Isolationism

Fear of immigration
and nativist policies
(ever at the expense of the native)
drive the world towards war again.
There is suffering,
there is suffering,
there is suffering;
and no one wants to help,
we all want to help ourselves.
The land cries out,
"What did I,
to make you forsake me so?"
But those who listen
are unheard.
Though the sky roars
with wind and storm,
the words of the heavens
fall on sealed ears
and stone hearts.
Though the earth was like
unto our mother,
nurturing our peoples
from our inception,
we have violated that tie;
we did not merely cut apron strings, the umbilical,
we bound and gagged her with them,
we are slowly strangling her to death.
And what of peace?
What of kindness?
And what of our humanity?
When did we decide to become animals again?
When did we forsake ourselves
and each other?
What fault do we find in
our better nature,
that we have strayed so far
from what is humane?
Mourn, O stars,
for the degradation
from sentient beings
to mere pleasure-seekers,
lotus-eaters;
man has become like unto a bacterium
traveling along a sugar gradient
automatically from birth to death,
towards the greater immediate reward.
How can you say
"We are not defiled;
we have not run after Baals"
when you wear hypocrisy like a crown,
and meanness lines your eyes?
Petty, foul creatures,
all the worlds can see through
your paltry pretenses at probity
to the tiny, dying, drying hearts
gasping with self-absorption;
for the waters of life long retreated
from such listless, stagnant estuaries.
How skilled you are at pursuing yourself
to the exclusion of all else!
And that exclusion,
that separation,
that cannibalism of the soul
will be our downfall,
my fellow abandoned, anguished, despairing beings -
our lack of couth, our philistinism,
our coarse vulgarity and provincialism,
our sectarian insularity and parochial
homespun bigotry, boorishness, baseness -
this will only lead to our downfall,
decadence, the rot from within
because we cut ourselves off
from all that nourishes
and beat each other to death
with the still-bloody bones of our ancestors.

Pandemos

Woe are the abandoned, the betrayed, the friendless,
And woe are those who abandon, betray, and hate,
For hate only leads to more of the same, more pain,
More suffering for all, no love, only despair.

In solitude one may avoid this abjectness,
At the expense of the loss of joy from one's fate,
We may have total control over our domain,
But when alone there is nobody there to care.

On the contrary, love is endless:
The more you give, the more you create,
Love those in need, it is not in vain -
for you, too, need love; it's only fair.

Regular price again...for now

The Kindle Countdown is over now, but you can still get Poetry, Songs, and Enchantments for only $2.99 whenever you like! I won't post about it again until I can offer another deal of some sort. Thanks to my readers (and bots) for your patience.

Thank you again to my buyer! I hope you enjoy the book!

Unsympathetic

One person has received good news and expects all others to pretend happiness for their fortune.

Fat birds spring with joy:
"We are fed!" - but those who starve
have fragile, thin songs.

Countdown ends soon!

Thank you, readers, for your patience while I run my Amazon promotion. The countdown ends in 9 hours, so today is your last chance to purchase Poetry, Songs, and Enchantments: A Pagan Sourcebook at a discount! Tell your friends! Or strangers! Or don't!

Lament for Lilitu

The heat of the sun does not warm my chill sorrow:
You have abandoned me, alone to ill sorrow.

Belovéd woman, goddess of light in the night,
I pray for your aid to conquer this hill, sorrow.

My mind swells with madness now that you are away,
Nothing shall be left behind by the mill, sorrow.

I seek you only, I wish to immerse myself,
But of your waters there is not a gill - sorrow!

I would dance to your music and sway with delight,
Yet the only sounds I hear are of shrill sorrow.

Queen of the crossroads, bright bearer of the lantern,
Guide me to you that I may again still sorrow.

It is only when I am in your arms, white ghost,
That I truly feel anyone can kill sorrow.

Thank you, first buyer!

I don't know who you are, but thank you to my first buyer! I am very excited that someone has purchased my book on Amazon!

I've been convincing myself that no one would ever be interested in buying a book of my poetry, and here you go proving me wrong - thank you so much!

I'm pleased to report that this single purchase has dramatically changed my stats in the Amazon store, too: I was well below #500 in my three categories, and now I'm at #19, #73, and #122 (oops, those have already fallen) above #200 in each!

Well, okay, maybe I shouldn't be so excited. But this is only my first purchase ever.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Like a Fairy Tale

Love and friendship are like a fairy tale:
Everything is better when you start,
But lasts only until they break your heart;
O! help me believe in love that won't fail.

Once was a maiden run away from home
Who fell in love with a thief in the night;
But then the man revealed he was a gnome,
Pretended dismay when she took a fright;
And then, when she would have tried to take flight,
He tried to hold her down with chain and nail.

Love and friendship are like a fairy tale:
Everything is better when you start,
But lasts only until they break your heart;
O! help me believe in love that won't fail.

Tell me not of your friendships that are true,
For she had some friends as well, it is said;
But these for the most would not even help you
If you were dying; wait till you were dead
When they would say it was all on your head
That you could not break free, that you were frail.

Love and friendship are like a fairy tale:
Everything is better when you start,
But lasts only until they break your heart;
O! help me believe in love that won't fail.

None run away when happy or in love
Nor cease needing all those considered friends;
Nonetheless I seek out what is above,
The caring which can heal where my heart rends,
The consideration that within mends,
The love and friendship from beyond the pale.

Love and friendship are like a fairy tale:
Everything is better when you start,
But lasts only until they break your heart;
O! help me believe in love that won't fail.

Countdown Change

The Amazon Countdown has three days left until the return of the full price. It is no longer 99 cents, but you can still save a dollar - only 1.99 for now!

Anti-colonial

Whites claim Madoc came across the ocean -
O, shame! Might he not doss
with native maid, not be boss?
The false claim - a greater loss.

Social Larceny

Cultural appropriation
cannot be appreciation:
imitation is flattery,
perhaps, but theft flatters no one.

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After this the price will begin rising again, so don't miss out!

Inundation

I wake, sleepy
to lightning shrill;
the room is dim
and I am still.

Summer brings storms
sweeping unceased
the countryside
from west to east.

Soon it will bring
unwelcome guest:
the hurricane
from east to west.

I turn over
as the rain teems,
lulled back into
my fretful dreams.

Sunlight

Sharp golden daggers:
the hot sun stabs flesh and eyes.
The Buddha teaches
that the body is prison,
life lies in the vale of tears -
but beauty can give me doubts.

Storm Passing

Thunder rumbles across town

Before rain falls down;

And the lightning flashes bright.

Purple and blue are her gown,

Grey and gold her crown,

As she moves through the dark night.

But you need not a sad frown,

We will not yet drown;

The passing storm reveals light.

Countdown is live!

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Kindle Countdown Starts Today!

I stayed up late to make some edits to the book!

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Kindle Countdown Deal...

...starts tomorrow!

Banal

No one cares that stray cats are thin.

Politics

The gun lobby does not care about your rights,
but only having the biggest guns in fights.

Emotion

Three days to cool the fires of anger;
Three days to weep out sorrow and grieving;
Three days for 'friend' to become a stranger.

Despondency

Why is it so difficult
To retain motivation
When silence comes after a
hopeful interview?

Communication

Now
wanted:
someone who can listen
to the words I speak and not those
unsaid.

Desertification

No one there to give you a name with care;
But no one outside either to care not -
There is something cleansing about this air:
I want to desiccate rather than rot,
I wish I could lay under the sun, bare,
to brown and harden, but soft is my lot.

Sevenling (Building Walls Again)

You ignore me when I say I need you,
when I am in pain, aching, in sorrow,
when I am alone and afraid and small.

Yet you want me to attend to you now,
because you are bored, sighing, just for fun,
seek me as a source of entertainment?

I fear I have deleted your number.

Antiestablishmentarianism

This world that everybody wants to rule
Seems so far away from everything good
Because everyone wants to be so cruel
And to claim more than they really can or should;
When generosity shows one is a fool,
When care and kindness are criminal and hood,
Then let me a wicked child be, feral, bad:
If this is sanity, God, let me be mad.

Semiautobiographical

Every generation is much

similar, trying, striving not

to be the same, mother's twin,

never to be like her,

to correct the wrongs

each mother has

repeated

before

her.

Kindle Countdown Deal

Ten days until the Kindle countdown deal on my first book of poetry, Poetry, Songs & Enchantments.
The countdown deal offers a time-sensitive discount for the book - and mine starts on June 21st! If you don't feel like shelling out 2.99 for the book now, look forward to this promotion!
In the meantime, Poetry, Songs & Enchantments is still available on Kindle Unlimited, and you can read the whole first chapter for free in the preview, just to get a taste!

Psalm: Personification of Supraphysiological (the)

She
sprang forth from the head of
her
father, king of the gods on high.

Athena,
Minerva,
Lady of craft and cunning and skill,
pale shadow born of the heavens,
she guides us in battle and war
but also in peace at home:
Weaver Goddess,
spider, serpent, raven, wolf, and owl,
spun on her threads we tell our tales,
fables, myths, legends, stories, and lies.
Hero Maiden,
giver of purpose and meaning,
bears victory
towards our comrades; the faithful
love her.

She knows the paths
through forests and stars
for she sees the ties that bind all,
whether ley lines or fate;
charioteer holding the reins;
healer with
bandages and
threads to stitch
together our war-wounds;
she is the keeper
of all mysteries and
beholder
of all secret crafts of the wise.
Pure,
whole,
holy queen of the heavens,
greater than her god-father
as he was to his father
before.

Medusa -

no one understands her supposed
curse;
but she is impervious
now and forever to rapists all -
praise her, Athena Parthenos.

Insomnia

Incapacity
(drip drip drip drip)
to sleep, perchance to
not tossandturn
(a cat runs down the hall and back again)
The most pleasant nightmare
I have ever had of you:
a day of mild bickering
before the explosions
before the tears
(my eyes are so dry
they weep and water
but I am not crying
no)
I flip over,
my leg aches,
I flip over again;
cold sweat trickles
(drip drip drip drip)
between my shoulders
between my hips
and it is entirely too hot
to use the blanket
and the sheet
weighs me down
lest I float away
propelling myself upwards
with each toss
with each turn
(the phone is on silent
because no one calls)
A cat lands on the bed,
nestles on me
and purrs
so I drift sleepward again
until the lack of warmth
announces her departure
and I flip over
to heat the cool
(a child is crying downstairs
why does no one listen to the little child)
but my leg aches
and I flip back,
itchy with dried sweat
or sheets compacted into wrinkles
I turn again, pull them straight
kick out the feet,
heels hardscrabble against daylight
peering through the window
(a cat toys with the curtain,
the blinds flashing sun at me)
(drip drip drip drip)
If I sleep all day
If I am awake all night
and I sleep all day
how long until I
flip back
adjust again
Too cool without the blanket;
the sheet barely exists,
a plastic layer of air
Too hot with the blanket;
the sheet is a stone, shale;
my pillows are made of broken glass
and my bed is made of thorns and gravel
(I have to pee)
(don't, just ignore it)
(no, get up, come back)
(drip drip drip drip)
Perhaps
if I could repair
the faucet
I might be able
to sleep
one day

Fib: Fib

I'm
fine,
okay?
Just leave me
alone like always,
the way you usually do;
abandoned to my own devices again, I fail.
Worry not, I assure you, I will not injure myself - no self harm this time, promise.

Why Fear

WHY

FEAR

BLANK

PAGES

fuck them       yeah

fuck them

Song under Door

Write a poem
Write a song
Song of hope
Song of peace
Peace of heart
Peace of mind
Mind your manners
Mind your charges
Charges onward
Charges out
Out of time
Out of patience
Patience is a virtue
Patience is a mark
Mark my words
Mark the time
Time enough for love
Time enough for you
You mean the world
You mean nothing
Nothing is good
Nothing is pain
Pain is fleeting
Pain is permanent
Permanent problem
Permanent solution
Solution for ills
Solution for chills
Chills to the bone
Chills while alone
Alone at home
Alone and prone
Prone on the floor
Prone to lie
Lie athwart
Lie abed
Abed and sick
Abed asleep
Asleep and dreaming
Asleep and turning
Turning off
Turning on
On the horse again
On to the next
Next to you
Next door
Door ajar
Door to the stars
Stars
Ajar




[Thus I begin a new set of poetry experiments. I have not yet organized a new set of themes, but I will strive to work within a wide variety of forms over the next x months]

Creation

I had a childhood image of artists:
these creators knew exactly what they
were making, drawing, painting, sculpting; and
if they were any good, they could match up
the precise structure, texture, color, form
which they held clearly in their genius minds.

Maybe that is how true masters work, but
in my experience over the years
I have yet to encounter this kind of
true master or real genius of any art;
instead we all are journey-level here
or lower, apprentices in training.

Thus have the years wrought change upon us all:
all feel the impetus to creation,
but only those who devote themselves to
improving their skills, strengthening talents,
sharpening their eyes, may produce works which
finally stand up to their high standards.

Image

An image flashes by, much like a bird,
swift on its wings, rising and fluttering,
the moth drawn to the flame, the butterfly
dancing freely across the sky, alive
and joyful - but still an image only.
It is a shadow, a ghost, a phantom -
similar, yes, in outline, in broad strokes,
but wholly incomplete in fine details,
where the devil lies (for he cannot true),
where the substance substantiates the  rest.
This is all anyone ever has, just
a wisp of our essence, spread thin over
some loose framework, greyed out in the middle,
filled by memory, imagination,
and the lies they like to tell themselves.

Change

Everything changes so rapidly:
we are wandering far afield from home,
we feel lost and alone, in no small pain,
we are afraid of what will happen next.
We go through the changes at first with heart:
eager to seek out new ways of living,
new places, new fashions, entertainments,
because what is new is at first quite sweet.
Then, suddenly, it pales, becomes cloying:
we start to long for the comforts of home,
wish for the presence of friends, family,
someone familiar so to rest our eyes.
In such a state we are vulnerable,
we are capable of receiving wounds;
because we do not know how best to cope
with the unknown nor the unexpected.
When you are a stranger in a strange land
or feral, alone, in the wasteland wild,
remember always that this, too, shall pass
for change carries away both good and ill.

Nothing

What happens if
you reach the end
of the tunnel and
the light is on,
but nobody's home?

Moment

low tide in the waves
  of traffic in the
large artery which
  courses past
    my neighborhood -
a sudden stillness
  of sound,
    even the children
and bickering neighbors
    are quiet
    during the pause

Yourself

Know yourself
Express yourself
Love yourself
Heal yourself
Please yourself
Free yourself
Lose yourself
Be yourself
Choose yourself
Drive yourself
Teach yourself
Breach yourself
Help yourself
Serve yourself
Muss yourself
Trust yourself

Is

(with apologies to Parmenides)

To not be
Or to be
Being is
and cannot be not
But nothing
Cannot be
What is not
IS not
And being
IS.

Endless Lives

Death liberates the living
Allows us to go on becoming
Permits one to continue changing
Destruction being necessary for creating
Dreaming for doing
Desiring for loving
Despairing for caring
Delirium for delighting
And Destiny for choosing
Death must be for living

Interrupting poem: Divisions

Winter of my discontent
Springtime of my life
Summer of my dreams
Autumn of my madness

Midnight of my soul
Dawn of my awareness
Noon of my receptivity
Eve of my confusion

Resurrection of my desires
Birth of my confidence
Life of my wildness
Death of my pity

Conception of my needs
Youth of my creativity
Maturation of my feeling
Senescence of my origin

Structure

Frame, scaffold, support; I feel amorphous,
a shapeless blob, uncontained and spreading
across surfaces like water or oil,
or melting freely in the heat, ice cream.

You pin me down like a live specimen,
preserve me with ether or with camphor,
a drop on the head, chloroform inhaled,
I stop moving; my structure is clearer.

What is this shape here? What is this color?
Can you see the breathing apparatus?
Make out the form and function for each part?
Is there a purpose hidden deep within?

I refuse to resolve things as you like;
I remain intermittent, even so,
I flicker in, out of reality;
I exist only to continue on.

Impetus

Through no fault singularly my own, I
am propelled forward through time and space; and
I do not know what to do with myself,
yet I do not have time to figure it
all out. I must press on, I must keep on
going, keep on trucking, no time for me
to sit around worrying or to try
and make sense of last night's dreams, nor for you
to complain or tie me down again; no
time for games, no time for whining, no time
for anything you might have left to throw
at me. I must be moving on, I must,
I must, I must, I ... I don't know what
I am supposed to be doing or where
I am supposed to be going or who
I am supposed to be, but I must be.

Becoming

I become myself slowly, seed sprouting a tendril of green towards the surface where light and warmth aid more growth; I unfurl leaves and stretch them out beneath the sun. I blossom; I bud; I flower. I am radiant beneath the sky, gleaming and glowing and glistening and glorious; I am a madcap marigold, a dancing daisy, a regal rose, I am the delightful dandelion, the shy snowdrop, the bountiful buttercup; I am a flower, I am a flower, I am a flower; ; ;
I become myself slowly, seed shearing off into similarity towards the repetition of self where water and particles aid more growth; I unfurl crystalline structures and stretch them out beneath the earth. I nucleate; I divide; I coalesce. I am scintillating beneath the light, flashing and flaring and flirting and flaunting; I am a quintessential quartz, a dazzling diamond, a resplendent ruby, I am the elegant emerald, the amazing amethyst, the stunning sapphire; I am a jewel, I am a jewel, I am a jewel; ;
I become myself slowly, seed starting forth into the wild towards the unknown where space and energy aid more growth; I unfurl rays of light and stretch them out beneath the galaxy. I burn; I fire; I shine. I am refulgent within the cosmos, blinding and blessing and blowing and blanching; I am a natal nebula, a daring dwarf, a grand giant, I am the pretty pulsar, the succulent singularity, the notable neutron; I am a star, I am a star, I am a star;