Category: poetry

every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked)
capfireslam.org

September or October TBA – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

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Only Real After Midnight

May 30, 2018May 30, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

Working through the 227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. This another of the 92 pācittiyas.

Only Real After Midnight

he didn’t understand

that too late is too late

that too late had nothing to do

with my desire for him

with my affection for him

it was about my desire for sleep

my affection for walking up

clear headed and well-rested

he insisted that it was proof

of my lack of real interest

that midnight wasn’t that late

only boring guys

went to bed that early

gay life didn’t get into full swing

until it was moonlight

I recalled my disco days

when getting to a bar before eleven

made one look desperate

the place would be empty

filled with loud music

get there at midnight

and the crowd was starting flow

by 1 a.m. it was a packed house

that was the gay life

I left to those that enjoyed it

just because I was man enough

to take it

didn’t mean I had to take it

like I didn’t have to take

his definition of desire

being only real after midnight

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Mystery in the Dust

May 29, 2018May 29, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

Mystery in the Dust

dust on the box

cardboard

the dark of the shelf

the seclusion of the resting place

unseen

untouched

unmoved

since it was put there

out of the way

sealed for protection

until its contents was needed

on that rainy day

it never rained enough

now some ten years later

that need went unfelt

the dust undisturbed

the contents a mystery

options

keep it

open it

discard it without a look

let go of the unknown

gift it

sell it

the space it takes

isn’t needed for anything

why hold on

does it hold back

does it lead

to other unopened

forgotten pieces of the past

whose past

no writing on the box

no indication of who

put it there

or when

except for the dust

There is real life experience behind this piece. There was a box on a shelf in my basement that went unopened for more than ten years. It had no marking but one gentle shake reminded me what was in it – dishes – cup & saucers & such that were part of a dinnerware set. Mugs not tea cups in this house. And by mugs I mean venti not tall.

I did not open it to make sure I was right. I donated them without looking. It was part of a shift to me holding on to less. I did a major flush of books, tee-shirts, knick-knacks many of which didn’t even have any sentimental hold me. Even those that had emotional resonance for me I let go. I realized I’d rather miss something than hold on it in such a way there no space for new.

I am more of a sentimentalist than I realize but not for objects but for smells or sounds. Hearing Jimmy Gilmer’s Sugar Shack recently (thanks to America on Coffee) I had a wave of non-specific memory from my teen years when this was a big hit. ‘Non-specific’ in that I had no moment to recall but a sense of me hearing it, enjoying it while wearing penny loafers and bulky saggy socks & feeling pretty cool.

Similarly the lilies of the valley are in bloom in my front & back gardens. The scent is my Mother – I want to say personified – a memory not tucked away in a dusty box. These things bring back more vividly people places & time than things do. I have some San Francisco mugs but they merely testify that I was there rather than take my mind back to being there.

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Limitless Limitations

May 24, 2018May 24, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

As I’ve aged my sense of my physical limitations has increased though I haven’t always attached an age to to those changes. For example this winter I accepted that those extreme cold alerts say ‘children & elderly’ I am the elderly they refer to, even if I don’t think of myself that as ancient. As a result I drastically reduced my night time activities.

I was fine in my many layered dress for the cold in the daytime – but if it was going to take me as long to get bundled up for the cold as I was going spend when I got somewhere I’d think twice if it was worth the effort. Plus most places don’t provide space for all that extra garb.

Night was worse thanks to slippery sidewalks, people didn’t shovel, or salt the black ice in front of their house, on top of city plows that delighted in mountains that made corners impossible to get over. I’d tackle them in daylight but at night I didn’t want to risk a slip & breaking anything.

So while listening to a recent Disability After Dark in which Andrew Gurza talks with Scott Jones I appreciated their admissions of grief over their limitation. Although I’m sorry I can’t do winter walks after dark I am grateful I don’t have to negotiate their challenges. But as I get older the things that I used to do that were a part of my self-image have changed that self-image. Knee issues mean they can no longer take the stress of dancing so there goes my dream of So You Think You Can Dance. Issues with my back mean I can’t physically manhandle Andrew, as much as I would like to.

The episode pushed me to think of how easy it is to discount our actual limitations in the face of what we want to do & then berate & take fault with ourselves. Things change & as they do I move better with those changes as part of progress not as an erosion of the good way things used to be. Dancing with the right man in bed has proved to be more satisfying than dancing in any club.

The Mystery

A man on his knees

on a downtown sidewalk

just out of the way

yet where he could be seen

prays

mutters words of supplication

eyes open

looks out from himself

into the world around him

on the next street three women

on their knees pray

people in restaurants

slide to their knees

poets in coffee shops

after getting their double double

kneel

whisper prayers

in different words

in different languages

call to different entities

they are unafraid

of being seen as ones

who are willing to pray

when the feeling comes upon them

pulling over cars to get out

kneeling in buses

in movie theatres

with pop corn and soft drinks

balanced in their hands

reaching out for a moment

feeling the touch of something

sharing the touch of something

those that can’t pray turn away

as if seeing something

that should be done only in private

so as not to remind them

that some people have faith

those that pray often don’t know

what they have faith in

they feel the tickle of it in their blood

savour the taste of it

as they utter sweet words

once they stand

some don’t recall the moment of prayer

they know that even if the pause

can’t change the world

can’t end war in our time

for the moment of prayer

they can be changed

in the chaos

in the peace

in the lives around them

and that’s the mystery

every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked)
capfireslam.org

September or October, Tuesday – feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Squeeze

May 23, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

Working through the 227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. This another of the 92 pācittiyas.

Squeeze

he was squeezing

something on his jaw line

near the left ear

he’d stop

then go back to it

an ingrown hair

another time he was scratching

a dry patch on his back

scratched until it was raw

but not quite bleedings

sometimes gnawing at finger nail

another time biting at something

on the inside his cheek

not every time we were together

we got together every couple of weeks

for food

for making out

it took a few years

before this pattern emerged

one that I recognize

because I was once caught up

in such small acts of self harm

the pinched pimple

the scratched spot

I know the odd satisfaction

they comes from inflicting

tiny persistant

pain

on myself

I have the scar tissue to show for it

I was never into big self-harm

burns to the hands

criss-cross slits on the arms

I was satisfied by these

micro-aggressions against myself

against my body

I treasure the body

he harms

how do I call attention

his micro-aggressions

I’m not a professional

no one ever called my attention

to how I treated myself

I kept it too hidden

no one would see

the spot I picked till it bled

eventually that need left

not that I’ve seen him bleed

not until he tells me something more

than let’s play

then I’ll know

he wants more than comfort

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Simplicity

May 22, 2018May 22, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

Simplicity

I can’t remember

the last time I owned

just one of anything

such simplicity

was never allowed me

I try as best I can

to possess less

to be less owned by what I own

when something new comes in

something old must leave

by leave I mean

must be gone

not merely stored away

but donated shared given away

thrown away

reduced slowly

but becoming less attached to things

isn’t the way of this world

even though we’re told

things don’t matter

we get judged

by things we acquire

told that if the house burns

be grateful to be alive

you can’t take it with you

but

you might as well enjoy it while you can

We live in a wasteful culture in which to say you have enough is admitting defeat. Not to want more means one is settling for less than they deserve. This constant seeking is so subtly supported one often doesn’t know where the messages are coming from.

Watch any TV show & notice how often the same outfit is worn? In some shows the leads never wear the same clothing from episode to episode. Yet we rarely see the characters shopping for clothes. I recently saw a headline to the effect that so-and-so big-name-star was seen wearing the same outfit they had on last week. Clearly someone’s career is down the tubes.

One of the things that runs through the 227 Rules is a strong anti-capitalistic stance. The perfection of a spiritual path lies in not allowing things to control one but allowing for the need for things i.e. the robe. The push isn’t to transcend but to limit how things constrain us. Sounds easy in theory but in practice it isn’t so easy.

If it weren’t for these 227 prompts some of these thoughts would probably enter my head. I am, like most people, numbed by the constant urging for more to even notice the constant urging for more. Worse yet numb to the consequences, to the fear of being judged, left behind, in the wake of those spending their way to identity & satisfaction. My consumerism is controlled by my finances. I can’t pretend that when I win Lotto Max I won’t indulge in some mindless, foolish, spending. Sometimes Daddy likes a new pair of shoes.

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

DC Dreaming 2018

May 18, 2018May 18, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

Three weeks today to June 8 when Capturing Fire ignites its 8th slam happy weekend with the launch of the landmark anthology Stoked Words. The anthology captures work by the many brilliant poets who have slammed, participated or wore fabulous shirts. Yes, I’m in the anthology. What pieces? You’ll have to wait to find out. Being a US publication it might end up in the Library of Congress!

The launch, workshops & slam are all taking place at The Woolly Mammoth Theatre on D St. NW. Getting there will take me through parts of Washington I have have never seen so there’ll be lots of new photo ops, new exotic Starbucks to discover (as if Starbucks is exotic). Schedule of workshops posted here: https://capfireslam.org/2018-schedule/.

I’m staying at the same hotel, which is steps away from DuPont Circle metro. Google maps tells me its a 45 min walk to the Wooly, which I think is doable, depending on the humidex. I’ve checked for coffee shops & restaurants near the theatre so I’m prepared. If I get lost I’ll have someplace to eat.

A couple of day excursions have been planed. One day will be the zoo. Trying to line up a local guide so I can get some photos of me that aren’t washroom selfies 🙂 The zoo looks to be fun & also within walking distance. Another day I’ll take in the Air & Space museum. Two tourist destinations are all I can enjoy before it feels like duty.

Six Feet Under

a moment of silence

to respect

those who have been silenced

to offer a dignity

a solemnity

all that’s missing

is the hashtag

a #moment of #silence

showing support

without doing #anything

by silenced

I don’t mean marginalized

I don’t mean neutralized

I mean murdered

by others

by their own hand

by neglect

by #silent shame

where is the moment of retaliation

oh no we can’t do that

that sinks us down to their level

getting even isn’t justice

it doesn’t get good press

#victimization

gets all the good press

a moment of violence

of striking back is tut tut not adult

we must have silence

so the healing can begin

why not a moment of vanity

in which we all pull out a mirror

to contemplate our own faces

to see where we fit in

while the screaming is still going on

to figure out why

forgiveness is more fulfilling

that taking the victimizers to task

where was their forgiveness

so I don’t forgive

that’s my flaw

I’m called out for being bitter

not understanding enough

unwilling to make a social context

that rationalizes actions

that spring from a troubled childhood

from a drug addled brain

from books of words holy pages

that approves

making victims of others

in the name of righteousness

a moment of silence

to prove that I am emotionally more mature

I can take it

I can rise above

the blood soaked streets

an angel of mercy

fuck that

fuck fuck fuck that

I don’t care about

perpetrators’ apologies

how they feel remorse

I don’t want revenge

I want an eon of silence

not a moment of silence

I want it to stop

before we’re all six feet under

every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked)
capfireslam.org

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Full Frontal

May 17, 2018May 17, 2018 topoetLeave a comment

On a recent Disability After Dark Andrew Gurza talks about The Sessions – a movie that made a big splash some years ago dealing with a disabled man & his female sex surrogate. I thoroughly enjoyed Andrew’s scene-by-scene look at The Sessions. A movie which I have not seen – too emotional manipulative for me. I don’t like being forced to feel good.

It was important to hear about a movie from an ‘expert’ – someone who knows about the reality of disability as opposed to some reviewer, critic who is caught up in the drama & not aware of facts. Andrew pretty much likes the emotional content of the movie which resonated with his lived experience. He calls out a few anachronisms (modern wheelchair instead of period one) & also how little the hero’s privacy is respected.

The other thing which he notes is nudity. He questions why Helen Hunt, the lead actress, get full frontal while John Hawkes, the male lead, gets minimal exposure, even in the sex scenes. This is not unique to this movie though. Showing breast & vagina is not longer so shocking but the male body remains pretty much hidden. Lots of fast ass shots, never the well-lit, lingering shots that female nudity gets.

Female nudity is rarely seen as gratuitous if it fits the story. In Sessions if nudity makes sense for Helen Hunt then nudity makes equal sense John Hawkes should as well, right? This is one of those double-standards. Male performers have to worry about ‘performance anxiety’ or are shy about displaying their cock at all – what if it doesn’t measure up to their fans fantasies. Isn’t that cgi is for? If they can double the cost a film by digitally enhancing the hair of the lead for every scene he’s in, surely a few minutes of cock shouldn’t be an issue.

Or perhaps they wanted to respect the dignity of the disabled man – after all his disability was enough without exploiting his dick, too. When one catches a glimpse of a stars’ cock it is a flash – even when that dick is the supposedly the star: i.e Boogie Nights – where there is ample bared female but a split-second moment of Dirk Diggler’s supposed large cock & even that was a bad fake – they couldn’t afford a stunt cock.

I’ll end this with my favorite big star full-frontal from Fight Club. Brad Pitt appears at least 4 times in a single frame at various points in the film. My vision was so good it caught the first one & thanks to our dvd player I was able to frame-by-frame at the points were Pitt flashed me. That was no stunt cock 🙂

How Deep Is My Love

my love is deeper than Nietzsche

deeper than the gap between

spiritual fantasy and sexual reality

deeper than what we all thought the 60’s meant

my love for you is longer than

the time between knowing

it isn’t working and ending it

longer than the time between

ending it and getting over it

I love you more than this shirt look great on me

my love is harder than

peanut brittle in Arctic moonlight

my love is more hopeful than

an overflowing recycling bin

my love for you is longer than

the arm of the law

holding a restraining order

my love for you is purer

than the water in the bottle of

rapidly disappearing ice shelf

melted just so you

could have a sip

and throw it away

my love for you is purer than a dream

my love for you is purer than

how you felt

before you even know the difference

between a care bear and a pubic hair

my love for you is stronger

than the tang of expresso

with a flavour shot of almond

to cover that weird burned taste

my love is truer than

all those Facebook friends

who rsvp’d they’d be here

my love for you is stronger than

your need to be loved

my love for you is

no longer the crime it once was

every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked)
capfireslam.org

September 25, Tuesday – Horror feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr