There Is No # To #SaveTheWorld

My past couple of Friday blogs have been my reaction to racism, sex, slut shaming, the disabled – someone has taken me to task for speaking about such matters because of my white male privilege. It seems I lack authority to speak authentically about my experiences of these issues.



In the past I’ve been ‘sushed’ because I don’t have an MFA (& thus am not qualified to be a poet for certain stages here in TO); not educated enough to have sufficiently informed comments on the writing process; not published enough; not hot enough for erotica readings; too male for some stages; too sexual for others; too old for most. Thinking marriage is crock casts me out of the good queer corner.

I can’t help but think this is yet another form of censorship – it’s not as if I’m proposing radical thought, or attempting to denigrate or mock the difficulties people face. I know my words can’t rescue them, can’t cure a culture that often fosters keeping people in their place even if that means killing them. There are no easy fixes. As I heard at Capturing Fire: there is no # to save the world.


lured down the grate?

I don’t fall into those easy gestures either – it would simple enough to do #….matters (you fill in that blank) but too many seem to # as an avoidance of being active in change. ‘At least I #ed your issue.’ Appearing to something while doing nothing has become too #easy.


they went this a-way

So I write about these things, about how they impact my life. I’m not looking for #approval, or even attention. But it seems my white male privilege discounts me in many circles. Such is life – I don’t jump through hoops & I’m tired of going around in #circles.


Abandonment Issues

the man in the cafe

is is getting louder faster

almost yelling into the cell phone

breaking up with someone

can’t tell if its male female

but man is he upset

‘how the fuck can you

just text me like that


you know I had that meeting this morning

couldn’t you wait till …’

apparently the object of his affection

ended the connection once again

he slams the cell phone on the table

jarring the coffee but not tipping over

he glares around at us

at me

some look away

I shrug

feel no sympathy

maybe a bit of shame though

for knowing more about him

than I want to know

hope he won’t come over

to commiserate with a fellow sufferer

because my suffering ended

when he stop shouting

he now has that

how dare you listen to my pain look

daring me to say something anything

to deflect his rubbed raw frustration

now I want to laugh

glad I still have my ear buds in

but that I turned them off

when he started shouting

the free lunch time coffee shop theatre

brought to you by

people who don’t give a shit

about polluting the air

with their person tribulations

yet want you to respect their privacy anyway

he gabs his cell and stuffs it in his pocket

makes a fist with his other hand

brings it down on his paper coffee cup

crushing it to the table

a brown flood bursts

splashing his vintage sports coat

pale blue shirt and vintage tie

his face goes from take that

to a deeper anger

I have to look down at this point

pretend to be looking at my playlist

a coffee jockey comes over with a cloth

begins to dab at him

get the fuck away from me

he shoves her away

elbows the door open

disappears into the street

his abandoned cell phone rings


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo 2016



Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr




4 thoughts on “#SaveTheWorld

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