unfinished

There was a time
Long, long ago,
When I wanted to go
Into that sublime

Wherever is that place
Whether the inner
Or outer space
For saint or sinner

Deep into the wood
As far as I could
No one to see
What I did me

For Noel (1971-2020)

Sweet Child of Light,
Why did the Darkness
Hit so hard?
Why did deserved Happiness
So often elude you?
My heart goes out to you
Poet, warrior, thinker,
You forged ahead,
Got back up so often.
But now the Long Night
Has taken you from us,
And you will be sorely
Missed.

“A CAT AND HER OLD HUMAN” ('19)

She waited on the stoop
For someone to let her in.
Her human had moved her
Away
But she was having none of
That
This was her home
So she returned.
When she got in
She went right to the
Door
Of the one she’d
Chosen
(She’d seen him go in
So she knew he was there)
She called out to him
He opened the door
She politely, even sweetly,
Waited for him to invite her
In
Which he did.
And so he was hers
She showed him where
To put her box
And patiently waited
For him to get the right
Ingredients
Same for food
After he’d tried to give her
His kind
He learned quickly
Tho’ he had to rearrange
A thing or two.
He seemed surprised
When she climbed under the covers
But got used to it
And grew to love the cuddles
She sealed their bond
When he got deathly sick
Shortly thereafter
And she nursed him back
To health.
Too, he would get crazy
Over silly things
She’d grab his leg
And tell him to pet her
Which made him feel better
She’d go out at times
And have to call him
To let her back in
He did things
Which annoyed her
Such as have other
Furballs
Live with them
She was fine with other
Humans
Especially the one who came
When her human left for a
Time
For, of course,
The old man came back.
She did not like being
Moved
Out of her home
But her old human
Kept her from
Leaving
She knew he needed
Her
So got used to the moves
And the other humans
Who stayed from time to
Time
And corralled the other
Furballs
When they were there
‘Cause she was an Alpha.
(to be continued)

- in memoriam Kookala (c. 2000-Nov. '19)

unfinished?

I believed in a god of Love
Despite all the Hate
I believed in Equality
Even tho' the mis-leaders shoot it down
I believed in True Love
Tho' it was out of reach
I'm just a Dreamer
I go where I Will
Thro' any old Either


Had meant to continue this one, but it just stopped on it's own.

THE TRUE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN (in response to Kipling et al)

The true White Man's burden
Is now in the White House,
Bloating the Congress and Wall Street
And in the streets
With angry white faces
Demanding that their
Ill-got Privilege
Be pedestal-ed once again
So they may freely murder
Any Black man they encounter
From whence to spit on
Womanhood
To jail all types of Queers
To kick Hispanic, Asian, and Jew
To the curb right quick
To oust any and all Muslim
Hold down all that are not "us"
These hateful whites are the true
White Man's Burden
For I, a Privileged
White Man
Must oppose them
More than those they
Oppress
For these damnable whites
Are My White Man's Burden

"THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN" RE-GEARED

With a special fuck you to Rudyard Kipling

Strike up the White Man's burden--
Send forth the worst ye breed--
Go send your sons to die
To stifle your captives' need;
To weigh in heavy harness,
On fettered folk and child--
Your new-caught, oppressed peoples,
Half-free and half-wild.

Strike up the White Man's burden--
Impatience to abide,
To veil your threat of terror
And check their show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain
To seek our own profit,
And work another's pain.

Strike up the White Man's burden--
The savage wars of profit--
Full tilt the wrath of Famine
And bid the sickness cleanse;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch sloth and white Folly
Bring all their hopes to nought.

Strike up the White Man's burden--
The tawdry rule of kings,
To toil of serf and sweeper--
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall control,
The roads ye shall outspread,
Go mark them with your living,
And mark them with their dead.

Strike up the White Man's burden--
And reap our own reward:
The blame of those ye fetter,
The hate of those ye guard--
The cry of hosts ye strangle
(Ah, slowly!) toward our right:--
"Why brought ye us your bondage,
From our loved night skies?"

Strike up the White Man's burden--
Ye dare not stoop to less--
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloke your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, fettered peoples
Shall weigh your gods and you.

Strike up the White Man's burden--
Have done with childish peace--
The lightly proferred helmet,
The easy, grudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manlyness
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought blood,
The judgment of your fears!

Peg Marlowe, a.k.a. Aunt "Pet", my godmother and one of my heroes (11/2/12-28/3/99)

The clock has stopped but time moves on.
A life fulfilled and full of life has run its course.
The Sandman has come.
No more pain, no more tears, only the fullness of existence and memories
She leaves behind to comfort our nights when we feel our loss.


Published as part of her obituary in The Ojai Valley News, 19 April 1999.