Innocent, As Charged

Innocent, As Charged

who gets what

has become a matter

of value

of potential

you may be worth protecting

but not worth saving

<>

you may innocent

but that’s no guarantee

you won’t be prosecuted

your alibi may be solid

but once it is questioned

it becomes a proof of your guilt

<>

you may be guilty

but directing blame

can get you off the hook

you can cast suspicion

on the innocent

for even thinking you are guilty

while you wash blood off your hands

<>

if your value is greater

you deserve the protection

while the innocent are worthless

blameless

disposable

sacrificed

The first verse of this piece was written about five years ago when I was working my way through the Rules as prompts. But this dichotomy of who deserves protection hasn’t changed since then. The limits of that protection are consistently tested by the likes of Trump (money, not law, protects him from the law), even in Ontario there is a tug-of-war going on over education priorities & control. 

Someone said something to the effect that the exploited have no rights, only mercy – that laws are made to allow the merciful to find more devious ways of control & when the exploited realize this, as they often do, they are legislated into being grateful for any justice that might accidentally occur. It seems that those billionaires forget that without the working poor their financial empires would crumble. If there was no profit in keeping the poor poor, poverty would end. Or be made illegal – lock’em up & funnel that welfare money into the penal system.

I am grateful for what entitlement I may have as an older white cismale. I don’t have to worry about being arrested for bringing in a package delivered to my front steps while I was out. But know as I get older, with my limited financial resources me options will get smaller but I don’t lose sleep over that, nor am I obsessed with justice – one of the many things one can become so focused on futility takes over. 

These are thoughts that drift through as I talk about these old poems. One of the keys to meditation is to let thoughts drift without trying to impose order on them- denying those thoughts doesn’t allow them to drift. Focusing only on those thoughts stops blocks the ability to see beauty. Besides I’m not that complicated.

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The Sound of Awen

As I learn more about Wicca I’m a bit disappointed that there are no mentions of music. Some of the ceremonies involve chanting but it seems the actual ‘melody’ is up to you. I’m a great believer in music setting a mood, beta beats that are sonically engineered for mediation. But none of what I read indicates anything – not even the motion of a hand drum (whew). It appears solitary practice is also to be silent?

I have done some research & search into music that has been created for the various solstices & equinox. Much of which is new age mournful recorder or aimless harp, or both. As much as I may like that Celtic sound I wanted something more specific.

So I have created some playlists of my own based on music already in my collection & added some things sourced from iTunes & Bandcamp. Searching things out was fun & results improved as I refined my search terms. Be warned ‘wicca music’ leads to a lot of heavy metal bands, whereas ‘wicca meditation’ results are better 🙂 also try Druid mediations & see where that leads you.

Out of my personal collection I pulled out some obvious choices – Wendy Carlos’s Sonic Seasonings – each suite is devoted to a season – soothing. Of course, Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. Debussy offers ideal impressionistic moods. Moonlight Sonata is great for tuning into the new moon. Alan Stivell’s Ys, from 1972, is a great starter & is the template for nearly all new age music with its sound of waves & harp. A couple of pieces I’d recommend are Awen by The Mind Orchestra; Wisdom of the Druids by Spiritual Awakening. 

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Picture Perfect 69

Picture Perfect 69

Dan checked the security cameras around the house to make sure Sanjay was gone. There was still time for him to take Doctor Grey’s orders. Which resting spot would be the best. The one where he would be least likely to fall asleep. That left out every room in the house. He plopped a cushion the living room floor. Tested it for neck support. Set his cell timer for thirty-five minutes. Put the drops into his eyes. Two in each. He covered his eyes loosely with a folded towel. The floor was hard and as he lay there became harder. Next time he’d get something to buffer his hips and shoulder blades. Not too comfortable but not so hard.

This must be what a jail cell is like. Only without the expensive designer carpeting of course. But with some hairy brute, aka Sanjay, ready to push your face into the cold steel bars, tear your jail orange off and shove his … that’s not relaxing. Pleasant thoughts but not that arousing. How had Linda taken getting those photographs. He wished he could have seen her face as she realized what they were.  Suddenly his alarm went off.

As he dressed after his shower Dan put some clothes aside to take back to the east coast with him. Even with Quintex’s on camera wardrobe he found himself without enough changes for each day. Rinsing kept his socks & undies relatively fresh but he really needed something for hanging around his hotel room. Sweats. Sweats. Several more t-shirts & definitely more socks & undies. None of the hotel rooms were warm enough to dry what he had fast enough.

He heard Peter come in through the garage. He checked his cell and there wasn’t enough time for them to start something they could finish.

“You up here, somewhere.” Peter called up the stairs.

“Yep. I’m back in the closet.” Dan replied.

“Back in the designer closet by the looks of you.” Peter said. “Where were you hiding this.” He felt the fabric of the pin-striped shirt Dan had put on.

“In a garment bag.”

“A shirt of substance for a man of substance? Where are you going to dinner. This is a reservation-only, private dining room type of shirt.”

“You think?” Dan started to unbutton it.

“You’re not going to let him do that.” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Actually I was saving that for you once they left.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter pushed Dan’s hands away to redo the buttons.

The doorbell rang.

“It’s them.” Dan said.

“Put your pants on & I’ll get it. Black jeans will work best, sir.”

“Thanks.”

“They slide off you nicely.”

Dan pulled on the jeans, slipped on a pair of loafers & followed Peter down the stairs.

“Oh! Hello.” Ashley said. “We were expected.”

“Hello Peter.” Jeremy ushered her in.

“Ashely.” Dan kissed her. “Father.” he shook hands with Jeremy.

“This is Peter Eastgate. He’s my house sitter.”

“You work at Carafe?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes.”

“Knew I’d seen you somewhere before.”

“Yes … well … I just got in from pouring my last latte. I’ll change & be right down, sir.” He ran up the stairs.

“He’ll be joining us?” Ashley said.


“What was I supposed to do. Give him twenty bucks and send him to the movies?”

“Fifty would be more like it.” Ashely said.

“Nice house.” Jeremy said.

“When I started the structural updates at the Depot I had the same architects do some work here.”

“Taylor Tech?” Jeremy asked.

“You can tell?”

“Not really,” he laughed. “But I know who did the Depot.”

He walked in to the kitchen. “Now this is impressive. Clearly a chef’s domain.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“Sanjay did have some in put. He developed his special desserts here.” He fucked me there and there too.

“When are we going to eat what?” Ashley said.

Dan nudged Jeremy away from the sink. “I’ll make coffee which you decide.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Jeremy asked.

“No chicken.” she said. “You have flyers?”

“Somewhere. Ask Peter. He’s been looking after the mail all week. Or check the recycle bin. In the garage through there.”

“It’s dark.” she said. “Goody.”

“Clever ruse to get her out of the way for a few minutes.” Jeremy stood closer to Dan. “I hope we weren’t too forward inviting ourselves over here like this.”

“Forward is your style.”

“Not always.”

“You did say you had something to discuss.”

“Yes I do, but it can wait until we’ve eaten. Nice shirt by the way. Luigi Borrelli? We’d better not order anything that might splash it. Some fabrics were meant to be looked at, not worn.”

“Look!” daughter returned with a dozen flyers. “We never get this many at our place. Do we Daddy?”

“If we do, Mitchell gets rid of them before you can see them and tell him what to cook.”

“Have we decided yet?” Peter came into the kitchen. “Gerald’s is good.” He took flyer from the top of the fridge. “After all pizza is the classic family Saturday night meal.”

“Let’s me see.” Ashley gabbed the take out menu from Peter. “Lobster and shrimp!” she read off various combinations. “Pineapple, ham and avocado! Don’t they do ordinary pizzas with pepperoni? Oh they do. We’ll get that one.”

“Lets see.” Jeremy took the menu. “The classic. Any toppings either of you would like to add or avoid?” He tapped into his cell phone. “Don’t you love apps?” He looked at the cell for a few minutes. “They’ll be here in …”

“Forty minutes or it’s free.” Ashley said. “What’ll we until it comes?”

She ran into the living room and turned on the TV.

“Why don’t you give Jeremy a tour of the house.” Peter said. “I’ll set the table and put some cokes on ice.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Jeremy said. “Lead the way.”

“This is my retreat from my retreat.” Dan turned the lights on in his study. “The house is a retreat and here I can hide from the house.”

“Stuffy.” Jeremy pretended to wipe dust off the desk.

“Haven’t been in here much the last few weeks.”

“How can you work in a room with no windows? The Depot is all glass front.”

“A man answers his own question.” Dan said.

“Let me ask you one.” Jeremy sat in the armchair. “Your sister has approached me with an investment opportunity. In the FairVista location.”

“Makes some sense.”

“I’m fully aware she’s trading on your friendship with me or she wouldn’t have the … nerve to ask me. Actually she isn’t asking me she’s asking my Corporation.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the difference between person and business.”

“My question is would it matter to you what I did?”

“Matter?”

“Would you be … pissed off, for want of a better word, if I said yes or no.”

“I don’t think so. Linda will make a go of things regardless. She’s always been driven to succeed. Over-driven in fact.”

“I can tell.”

“Is that the question? Nothing about the business?”

“This is a social call not a financial consultation.” Jeremy stood and slowly smoothed out his pants.

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Deprivation

Week Four of the Artist’s Way presented a few challenges. In particular reading deprivation on top of social isolation & distancing. Is editing chapters of Picture Perfect for the blog reading? What about daily meditation books? So I did a bit of a compromise – blog work isn’t reading. Editing isn’t reading. No reading in the bathroom, no reading in transit, no podcasts. No twitter or ‘tooling’ around until evening. I finished chapters in the books I was reading & stopped there. 

Some of these were time frittering at best. I have more time as a result. Some of these may become new habits. Eliminating the superfluous is freeing. When I stopped carting my iPod everywhere I felt less encumbered, one less worry. A much as I liked creating playlists etc not to have t keep refilling it is freeing. I only use it for guided mediations & podcasts. Walking without it has been a small adjustment but I feel more open to what is round me without a constant soundtrack in my head colouring everything. Plus it gives me an extra coat pocket 🙂

The chapter give lists of things to do as an alternative to reading – many of these things are showing up as suggestions for folks frustrated by social isolation. My days go by quickly enough with my routines without resorting to new activities. One of the blessings of being an introvert. I enjoy my own company. 

Thanks to social distancing artist dates have become more a spin than an actual event. I did three mornings of yard work (without iPod soundtrack). Those were 3 artist dates. I shared some selfies with my fans. Being where things grow was good in the face of the mounting covid toll. Things grow regardless of much of what is going on around me. Nature can recover quickly given the chance. The better air quality means better sun which means better plants. 

Boss of Me

John’s theory is that

our leaders are all puppets 

figure heads

who have bought 

into the illusion of power

they are unaware

that they are hollow images

taking the heat 

for the real powers

that hidden consortium 

of non-public figures

who make the real decisions

who exert the right squeeze

and our little leaders 

slump or pop up

to do what has to be done

take the blame for what has gone wrong

because leaders are just frail men

with no power to wield

no clout to get the job done 

often not even attractive to look at

thus even more believable

 

John tells me that politics 

are another form of entrainment

media fodder

to keep us diverted

from the real holders of power

so that we are amused  numbed

by the constant barrage of sound bites

cell cam videos

of presidents getting blow jobs

when they should be getting us out of wars

wherever the hell they are

because even where they are

isn’t the the real war 

it is a more elaborate movie set

with real lives being lost

to keep our attention from

what is really going on

 

John isn’t sure what is really going on

he is confident it isn’t what we see

it isn’t what accept as the truth

because there is no truth 

only monetized divertion statics

the struggle for freedom

from Tibet to Kensington market 

is upscale name branding

he is sure of that

 

sometimes I believe John

sometimes I don’t care

where do we place our faith

what is worth the energy to change

if it can be changed 

because revolution

has been copyrighted by 

estee lauder

the latest scent 

a mix of blood oil jasmine

with woody undertone

 

John is convinced 

that if it isn’t making someone money 

it isn’t going to happen

war happens because it is big business

pandemics are even bigger business

even as the population dwindles

going green isn’t happening 

because the profit margins 

are too low

some people can’t afford 

to save the planet

& that he finds is sad

I don’t disagree

when I do it starts another litany

of who runs what

who really holds the power

or if there is any power

stronger than futility

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