Out With The Bathwater

samprules2

Working through the  227 Rules For Monks.

Who knew the simple life could be so complex.

Out With The Bathwater

he wanted to drink

my bath water

or so he said

I never did take him up on it

if he had said that

after a few dates

I might have found it

appealing  almost flattering

but to start with that

was a bit much

 

it was the sort of

coming on too strong

I call ‘a red flag’

similar to sending a phone number

in the first message

or as the first message

not even ‘a call me’

or ‘I liked your profile’

I’m not going to call that number

 

he wanted to drink

my bath water

when I asked him why

he said that it was pretty obvious

the water

was something that had touched

every inch of my body

the way he wished he could

 

I was amused

intrigued

his pics were blurry

close ups of his nipples

what I assumed was his dick

no face pic

I asked for a face pic

never heard back from him

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Thine Is Not Mine

Thine Is Not Mine

they stood

all twenty or so

joined hands

to make a ragged circle 

of connection

they prayed aloud

in unison

the lord’s prayer

a fellowship of grace

that I believe is genuine

yet

as they stood

I stepped aside

hands behind my back

as they prayed

I remained silent

 

the holding of hands

is forced conformity

a kind of automatic

social codependency of inclusion

as much as I enjoy acceptance

of being a part of

it’s going to be on my worth

not on my compliance

 

I am present for spiritual connection

not physical

I remain silent

during the our father

partially out of respect 

for those who do believe

what I don’t believe

silent

partially because

of the context of that prayer

the history of

the controlling monolith of dogma

a greed driven

control fuelled 

relentless remorseless fire

that judged what it didn’t understand

as evil

a cultural genocide of disease

military power & might 

 

I’m not going to say

your pointless biblical prayer

just be grateful

I hold my tongue

& not your hand

Another piece about 12 Step recovery 🙂 Based my daily reality – no that I attend meetings daily but often enough. When I started recovery, this joining of hands in a circle wasn’t common but over the years it became de rigueur – a linking of energy in fellowship as a closing prayer was said, usually the ‘our father.’ 

I stopped saying that prayer early in my recovery for the reasons stated in the piece. At first I selected those portions I didn’t argue with but that was too much thinking so I opted for silence. But I would do the hand holding. Occasionally my silence would be noticed. Over the years the use of lord’s prayer has declined to the more inclusive Responsibility Pledge. 

When SARS hit I became less inclined to hold hands. I carried (& still do) hand sanitizer & used it regularly. Gradually I stopped handholding totally. Stepping back when possible. I saw it as a form of people-pleasing, co-dependancy. Most assumed it was my germ-a-phobia, which is fine by me. A few have asked & I’ve explained my reasoning to their blank stares. Germs they understand, my not wanting to physically link into the vibration of harmony that passes from hand-to-hand contact in the chain of humanity, didn’t reach them.

At first I was bit self-conscious but I got over that. I have had people try to pull me into the circle. I can say ‘I don’t hold hands’ without getting snippy or even even apologetic. My opinion of ‘the controlling monolith of dogma’ is not relevant to anyone but me, even when pressed I rarely go into that ‘depth’ of explanation. I’m not in recovery to school people on the history of religious damage. So excuse me while I sanitize my hands.


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Please Don’t Shoot

Please Don’t Shoot

I let death happen

by proxy

if I didn’t eat meat

wear shoes

would animal treatment

become more humane

 

do it take a stand

no more meat

nothing with a face

search out alternatives

plants may have faces

that I don’t recognize

so that makes it fine

 

the air that I breathe

is teaming with life

the water I drink

is alive with microorganisms 

that may have faces

my vision isn’t that good

atomic microscopes

focus so finite 

I can’t recognize anything

 

is that jelly fish like shimmer

darting around other shimmers

afraid of being seen

shamed by our look

not ready for their close-up

they aren’t animals

are they

 

is my decision that they don’t count

relevant to anything

other than another brick

in a sense of superiority

the smug comfort

of valuing all life

only as it serves my appetites

 

people

like me who still eat meat

will always be ethically

self-indulgent creeps

who should be shamed

better yet shot

 

but please don’t shoot me

until after dinner


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Everyone Has One

Everyone Has An Opinion

his opinion was

irrelevant to me

not that he was

in fact I enjoyed

spending time with him

until he commented

on an item in the news

the item was not relevant

to why were naked together

 

as he went on & on

I was at first amused

then dismayed

offered a more moderate

point of view

which goaded him even further 

 

he was fun in bed

I choose to overlook his opinion

one I never asked for

& now that I knew it

there was no need to

know more about him

or his opinions

only when we might 

get together again

 

which we did eventually

and when we did

it was good

until he launched 

into an opinion

 

he spoke as one

who only listens

to those who agree with him

which I understand 

why spend time 

with people who argue with you

life is too short

 

I’m no one’s teacher

besides he knew what he knew

who was I to disagree

so

seeing him again

was no longer relevant

Sex & politics are often a bad mix. One of the traditions in 12 step recovery is that our opinions on outside issues are left outside of the room – the focus is on recovery not on who is running for x party. As in this piece, knowing too much about the other person can often change how we hear them. One things I’ve realized about myself is often I have no real opinions only smart-assed one-liners.

I don’t mind making chit-chat when I see a guy mind you but I stick to things like the weather, music, maybe TV shows we discover we both like – but I avoid politics, religion, etc. I can be judgemental when certain political, race, or even class options don’t coincide with mine. This guy, & this is a real experience, felt fine to spontaneously mouth off with his bigoted thoughts on both blacks & whites.

As I haven’t experienced the world as he has I didn’t argue but let him know I didn’t see some of these issues as he did. At least he wasn’t homophobic 🙂 The sex was great, but to be honest, that isn’t enough for me. Even in a FWB relationship I need some emotional &, I guess, philosophical connection.  He on the other had felt that because I wasn’t argumentative that we were compatible enough for his needs.

I stopped putting energy into future get togethers. Made excuses a few times, caved a few times (solely because the sex was good). I succeeded in directing conversations away from his hobby-horses. But it was more work than I was willing to put inot what was supposed to be play. That was the focus of our getting together, not me learning tolerance & patience. So I stopped responding. Such is life. 

The title is a reference to the phrase – “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody’s got one and everyone thinks everyone else’s stinks.”


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Hidden Heart

samprules2

Working through the  227 Rules For Monks.

Who knew the simple life could be so complex.

Hidden Heart

all I am hiding

are my emotions

really

no I don’t have anything

in my hands

up my sleeve 

I didn’t put anything

where you couldn’t find it

everything is out in the open

what good would it do

to hide your shoes 

so you can’t leave

hide your underwear

so you can’t dressed

hide the towels so

you can only dry off between the sheets

with me

me

who has nothing to hide

 

except my feelings

or rather my lack of them

though you claim

my claim of lack of feelings

is actually hiding something

because my door is so open you

because I have made a place

for you my life

you even have your own tooth brush here

it is out in the open too

 

see nothing is hidden

really

except how I feel

which I can’t reveal

until you open up

to tell me what you have hidden

in your heart

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Not Insulted

I’m Not Your Girlfriend

no

I’m not insulted

but

after years of being called

faggot fairy

I’m not going to put up 

with other queers

using those words 

to tease

to cut me down to size

the same goes for 

girl or girlfriend

 

it’s not that 

I don’t have a sense of humour

the only lesson I get

when you say

‘get over it girlfriend’

is that you are still feeding into

the commodification

the compulsion

of making ‘gay’ me

into something less masculine

no masculine is the wrong word

but ‘girlfriend’

is meant to be derogatory

because of the view

that ‘girl’ is lesser

no one says

‘get over it boyfriend’

 

so no I’m not insulted

merely bored

tired of people using 

the dominant culture’s language

to maintain a status quo

I don’t take myself so seriously

you can call me faggot

but don’t expect respect

in return

The climate around appropriate language is become increasingly volatile & unpredictable. It seems that if one isn’t as upset by something that another person is upset by then the problem is your lack of support, of sensitivity to their issue. Is it even appropriate anymore to give gender specific names to children?

Within the Lgbt+ community there is shift to gender neutral appropriateness. At many events one is asked what pronouns they wish to be used. Hosting shows I’ve been careful to find out what to use for introductions, & when blogging about shows I try to use as few pronouns as possible so as not to mis-gender anyone. It is creating a more nuanced use of language. 

In my post My Ass Pussy I talked about the use of feminizing language for man-to-man sex to somehow make it less gay. On a recent Gayish Podcast they talk about the use of ‘gurl’ between gay men as a playful taunt. To not want to be be called ‘gurl’ is seen as being overly sensitive & hence not queer enough.

Trans people fight for the right to choose the language that is used to refer to them, for pronouns, for respect. Blacks do the same. Yet when I don’t want to be referred as ‘gurl’ I have been sneered at by the very people who want to be so inclusive. I’ve been dis-included in some circles because I’m not accepting enough to let them call me faggot because they feel it’s okay because we are all faggots anyway, so get over yourself. I am over myself, but this sort of amusingly derogatory use of language tests my tolerance more and more. I’m not insulted but we are not amused.


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Nice Jeans

Nice Jeans

who said

you could wear my things

because I certainly didn’t

 

maybe

if you had asked me

I might have consented 

but to take it on yourself

to figure I wouldn’t mind

is going too far

if you get my drift

 

you don’t want my grubby hands

all over your things

you’ve told me that often enough 

well I don’t want my clothes 

all over your slutty body

you heard me right

you thieving slut

 

that it looks better on you

than it ever did on me

is not justification 

mine is mine

 

now take it off right now

give back to me

I don’t care who sees you here

the people in this mall

have seen uglier sights

than your skinny ass

so give back my clothes

 

give me back my dignity

my privacy

my right to have something 

of my own

what did I do

to deserve a parent like you


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Old Enough To Know Better

Old Enough To Know Better

some say that age

is just a number

you are as old as you feel

not as you act

but if you don’t act your age

you are trying to fool people

 

age may be just a number

but one that tells a story

one that defines you

generalizes 

labels your place in life

 

people don’t even need to meet you

but if they know your age

it has told them everything 

they need to know

like race gender

colour of your hair

each tells others

all about you

even if they never spoken to you

 

if you are that blond

well everyone

already know about blonds

even ones you’ve never met

we know all about that black guy gal

just by looking

everything is revealed by

her over-made eyes

his six-pack

 

six-pack is just a number 

right

a rib-cage

not a personality

an age is a cage

used to lock away

sight unseen

 

how old am I

why ask

it’s just a number

not a death sentence

 

There’s an episode of Designing Women in which a character who dates older men tells the one she’s currently dating to act his age – so he dies. The joke being that at his age most men were already dead. Now, I’m not at that age, or at least I don’t think I am. How old do you have to be to shot in a church? Not that I’d be caught dead in a church, but that’s another story.

 

This piece is as much about aging as it is about how easy it is to slot people into categories based on age, race, gender, job etc. One facet being enough to define them in such a way it becomes difficult to see them beyond that one facet. What team do you like in the play-offs? Saying one isn’t into sports isn’t the right answer. My reply is usually ‘the team that wears the least.’ Ambiguity apparently breeds distrust.

 

This is how ‘image’ sells. Photos of stars without make-up are often rendered unrecognizable. Privacy is obtained by disguising themselves as themselves not as the product sold on screen. But treat the dressed-down version as an ordinary person & beware, right?

In the shallow world of on online gay male dating age is nearly as crucial as dick size. In fact I’ve seen profiles say, to the effect that, ‘if you are over 50 your dick better be over 8 inches.’ One learns that many men aren’t the age this say they are, or that the photos of them are actually 10 years old.

 

 

I’m not keen of being confined by any definition. So when asked, how big is your dick, I’ll say ‘more the enough to satisfy;’ when asked my age I’ll usually say ‘old enough to know better.’ 


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Lonesome


Lonesome

marking my territory 

even temporarily 

happens without my awareness

an automatic act

will I share a table

with a stranger

in a crowded restaurant

a stranger who has already

marked it as their territory 

do I want an empty seat

on either side of me

when I fly

take public transit

sit in the audience

 

so I mark my territory

unless I get to pick

who invades my territory

 

I live in a city where

boundaries are marked by stares

knapsacks placed just so

earphones snug sound suppressants

handheld shields 

that deflect attention 

so that is all we see

so that all can see us

busy with important 

texts tweets games

personal space defined

protected

from the scramble of humans

looking for a little corner

to safely be alone

 

don’t talk to me

don’t look at me

I’m so lonesome I could text


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Profiting From Guilt

Profiting From Guilt

you think the guilt

this guilt

this humiliation

is a benefit

that I somehow enjoyed

being reviled

being castigated by the press

by pundits on TV

people who have never met me

but who felt no compunction

in demonizing my actions

 

my alleged actions

which by the way

have never been conclusively been proven

guilt by accusation

not by proof

but once that accusation has been uttered

innocence will never return

a loss that was a benefit

 

oh yes that was the main benefit

I have experienced as a result

my face on every news channel

by name on so many lips

my reputation

in every gutter in the world

 

good thing

I’m not here to be popular

only to be rich

that’s right I’m rich

thanks to your condemnation

rich beyond your wildest accusations

and I will continue to gain

overtime bonuses 

when anyone continues

to defame my name

even though I don’t enjoy the guilt

I sure do enjoy the interest it earns

 

The moral compass of our media culture skews to entertainment – not to justice, or equality. This piece reflects how media & the sacrament of celebrity absolves men (usually caucasians) of responsibility, accountability & repercussions for their actions. In fact it rewards them with attention. As Oscar Wilde said – ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity.’

 

A current celebrity convicted of rape gets more press than his victims. He is a martyr & they are crybaby bitches who should have been grateful for any attentions he may have blessed them with. I’m sure once he’s done his time he’ll end up with a sitcom (set in a prison) or perhaps a talk show.

 

 

Somehow seeking redress for harm turns victims into villains for wanting more than mere acknowledgement of harm done. The apology is now deemed sufficient. To want more is unfair, greedy & cruel. Reparations become court battles in which only the lawyers seem to profit.

 

I enjoy the way this piece moves from ‘you think’ – wherein the pov is showing a tinge of remorse – & ends up with them enjoying the media sacrament of notoriety. Almost saying that any negativity on our part is envy of their ‘fame.’


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet