Green Islands


The words sound
strange, not
just the words,
how they sound
a little bit of the middle
part, the idea
wrapped inside
…so far from what was home
green islands
warm hearts, now
something new…you
feel alone and apart and different
but good, but interested
a genuflection toward
I was happy enough to feel
a glancing blow, a flat stone
skipping across my surface
as I felt you near for
far too short of time
if there was a word
a magic that I could see
feel, hear…I would
be that, be that so
the moment didn’t stop
so that the ripples
on my surface
sink below and become
a tide…pushing
pulling us
to another place.

Painting Ideas


The moment
soft and untoward, like
rain, like a momentary breeze
a drift of casual thought, she
looked at me with meaning
seeing me with unexpecting
eyes …she watched
the words I was breathing
the ideas I was painting
in the air
between us
she saw the moment
standing still, hovering and
she reached out with tentative eyes
hesitant and softly
so softly she
pulled them into her arms
onto her skin, my words
landed and she
felt them; truly felt them
I thought as I watched her absorb little
parts of me, small ideas
and I was somehow
a tiny bit more
than I was

Dinner time

This I know…

This life we have, each of us individually, is an intensely personal experience with a wide and varied audience. We live deeply within ourselves yet simultaneously exposed in the center of a universe of others. We can literally only see through the eyes we have yet are constantly bombarded by messages pushing us to see through the eyes of others. And are shamed by society when we can’t or somehow fail to meet expectations. We are told through social and mainstream media that the answers to our most confusing questions are that there is a single golden response that solves this crisis for everyone.

It doesn’t…it can’t…

…but we’re told anyway—over and over and over again—and somehow expected to align our uniqueness and individuality with “the common good” and the “general consensus” which on its face is an impossible task. Why on this earth do we have to take something—a person—that is entirely unique, a one of a kind, and bend it and shape it and water it down until it is so utterly unrecognizable in order for it to be accepted by the rest of the bent, misshapen and watered down inhabitants of the planet?

Well…we don’t.

The fact of the matter is that being individual, being different, being not common—pick your own adjectives, there are so many to choose from—is exactly the way we should be trying to fit in to society. It’s in the overlap, the gaps, the edges that don’t quite line up between us that makes this universe an interesting place…and one we all want to live in. It’s certainly not the edges that fit perfectly, that cause no friction, that are so generic that they are usually not even seen or heard.

So, when you see those messages to either conform or revel in your freakdom (not much middle ground allowed), think one simple thought; “it doesn’t matter how amazing a meal tastes, if you have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day, it loses all of its individuality and eventually you will learn to hate it.”

Don’t be that meal.

Believe. Go. Do.


she was poetry

She was poetry, flowers
the sun smiling, itself
shining…a vista…
words of a moment
unraveled, in stretches
of old darkness
castles and keeps
she was beauty walking
with time unmetered, a
moment of rapture
and rupture, she
was poetry…words of
others, alive
in reams of paper
depths and heights of
books spent
describing her
praising, relishing her;
she was poetry…when
poetry was the synthesis
of emotion, license
and expression…and
she was owned
her beauty bought, words
not her own, her
dowry exchanged
she was property of
thought and body
a contract of kingdoms
the aggregation
of power
she was poetry because
without that meter
that prose…measure
and meaning…there was
nothing else
that she could be
so let her be
grateful cordial memorable
productive and
provincial, absent and
present, she can be the best
without deflection
she can be

Yes…and no.

Of course I’m going to weigh in on the recent Caitlyn Jenner hullabaloo…you’ve met me before, correct? So…

…where to start?

There’s a lot of things to really like about the events surrounding her re-introduction and there is another basketful of things to really kind of feel slimy after having read them. First and foremost, Brava Brava!! It takes a lot of balls to lose your balls. And they certainly did a fine job of making her look very attractive, but…

…with a couple hundred thousand dollars of plastic surgery and the tireless efforts of some truly amazing makeup and hair styling artists (not to mention the gigacycles of Photoshop required), I’m pretty sure I could be made to look like Kate Upton. Wait, I might be thinking about the several hundred thousand dollars I’d pay to date Kate Upton…but I digress…the point is that yeah she’s beautiful but it’s a contrived beauty. A manufactured beauty which, sadly, is my main point.

That seems to be all we have as role models these days; manufactured beauty…manufactured talent…manufactured outrage…basically we’ve seem to have lost authenticity. Genuineness. What is real.

Ironically, I think the inflection point in society where this truly started was the advent of reality TV shows…those things that advertise themselves as true reflections of humanity in variously stressful situations to show us how “real” people react in “real” situations so we somehow get to learn lessons of behavior whilst concurrently being entertained.


Reality TV is as far from reality as I am from dating Kate Upton (I am crying inside…just a little) and everyone *who watches* knows and simply doesn’t care anymore. The watching public, as dumbfuck as they all are, accept that they are being lied to and they wholeheartedly buy the advertised products and they read the tabloid websites and they talk to their BFF’s during their latest mani-pedi or poker night and the absolute worst…they procreate.

Politicians, TV talking heads, police spokesmen…and on and on…don’t even bother to pretend their telling the truth anymore. How many times do we have to see this: a cop shoots an unarmed citizen in the back, the spokesman tells us it was justified because the cop thought his life was in danger…from 30 feet away…from a guy who back was turned…who had headphones on.

True story.

And we the public, the citizens of the world, are responding in kind…spouting unvarnished lies and mistruths…with us manufacturing our own rage at the world. Some seriously twisted people protesting that Caitlyn Jenner’s Olympic medals should be revoked…some others creating whole myths around people like Obama, Bush, etc. that have no basis in reality yet take hold and grow and grow until by sheer size they just *have* to be true.

So…long story just a little bit longer; “Holy shit that is AWESOME!” and “Holy shit we’re all fucked!”

Believe. Go. Do.


go go go Amanda

It’s been a while since I went on a rant…so…lucky you, eh?

I read what Amanda Palmer wrote about “Embrace your flaws” the other day (basic response; fuck you) and then just today someone wrote a thing on only being around people who know your worth…and I started thinking (usually a dangerous endeavor) about this whole concept of worth (and it’s evil step dad; judgment) and the gears just started grinding.

Some would say that it all starts with money, and that fact that you have some and that the big corporations (with limitless media reach) want to get some of it from you…but it started long before that.

The question that begs is what is it about humans that a huge part of our character is the seemingly unending lust to have dominion over another person…or millions of them? The idea that the end-all, be-all of life is to be king…or president or dictator or movie star or billionaire…or husband or wife…but to have “control” over at least one other person?

And then, how is this power manifested?

The origin of this lust for power is the idea that there is a better and there is a worse when it comes to people. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Us and them…because it will always be the “better” people who are in charge over the “less than better” people…and of course it’s the better people who get to make that judgment (and that’s where Amanda and others have started piping up)…

…but what happens when the “less than better” folks pretty much don’t give a fuck?

You see, once you buy into the idea that someone else is in charge of how you’re supposed to feel about yourself—think magazines and websites and advertising and movie stars and hip hop artists, blah blah blah all telling you that you’re inferior or not good enough unless you do “X”,—then they have dominion over you…power…which you gleefully (it seems) just give to them.

But you don’t have to.

Once you stop looking externally for validation for who you are and how you should feel about yourself (your looks, your shape, your color, your sexual orientation, your…everything) is the day that you realize that all the power you ever need has been inside you since they day you were born…and is the day that you throw off the shackles of the emotional oppression you’ve been living with your entire life.

It is the day that you regain the power over yourself, the power you’ve been giving away.

It is today, actually…

…or could be wink emoticon

Believe. Go. Do


it seems

It seems to be
ending, this
effort, this
motion forward…
…so many sad hurt,
lost love, lost
feeling the floor
falling away
with religions inciting
the very things they
preach against
with governments
denying the dying wishes
of its citizens
with corporations
stripping the earth of
its dignity
with masses all heading
…it seems to be ending
when turned
small social loops
it is just
…because it is that;
slimmest margin
smallest effort
slightest motion
that pushes the world
toward peace
and the idea
that love
is an end