DC Dreaming 2018

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

 

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6


http://www.queerslam.com

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

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

 

So Over the Rainbow

I recently watched a History channel series on Frontiers’ Men about the exploration of the American west. It was, as expect, rah-rah about these intrepid men but also was unflinching about how the aboriginal peoples were mistreated, exploited and the degree of cultural genocide was disgusting – yet somehow the white immigrants are seen as civilizers of these savage tribes.

The features & slammers at the season 4 finale for Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam made it very clear the ways that that cultural genocide continues. I was grateful that Hot Damn! has provided a safe space for very complex layers of racal & gender cultural repression, to be exposed, expressed & appreciated. I was more than entertained I was moved & educated.

The Hot Damn! season ender slam at Buddies played a packed to the rafters – mean packed, the balcony was full, extra seating had to brought out – enthusiastic audience. After acknowledging our debit to the natives who occupied this land Charlie Petch.

The show opened with Mahlikah Awe:ri Enml’ga’t Saqama’sgw (The Woman Who Walks In The Light) drum talk poetic rapologist who did a powerful set about the racial imbalance in the justice system. Mahlikah was emotional, impassioned & without expressing their anger allowed us to feel our own. ‘they are tracking us’ ‘you can’t see what you don’t understand’ ‘seeking their own power/ looking for home’ ‘150 years of being acquitted by your peers.’

Witch Prophet (an evolution of Toronto based, Ethiopian/Eritrean singer/songwriter Ayo Leilani. A soundscape of vocal layers, loops and harmonies on a bed of hip-hop, jazz and soul-inspired beats) gave us a music set that gave us a taste of their up coming album. The first piece was a freshly multi-tracked piece – voice was layered on itself & on itself to create that vocal soundscape. A solo piece but for dozens of voices. The DJ added interesting beats to the other pieces with sweet variations, more complex vocal interplay. Touches of pop, jazz, and hip-hop created a fresh sound. ‘What if I told you who I was/ would you be more fearful’

After a break the slam proper (or is improper the right word?) got underway once Charlie played ‘Over The Raindow’ the queer national anthem on the saw. Lines from round one: ‘tempered by hot sand’ ‘one first bite I know I am stubborn’ ‘death is just another word for resistance’ ‘my emotions fluid like my gender’ ‘a generation where we can’t express ourselves so we cat out’ ‘I like to think I am fine’ ‘this books haunts me/ it took place in my home town/ a dozen murdered women’ ‘this book is too heavy for my heart’ ‘the graveyard were the bodies were disposed of’ ‘I thought my feelings were love’ ‘I’m told to find comfort in being uncomfortable’ ‘a mirror whose only task is to tell me how lonely I am’ ‘smelling of something I can’t quite remember’ ‘hear the heart break of all of us at once’ ‘we are no more than the pain they throw to us’

After too brief a breather round two; ‘saggy baggy jeans’ ‘she took me to places others were scared to’ ‘the ears of lady justice plugged by the screams of white men’ ‘I find it hard to breathe when I think about the future’ ‘how much space does nothingness take up’ ‘the object of disconnection devalued your voice’ ‘this is just a voice’s journey’ ‘this art is not a luxury’ ‘don’t ever forget what your voice looks like’ ‘you are what I thought impossible’ ‘everyone ends up leaving anyway’ ‘their eyes said what they could not’ ‘we already labeled as little criminals’ ‘killing us while our hands are up’

If I’ve misquoted keep in mind I’m listening, making notes & getting my score ready. Many of the slammers lost points by running past the 3 minute 10 second limit, so some of the final scores were affected by those deductions. Defending 2017 winner D’Scribe won the trophy once again. 

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6


http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – 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

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

 

Lazarus Kiss Finale

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

kiss

Lazarus Kiss.63

He went to his cubical and there was the latest Mac.0Z lap top with a note – “We heard that yours got fried and there’s no way we’ll let you leave home without one.”

Next stop was Plaza Place.

“Mr. Stevens welcome home.” The concierge at Plaza Place went up in the elevator with him. “We’ve had maintenance working twenty-four hours a day to get your place cleaned up. I’m sure it will be to your satisfaction.” He followed Harris into the condo.

This time it smelt of fresh paint.

“Looks like we matched your color pretty well.”

“Not too well I hope. It was time to repaint I think.” He looked around. “It’s fine. Thanks.”

“And this arrived while you were gone.” The concierge left.

It was a large crate from Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe.. He pulled off the envelope stuck to it.

“Harris – you are my hero – hope this replaces Andy – sorry it’s still male – we’re still working out the difficulties with the female lady parts. Daria”

He wanted the old Andy.

He called Grandest Tours to confirm that his reservations were still valid. They were not. The extension was only good for twenty-four hours and there was nothing they could do a such short notice.

Fuming he called the airline. There was nothing they could do either except make sure he wasn’t charged for the flight he missed, if he sent them supporting police documentation. He bit the bullet and booked the first available flight the next afternoon. Carlos at Casa Della was most happy to shift the dates of his stay. News of his amazing rescue by the sex toy was all the talk of the island and would he consider bringing it with him. Harris promised to only if Casa Della would pay shipping costs.

*60*

He next called Alex to meet him at Mug Thuggs cafe.

“Harris, you look okay for a guy who was nearly tossed of his balcony.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He had hoped that shedding the curse would dispel the ambivalent feelings he had about Alex. “You know in a way you helped save me.”

“What?”

Harris explained about sampling his voice to use it for Andy. “You should have seen his face when you, via Andy said ‘Is that the best you can do. I can take it a lot harder than that.’”

They both laughed. Alex was handsome. There was no denying that but Harris didn’t feel any sexual attraction for him.

“I’m getting out of town, out of the country to recuperate. Aruba.”

“I …. I’ve been considerin’ what went on between us, ya know. That time when we … I … you … we made out at m’ place and I …. ”

“Spooged all over me?”

“Yeah.”

They both laughed.

“I kinda enjoyed that. Ya didn’ though.”

“I was never into it as much as you were.”

“But how can ya be sure, ya know, if we’re both under this spell.”

“Alex, I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah but I never ever thought of being with a guy. At least not outside of the ring.”

“Look we’re been through this before. The only abs I ever coveted were the Cyclops’s.” Harris said.

“Cyclops?”
“He’s a comic book character. It’s not that I dislike you or anything like that Alex, but there’s nothing between us.”
“Right. That’s what I reckon. It came t’ me the other day. I guess while ya were fightin off that guy. That curse thing of yours is what put us t’gether, right?”

“Exactly. It wasn’t as if we were consciously physically attracted to each other. The curse is broken.”

“Somethin’ has changed. I can look at you, be with you and not feel that crazy itch for you that was driving me the other times.” Alex nodded.

“Right. That sense I had of ‘I don’t want but I have to’ is gone.” Harris resisted reaching over to give Alex’s hand a sympathetic pat. “We’re free of it and each other.”

“So you’re off to Aruba?”
“Oh yeah. Can’t wait. Sun. Fresh air. All that will heal more of me than my skin.”

“Sounds like a relaxing time.”

“One of my thoughts while I was being tasered was that I hope I don’t have to cancel my trip because of this asshole.” He laughed. “But I sure missed that flight. Spent a hour on the phone before I called you to get another one. At three times the cost. It better be worth it.”

“Tomorrow?”
“Oh yeah. First flight with a seat was mid-afternoon. At least I don’t have to hustle out in the morning. Casa Della here I come.”

Harris sensed this was the movie moment for a kiss but stuck out his hand. They shook and Alex got on his bike. He watched Alex peddle off. He felt a sadness to see Alex go, to have this part of his life over. It was unresolved but Harris saw no way to resolve it. With the curse broken there was no need to resolve it.

*61*

Trevor picked him at Plaza Place the next morning.

“Ma needed her car but Nalisha was happy to let us use hers.’
Harris tossed his bag into the back seat and got in.

“Thanks Nalisha.”

“It is not often I get to help a spiritual warrior.”

“Me?”

“I know the battle you waged. When I came to your house with Trevor your mother told me you had been talking about Lazarus in your delirium. You’re familiar with the story of Lazarus?” Nalisha asked.

“Jesus raised him from dead?” Trevor answered.

“Yes. Jesus had a great love for Lazarus and pleaded with God to let Lazarus live. Lazarus could not die.  At least not in the way humans died. In his wanderings it occurred to him that if he could give his blessing away he might die. He wrote various blessings, sealed them with his blood and gave them to his children to share with people who needed to blessed, as he had needed to be blessed by Christ.

“To a poor man he give the blessing of abundance, to an ugly man he gave the blessing of love and so on. As he gave each blessing he weakened. He had written seven of these but by the time the fourth had been bestowed was dead.”

“What were the seven blessing?” Harris asked.

“No one knows. We only have records of those two in particular. The blessings have more layers than an onion. It goes through many levels of a person’s life, and of human history.

“Like Rowell, who gave the blessing to your family tree. It freed him of the blessing but as a result he had to pay a price for giving it away. His price was his life. To be fully free it was not enough to give it away. One had to give it back to …. Lazarus.”

“That’s what Rowell meant when he said ‘I have gifted the wrong man’ when he was burning at the stake.”

“You see Harris! You are a spiritual warrior. Only such a warrior could make that connection.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He laughed as he got out of the car at the airport. “Just don’t say it’s a blessing to make that sort of connection. I’ll send you a post card.”

The airport had new security checks so was glad he’d kept his luggage very light. The ticket agents were cool and efficient. No problems with his flights. No one with that gleam in their eye as they glanced at him.

He got a coffee and a toasted caraway rye bagel with a lite cream cheese and sat in the waiting area. He relaxed as he blended into a mass of strangers. None of whom would make any demands on him. No one was tailing him, protecting him. He hadn’t been by himself, alone, like this for ages. He could indulge in sweet, simple thoughts about white sand, look at a couple of time-shares. Was this was the time to make that down payment?

The flight boarded on time. The seat next to him was empty after the plane took off. The only ripple was a crying baby.

The stewardess stopped to tell each passenger that infants often reacted to the change in air pressure but once they got used it the child would quiet down.

He declined the planes headphones. He didn’t want to watch movies or keep up with the news. He wanted to start his vacation by leaving all that behind.

As soon as the plane had taken off Harris put in his ear buds, reclined his seat and drifted off to the Song of Venus on Tomita’s Bermuda Triangle. He was woken from his sleep by the stewardess.

“I’m sorry to disturb you sir. But would you mind it if one of the passengers took this empty seat. He’s stuck in the seat by the cranky child.”

“Sure.” He put his earbuds back in and was drawn quickly back into the music.

He kept his eyes closed as he made room for the passenger to get past him. The man smelled strongly of peppermint.

“Thanks.” the man said.

Harris could barely hear him though his earbuds. “No problem” he replied.

“M’ first time to Aruba.” the man spoke a little louder. The voice was familiar.

Harris opened his eyes. Alex was sitting next to him.

“Holy fuck!” he pulled his ear buds out.

“Didn’t reckon ya could get rid of me that easily? Did you?”

……………….

Yes! The end of this serialization. But it’s not the end of Lazarus Kiss. I will be doing another, more final draft before publishing the PDF & then hunting down someone to create the mobi version. The next draft will expand the Lazarus mythos itself . What are the other Lazarus Kisses? Will our heroes become Kiss Hunters to rid mankind of these ‘blessings’? Will Harris realize he misses his Kiss & want to get it back? Will he Alex ever go beyond rubbing each other the right way?

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? pre-order the PDF for $5.00 – paypal.me/TOpoet – say you want Kiss

lazcover02

http://nanowrimo.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

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

“How could anyone … ”

I watched the W5 piece on the Village murders, which told me nothing new. That some of the victims were immigrants who come here to be free to be gay while still being the closet to their wives & families was a sad irony – that they died for the opportunity is even sadder.

 


The cultural bondage of gender roles and sexual acceptability is clearly reflected in the b&d scenes the accused offered online. Of course this was not explored in the brief W5 piece which focused on ineffective police response and the lurid sensationalism of – wtf – cannibalism! Let’s take what is already a disgusting situation and make it even worse so we can paint the gay world as sick as we possibly can.

This isn’t the search for truth but exploitation. I sensed that the reporter was relishing the opportunity to say what was said. Legitimizing the opportunity to use language just for the sake of being sensational. So far, there’s been no mention of the role of impaired judgement. It is presented as if these men where somehow complicit in what happened to them by letting it happen at all. “How could anyone” shifts the blame to the victim from the predator.

In watching the W5 I was also dismayed to realize that as much time & money was spent on nice graphics & music as is probably spent on helping the victims’ families. One of the reporters said they had been closely following the case for months – fuck! This has been going for years! Media and police were alerted almost a decade ago – maybe if they had started following this case closely before it became so sensational some of these victims might be alive today.

These are the identified victims (so far) Selim Esen, 44; Andrew Kinsman, 49; Majeed Kayhan, 58; Soroush Mahmudi, 50; and Dean Lisowick, 47. I’ll repeat their names. His will probably never be forgotten so there’s no need for me to mention it.

Guilt

he told me I had too many shoes

I almost told him to drop dead

I have no sympathy for the shoeless

how did he know

that they didn’t prefer it that way

besides I’m helping the economy

he said I have too many cds

tee shirts

so many books

I am single-handedly responsible

for depleting acres of the rain forest

in my insatiable hunger for more

as mother earth stumbles

to a sobbing heap begging

no more please please

this rape and pillage has got to stop

 

so I have more shoes

than I can wear at one time

what fucking business is it of his anyway

his eyes glance around my place

going from the neat rows of shoes

neat rows of cd’s books

tidy piles of tee shirts

then to the  bed

 

we’d met at rally

to protest auto sector bail out

hit it off over free trade coffee

at a non-chain coffee shop

that gave a discount for our travel mugs

we were on the same page about issues

till I brought him back to my place

 

he started in on

my drive-in-sized TV

how TV was mind rot

how books were part of the problem

reading for solutions

rather getting out there making it happen

 

when we got to my bedroom

and he saw the shoes

and gasped

my that’s a lot of shoes

for someone who lives alone

I bit my tongue instead of his

laid back to glare at the ceiling

his head a lighthouse beam revealing

all my self-indulgent planet-wasting

depleting thoughtless humanness

 

finally he laid back

one hand gently on my stomach

and like mother earth

he let me have my way with him

because sex with guilt is always the best

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

kiss3

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Workshop: 4 pm at Glad Day with D’Scribe.

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Slam: 8 pm Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Feature D’Scribe

https://www.facebook.com/events/2000968880141003/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – 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

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

Lazarus Kiss.55

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

kiss

Lazarus Kiss.55

She was sitting up, lighting a cigarette. Her breasts brown in the sun. Cupcake size. The size Alex liked. No make up to conceal her freckled face. Brown hair tied in two small tufted pigtails.

“Could you hand me that?” she pointed to a book on the back stoop.

He brought it to her.

“Nice abs too.” She ran her hand over his stomach. “Smooth skin. A smooth bell and hairy legs. I can dig that.” she caressed his calf. “Sturdy legs. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Janet O’Connors. Mrs O’Connors is my aunt.”

The O’Connors lived on the first floor.

“I’m visiting for a week to help her now that’s she’s back from the hospital. Hip replacement.”

“I didn’t know.” he felt himself becoming aroused.

“What do we have here.” she laughed. Her hand went under his shorts and her fingers nails lightly scratched his balls. “If I only known there was such a hottie living upstairs I wouldn’t have wasted my time out here. You are Alex aren’t you?”

“ ‘At’s me.” he stepped back to disengage her hand.

“Mrs O threatened to ask you down to supper. Seems you recently broke up and she claims you’d be a great rebound catch.”

“Ya know all the ‘portant stuff.”

He hadn’t had sex since belly fucking Harris. Hadn’t even jacked off. Hadn’t wanted to.

Janet flicked her cigarette over the back fence and into the alley way.

“My aunt isn’t home. Let’s go inside. Or if you rather we can do it out here. I don’t mind.” she pushed her bikini bottom off. “If anyone doesn’t like what they see we’ll have to put on a full show. You’ve done it outside before.”

“Yeah. But … I have laundry ..” he swallowed hard. “If ya don’t keep ya eye on it … it overflows. You know.”

“Like you’re about to overflow.” she picked up a clothes peg and pinched his straining erection with it.

“Ow.” he stepped back. The clothes peg held for a second before it fell to the grass.

She picked it up and pinned his nipple with it. It hurt but not too much.

“Like that, I hope.” she grabbed more clothes pegs and used them to pinch his other nipple, then along his pectorals. Each peg had a bite as it held his puckered skin.

“Here.” she handed him a handful. “Try me.”

He pegged her hard nipples, ear lobes.

“Nice.” she whispered. “You learn fast. These wooden ones don’t have the power of plastic but they’ll do in a pinch.” she laughed. She squeezed the pegs on his nipples so they bit harder. He did the same to hers.

“Fuck yeah Alex that’s how it works.” She put one leg up on the chaise, pressed his shoulders with her hand to push him to his knees. Tongue out he leaned into to her pussy.

“No. These.” She pulled the clothes pegs off her ears. On my lips there.” She spred her vulva. It was wet and slick. “Perfect. Perfect. Now my clit, baby. Get them on my clit. Hold them there.” She shuddered, her thighs trembled as she slid back onto the chaise. She lay there silent.

Alex took the clothes pegs off his body. There were small red marks where they had been.

“Oh no. not yet. You’re next baby. But these won’t do for you will they.” She pulled her purse out from under the chaise. “Have I got a treat for you.” she took out a bag of small silver clips.

“You carry those around all the time?”

“Left overs from the Strana fetish ball the other night.”

The first clamp bit hard at his nipple and he teared up.

“Feels real good doesn’t it.” She dropped to her knees. Put clips on his scrotum. Each clip bite made him harder. “Yeah baby likes that. Crap none left. Can you take it?”

“Uh huh.” the stinging wasn’t unpleasant.

“This’ll have to do.”

She pulled one of clothes pegs off her labia lips and pinched it to the skin right under the head of his cock. “That’ll hold.” She give it an extra squeeze.

The peg was slick from her pussy. He could smell her sex. As he ejaculated she yanked on the clips on his nipples. He arched back as his come splashed her between the breasts.

“Good one.” She laughed. She dabbed the tip of her finger nail in his come and licked it. “Tastes better than sun tan lotion.” She grabbed his discarded shorts and wiped herself. “I’ll be here till Monday.”

“Then there’ll be time for ya to help m’ with the rest of m’ laundry.”

They took the clothes pegs and clips off each other.

“Turn around.” she ordered.

He did.

“I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss one. Don’t want you wandering the streets with clothes pegs sticking out, do we?”

He pulled his come smeared shorts on and went back to the laundry room to get the other load. When he brought it up she was gone.

He hung his undies and socks. The sex was good, different but not different in the same way it was with Harris. The head of his cock didn’t tingle in the same way.  He’d enjoy more play with Janet but if that didn’t happen he wouldn’t be disappointed.

Alex locked his bike in the basement of Story. He’d had one stolen so far and even though the replacement was crap he didn’t want to lose another one.

Alex changed gingerly into his Story uniform shirt. His left nipple was scabbing over from where the clamp had been yanked off. He hadn’t had a nipple injury like that since he stopped doing matches where it was routine to have mat burns on his shoulders, knees and nipples.

The trainers had taught the fighters how to quickly treat minor abrasions with an antiseptic gel that would numb the wound enough for them to continue fighting. Though no opponent had almost bit off his nipple like this. Both of them were bleeding slightly after the match with Janet.

Alex knew he was a bit of a sex pig but the kinkiest thing he’d experienced was a three way years a go with a pair of ultimate fighter groupies. That is unless he counted this thing for Harris as a kink.

He changed into his Story shirt and apron. He was glad to see that Cally wasn’t working that night. He loved his sister but couldn’t tell if she was hard to please because of who he was or because she was a sister.

“Hey bro,” Hassler called to him “We had a wild time with those babes the other night. Thanks for the hook up.”

“Any time.”

“Too bad you weren’t into them. I’ve see the gals that go for you here and they were right up your alley.”

“Yeah I get tired of doin’em in the alley.”

It was a slow night. He had time to clear tables without having to take orders at the same time.

He was checking his tips when Janet walked in.

She wore a tight black dress with a dark red lace frill around the hem and high neck. Shiny black spike heels. Her hair was pulled back, slicked down with a high sheen. Freckles gone, eyes smouldering and a touch of bronze glitter on her cheek bones. Bronze glitter on her shoulders completed the look.

A few steps behind her was a tall man. Bald. Black leather vest with nothing under it, black jeans, black boots. Around his neck was a dog collar. The leash was a length of the same red lace frill as on Janet’s dress. His arms tattooed with Celtic knots and chains.

The room hushed briefly. The jaws of the barmen dropped.

“Alex.” She smiled widely. “So happy to see you again.”

She sat at the table he had just cleared, crossed her legs daintily. “Bloody Aztec, with Cazadores.”

He went to the bar with her order. The man with her remained standing.

“Alex, you never cease to amaze me,” Hassler made the cocktail. “No wonder you weren’t so eager the other night.”

He took the drink to her table. She smelled it, took a tiny sip and turned to smile at Hassler. Alex thought Hassler was going to jump over the counter to kiss her hand.

“Bazz and I were on our way to Strana and I thought we might drop in for a drink on the way.”

Strana was an adult sex club that had opened at the start of the summer.

“I told Bazz about our clothes hanging adventure this morning. He wanted to meet you. Right Bazz.” She gave his leash a tug.

“Yes mistress.”

“I hope your clothes dried properly.”

“Yes. Can I get your … friend something?”

“No.” She finished the cocktail. “But you can get me another of these.”

Hassler had already mixed another one.

“I like the service here.” she turned again to Hassler and  toasted him. “Obedience deserves to be acknowledged.”

“We were wondering if you would care to join us.” She wiped the corner of her mouth.

“Tonight?”

“Tell him what you can do for him Bazz.”

The big guy leaned to Alex’s ear. “I will lick your asshole tender while mistress enjoys you squirming for more.”

His vest opened as he leaned to give Alex a view of a sunburst tattoo around his navel. Both his nipples had small barbell piercings with red gems on both ends.

“Why will you do that my pet?” she yanked his leash.

“Because it will bring my mistress pleasure to see me humiliated by licking a handsome man’s asshole.”

“He is so well trained.” She patted Bazz on the ass. “Does that appeal to you Alex.”

Four guys came into the room, took one look at Janet and sat quietly at a

table.

“He’ll be with you in a moment.” she turned to them. “You don’t mind waiting, do you, boys?” she uncrossed and crossed her legs.

The guys all shook their heads in agreement.

“Well Alex, is it a date?”
“No.”

“I see.” she used Bazz’s arm to stand. “Bazz will be disappointed.”

Alex wiped her table. “I don’ swing that way. I’m not obedient.”

“Tell that to the guys over there as you take their orders..”

“Whatever.” Alex folded his table rag.

“Pity.” she took her cell out of her clutch and handed it to Bazz as they walked out. “Taxi.”

“Yes mistress.”

Alex waited on the four guys.

If she had been on her own would he have refused. Bazz was a good looking guy, better put together than Harris. No, that wasn’t it. But what was it?

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – paypal.me/TOpoet – say you want Kiss

lazcover02

http://nanowrimo.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

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

I’m Not Your Girlfriend

samprules2

Started a new set of prompts – I love lists of things – this one will prove to be endlessly productive for another couple of years – 227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. This the 2nd of the 92 pācittiyas.

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 

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

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

Francy Boland – Kenny Clarke Big Band Plus

Christy Doran: Red Twist & Turned Arrow – this is an ECM release that I bought in July 1994. I never heard of it but I was willing to buy anything on the ECM label because of the quality of their releases. It was probably on sale too 🙂 The music is anxious jazz. Busy without ever being disharmonious. Restless explorations with guitars, drums, synthesizers. If you come across it grab it.

Rounding out my Ellington mp3 collections are several great albums. Francy Boland-Kenny Clarke Big Band: Open Door – back in the 80’s, a good friend had this lps & I made a cassette dupe of it. This is excellent big band work in a muscular modern (even then) mode. In fact I love it so much that on listening to it last month I downloaded another 4 lps by this big band: Live recordings, Last Train From Berlin, Off Limits, Calypso Blues . Very satisfying jazz. check them out.

Buddy Rich: Big Swing Face – I had this double lp way back in the 70’s before I moved to Toronto from Cape Breton. Similar to Boland big band, this a live set driven by Rich’s drumming. I love several of these tracks & the ambient nightclub sound gives it a very summery feel. Lee Morgan: The Sidewinder – a dynamic trumpet player who worked with Coltrane, Davis amongst others. This was another first found in the 80’s my friend’s collection & replaced with mp3.

Booker Ervin: Structurally Sound – I have several of Erivn’s lps in my collection. I first found him at Cheapies – a double set. A bop sax player with a rich sound & a propulsive exploration of great material. Influenced by Coltrane but never as ‘daring.’  More about him when I get to ‘e.’ Yusef Lateef: In A Temple Garden – anther great sax player with a ear for world music sounds. This started as a Cheapie’s lp that I was happy to upgrade to mp3. More about him when I get to ‘l.’

Finally two by Bud Shank: In Africa, Sunshine Express. Another big band leader who recorded extensively, worked with world music before it became a genre. Better than easy listening but not as compelling as Francy Boland – Kenny Clarke Big Band. All worth tracking down.

Pain After Death

‘Is there pain after death?’ Tom looked over to Frank. ‘That’s what were here to find out, isn’t it?’

‘Not entirely. But that’s a good notion to work with. I doubt if there is pain after death, with no attachment to the nerve endings, no corporal presence to to be connected to, there is nothing to feel the pain.’

‘Physical pain but what about emotional pain, spiritual pain?’

‘Spiritual pain? When have you ever felt spiritual pain?’

‘Yeah. I have. It’s a restless emptiness that can’t be filled with people, places or things. When I use them to sooth that pain, it only gets worse. The spiritual remedy is the only one that has helped.’

‘Well, we are certainly in a philosophical frame of mind this morning.’

‘Must be my Season of Change. ‘What has been started, continues in each of us, even if we don’t know it.’ ’

‘That’s from Dr. Melburton’s book?’

‘I think so. It’s what made me come with you. To find out what there was to find out here.’

‘So you believe there is a power here.’

‘Here, there and everywhere. Hiding. Always hidden.’

‘Only we don’t know what we might find.’

‘We know what we hope to find. That’s a start isn’t it.’

‘And we hope to find out if there’s pain after death?’

‘Something like that. I’ve felt something around me since we heard that chant. You have too haven’t you Frank?’

‘I suppose. Seems the air is more humid today.’

‘Rainy season is creeping up.’

‘The dead are just hiding and we are seeking them.’

‘What?’

‘Something my Dad once told me. He said they have merely passed beyond mortal sight.’

‘As if life were hide and seek … I kind of like that image. They’ve merely hidden and we may never find them.’

‘Oh, we’ll find them. The harder we seek the sooner we’ll find them.’

‘Then perhaps we’d better stop looking so hard.’ Tom laughed uneasily. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to …’

A flash of lightening was followed by a nearby clap of thunder. The drinking glasses on the bathroom sink rattled.

‘Very close.’

‘I have come to protect you.’ a voice spoke froim behind them.

They turned and the leader of the boys they had seen two nights ago, was on the balcony of their room. His body streaked with raw, red paint, daubed with splotches of darker red, white and almost glowing yellow. He was naked.

There was another ground-shaking crash of thunder. The rain started. Heavy. Thick rain that darkened the room.

The boy stepped into the room and collapsed on the bed.

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

kiss3

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

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

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

Echos Of a Yule Log

Is there Christmas music that isn’t cheesy? I do love cheesy music but even I have my limits. There’ll be no Alvin & The Chipmunks in my festive music collection. Elvis is close enough, right? Over the years my seasonal music collection has grown to include traditional to ‘modern’ classics & the wtf! All of which gets at least an annual airing.

It’s not all music though – On two cds I have a nice bunch of Dicken’s Christmas stories, thanks to LibriVox. I started with A Christmas Carol – by far my favorite & I love having this full, unabridged version. Over the years I’ve added The Chimes, The Cricket on The Hearth, The Battle of Life, The Haunted Man. Carol is the only one I can listen to every year. There’s also two radio shows: Ronald Coleman in Carol; Charles Laughton reading a Pickwick Christmas. Add Dylan Thomas Welsh memories & the cheese crown goes to Million Dollar Man’s 4 little season tales.

Scattered over several mp3 collections I have classics by the Beach Boys, Brenda Lee, Kirsten Sandwich, The Ventures, The Supremes, Stevie Wonder. Two holdovers from my youth Eddie Fisher, and my mother’s crush Mario Lanza. Jazz with Jimmy Smith, Jingle Bell Jazz, Jazz To The World. Modern classics by Phil Spector – a must have. Old school with Doris Days, Jo Stafford, Gisele McKenzie. New skool with Big Freedia, Myke Massei’s Flurries

But wait there’s more: The Surfers: Christmas From Hawaii is delightful. Rojak’s Christmas soul collection is a masterpiece. Top these off with various sets of clarions, bells & choirs, Early English Christmas. Bryan Trefel doing Welsh carols, music mix in James Brown’s great work and we’re cooking for the season. Added this year: Liberace: Christmas Music. Finally two of my favourites: Booker T’s In The Christmas Spirit; Rotary Connection’s Peace – ever wonder what Hendrix would do with Silent Night? Fa la la la.

Fog Tarantella

for too many years

I was in a tree top

shouting out for love

I didn’t care where it came from

the louder I shouted the less I heard

the higher I climbed

the further I was from it

I didn’t think of climbing down

I wanted the love that was in the air

not the common stuff of the earth

 

a snow flurry

ended a long hot autumn

of yelling myself hoarse

give me love  I want love

flakes at first a few darting specks

then a steady scrim hush

to cool my fevered tongue

letting the sky satisfy

as best it could because

the sky doesn’t love back

except with echoes

 

while the snow cloaked me

my own limbs mantled like branches

a peacock

that at a distance has stunning beauty

clumsily descended squawking

it settled by me

this close it was motley stinking

our eyes met as he opened

a breathtaking fan of tail feathers

my shouting stopped

I reached out to touch

fell into a mist

earth bound by beauty

 

through the winter fog

men danced

their arms around wisps of white

the imagined bodies of lovers

caressing the backs

touching the hair

making it as real as they could

kissing empty haze

 

would I be bold enough

to allow one of these dancing men

to dance with me

before I escaped the snow

before I climbed a tree

lost in the fog

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

kiss3

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

2018

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

June – dates t.b.a – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C.


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

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

 

Variable Cling

For the final Disability After Dark podcast for 2017 Andrew Gurza talks about his clinginess, which, for him, stems from childhood abandonment experiences. I think for many of us it comes from that dichotomy of craving intimacy while not wanting to be emotionally vulnerable. I know my early coming out sexual experiences were clouded by the sense that being held & touched was what I craved but because it was so ‘evil’ ‘unnatural’ something I didn’t deserve it. It took me a while to get over the feeling that men were doing me a favour – there were only having sex with me because they felt sorry for me not because they too wanted to have sex.

Remember too that I was growing up in a time when same sex sex was illegal. Getting caught wasn’t merely embarrassing but men were being imprisoned or institutionalized for their unnatural proclivities. One could literally get away with murder, assault, by saying the victim was queer – no proof was needed.

So for some of us clinginess comes from the desire to be accepted by another man & wanting more of that from the same man. Comfort builds trust, the greater the trust the deeper the intimacy. So the first men I had sex with I was eager for a repeat. I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. If phone #s were exchanged then maybe a second time might be possible. Those were the days when everyone had landlines, some of us didn’t have answering machines – so you could be waiting hours for the phone to ring or taking the risk of being the one to call.

These days one isn’t so trapped in one spot waiting for that call – we have our phones with us constantly & are constantly checking to see if there’s been at least a text from Wonderful.

I work on keeping a balance with the men that I am involved with – weekly texting seems to be contact enough for me & them. If it is more frequent it’s usually because they initiate or there’s a reason beside saying ‘Hi drop’em buster.’ Some opportunities have gone nowhere because I am a slow texter thanks to my flip-phone.

Variable cling as opposed to static cling – static clings at any opportunity  – variable clings only when invited. Even if I want that constant contact for reassurance I accept the amount of contact that anyone wants that keeps the lines of communication open. 

Light At the End of the Closet

some days I check my email

every hour I’m awake

in case there’s one from him

but he’s a fucking crappy communicator

and I like it

I like the frustration

I know he isn’t stringing me along

I check my voice mail too

not as frequently

he can’t leave messages

when he calls he has to use pay-phones

he has one of those sensitive jobs

can’t be out

can’t be caught out

I understand this

and I like it

I like the hidden secret

the old timey quality of his closet

of me being totally out of mine

I can slip into his

and not feel the need to force him out

he knows this

he is always apologizing

sorry about an unending work load

that lets him hide

that makes him hide

I like this hiding   sometimes

he says I’m ray of light

more like a shaft, I joke

I like this frustration

knowing I can feel it

not need to judge force refuse

be present

be in my own open life

sort of free

sort of   because

if  I see a crying child in the street or a mall

I have to back away

gay men are automatically suspect

can never be proven innocent

I back away into that closet

I don’t like that frustration

till I check my email

and there’s one from him

 

 

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

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

Lazarus Kiss.51

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

kiss

Lazarus Kiss.51

When Harris got back to work there was an envelope propped against his monitor. Inside were invites to the FACE Foundation red carpet fundraiser gala for Mirror Mind 3 that night. Tickets for himself and a friend. A full press kit that included the soundtrack cd. Along with a note from Marshall.

“Harris. Dad! – it was great to connect with you. That curse business took over from father son bonding. You can come out to BC for a visit. I can show you around the set. Hope to see you at the gala.

Hope you dug the pic Blake took. I should have warned you that he might do that but we wanted you to look natural. Makes it seem more paparazzi than posed.

Marshall.”

“Harris, didn’t know you knew movie stars.” Dusan stood at the entrance to his cubical. “He’s a good looking lad.” he grabbed the press kit and flipped through the various photos. “His Dad must be mighty chuffed.”

“I’d say he was.” Harris had to restrain himself from telling Dusan that he was Marshall’s Dad. It was weird to be talking about his son.

“I suppose you’ll go to the gala tonight.”

“If I can get out of here before 6. It starts at 7:30. I hope it isn’t formal.” He checked the tickets. “Doesn’t say black tie.”

“This one is. The Prime Minister will be there. Besides a red carpet gala is always formal.”

Shit. Harris couldn’t recall the last time he’d worn a shirt and tie let alone a suit. He didn’t have as much as a sport coat in his closet unless his black denim jacket counted as one. His Dad would have … yeah as if his Dad had anything that would fit him.

“Red carpet for the stars, not for us nobody types.” Harris brushed the shoulders of his Casper tee-shirt

“Suppose so, but you’re going to need clothes a lot sharper than distressed jeans and a Ghostbusters tee-shirt.” Dusan plucked at the tee shirt Harris was wearing.

“That is Casper, the Friendly Ghost.” Harris swivelled his chair back to his monitor. “Back to the grind.”

He texted Tavi that he was leaving early. He’d put in enough overtime to get off a few hours early.

In the mall he walked in and out of men’s stores hoping to be inspired out of tee-shirts and jeans.

“Harris?”

It was Becky.

“I waited the other night for you.”

“I said I probably couldn’t make it.” Harris shrugged his shoulder.

“If you didn’t want to see me, you could just come out and said no and not maybe. When you say maybe or probably it leads a girl on, you know.”

“Sorry. Say … I can make it up to you. What are you doing tonight? I have tickets to the Mirror Mind gala.”

“Wow. I love love love Mirror Mind. I’ve read them all, you know, and can’t wait for the next volume. The movies are okay but …”

“Help me pick an outfit to wear.” he interrupted her. “And you can tell me all about it later?”

“Really?”
“Really.” he showed her the tickets.

“Sweet. How did you get these?”

“Business perk.” He guessed she hadn’t seen the newspaper pictures. How hot would she get when she found out that the movie’s star was his … cousin. Not as hot as knowing Marshall was his son.

“I’m just on a bathroom break so I don’t have that much time.”

She took him directly to Hampton’s, which was like going into the haunted house at the CNE. Random selection of clothes were under spot lights. Becky knew her way around and quickly led him to a comfortable shirt with off side detail work along one shoulder and sleeve and black denim pants to go with it. He reassured her that he plenty of shoes at home and there would be a perfect pair to go with these pants.

Once they were done they agreed to meet at the King station and walk over to the gala from there. She insisted on getting his cell number. There was no way she was going to let him stand her up again.

He had a date!  When was the last time he’d had an actual date? Did meeting Alex for coffee the other day count as a date? Nah, it was a date forced on them by the curse. This was a real date. He could imagine the look on his folks face when he turned up with Becky on his arm. He hadn’t even taken a girl to his prom.

*45*

The gala left Harris breathless. It was flashy and glittery with no time to contemplate. He liked not having to think for a couple of hours.  Becky was thrilled to find out that Marshall Caldwell was related to Harris and then stunned to be singled out by Marshall Travers and Dayvd Norman, the two male leads of Mirror Mind, to have her picture taken with them on the red carpet.

That was all she could talk about in the taxi all the way to Harris’s condo. She kept running her hand along his thigh. Harris couldn’t recall what the movie was about.

“This has to be the best night of my life. The best. Harris why didn’t you tell me you knew Marsh C? I thought your little friend was hot enough but Marsh sizzles.”

“Little friend?”

“You know.” she snuggled closer, her hand almost touching his crotch.

They kissed in the elevator. Her hands pulled at his shirt waist while his caressed her ass. He’d been eyeing the hem of her shiny gold shift to catch a glimpse of what it barely covered.

“Where is he.” she squealed as he let her into his place.

“He?” Harris followed her in and watched with amazed pleasure as she pulled her shift off over her head.

“Your little friend. Oh there he is.” Toss her dress to the couch she scampered over to Andy in his corner behind the door. “I’ve such wild dreams about him since that first time. Wild. I couldn’t wait to get back to see if he existed or if he something I dreamed about.”

She pulled Andy out of corner. “How did you turn him on?” She ran her hands over the doll’s body. Stopping to fondle the cock. “I can’t wait to see him get hard.”

Harris was disappointed. Instead of the curse bringing in the babes now it was Andy. Something else that wasn’t the real him after all.

“Becky. I’m totally tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah yeah. You can rest while your little friend does all the starter work. I’m cool with that. Really.”

“But I’m not.” he handed her her dress.

“Not what?”

“Cool with that. Give me your address and I’ll get my little friend shipped to your place. That way you won’t have to pretend to be interested in me at all. How does that sound.”

“That sounds like an asshole. Is that all you were interested in? Did you fancy you’d impress me with your movie star friends and that I’d drop my pants for you?”

“Certainly looks like that was your plan.”

She pulled her shift back on. “You turned out to more of a loser than I thought you were. At least this made you interesting. Kinky in a safe way.”

“Whatever.” he opened the apartment door. “I’ll see you out.”

“I can make my own way out.”

She stood as far away from him as possible in the elevator texting as fast as her fingers could go. Someone was getting an earful of what had happened between them.

“Do want security to get you a cab?” He asked her they got to the main door.

“Don’t fucking bother.”

On the way back up he caught his reflection in the elevator’s one mirrored wall. Too bad she turned out to be such a bitch but she did have good taste in clothes.

*46 Tuesday*

After an eye-ball busting day at dE.tail Harris was pleased to find Trevor waiting for him as he stepped off the elevator.

“Dog. Auntie Nilasha says she needs to see you asap.”

“What?” Harris’s brain was still shaking off the catalogue work he’d been doing all afternoon. Yet another Christmas rush job, this time for Toys for Big Tots. It was a subsidiary of Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe. No sex apparatus but baby clothes for adults. Nothing explicit, but it mildly unsettled him making adult men and women have more come-hither like baby faces. Changing an twenty-four year old male or female’s dirty diaper wasn’t his idea of sex.

“I gotta car. Come on.”

Harris followed him around the block to a parking garage. The radio blared loud hip-hop.

“Did she say anything at all?” Harris munched a SportSpot Quknrg bar from a shipment of samples that had come in that morning. A meal in a bar. It was soft to bite but chewy as he got to the centre that had mild berry after taste.

“Just that we’ve been wasting time.”

Trevor, who Harris knew hated to drive, cursed as he stopped and started in the evening traffic. Harris had a second Quknrg bar, this one vaguely tomato. The wrapper flavour was Vegtastic.

Trevor pulled up to the corner of the street where Nilasha’s apartment block was.

“I’m gotta to drop you here. Gotta get Ma’s car back. She only let me drive it because Nilasha told her it was urgent. Must be important to get Ma let anyone drive her baby.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

Nilasha was waiting outside her door at the end of the hall when he got to her floor. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun that made her pinched face float on top of a thin neck.

“Come in.” They sat on the couch. “I hope I did not alarm you too much Harris but what I discovered is potential very dangerous I had to speak to you right away.”

On the coffee table were the photocopies Harris had left with her. One had notes and writing, with small diagrams on the backs of others. The writing was in squiggles he didn’t recognize.

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – paypal.me/TOpoet – say you want Kiss

lazcover02

http://nanowrimo.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

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.