Topaz and Trust

Well I'll be damned
here comes your ghost again
after so long a time
it feels so very fine
with no need for regret.

When you burst on the scene
so dark and exotic
your voice so melodic
your spirit a shade of green
but your mind was supreme.

Your total essence
announced your originality;
It was a presence
so far from banality

that only few could see.

You captured my heart
and inspired my art
with your searching mind,
we were one-of-a-kind
stumbling thru the dark.

But I allowed my fear

of true intimacy

to interfere

with a blissful destiny.

And in so doing

I cursed

the gods

of chemistry.

And here we are

Alone together again
We've come so far

ever ready to mend.

But underneath it all

we desire connection,
and underneath it all

we desire selection.

And in the aftermath

we fight against the current,

And in the aftermath

we wish upon a star,,,

Friendship

"Let me make this clear," he said to her.
"I am no longer looking for a gratis room from you. Our friendship has moved beyond that; or at least that's how I feel."

She bobbed her head left to right
in a vain effort to part her shortish blunt bangs,
eyes dropping from a direct gaze to a distracted wander,
a wander borne not of boredom or disinterest,
but of a crackling energy that must
absorb and process all available stimuli
every nanosecond.

Her eyes lifted from the table,
darted to the cat, or at least the ghost of the cat,
and took in the entirety of that offered by
visible light, as well as by the other known senses --
and some yet unknown, I'm sure.

And then her eyes met mine again. 

I noted that her bangs had merely swished back and forth
with no appreciable difference from their starting point.

Cassie is an amazing woman. Strong of character, strong of will, steadfast in resistance yet vulnerable enough to invite and accept uncertainty.

Diamonds and Lust

While I’ll be damned
I’m haunted by your ghost again
a specter I so want to please
whose sadness makes me freeze
all ambitions of my own.

I made a silent pact
to keep you out of lack,
that you'd see the cup half full,
and love this carefree fool,
but it cost me my soul.

You took what I gave
and it made you brave,
but when I wanted the same
it was my mama you blamed,
and I suffered alone.

I just needed a friend
to help me blend
my hopes and fears.
What I got instead
was fantastic head
and silent tears.

Your desire to please
while on your knees
was commendable.
It paved the way
for my salty spray
to be expendable.

Cupping my balls
and sucking my straw
'til I glazed your tits.
And in return
I made you squirm
licking your clit.

Your cries of pleasure
were the measure
of my self worth.
Nothing was better
than your pussy wetter
than Mother Earth.

But I had other plans
apart from sex glands
That needed exposure.
My desire to write
was treated as trite
and I was a loser.

But the plan from the start
was to cushion your heart
from the ravages of doubt.
Then you'd believe in me
and finally see
what I'm all about.

But you abandoned me
in my soliloquy
siting Freudian reasons.
Now we're splitting up,
Damn your half-empty cup!
And your cock pleasin'.

All I can say
is that it doesn't pay
to delay your dreams,
for another's memes.
'cause above all else
be true to yourself.

A Weed in a Corfield

A weed is really just a plant out of place.

In a man's cornfield, a plant is a weed.

The same plant in your yard can be a flower.

Soul-Sucking Job with Money Vs the Alternative

My wife believes that I should work at a soul-sucking job just to provide food, shelter and clothing for my family. Yet she comes home every day complaining -- and sometimes crying -- about her soul-sucking job, which she has taken to put food on the table.

She seems to think it's better that we teach our children to be emotionally unhappy in the world, rather than what I exemplify, which is to strive for your dreams no matter the cost.

We differ on this, and I have to leave this toxic environment where she makes me wrong for my choice to instill an enriched emotional life versus a financially poor physical life.

She has always complained about money, about the unfairness of the capitalist competitive nature, but she also has always complained about not having enough. It’s like living with Janus, a two-faced person who will never be pleased no matter the course.

I must stick to my principals.

I will not subjugate myself for the rest of my life for the almighty dollar.

I will strive to deliver art that helps people enrich their core being.

And it’s not so much that we disagree, but that she says my beliefs are wrong, that my beliefs are not in the best interest of the family, that I should work at an unsatisfying job for the sake of my children -- even if I constantly complain about said unsatisfying job to my children and family.

She seems to believe that this scenario is better for nurturing human potential than actually suffering deprivation while going after an ideal dream human life.

Why Do We Hate Unions?

What makes me angry about the world is the seeming onslaught of a business mentality.

There seems to be little room in the world today to just be an artist. To create for the love of creating. To create something that moves others.

It seems that everyone wants you to notice them for the sake of being noticed. Get more likes. Get more click-thrus. Get more virtual friends.

Even traditional liberal outlets such as NPR have programs dedicated to the interests of business. Focus on the Dow Jones and Nasdaq has supplanted any focus on unions.

Unions have been so smeared by corporate interests that it will be a long time before they regain credibility in the eyes of many.

Yet, we will still affix credibility on multiple corporate and political interests despite the myriad scandals involving those entities.

Corporate and political scandals have cost Americans more than any union corruption. Yet, the corporate PR machine has done a marvelous job at deflecting attention away from its soiled self. We sill vilify unions.

Moving Past Imperfection

The shape of tomorrow is decided by how we fashion the amorphous ideas of today.

To fashion an idea, we must first get it out of our head and down onto paper.

Reading it makes it more real, more concrete. Reading our ideas allows us to elaborate on them.

I have a head full of ideas but an empty bank account.

But also important is to follow thru as much as possible on ideas.

I have hundreds of files containing inchoate ideas. For some reason, I get fearful when I have to expand an idea past its present imperfection to its newest incarnation, which may or may not be imperfect.

The thought of perfecting something is paralyzing. What if I fail? What if I don't know its still imperfect, and I put it out into the world only to be ridiculed?

I can't stand being ridiculed.