face of roses, daisies, and daffodils as certainly as they do the dandelions? Are they proof of the love we are meant to experience? Or are they merely energy used to engage us in questions of our own worthiness to be loved?

Love = Mortality

However, the beauty we are gifted with all around us are all reminders of a darker fare. Everything is a reminder of our own mortality. We can witness the cycles, seasons, and lifespans of many things around us. They are all preparing for our return to our own place of death; our own return to the stars.

We are constantly reminded by these living/sentient beings that our time here ends. They remind us that, just as a frond pushes towards the sun to work in the symbiotic ancient growth of life and beauty, so will it return to the earth.

We see but do not accept. Even in our known mortality, we allow the people we love to fall away from us. We forget to nourish the very roots from which we have grown. We build fragile connections through various addictions or meaningless distractions. We find so many ways to keep from seeing the truth of our energies.

We can do the same towards those we love. We can “kill” them with our neglect. Assuming, as with life, they will always be there. Maybe we view those we love as possessions which drives a wedge deep into the love we’re born to be. We may also place undue expectations on our loved ones, demanding that they comply with our own ideal despite their own person. These acts tear us from love. Denying they are also mortal locks us into taking one another for granted. We ignore the facts laid out all around us as proof we will also die.

Love = Holiness

It is only when we understand that we are created, born, and exist to be divine love that we can embrace our innate holiness in service to one another. This is, in it’s pure state, a declaration of love of self. It affords us a view of our own energy bottled in a different package. By igniting our own holiness, we are taught that although we are unique, our own being becomes one with each encounter.

There are many reasons we may deny others the love we are destined to give. We may be teaching our divine self where we most need to heal. We may be rejecting the lesson we’re meant to learn. We may also reject others because the lesson has already been accomplished, has already been learned and processed.

Just as we may reject opportunities in accordance to how we feel we are, or more importantly, if we believe we are worthy of the gift presented. Even the poor of spirit wish, whether consciously or not, to be cherished, admired, even adored which lends heavily to the hypothesis that we are all divine; all forms of God of which we are, by the blessing of our birthright, born to Love.


I see you every once in a while in the Otherwhere.
The place that isn’t here or there or somewhere or anywhere.
It’s just Other.

Soul pictures

Soul pictures

It has the pres(c)ents of Christmas trees and home cooked feasts.
It smells of beloved familial hugs, pas-s-s-sionately presented embraces
It laughs a babbling brook of foolish happiness punctuated with excitement marks!!!!
It offers kaleidoscopic shows of  vernacular laced paragraphs with buntings of (these)
Still, sometimes, I know (though I don’t know), I see both you and me.
Not in the way that makes you triple check your doors; throwing the deadbolt
Not in the way that keeps you window to window pacing floors; with naked paranoia
but in the way that allows the meditation of the forest to seep into the spirit of indulging ideas
reaping benefits of beauty as only gypsy tribe of poets can explore it.
I see you every once in a while in the Otherwhere.

(inspired by: )

Random Notes from my book

As the kids run through the grass, they kick up passels of summer gnats that flutter like dust in the sunlight.

Clarinets lined up like a firing squad splattering shrill notes on the crowd with missing rhythm and imprecise playing. SPLAT! WHACK! ting! Sploot! Trill!

To stretch my aching back, I bent oddly angled and realized by the horrified look of the salesclerk that I must have looked like I was trying to poop my pants.

I am an evil monkey today
I can behave exactly how I wish
I’m proudly wearing my top hat
they ignore my empty dish
I have crashed into the universe
it has politely punched me back
so I’ll sip my bitter coffee drink
while plotting my next attack

“Curse you vile human!” vs. “Have a blessed day!”

Blessed is a bisexual word. It can go either way. The argument is stated whether it be the Pagan or Christian way. Blessed or Bless-ed belongs to both or the other.

If you can’t see your shorts beneath your shirt, go change. That’s not attractive.

Notes to myself

Here are some things I jot down so I don’t forget them:

  • May 10, 2014: I overheard the phrase clever flaws. It brought to mind an odd coagulation of things perceived as character flaws that somehow work together to make an interesting human. I have one such friend that is as fiery as can be, extremely capable of defending herself both verbally, intellectually, and physically. She’s beautiful, wicked smart, compassionate, strong, and brilliantly alive. Cleverly flawed and perfectly human.
  • May 7, 2014: She’s put a rock on that relationship. It means to put a gravestone on a bad relationship of any sort and put it to rest. It no longer serves a purpose in one’s life. It’s kapoots, over, finished, never again.
  • May 7, 2014: “My once fire colored hair has turned to smoke and ash.” My 19 year old son was pondering what he will look like when he’s old. I found it extremely vivid in the imagery.
  • May 6, 2014: Two Haiku’s I wrote for a friend of mine:

Haiku Number One

The worst thing she’s done

Stabbed fiery into her life

Creating Success

Haiku Number Two

Exclamation point!

Set free without a whisper

an explosion, loved

  • April 24, 2014: Crystal Beeler was getting ready for work while I sat on the edge of her tub watching her straighten her hair. We were talking about things that were happening in her life, things she wanted to do. Somehow she opened her mouth and rainbows and unicorns started dancing. That’s a lie. What isn’t a lie is that she said, “The problem with people is that we’re looking at everyone’s front door from our bone filled closets.”
  • March 11, 2014: Want to make your own body wash? 5 cups of water, 3 bars of any soap finely grated, melt together in a pot until the soap is dissolved, allow to cool a bit, put in jars and use at will. My sister-in-heart Shannon Looney gave me this recipe and I love it.
  • February 9, 2014: “Indigo Children are those who have seen and remember the face of God.” I’m not sure where I heard that or maybe read that, but I am an Indigo Child, so I found it interesting. I haven’t decided whether or not this applies to me in the way it’s worded which is why I saved it so I could simmer the thought on my back burner where I put many of my deep questions I like to think about as well as the not so deep.
  • January 20, 2014: “Some days my hands look so old that I have to imagine youth weaving power back between and around my fingers like warm mittens and wedding rings.”
  • January 20, 2014: There is an incredible woman named Lady Astarte that lives in Knoxville, TN. Whenever I get to be around her, which has become quite a bit less frequent than I’d like, we always experience whales of laughter and hurricanes of words that build up incredible energy. She’s one of my favorite people.
  • November 3, 2013: An idea I had for a country song: Barbeque buddies and back-door neighbors
  • October 12, 2013: For some reason I have the definition of vulgar. “vul-gar Pronunciation: VUHL-gur\ Function: adjective Etymology: Middle English, from Latin vulgaris of the mob, vulgar, from volgus, vulgus mob, common people Date: 14th century 1a: generally used, applied, or accepted b: understood in or having the ordinary sense (they reject the vulgar conception of miracle — W.R. Inge) of or relating to the common people: plebeian b: generally current: public (the vulgar opinion of that time) c: of the usual or typical, or ordinary kind 4a: lacking in cultivation, perception, or taste : coarse b: morally crude, undeveloped, or unregenerate: gross c: ostentatious or excessive in expenditure or display: pretentious 5a: offensive in language: earthy b: lewdly or profanely indecent Synonyms: Common or Coarse
  • October 6, 2013: “Uniqueness is inherent beauty.” From the television show “Bones” Do not underestimate the power of your experiences that alter and/or enhance this uniqueness. Spirit and body combine to create a fantastic array of lovely, valid, worthy persona. “We seldom think of what we have but always what we lack.”
  • October 3, 2013: You can live under my willow tree. There’s always room for you; always a vacancy.
  • September 24, 2013: You know da po-po when you po’ po’. They keep the bros and hos from go’in loco in da hood when they up to no good, shut ’em down.
  • September 20, 2013: Kiss me until I’m stupid
  • September 11, 2013: Phrases, phases, pens and pages
  • June 28, 2013: Country song idea for chorus: written in Nashville, TN with Lyle Hoskin while watching people enter The Grand Ol’ Opry for the evening show:

Cowboy boots and the itty-bitty skirts,

tight blue jeans and the red plaid shirts,

we’re red-necks

drinkin’ long necks

raisin’ hell like your mama warned you about

Scream, “YEEHAW!”

We’re from the South ya’ll

Raise ’em up! And drink ’em down.

  • June 6, 2013: “You feel and find the significance of life.”
  • April 21, 2013: Turquoise, pumpkin, lemon <– three of my favorite colors
  • March 30, 2013: “I heard a bird sing every word within her repertoire, Many verses that she sang for she had traveled far.

If you keep notes, share a couple in the comments. I’m interested in your thoughts.