Cape Breton Day 9

A fun day of driving & dining that started with a morning walk to a great recovery meeting. Did my first Tim Horton’s stop of the trip. The coffee is no longer stronger than than Toronto’s. I like morning meetings as a way to start a day. Familiar faces are comforting. All the meetings I went to turned out to be topic-suggested-by-members meetings. I suppose there are some that discuss the literature. All started with the serenity prayer 🙂 & all ended with the Lord’s Prayer :-(. No hand holding to deal with.

Walked up to my sister’s & took the Terrace St. hills I used to walk to Sydney Academy. They seemed much steeper then. My sister had dug out some old photo albums, one that included some toddler pics of me. After a few minutes of looking though them & taking pictures of pictures we headed out on the day’s real adventures.

 

My Dad was fond of taking us kids for country drives and my sister has the driving bug in her blood too. our first real stop was in Sydney Mines so I could get pictures of the Municipal Region Police Station that was once a Customs House. An impressive building that dates back to the early 1900’s. It certainly stands out amidst the endless aluminium sided boxes that abound everywhere. Why does progress mean lack of architectural character?

 

 

Next we went to North Sydney. I was hoping to find out information about the German U-Boat that surfaced in the harbour – the local citizens jumped dirtier boats to defend out shores. North Sydney was a major communications hub & thus targeted by the Nazis.

Blank faces were all I got from the staff. I did get lots of pics though included some of a 1918 fire engine. We had a decent lunch at The Black Spoon. I was hoping the name referred to some naval jargon or iron smelting but Black was the last name of the owner.

Tomorrow Fort Petrie.

 

Sober Sex 2

An experience that shows up frequently in recovery circles – gay or straight, male or female – is being trapped in a using relationship – using because one’s partner uses & expects them to do the same – fear of losing that ‘lover’ keeps them using out of what is essentially, to me, people pleasing. In fact, it doesn’t even have to be a relationship – even casual hook ups can have the same ‘people pleasing’ context.

Saying no to booze or drugs offered by a possible hook up often means that door closes. Booze & drugs lower some inhibitions which supposedly leads to wilder & better sex. But Shakespeare says something to the effect – it enflames the desire but cools the ability. Often booze or drugs become the focus of, not the lubricant for, fun. I’ve had men decline play with me because I didn’t have poppers.

When I first got sober declining social offers of a drink, or a toke, wasn’t easy – I wanted to fit in, to be accepted – saying ‘no’ might hurt someone’s feelings – looking back, my sense of self-acceptance was based on conforming. The example of guys in recovery helped me get over some of that & over time it was easier.

The first few times I had sex sober were interesting. I was also coming out & being held by another man was nearly a spiritual experience. (It still is). Being held by another man who can’t wait to get his next drink, toke, line isn’t all that satisfying. I wanted sex partners not drinking partners. When the guy on Disability After Dark said he’d never had sex sober I totally identified with him. Substances can lower our inhibitions but also impair the ability to give consent & also kicks the shit out of the immune system.

Today I lead an active sex life. Sober. Dick is my drug of choice.

heart of hearing

one from the hard

my hard was in my throat

the hard of darkness

a hard attack

I left my hard in San Francisco

hard of the dark continent

open hard surgery

I hard NY

talking hard to hard

places in the hard

don’t keep breaking my hard

hard harded hanna

the hard of the hard of the country

hard healthy

change of hard

hards of fire

open your hard

wearing my hard on my sleeve

deep in my hard

the hard foundation

I gave you my hard

when hards collide

my secret hard

the hard of the matter

like a stake through the hard

a little piece of my hard

tore the hard right of his chest

gotta hide my hard away

take it to hard

the bleeding hard

my hard skipped a beat

queen of hards was baking some tarts

hard on a platter

you gotta have hard

falling hard first in love

cross my hard

hard in my hand

the hard is a lonely hunter

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every Tuesday 2019

July

Stratford Festival – Nathan The Wise

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton
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September

Shaw Festival – Sex (Mae West)

Stratford Festival – Little Shop Of Horrors

June  – Capturing Fire 2020 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

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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.


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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.”


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Gratitude in Action

The last Gratitude Round-Up I attended was October 2015 https://wp.me/p1RtxU-1or. That year I stayed at the (semi) Comfort Inn this year I opted to the Holiday Inn on Carlton, where I stayed for the Playground Conference earlier this year. The Round-Up is a five minute walk so I’ll get more exercise 🙂 The room in adequate. WiFi fast enough for my purposes.

The Courtyard, where the round-up was held, has had a renovation since I was there last. Explosive new carpets & corporate paintings, even new couches & armchairs. Change is good. Registration went smooth, a few familiar faces already but lots of fresh ones too. I’m almost anonymous for a change.

The workshops I took in on Saturday were: Perfectionism Over Progress?; In All Our Affairs; Relinquishing Guilt; Life on Life’s Terms. It was hard to choose out of the 20 or so offered. The banquet was good, for hotel food. Seasonal turkey along with nice selection of veggies. Best part, for me, was having my non-program friend Carlos with me. We’ve been seeing other for a few years now so I figured it was time to let him into this part of my life.

The closing Sunday was sweet & a little sad, for many. All the speakers over the weekend were excellent. There was even a glimpse of diversity with some French from the podium. I suggest they make the even more a part of things now that the round-up has celebrated 40 years but including, in even a small way, more French in the readings, perhaps Spanish as well because there some Spanish speaking attendees. Diversity is the future.

In the afternoon I headed over to Chinatown in quest of a new Maneki, or anything else that caught my eye (besides the endless Asian eye-candy men). I saw lots of solar Maneki: the arms wave. But I wanted solid body, as it were, & found one. Took fun photos & made my way back to the hotel to really relax. I was amazed by the amount of construction, everywhere. If it ever gets finished there’s be endless places for new Starbucks.

With the round-up over, I made no plans for Sunday night other than eating. Home in the morning. I do love getting back to my own little bed.

Taking the Fourth at 40

Someone asked me recently “What keeps you in these rooms after forty years?” They asked because this month (July 6) I hit the forty year point in my recovery. I get asked various forms of this question often enough & I try not to give an overly glib answer like ‘where else can i wear this shirt.’ But there is no simple answer.

Part of the why is that each year my understanding of the power of the steps deepens. Even if I ever feel bored, judgemental of members who wallow in their misery, or who quote the literature rather than share on a person level I know that those thoughts are better than being dead drunk somewhere. Actually it’s better than being dead period.

 

In Step 4 we are encouraged to make a moral inventory of ourselves (not of others). I’ve done this step a few times as a part of the process. One thing that I recently realized is that I have no morals merely a set culturally encoded behaviours that lead to acceptable behaviour – things I have conformed to without questioning. My notion of ‘moral’ was coloured, or is it discoloured, by heteronormative concepts of relationships, privilege, race, gender and consumerism. Not to overlook being labelled (or rather libelled) by a bad, but universally accepted Bible translation, as being an abomination unto the Lord.

 

So a part of recovery has been, for me, looking at how I’ve absorbed these cultural imperatives – some of which are so subtle they are absorbed without awareness – sort of like getting a tan but not seeing it until one sees the line been tanned & untanned skin. 

When I did my early inventory work things such as privilege or entitlement were certainly not on the list. That list was stuff like procrastination, lying, theft – things clearly disapproved (at the time). These days a politician can lie outright & when confronted with it become the victim of being held accountable – which is the essence of entitlement. Or expect their apology to get them off the hook for any consequences.

Sermon On A Mount of Plastic Bags

the plastic bag shall inherit the earth

it already owns the wind

the sea the shore claimed

by our need to carry crap

these bags choke India’s sacred cows

fill their intestines

but cows spew so much methane

they cause global warming

so it’s a fair trade off

fuck the ecology

I’m tired of trying to save our planet 

 

why bother reduce reuse reclaim

as much as I reduce my electric usage

my bill keeps going up

while energy honchos

make bigger and bigger profits

as they drive in fuel-efficient SUVs 

I’m told to take public transit

that if really care about our planet

I’ll only use plastic bags made in nations

that have paid carbon displacement fees

environmentalists make me sick

if they really wanted to save the planet

they’d stop shitting, breathing, breeding

 

I love the plastic bag

what would life be without it

Christ only knows

and he’s looking for one

that’ll hold lumber without breaking

won’t tear at the first rough patch

one that can handle any sharp edge

then reuse a shroud later

 

the next time that granola book store guy 

with the corporate logo on his hemp shirt

asks me do you want a bag for that

printed-on-reclaimed-non-chemically-treated-paper-with-soy-based-ink

book

I’ll say – sure buster, double bag it

fuck the ecology

I’m tired of trying to save our planet

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http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday

September or October but to be confirmed – feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

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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Restored to Sanity

Restored to sanity – a phrase from AA’s step 2 – is one that many people in recovery trip over. Sure we irrational, self-centred in the extreme – but insane? Illogical perhaps & unreliable sure. I think part of the current ‘conflict’ with the word ‘sanity’ is that we live in a world in which what is acceptable behaviour is inconsistent – if you are rich enough, white enough you can get away with many things others get shot for.

 

I’ve come to see that sanity is more as a way of control than of establishing mental competency. If one is docile, obedient, subservient they are clearly sane. If one shows little too much personality, creativity, expresses distain for contemporary standards they are trouble makers, if they persist they are crazy & need to be locked up, or at least chemically controlled & usually shunned, disregarded & discounted. So in recovery when we speak of sanity it is easy to get confused. In my life it has manifested as less self-destructive behaviour as opposed to socially acceptable thinking. Conformity doesn’t = sanity.

Some react to the word ‘restored’ which seems to imply that they were sane at some point – how can you be restored to something you never had in the first place? This another of those linguistic tricks that allows cultural norms to dictate what sanity is – it’s always good for a laugh though. Yet does it matter if one is remade or restored? Being willing to let our destructive, self-serving thinking change is a step to serenity, serenity = sanity.

Some of my resistance to the ‘sanity’ was seeing it as banality. Not that I was wild in the street but I certainly saw (& still see) things differently from those around me – maybe being queer was a part of that differing vision. After all, at one time homosexuality was considered not only criminal, but a serious mental issue that required shock-treatment or worse to cure.

“Restored to sanity … ” – I’m not holding my breath – but at least my lack of it is no longer in your face 🙂

In The Workshop 

I loved to spend time in my Dad’s workshop

in a little shack behind our house

when my bothers went to war

I got to help him

as he repaired the snowmobile

a job that he seemed to do every day

or when he made

little kitchen objects for my mother

 

his moose-bone-handled tools

were lined up in neat rows of hooks

over the work bench

he would say “spanner seven”

and I would get it for him

his thick fingers held even the heaviest tool

as if it were the most delicate instrument

while he twisted spark plugs

or carved small scenes of robins

into the bowls of pie plates

humming happily

as he concentrated on his work

 

I would creep into the shed

when he wasn’t there

to sit in the humble stillness

I would brush wood chips

into small piles with my fingers

fondle the handles of his tools

they would feel inviting in my hands

as if holding them

would allow me to do what he could do

 

sometimes he had me sing

what we were learning in choir practice

he would put his tools down

listen with his eyes closed

his hands on his belly

his fingers moving

as they conducted me from verse to verse

when my mother would call us to eat

I was disappointed

getting more of this moment

than pie could ever give me

 

the smell of his sweat

mixed with snowmobile oil and grease

as he showed me how to clean spark plugs

became one of the powerful erotic

aromas of my youth

it was into this shack

I would sneak with the boys

whom I had learned to undress

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Enough 6 and 7

We live in a culture in which ‘enough’ means settling for less than we want. To say one has had enough is a sign of giving up striving for a higher standard of living. Our economy is built on disposability not quality. Even if it is durable it’s time for a newer improved version. Upgrade or be left in the digital dust. Our Mac upgrades so often I don’t even know what it does anymore beyond the basic functions I use it for.

Yet even with all those improvements it still doesn’t do what I want it to: convert pages to mobi. Unlike my character ‘defects’ in which procrastination have been converted to patience. It becomes difficult to balance that trade off – wanting to comfortable with self as it is yet letting it mature into the improved version.

How can you love yourself as you are while constantly striving to improve that self? I’ve never met a cismale who had enough sex – if one-on-one is great a threesome would be even better. So that inner need for more, that cultural pressure to get better & more expensive makes balance difficult.

 

Where does that leave me as I continue to work through 6 and 7 – essentially striving for patient improvement. Persistence is the key for me. Dramatic change is possible but one of my shortcomings that has diminished is the need for melodrama – I rarely mistake emotionalism for true feeling – that’s an improvement. One that slows me down enough to enjoy the endless process.

How I Learned to Play With Boys

in my village

I didn’t do boy things well

shoving maple trees in the canal

breaking cathedral windows

flinging smelt guts at high schoolers

and running away

so I played with the girls

enacting family dynamics by

pulling clothes on off pink plastic dolls

that had sharp little fingers   pointy toes

 

when I tried to do boys things

the boys were disgusted

one day after choir practice

they dragged me into the Whistling Wood

to a grove piled high with moose skat

they pelted me with the shit

laughed and taunted

“how do you like that dolly fingers”

 

I kept my eyes closed my mouth shut

as they covered me from head to foot

then they ran away

the shit was thick like elephant hide

I scraped my hands on the nearest tree

I could tell by the bark it was oak

afraid to open my eyes

I walked stiff legged    hands grasping

till I came across a beech tree

I knew I was closer to the place

where the woman washed the clothes

next I found a maple tree

as I groped through Whistling Wood

the birch the alder the willow

each brought me closer to the stream

I plunged in

it was cold

the moose dung was so toxic

smelt floated dead to the surface

I scrubbed and I scrubbed

till my skin was red rough and raw

my hair went from black to blond

the pond went from clear blue water

to a brackish tar pond

 

it was never the same again

I emerged clean

shivering and naked

I darted from rose bush to lilac tree

till I was my home

 

at school the next day

the boys were afraid

I would tell what had happened

I said nothing

and started to play with them again

I used what I had learned from the girls

how easy it was to undress boys

to take off their clothes

unlike dolls their limbs were flexible

and that’s how I learned to play with boys

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kiss3on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

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August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

September: TBA

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1504753909765085/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

June 8-9 attending: Capturing Fire 2018

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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6/7 Are Endless

The past few weeks I’ve written about steps 6/7, more about 6/7,  (6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. 7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.)

Some wonder why it’s so hard to let go of behaviours that ultimately work against our progress? While others wonder why we are working to change in ways that no longer serve their best interest. After all people-pleasing isn’t so bad when you are the person being pleased. The social context of some of my behaviours was quite cunning.

To prove that I was clever, smart, deep, intelligent I was always ‘on.’ Being cynical & sarcastic was the way of proving & asserting my creativity. I had to keep proving it over & over. But is that actually a defect, a short-coming? I realized that the need to prove myself wasn’t actually progress. It was a sign of my lack of confidence, of a belief in myself – my value was only equal to your acceptance & recognition of me. If you didn’t laugh I was worthless.

As we step out of people-pleasing activity some will say things like “You used to be so funny, so easy to get along with, so open-minded … etc” Well, if I have to laugh at, add to or merely not argue with someone’s racist sexist bather to be approved of by them then it’s time to move on. I no longer even feel a need to teach them better – I did at one time but all  I taught them was that I was a judgemental no-fun prick – even if that’s true I don’t want people to learn that so easily.

People around us often want to to remain the same. When I got sober I lost friends who drank. When I tell guys on line that I don’t drink, smoke pot etc they just aren’t interested. Such is life. Those former friends are defective characters removed from my life 🙂

Then Things Changed

yes

that was me

then

those were my words

then

I believed what I said

things change

I change

stop trying to pour me of today

into the image of me

then

 

people tell me I’ve lost weight

when I was never aware

that they were aware

of what I weighed

that what I look liked mattered

then

I didn’t know or care

yet now that I’ve changed

physically in their eyes

they still see me

as the same person

but not so fat

they never said I was fat

then

mind you

but that I’ve lost weight since

then

 

I don’t say what I once said

my world view has changed

become broader

& more refined at the same time

my body gets narrow

my vision get clearer

in ways people notice

people I hadn’t set out

to be noticed by

then

 

now knowing

they’ve been looking

that they are capable of comparing

the old me

then

with the new me

I still don’t give a shit

but

thanks for noticing

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meandchap

kiss3on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

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August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

September: TBA

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1504753909765085/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

June 8-9 attending: Capturing Fire 2018

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

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Still At 6s and 7s

Last week I wrote a little about steps 6/7. (6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. 7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.) Partly because one of my regular meetings was reading  & discussing them but mainly because it was my sobriety anniversary on July 6. How long? I’ll tell you by private post but suffice to say I’ve been around this block a few decades.

One of the things I’ve found helpful is to work the steps literally as opposed to what I thought they said. In these two I read ‘remove’ as ‘replace’ but that’s is not what is stated. The replacement process is my responsibility. The removal is not – it’s sort of like putting the garbage out – I have to take it out but I don’t have to load it on the truck – I have to take it out because the garbage men aren’t going to come into my house & find it either. So taking it out part of being ready.

My street has annual yard sale. One year, when the sale was over, I left what wasn’t sold at the curb – I did not take stuff back hoping to sell it next year – I let go. In the tarot the Tower card says the old must die to make room for the new. Its the same with my growth – if I keep taking those things back I’ll never leave space for change. Letting go of old stuff after a yard sale makes room, frees me from my attachment to expectations. I was willing to have emptiness.

The thing with letting go, with putting the garbage out, is that this isn’t a permanent solution 🙂 It has be be done regularly. I can reduce my usage – recycle when possible but I am human. I’ve come to see remove more as reduce, or redirect, or repurpose as opposed to being removed the way tonsils are removed, never to return. I still have my tonsils.

Your Sons

no I do not want

to sleep with your sons

or your daughters

for that matter

at least I don’t want to sleep with them

as a result winning this battle

in fact

if we hadn’t engaged in this conflict

I might well have desired them

but that was not the object

 

I don’t want to burn your crops

destroy your cities

I only want to win

I want you to acknowledge my superiority

in battle

that’s it

my superiority in bed

is another matter

one that I don’t need to prove to anyone one

my tanks are the biggest

the best

what I am in bed

isn’t relevant

 

I won’t want your wives

your homes

I won’t loot

your ancient treasures

I’m not going to change

your government

that’s up to you

because clearly

you were incapable

of taking care of yourselves

you are conquered

not rescued

you have to save yourselves

so instead of offering me

sexual solace

in hopes that I’ll do

what you have to do for yourselves

get busy

 

but

if

your sons

are so sexually attracted

by the power of my determination

I might be willing to give them a tumble

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss3on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

http://www.andrewgurza.com/picturethisdoc

August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

September: TBA

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1504753909765085/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

June 8-9 attending: Capturing Fire 2018

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

like my pics? more on my Tumblr blog

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