Thursday, April 2, 2020

Sunday, March 22, 2020


I am a self employed painter and I work by myself often.  My contact with people has severely diminished over the last few weeks, during this virus sequester.  One result for me has been that when I am presented with the opportunity to have a conversation with someone I am aware of the power of my words.  Every time I talk to an individual pair of eyes, I see, within that moment, how, what I say has an immediate effect on their emotional state.  

Not that I didn’t know it before this particular set of circumstances.  The last 5 years or so has involved several breakups, heartbreaks and breakdowns for me.  I ushered in many changes in my life and  many people were hurt, including me.  I do not regret the path that I traveled.  It was necessary, and so many good things have evolved along the way.  

However, on so many occasions I so wish I had paused within my emotional reactions long enough to use different words and different tones.  The road to hell truly is paved with good intentions, because intention is meaningless if your tongue is forked and dripping with poison.  Memories of the harsh things I have said, as well as harsh things others have said to me, haunt me regularly in the ghostly haze of gossamer morning curtains.  

It is hard not to let the burns of life turn the taste of your own tongue bitter.  I struggle with it often and I am still learning.  I have a temper.  I am overly sensitive.   I reflect on the mismanagement of my words and reactions on a regular basis.  I realize this sounds very self critical.  It is.  I am reminded of the hypocrisy of being human on a daily basis.  I am also aware that relationships are a two way street and that I am not responsible for the other half’s reactions and emotions.  

But the last few weeks of taking stock of what is truly important and how scarce and precious the time we have with each other really is, I am reminded of this very important question yet again.  I have been asking myself this question for, shit, my whole life really, but the universe has saturated the last several years with it.  

How do we take the time before we speak to think about the effects of what we are about to say?  How do we pause, and feel our words with our hearts, before they pass through clenched teeth, so we may know how they might feel to the impending receiver?  It’s not the witty, funny or entertaining thing to do.  It might not get you invited to the party, elected or proposed to.  But it might alleviate the ache of rewriting your conversations, retrospectively in your mind for years, or the incessant need to apologize or ask for forgiveness, or the lingering regret of soft things that were not said because our mouth was too full of rocks.  Those rocks become unbearably heavy if the people you love are no longer there to help you spit them out.

So spit them out.  Take stock of your rocks.  Count your blessings...and at the very least, take a moment.  

Thursday, March 5, 2020

Half Moon

Went for a walk tonight 
saw a half moon 
Three half ass shadows cast upon the street 
Electric lamp lights 
beating you out

You aren’t the 
edgy, silver, slivered seduction
of the new
that winks and teases
so at least I want more

Only the lukewarm 
indecision of halfway 
Unwilling to unveil
your coming or going 

Always lovely 
after all
you are the moon
But what kind of witch
do you think I am?

The greedy kind
I want all of you
Harvest, blood, or blue
making wolves howl
with a devils halo

Stripped of all your dark side robes
Bare ass naked 
and full
If only once a month 
Just for me

Tuesday, March 3, 2020

Two skins

I have two skins
One that you can see
and one that I can feel
One that shows
when you are here
and one that stays when you are gone
One that gobbles your sunshine 
and one that changes colors
no reason or rhyme 
When I’m alone I feel it 
snake across my surface
one scale at a time
as if it’s always been
and it has

This black wet suit
soaked in the juice 
of rotting fruits
that no washing
can completely wring out
Holds old thoughts 
sealed in
Squeezes new thoughts 
sealed out
The outside 
burns and peels
grows back again 
Resilient and brilliant 
Protecting and keeping 
the inside in

No shaman
No saint
No demon 
No fairy
No shrink
No phoenix 
No potion
No emotion 
No logic
No moxy 
No reading 
or bleeding
can cure 
this chronic rendition 
of slow motion 
Hotel California 
This fun girls
version of 
Time After Time
It’s a never ending record 
of Bye Bye Miss American Pie
that plays in my head
just for me

No smudging
No incense 
No chanting 
No meditation 
No prayer
No masturbation
No exorcism 
No incantation
No cynicism   
No interpretation 
No Palo santo
smoke and mirrors 
can chase the ghost
for the ghost is me

Matured eyes
give me double vision
Insights of my insides
that are not welcome 
but always at home
Two skins
One that holds all the wrinkles 
and one that holds all the sins
Demanding my attention 
when all the spectators are gone
Maybe some day 
I will learn how to skin myself 
from within 
then hang the hide out to dry
so the sunshine 
can finally 
get in

Thursday, February 27, 2020


I have never really had the best relationship with anger.   
Like many people,  throughout the years, I have seen a plethora of examples of how to express anger in a unproductive, passive aggressive, destructive and violent way, or not at all, which is equally all of the former.  Come to think of it, there aren’t very many people, if any, that I know of, who know how to express anger in an articulate, passionate, direct and respectful way. 

Also, like many people, I have a long list of things I think I have a right to be angry about.  Regardless of whether I am right or wrong, the result is that I carry around a seemingly bottomless well of rage.  I carry it around, like a Molotov cocktail, sloshing around my insides with every step.  Gives a Fitbit a whole new meaning.

At this point in my journey, my refusal to remain numb and my desire to be alive is maintained by a receptive state of awareness.  This awareness is continually re-enstated by my choice to allow the repeated surfacing of emotions that I have denied myself access to for decades.  That sounds exhausting.  It fucking is.  

Therefore, anger flares faster and hotter inside me now than I have ever experienced.  It takes me by surprise and floods my brain and body with chemicals before I even know what is happening.  I thrash and drown in the water of that rage well, before I even know I am falling.  Extremely frustrating, because for the majority of my life this was never me.  I didn’t get angry.  Ever.  No exaggeration.  Rarely did I cry or feel joy either.  

So now I don’t feel like myself anymore.  I don’t know who this is.  I don’t like my behavior, probably because I don’t have control over it.  I know its healthier to feel the anger, however its not the best emotion to feel out of control about, and in this case, I can’t seem to get behind the whole  practice makes perfect mantra. 

I have also reached a place in my mind where this lack of control is paired with an acceptance of the fact that there may be this long ass list of things I am angry about...but there is also nothing else I can do about any of them, anymore.  Im tired.  Im done.  Im done trying to fix shit.  I cannot fix anything or anyone.  Nor should I.  They don’t need to be fixed.  Im done trying to fix myself.  I don’t read self help books anymore.  I don’t see a therapist to put the puzzle together anymore.  I’m done dissecting myself to see what is wrong with me.  There is nothing wrong with me and I don’t need to be fixed.

However, all that being said, the remaining persistence still seems to be anger.  Being angry, no matter how necessary, is generally unpleasant.  Particularly in excess.  For no logical, external reason.  In moments of desperation I search for any evidence of an idea I have read from several sources: that our greatest weakness is also our greatest asset.  

Anger - a white, hot, instant surge of energy rendering me thoughtless.  Read that again.  Admittedly, thoughtless, can be a dangerous state of mind.  Capable of producing harsh and cruel.  However, those would be particular choices and actions following thoughtlessness.  Thoughtless, from another perspective, can also be an extremely creative state of mind.  Thoughtless is literally the goal of meditation.  

Anger - a drag race, unzipping of my skin, revealing my dragons of defensiveness and exposing my deepest sensitivity.  Read that again.  It exposes my deepest sensitivity, unknown to even myself.  It leaves me  unrecognizable, presenting an opportunity to create myself anew.   The destructive force of anger can also hold the fuel for my highest creativity.  

Like it or not, this hot head supernova, comes from my source, comes from source, IS source.  I just wish the evolution of my changing perspectives would make the light of source not quite as blinding in the moments of explosion.


A transient astronomical event
A sudden appearance 
of a bright “new" star
that slowly fades 
over several weeks 
or many months. 

Nova was almost here

Made from two families 

A mix of brown and white 

Straight and curly 

Her skin was surely cocoa butter 

Her eyes were surely bright

Nova was almost here

The light of her presence 

melted a family together 

for 9 full moons

before she had to go back home