I saw a bad movie last night

With a good line —

“You embrace the suck and you move the fuck on”

So today I March

I wake

I ride

I take

I move into the deep flux of my life and say



Why Not

Today? Tonight? Done. There.

What have I been doing all these years but

Hiding myself within myself

Tricked into the trap of staying there

I have begged my Captor to let me free

But my Captor was me

and I was not listening

Desperate I whispered let me be uncomfortable

I can take it

But he didn’t believe me

And really, how could he?

I was fucking whis-per-ing

It was all I could muster then

But somehow, I dragged my heavy feet through the mud

These last three days

Or 38 years

And I made it to the other side, wiping off the dried fragments of dirt and blood

Throwing those old boots aside

My bare, raw feet stepping down onto the hot coals in front of me

I don’t run or walk or hide

I just set my gaze to the now

And I March




I can handle emotions, explosions

Such commotion in motion

From the unconscious ocean

You tried to drown me when you found me on the shores of Devotion

A catalyst for The Analyst who lives in this skin

while Sirens beckoned so sweetly

“Come back in, come back in…”

Melodic voices drenched wretched with sin

You bound my wrists and my eyes

Plugged my ears

Threw me in

But when you learned to slither, friend…

I learned to swim

You thought me lost

The Sacrified lamb

But I’d gone to hell — got acquainted with Hades

Befriended the devils

And that lamb?

Oh so tasty

Still don’t know it’s name was

But it sure wasn’t ‘Katie’

The Time has arisen, I’m out of my prison

Hell made me Whole

Clear is my vision

The Sirens may call but my ears do not listen

No infection in my direction

From dismembered dissection

Put myself back together

In perfect imperfection

I call myself servant

Head down and gaze in

The one Call I answer?

The Call from Within



Ashes on the Floor

I think I love you

In a way love should never be

For there is a thing as Too Much Heat

Burns up our touch on Reality

Then there’s no place to return to

When the fire dies down

Like fires do

There’s a mad dash out the door


And frankly, it don’t matter if it’s you or me

One of us will have to run away

Fantasy something humans can’t sustain

What would it be like to learn to love the steady flame?

‘Stead of craving this insane raging heat

The Energy in you that brings me to my knees

But here we are, Combusting

I was a fool to think either of us can leave

Blissfully trapped in scorching chemistry

Ignited by other-worldly sparks

The kind that die out as quickly as they burst and flash

And set our silly souls ablaze



We find ourselves

In ashes on the floor.



The Trickster

Oh, what a Mister —

The virile Twister

Spinning stories like the wise old Spinster

Who could play this game using any name

Cause that’s how it goes

When you invented the game

Though between you and me…?

He goes by The Trickster —

Ejaculating his Fabricating

On all your best reasoning

He flavors it with unbeatable seasoning

You won’t win his game of conniving treason-ing

The original Devil — a black-hat magician

His slight-of-hand steals cognition

No matter man, nor child

Nor politician

He’ll play you out for his own recognition

Your body his violin for sin

Your mind merely a token to win

And let me tell you

He always wins

He weaves through your very own mind

Using techniques you helped him find!

Unknowingly, the puppet — you hand over your strings

To the man with the horns ‘stead of the girl with the wings

And he plays you and he plays you –

And good God – how you sing!

‘Til slowly you learn – he will twist


There is only one way to steal back your cognition

Know when He’s talking and make it your mission

To discern Truth from Tricking

Then refuse…

To Listen


Inside the blue-gray bits of fragile, broken shell

Lies the Empty Space of something hatched

But where did it go?

What was it?

Is it safe?

Edges make jagged points too delicate to be taken seriously

Touching them would only crack them further

And they are cracked enough

Sitting desperately,


Like sad little arms reaching up and out

Wishing those they carried would return to fill the Loneliness

But there is only me,


On the outside peering in

Wishing I could help ease their suffering

But then I think

These are merely shells…

What in me

Sees Such Things?





We Shamans

In different days and different waters

We Shamans would pass through Worlds

Now we’re just our Mother’s daughters

Untold stories rotting girls

In times of old Where Warriors Walked

Was known as Sacred Ground

We’ve lost the Native’s Way of Respect

Look what, instead, we’ve found —

We all go inward but not to ourselves

To shiny silver machines

Detached from the world around us

Let go the World of Dreams —

That now equate to “what’s achieved”

Instead of simply Listening —

Unfolding messages we receive

Within the Very Real Dreams

That nightly we are dreaming!

Oh, how I lament our great descent

The fall of Symbolic Meaning

Remember who you are Brave Souls

Fear not the Darkness gleaming

We Shamans lift our heavy shovels

Working with Collective Shadow

Almost beyond repair

Tell me, friend, about Your Shovel —

Does it show signs of wear?

In ancient days there was a place

For those who lived beyond life’s bounds

Those who dove to the darkest depths

And managed not to drown

In different days and different waters

We Shamans passed through Worlds

Now we’re just our Mother’s daughters

Untold stories rotting girls

Black Widow

I feel long, spidery-limbs reaching out of the sky

Or sitting, Heavy, in the corner of the room



She is the Atom Bomb,


But no one can see her venomous, toxic waves of breath

Infecting, dissecting,

Rejecting us

There is no milk or honey here

No willow tree or baby’s breath

Only Her insidious Neglect

And her insatiable urge to Trap

To suffocate us in her hairy grasp

Like Saran or cellophane




In clear webs we do not know

We are in

Sad little ignorant



Gift of The Madwoman

She is buzzing, buzzing, out-of-control

The dream-car screeches as she blasts rock n’ roll

Taking sharp turns at kill-me-please speeds

Some small, unheard voice inside of her pleads —

But the driver is sober.


She’s just fucked in her mind —

A pissed-off Beehive –

Roiling inside.

A clueless kid prods it with a long wooden stick

As if length gave him safety.

Oh, what a cruel trick.

Angering, angering…

On the verge of attack.

This horned mass of stingers —

No protection from that.

(The mere thought of it makes the Madwoman laugh.)

Revenge bubbles imminent,

The Beehive? It cracks.

Out comes the raging, buzz-buzzing mass.

She can’t see the road now –

Blacked out and Blind.

The child drops the stick —

He’s been stung from behind.

Swarmed like a piece of ripe, bloody meat,

The child who Tricked

Now becomes Treat.

The driver, she crashes —

Is thrown to the street,

Head cracks like the beehive

Death her final defeat?

As her life filters out of her…

The child —

He breathes.

For once she is dead

The bees turn and they leave.

But the gift of the Madwoman

Burns bright and alive:

For the Ignorant Child

Has now become











From The Other Side…

I keep seeing these “Live in the Light”

“Let’s Get Back to the Garden of Eden”

“Love is the only thing there is”


This One-sided way of living in the world

Is Everywhere.

And I get it. I do.

Very few want to Face Our Stuff.

But here’s the thing about the Shadow:

Ignore It and It will choose you.

When will we understand that Life is Whole?

If we “Live only in the Light”, do we not Cast Out all the beauty in Darkness?:

The rich, fertile soil from which emerges the Commanding Rose?

The comforting depth of the shielded womb?

A pitch black midnight sky paired with the kind of breeze that empowers the Soul?

The emotional suffering which can lead us to Rebirth while alive?

And if we cast out All Those Things which Grow – which begin! – in Darkness…

Do we not also cast out Light?

“Getting back to the Garden of Eden” is a wish to go back to


The Apple of Knowledge never eaten, the “Paradise” of Unconsciousness.

Our desire for unconsciousness can be seen in all of our shadow behaviors –

Overeating, over-drinking, smoking, cheating…

The spiritual addiction of “Chasing the Light” –

By Refusing Shadow…we create more of it.

It seems to me we must live fully in All that is


Yes, revel in Life! In Joy! In Beauty!

But do not forget where these are born.

And as the heart may soar with Happiness, so must we also

Dig our hands through the dirt and pain and gunk of life

Drawing up the dark, moist clay

That makes Creation



“I will get you,” he said.

That little, unassuming voice in your head.

The one that can play both Devil or Squire

While whispering humbly, “I serve you, Sire.”

He stalks like a tiger,

He snakes through the mind,

No locked doors exist –

No key he won’t find.

He will play any Switch like no one before

Head master of tricks, gatekeeper of lore.

One moment your lover, the next your friend;

Underneath it – self-serving – right to the end.

But in that is His game;

His mystery undone.

In His endless bag of tricks, we find…

Only one.

Destruction his motive, Power his aim,

Killing all parts who don’t feel the same;

We uncover in Him the truly insane –

For Power in death is paradoxical gain.

Shape-shifter and Trickster

Magician of mind

Quick – see the trick!

Or die trapped by His bind.