Wilderness encroaches, but not that natural friend.
Cold, no encouragement for motion, loner’s frigid emptiness.
how was a prison made of
ambition to widen wisdom? Where went that golden prize
promised to the bold?
Old inspirations, imaginary wilds, heroic rambling tales
of bravery betrayed –
River runs ‘til dammed, then festers in its own demise.
Ogres’ tale sold to deny extrication from stagnation.
Hold pattern sewn so deep within, rip to open.
See, infection seethe, angry demon nest.
Deathgrin infestation decades in
screams destruction, roils, licks with pestilence.
Breathe, smile to invite connection; tightly hold,
rip out and close.
Dream dance surreal city stage, above
skylights, twinkle eyes of play romance,
To feel explosive-ecstatic alive,
swirl, swoon, dive, with grace and awe.
Twirl akimbo in free fall, no walls, no floor --
air embraces. Smiling Moon face beams in stasis,
gleeful spirits dip and sway a’flight
this enchanted night.
War exhumes murder of that other you
the bad wolf child who mother banned
Banshee fled to far-flung lands seeking
freakish friends, fiendish plans for revenge,
memory enemies to stomp, squeeze, bleed.
Where were you when she died inside you?
Judging character by outward attributes:
words for their letters,
men for their skin,
women for their pulchritude.
Long, dark robe obscures; eyes fixed on mis-painted sky,
false light of convenient ignorance.
When he who decides is he who profits,
Summing, coming to conclusion, studying illusion.
wisp ghosts grasp without touch, lick viscous tears,
slip, drift, dissolve.
Obscured signposts, numb of cold insists: There!
hope for succor, for warm reception – just a silly scare
a sullied scar, a bully war, a stab of sorrow.
Better sums tomorrow, less confusion ...
jupiter, saturn and pluto in circular reception
Barefoot in the snow
winds so strong
I could not make you hear.
I thought you were my destiny.
Crazy thoughts, far from clear;
but I believed
song lyrics from Saturnine deities
would not lie, leave me
dying, fading into winter's grey
endless sorrow endured for naught.
Lost on this careless corner,
dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions
tapping against eternity's
Nature's gradations of green
soothe tired eyes,
trembling nerves, throbbing veins.
Slivers of moonlight reflect
in withered refrains, unearth secrets
embedded in song
effervescing through cool pure air
cleansing the uprising nestling
pure, wise, tested
engorged with the will
Mystery mists of history holy crescent lightening sky
Calm anticipation early pinks crescend from eerie violets
Thunderous Jupiter twinkles like a happy kitten,
tummy extends for adoration
Omens, prophecy, hope for endless happy returns
quests into/out of space/mind
(without gravity, how can we fall ... or love?)
Aching for stars, planets, dreams,
silent assent that means all is promised
I touch a cosmic peak
breathless at such altitude
Winter born, Saturn ruled, not a saint nor a fool,
into deeper truth.
Saturn, an old friend
in the way that long relation is often contentious,
I have been seeing her as something of an employer,
demanding with dour countenance her tasks to be done
yet in some wee hours
letting her hair down for
quiet intense talks about
what really matters.
taking on colours
Plutonic, ambient dark
encrypted in the depths
of Father Saturn
as in in death (and the meta)
Old enemy a friend in waiting -- teaching if I will but listen
instead of running, silent screaming, beating my breast from within,
re-breaking, re-breaking a heart so shattered, not to reset but to bleed
and then, a whisper: "yes, reset, remember with new respect for who you have always been but feared to see"
This ally silently screaming within my deepest heart, my darkest dreams
"Listen, love and revere this wild child who laughs at whirlwinds and dances to life's changing, challenging melodies.
Be free to sing along without inhibition or internalized mockery.
This is our time, yours and mine, to be wonderfilled."?
It Is Written
I stand, open and defenseless,
Waiting for Pluto to overpower me,
Take me where he will,
Suit me to his purpose.
Or, is that my sister Hecate
Coming to meet me,
Coming to embrace me,
To set me free?
Wondrous are the ways
of the shifty, glamour-ridden mind.
We peek out through rainbow slits
Onto a sinuous landscape.
Slippery bits of meaning slither along
Hissing out of forked tongue
"Oh, yes, my love awaits me.
In the tall grasses we will twain.
Great fortune is to befall us.
It is written."
And rewritten, and rewritten
On and on through the fever.
Burning molecules, organic fuel,
Dancing, wildly, within a fiery pentagram,
Within channeled schematics,
Ignited by a living passion.
I am beyond words.
Tumbling through shiny bubbles
And iron-wrought hieroglyphs.
There is nothing to depend on
But pure will
And the ability
To suspend belief.
like a hurricane
like a natural disaster
wind and rain lay waste to my life.
tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger
in the way, or at least not accepted norm.
a sad wastrel adrift in tempest’s storm.
sing my wanderers' song tonight.
let callous wind carry fading melody
off onto gale whipped ports of call.
my breath's been carried out to sea
nothing left to become of me
once the hurricane has passed into the day
the foggy, rainy day . . .
I gaze upon the ragged sea.
Macabre danse, dark leaves in high wind.
Swift time to ask that boon of wizardry,
to recite or seize at magic’s will or mine.
To speak, demand, one must first understand
or stand under what’s to come from ignorance.
Breathe leaf and wind, their essence;
skillfully dream peace and blessings;
dance lightly within the danse.
Far sought, darkest, deepest dreams
so far, long departed before consciousness rewakes
ghosts, impure images, whispered wraiths
may haunt beyond sensory acceptance
vague nauseas, involuntary shakes, subtle odors
suggesting graveyards in rain and mist and pain
yet never really say where forward leads
darkening clarity, pixels come together posing form
ghoulish, still sincerity, nightmares are potent dreams, after all
night tells tales, whispers that scream raw from silence
not easy to discern, discover truths of brutality or viscous lies
here, in deep disparagement of violence, small stabbings take widening toll
bloodlines reassemble, prophetic fingers tremble – see their glory,
lightning bursts, cosmic debris
It’s not the Gays, the Jews, the Whites, the Women, the Muslims, the Aliens --
it’s the people in power to whom influence and means are everything who destroy us.
And I understand: the world is scary, full of uncontrollable danger, so many ways to die.
You want to control in every way you can. You might even believe your goal is good,
a better existence for all who survive because survival demands only our best --
so of course by running the game you prove your ultimate worth (we get what we deserve).
Stories that speak to us through us
“Peggy and Peter go to the Moon.”
Renata and Rory go to the School.
The whole crew brainstorms, makes art for play
on the fumes of unformed stories, like robots undone
by entropy over millennia while a planet regrows from
the ravages of short-sighted men now self-extinct.
Conversations to listen in on.
inner interplay under Pisces Progression
“And ye harm none” – and if you can freely do what you will,
why would you take the bother to harm when you could be
playing your heart out, doing you with pleasure and grace?
We need to harm when we feel cast out or closed in by rules
that deny our nature in favor of ordering law.
Show a depraved monster, raging, foaming with poison,
twisted beyond belief.
I see your reflection.
The answer decodes the question
a higher order includes us all
kind of like jazz
"I can't stand that screeching; where is the melody?
This crazy music doesn't speak for or to me."
But listen: and find that voice you so clearly hear,
that tells you all you've ever yearned to be told.
Poetry is not one (or even several) cryptic tone and form.
It is playing with language to say what everyday q and a
or mumbled dialog cannot hold.
Dixie denied democracy -- and still does..
Most people, sometimes good
sometimes not so,
getting through life as best we can
amidst social and biological
Embrace radically "conservative" leadership based on guilt and fear.
Problems belong to those with power
to implement change.
No power -- no problem; just pain.
Going through the motions
Doing as the program requires
Nothing left alive to reprogram, change
wiring, make use of the doing,
the motions ever going,
machines never knowing or complaining.
go with the flow
so in the future go-go-go
you know how to fall, glide, swim
but mostly float -- to enjoy the view.
whenever one ascribes to race what is really just ignorance and projection, one is perpetuating racism
all lives matter (or not, depending on your philosophy)
yes, I understand the desire of people who are suffering for a false dichotomy to want to be heard, acknowledged as suffering, healed by retributive justice
but you are perpetuating racism every time you do not take the opportunity to make clear that people acting badly is not about the race or the gender or the identity or the ethnicity or any other attribute of those acted against, but is entirely about the bad actors
"white supremacy" only exists because we honor it
people say shit/do shit all the time
we would do better to treat them as what they are: undifferentiated bullies unworthy of honor
Stop telling us we are racist
There is no such thing as racism or sexism
These are only socially acceptable excuses for putting people in boxes marked "not me" into which to pour our self-loathing
I think it is counterproductive to attempt to instill guilt and inculcate an assumption of privilege based on race. The real privilege is based on the conveniences of wealth. Better that we instill a presumption of respect for all of us, that we may speak freely of our own experiences and work together for a world we can all be privileged to inhabit
“Because there isn’t that culture of collective care..."
instead we have many mini cultures of mutual dis-care
we seem to think it is so important to divide ourselves into interest groups without the eyes to see that it is in all of our best interest to care for each other
if All lives matter, if even only Blacklivesmatter (because we gotta get our material back from those slavers -- and what about today's slavers who don't limit by race? --) the important part of mattering is to matter to each other as fellow travelers on this mortal plain instead of pre-creating Hell through meanness, cruelty, indifference, war
concentrating on whiteness/blackness is focusing on problems, not possibilities
we each have limited energy/resources with which to make a difference in the world that matters to us
the world is moving too rapidly, too many moving parts, today for giving over our resources to recriminations
yes, understand that there has been a long political tradition of divisiveness, that a great many of us have been wounded (many killed) for reasons that have nothing to do with reason
but don't stay stagnated in blame
find real work that needs doing, that progresses our collective world viewed
The reason most of us even bother with health insurance is that we assume
our human bodies will not be forever healthy, that there are diseases that could
left to their own devices kill us.
If people whose bodies are already not healthy cannot readily afford health
insurance, there is really no reason to have it at all because basically it is
not a service but a con -- you only are entitled to the benefits while you don't
What is needed is to bypass all the politics and develop healthcare
affordability for everyone -- perhaps better insurance options (I think a
Medicare buy-in option could easily get the health insurance industry looking at
better ways to serve their customers), better treatment options, many more
healthcare professionals (trained in whole patient care, in active listening, in
looking for the most practical options for their customers), community
healthcare centers with sliding scale fees, and generally thinking these issues
through without being tied to what hasn't been working.
If we really want immediate relief, and not an ongoing bipartisan debacle
on national healthcare insurance coverage, why not legislate a simple Medicare
buy-in for all option, sliding scale based on income, continue payroll tax but
without a cut-off and at a lower rate to keep the buy-in cost low; those without
means for any buy-in get government subsidy. Private insurers who want to
continue in that business can give better service/coverage beyond Medicare or
whatever they think the customers will buy from them with whatever conditions
Since the Medicare infrastructure is already in place, it could more
quickly and easily work than a whole new scheme. This scheme could be a job
booster by putting more money into low income pockets (people most likely to
spend) and giving small business a break from the drag of providing healthcare.
Medicare would have even more volume for cost-cutting clout and a greater income
stream to stay solvent.
Still, we must continue to work on the underlying problem of high medical
cost: seriously look at best practices both medically and fiscally and better
promote what works, including treatments that are considered nontraditional in
this culture; expand access to medical education (on all levels, not just MDs);
expand efforts to educate the public generally on positive health practices and
The true conservative solution would be to encourage massive entrance into
the healthcare professions. Flood the country with drs, and real competition
would kick in. In the meanwhile, having real competition for the healthcare
insurance industry from the so-called public option (maybe a better name would
help -- how about nonprofit option?) is in fact a free market conservative
Gala release to navigate (no
hesitation) past history’s
— to explore,
— captivated, not
Fleet from soul to feet,
immersed in the only
delightfully lighted path
Form flows with
at last, riding unprismed
ON THE THRESHOLD
before the dawn
before we are given our
sent forward in
we must be ready
without map or guidebook to
we must rise to the
endure the patience to
control over every
every atom of our
it’s not in the believing,
a better world needs a new
be a ware
for peace, for
before the wake
Twilight, the wee hours,
the dark of the moon
places where magic reigns,
crossroads, crises, cusps.
There is static on the radio.
my voice was singing
taking flight to surround me,
the sound of music,
a comforter of down
to ease my soul.
I’ve been trying to define a
a sense of bittersweet and
I’ve been trying to find a
a footprint in the desert,
a sound, a scent,
I’ve been trying to find a trace of
a piece to fit the puzzle,
my contribution to the grand
Seeking in the shadows,
the space between
myth and matter,
those places words
On those insubstantial plains
of myst and awe,
the stuff of dreams,
threshold of wonder,
The moon is blue and dreaming
Cry all my children to sleep
In conquest dreams we deem to rule
In darkest halls we plot in torment
In empty caverns we deify glory
Dance, again, dance for freedom
Dance my children to sober dreaming
Of valor and honor and color and pain
Dance and cry and strive again
To hold a mass and state the Name
Call forth my demons from sleep
The songs of old and runes of yore
The empty words we've learned to score
The high and low and even
Listen and you'll hear them moan
It's dark and dirty here below
The emptiness can drive you
To a place you ought not go
You'll die in horror screaming
Cry all my children to sleep
The moon is blue and so are you
You'll hear its song so clearly
And discount it all to dreams
And when you wake, you'll wonder
Why you're screaming
Why you ache in places you can't feel
Why your work and world don't seem so real
Why the voices in your head are screaming
And you'll count the phases of the moon
And wander in the night without direction
And keep a silent vigil in your secret heart
And turn quickly round the corners,
Lest someone see you
And when the curse is cast, you'll hear it spoken
Without bothering to look for the absent speaker
And when the moon has turned its face
To other dreamers
You'll see a vision overpower the sky
And answer . . . when you ask it "why?"
The moon is blue and dreaming.
Mushroom teacups sail in stardust
withered laurels snap in dustwhirls
tethered horsemen roam the skyways
soldiered remnants hiss through brushwoods
All is soon made clear.
Degree of my
natal Hekate — a
liminal year for the dweller on
the threshold. The
search is for clarity, expanding
borders, introducing elasticity
as integral character. To
see, to feel, to merge and undulate through;
to discover, uncover, swim in
the glory of original grace, ecstatic
see, to feel, to breathe in all
exquisite luxury of prescience; to hold, transmit
as cellular energy. To
paint upon translucent canvas subliminal
etchings, private symbols generously
gifted, re-gifted, planted
in potent fertility of
visions, of cantations. The
tinsel of starlight; the
subtle scent of conflagrated pain; the
feather touch of eternity. I
fall into velvet voice, enchanting form. Move
with the rhythm; caressed
within word and worlds’mysteries.
Eve of Hecate
As we approach the
13th of August
celebration of the
Dark Moon Goddess
Faery Queen or fabled
stirs potent night
blooms, expelling myths of
what we cannot bear,
Feel in the electric
Spells of renewal, of
power to look back
upon our falterings,
to find the seed now grown
yet changing still
and ever, able,
in the illuminated shadow
invoking the peace of
of midnight's hopeful
of the hinting flame
that lightens before the dawn
take peace into each
breath, each incantation
from the strength to
with your deepest
The transition to the transformation of death is a different kind
of birth. Hecate would understand, the Goddess of birth and death and the spaces
between, thresholds, doorways, crossroads, limbo. Goddess Hecate, I understand
that I am in your realm for this duration, for this direction in which you are
moving my consciousness. Bless me, Goddess. Give me your strength of purpose and
will, serenity within the maelstrom. The future is one moment at a time. The
time is always now. Who I am to become will amaze me, I’m
Hekate Is My Cellar Door
I am in awe
I am prostrate in acceptance
of such power as you bestow to me
by incultation of your love
resounds in every fiber
I breathe you in
is the stuff of bliss
Tell your sisters
to breathe with me.
I have been working with an inner image of Hecate, the underworld,
ancient, self-empowered goddess of birth/death/life. As I am understanding, her
lesson is about becoming one's true self, unafraid of social appropriation
because not in need of permission to totally embrace one's own magick. To begin
to find this inner core (unless, I suppose, one is lucky enough to have never
lost it), one needs to go through, truly feel and accept, all the pain and
miseries of one's life, to learn that these are not what life is about, not
punishments, though sometimes warnings, but just an interpretation of what is. A
very long time ago, on a cold and windy winter night, a friend told me: open up
to the cold and feel it, don't resist -- it is really warm. On those nights when
I remember and try it, it really is.
of Hekate, sweetness
and light? Where
is the mark of
your entombment? Buried
strive for growth in
dark enclosure striving
for a breath of
the pompously negligent Sun, of
the blushing Moon of
the squabbling sons and daughters, of
daylight's pleasures. Striving,
around corners aching
for an unknown touch.
me, sir, then, how's it going now?" Looking
up narrowly from a tepid meal, all
at once remembering playfellows
on the schoolyard running,
out of breath, filled
with pride a
jolly good game. Always
someone begging my
it wasn't really me, just
a story to steam off or
a butt to joke on. All
the silly give and take; only
time is taken and
that in big hungry chunks of
long day now
the part all groggy waking
from fevered napping. It
wasn't supposed to be a tomb nestled
in Transylvanian bloodlines. It
was meant to be a child's cot, freshly
laundered cotton lace. But
the rats got in, once
the cats had been slaughtered.
strive again to find my footing. Learning
to walk was
never as easyas forgetting to
up in my Hecate role, I
feel the power of my soul. Rain
and wind and ice and snow I
feel you all from here below, and
revel in elemental energy. I
am the wind, the seas, the fire I
am all will and all desire. It
is me you love, and me you hate — I
am the master of your fate. Yet
I am hidden from all sight, beyond
the reach or need of light. I
have found my peace, my
place, my voice. Take
heed, O’ mortal, create
your choice. Create
it every day.