My Manifesto

I denounce the belief in a superior race
___As it is a violent, destructive superstition
I denounce all patriarchies
___For they have made us unbalanced
I will always accept and support love
___Over hate, however it manifests
My body is mine own, and so are all
___Owners of their own selves
Call me woke, and I will point out
___That I am awake, and aware, and
___Paying attention
I will not be silenced
___Even through violence or terrorism
___Or lies
If you come at me with deified egoism
___I will laugh in your face
If you bow and scrape to wealth and social power
___That's on you, not me
I worship Nature from whence I came
___And to which I shall return
I celebrate diversity
___As uniformity bores me
I have my cultural identity
___But also enjoy experiencing others
And I decry the world being run aground
___To benefit profiteers and warmongers

untitled

Into the deep, dark night
I rode a stag
The wind blew through the trees
Causing the branches to sag
They caught at my garments
Shredding to a rag
But I cared not at all
For the Wild Hunt was on
My little part in it
Would soon be gone
I trailed far behind and below
The Horned One
And as the Goddess brought forth
The light of day
I grew so very weary
Slowing my way
But so it should be
For I cannot stay

untitled (from '22 or '23)

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

Wherever is that place
Whether 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

WE THE MAD

"We're all mad here"
Said the Cheshire Cat
And everywhere I look
Corroborates the statement

Mad as a hatter
We all thrash about
Hating, swearing
Resorting to violence

Lawless abandon
Rules the day
Was it really ever
Otherwise?

Cracking heads
As the punchline
Minds reeling
Tongues spinning

Power to the people
Who can afford
To buy it
Sufferance to the rest

Lies hold sway
Crushing any truth
Like a scary spider
Denouncing any questions

On and on we go
Never reaching that
Light at the end
Is it just illusion?

Elegy for Mom (read at her memorial)

Once upon a time there was a dreamer who had a hard time finding her way in the real world. She worked hard, but was still too young when she gave birth to another dreamer.
She sang to him, took him to movies when he was still a baby, later reading to him. She taught him to read and write.
She encouraged his writing and performing.
Life was always rather messy, and chaotic, as she searched for a "safe place", tho' she could not create it, as it contradicted her independent, gypsy nature.
Into her constantly rotating orbit came my sister Lysa, and brother Adam. We became a team as Mom dragged us hither and thither.
Mom had a difficult love life, her romantic ideals being disappointed.
Then, having entered middle age, she met Phil. He became the string to her kite. Their children having grown and gone their own ways helped them focus on their life together.
Going back and forth between Hawaii and California, and travelling abroad proved to be a comfortable lifestyle.
They spent over 30 years together, until Phil's sad passing. Mom became reliant on help from others as her own health deteriorated, especially my sister Lysa, who took on the heavy responsibility of Mom's various needs. Lysa is one of the strongest people I've ever known, and her sharp and pragmatic mind has helped us all over the decades.
It is always hard to sum up a life. Mom long threatened to write her autobiography, but while she was a good writer, her forte was more in the old oral tradition. She could spin a yarn with the best bards.

An Old Vampire

There once was an
Old vampire
Who slept under the stairs
At the Witch House
As it is known in the neighborhood
When the Sun went down
He would rise from his pallet
- he had been too poor
... when he died for a
... proper coffin
... and found his pauper's box uncomfortable
... plus no room for it anyway -
He headed out into
The night
Not to hunt, but to work
As he was a night watchman
In order to make money
To help keep the Witch House
Going
The job is nice and quiet
In an old art deco building
Built over a displaced graveyard
So there are ghosts to keep him company
And play tricks on him
The tasks are not over taxing
So that his blood intake
Can be sporadic
And he doesn't need to fill
For being a gentle soul
- if it can be said
... that vampires have
... souls -
He abhors violence
- also having broken
... one of his fangs -
"Where does he get blood?"
You may ask
Within the fetish community
There are occasional volunteers
Or the thrill seekers
Here and there
Or stumbling upon a suicidal
Lost soul
"But doesn't that expose him?"
You say?
But who believes in vampires
After all?
His house is mostly safe
What with witches
And a werewolf,
Living under the same roof
The only trouble being one
Pesky, oblivious mortal
Self-absorbed in his neuroses
Funny how much more trouble
These mortals can be
His companion
And long time cuddle buddy
A cat
Brought to him by
The Goddess
With whom he bonded
So strongly
Her spirit remained
After her physical demise
The house does get
A variety of guests
Such as the werewolf's
Child
Who is also a shapeshifter
But of a different kind
The werewolf
And his witch wife
Help out the old
Vampire
When he can't
Manage stuff
Sort of adopting him
So his un-life goes on
While he reads voraciously
Listens to all kinds of music
And having lived through
The inventions of
Film and television
All the way up to
Streaming
He amuses himself
Well enough
And believe it or not
He has a particular
Fondness
For vampire stories
Whether good or bad

I am a hitch-
Hiker mis-
Guided on the mis-
Information Super-
Duper Highway

"NONCONFORMITY"

I cannot conform
It's not just a stance
I'm just not able to
Catholic school tried
To break me
As Mother Superior put it
To my Mom
Humiliation in class
From instructors
Leading to bullying
From my "peers"
Some years later
Medication was tried
But I just had "visions"
That made me react to
Revelations
With "Been there, done that,
Not impressed"
Wanting to attract girls
Didn't work either
Or trying to keep a job
There were more tests
From which I was told
I was lazy
Tho' the tellers were
Less active than I
Therapy lead nowhere
As well
I didn't want to be an
Outsider
I just could not
Conform
As I aged
I befriended other
Misfits
But then married a
Wannabe conformist
She failed to get me
To use that posture, too
And so I remain
Undisposed
Unrepentant
Unseemly
Unessential
But also not uniform

Man in the Moon ('04)

He laid his face upon Her breast,
Forever more there to rest.

untitled limerick

There once was a woman named Rowling
At nonconformity she's constantly scowling
Supporting the patriarchy
Her feminism malarkey
And to many fans her legacy fouling

THE V.I.P. (Village Idiot President) (version 2)

Oh, he's really such a bore,
He makes me want to snore,
What is his drivel for,
This stupid attention whore

untitled

I am like a drunken sailor
On the stormy seas of Fate
A kite without a string
Seeing where the winds take me

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.

untitled (in Ireland)

Oh, what to do, what to do,
Should I, could I
Move cross the sea,
Cross continent to that,
Would I be welcome,
Or shall I be shunned,
Told to go elsewhere,
Could I find home?