Monday, April 4, 2011

Springtime... maybe.

Hi there.

Well, these are trying times... and so I am trying.

I am reminded of certain passages from Gibbons’ work The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. But I try not to reminisce too much. Mostly.

Not so easy since I decided to take my Moody Monday cartoon strip off-site. One of those ideas that seemed to be time.

But you know how it goes… the only thing that does not change is the need for change… or to re-arrange the furniture. Looking at that this year. Maybe get a new couch? Not sure. Maybe get a new Prime Minister? I would like that…

Sure sign of spring is taking the bikes in to get them tuned up and ready to roll. Jen fired them up in the garage to make sure that they at least started. Talk about a Happy Girl… she was grinnin’ wild… and had that far away look in her eyes.

Somewhere on a desert highway
She rides a Harley-Davidson
Her long blonde hair
flyin' in the wind
She's been runnin' half her life
The chrome and steel she rides
Collidin' with
the very air she breathes...

Then we had the surprise snow… but the bikes are still going in to get ready. It’s been a long winter… and it is time for a change.

Open your arms, opens your arms,
Open your arms, baby, let my love come running in.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.

All of my love

Friday, April 1, 2011


Yeppers... today is "ok"...

I like the weather... got a slow melt to the snow though some one shound clean up the park a bit... dogs do what dogs do. **hurr hurr hurr**

Still hammerring away at getting all the Moody Mondays set up and posted. Not a big fan at reformatting it, but had to be done. So that's ok...

Yeppers... today is ok.

All my love

Thursday, March 31, 2011

I'm not dead

Wow… shit happens and the next thing you know you are like a million miles away from where you thought that you would be or should be.

So I ran into a pile of bricks and have floundered… sorry to be gone so long… but I am not dead. Just been not 100%… But doing well now… got over both a round of physical unwellness and the accompanying mental stress of it all… sure, we are all mortal… but we all react differently to being totally reminded of that fact.

I started posting my cartoons here… see “Moody Monday” in my other blogs…

All my love

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

St Joan...

Joan of Arc was burnt alive. Absolutely toasted…

Did she hear the voice of God?
Was she a gross sinner?
A heretic?
Could she do math?
Was she a witch?

No… she was burnt alive for being a cross-dresser and a general pain in the ass to the "State"… not her own "State" either... some one else's. Joan was French but it was the English who toasted her.

So yeah… what does it that mean? Things are not all that different today... the "State" is getting irrationally in the way...

Where are we going?
How are we going to get there?

Fact is though that we are not all going to arrive… which leads to the question – does it matter to you if we do not all arrive?

It is really just this simple

2009 is closing and some antique ideas persist...

I am so tired of the whole “Feminist” debate over who is or can be a feminist… so here it is set out simply…

True or False?

Women are equal human beings to men and entitled to equal opportunity, equal respect, and equal remuneration.

If you say True you are a feminist…
Men can be feminists…
your gender does not matter.

If you say False then you are a misogynist…
and again your gender does not matter…
women can be misogynists.

The rest of the blather is just cheap excuses.

Monday, December 28, 2009


I don’t like “resolutions”… it is impossible for me to trust in that sort of change… to wake up and suddenly be different… I can’t trust that… deeds count; words don’t… the act makes the fact.

“Resolutions” are a fairy tale’s promise… to be suddenly richer… to be suddenly wiser… to be suddenly beautiful… all at a word… it’s a magic spell without the discipline of learning how to do it.

It does not take a “resolution” to quit smoking or cheating or whatever you are after… look, if the fairy tale witch made a resolution to quit poisoning apples would you take the fruit? Could you believe that much over words?

You want to change and be a better person… that’s fine… a worthy goal... I got no problem with that... just don’t announce it before you do it... there are enough broke promises already.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009


You just can not talk ghosts with some people… cause they want to talk about ghouls and the like. I have never seen a ghoul, though I have seen plenty of ghosts. Last night a friend was telling me of a cat poltergeist, which I frankly have never heard of before. Haunting… not quite as strange as some may wish it to be. The dude with the cat geist though did not like my suggestion that haunting works both ways. Some remain due to unfinished business, other remain because we simply will not let them go.

Monday, September 28, 2009

I am waiting... I am waiting.. oh yeah... oh yeah

Sitting back in my chair I had the chance to enjoy the quiet and look out my window at the trees. Sure, there is a city back there somewhere, but all I can see out the window is the trees, the birds, and the calm tranquility of the forest which surrounds the house and lawns. There is a world out there but today I am not a part of it.

It might be selfish really to withdraw and be apart from things, but then the truth is that a lot of things are wearing me out. I get to feeling faded like an old photograph left outside too long.

October is looming up quickly and with it the new medical tests. I was talking with my life partner about this, about how tired I am of the whole thing, and how I would so dearly love just to not do this anymore. I know, how difficult it must be for her to hear that, and yet there she is supporting me through this still. My Jenny is my mountain.

I am going to miss some writing deadlines at Pan Historia. These were self imposed and though I normally would move heaven and earth not to miss my own deadlines, I shall this time. The works will not be the way that I want them to be in time, and I do not think that I will sacrifice my time with Jenny to complete them. Some call it priorities, I call it sanity.

The University is now in full swing, and I have filled my allotment of students. The task ahead is rather pleasing to me, though I find myself missing being the student. It is far different being the tutor. I am not sure that I like it as much. What I am hopeful of is that the pleasure of success from the students will transfer to me as well. Education is a team sport. I wonder if this is how an athlete feels when they must give up playing and become the coach? Are they trying to get back the high that they once knew?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

GOTHPERA test version


the birds

the summer I got sick they thought it was mono

fatigue and persistent pain
bed rest watching the world pass away in brief spells
day dreams
I found it impossible to sleep and could not stay awake
I hovered on the edges of between
reading became an impossible repetition of pages and paragraphs
hushed voice stripped of meaning
the message reverted into droning buzzes
lost behind the empty gestures of comfort and tranquility
I slipped beneath a veneer of life

the sunshine slides across the floor
don’t open the door
let the dust dance
the flecks smiling in the sunshine
it’s just fine

the days poured out of the mornings
into the bright blinding noontime
hunger is a memory
I knew that I should be hungry
I was not
the coffee ignored beside the bed
grown cold buttered toast abandoned
all we have at the end in the longing
the desire to recall eating as pleasure
the warmth of food with aroma
in the absence of flavor
desire dies

let the bird sing in through the open window
stream into the room with the prayer
the birds never promise
the emptiness of tomorrow is absent
shadow fingers across the lawn
around the corner
but I am asleep
dreaming of palm trees wavering over the waves
of the blue ocean surge
the singing of birds

Pandora’s silent scream weighs like lead after the fleeing began
her trembling hand half hide her face
and her beauty was lost to the world
replaced by the discipline of tough love
border lines drawn on paper in seclusion
an old man speaks to a dog in park
barks in commands
there, slow motion dancers practice martial arts
the meaning of the story is jumbled
becomes lost
then hides

the truth is that I watch you
living the flashes of life that you bring
through the closed window
silent movements across the lawn
remembering the song
that birds sang
do they sing


as we stand upon the precipice, the eternal silence of god speaks louder than the texts taught and the unfailing conclusion is that the root foundation for this absence can be nothing short of the actual nonattendance in both the person and the being of a creator

to be undecided or skeptical about
to tend to disbelieve
to distrust
to regard as unlikely
to suspect
to know fear


hope escapes last only because we so choose it to be
afterwards there is nothing but the resounding calmness
the swirling chaos of non existence ceases to be feared
but becomes that which we embrace
the purpose in pointlessness is to cease to seek utility
and to function where no purpose is to be found.


there is a past
unreachable but amendable
there is a present
but there is no future
there is only silence.


grass grows uncontrolled in thick clumps of shaggy green waiting for the evening breeze
the slap of plastic chord on sidewalk cement induces a chant of wordless wonder
this is how girls learn to sing
rhythmic incantations
and then the laughter

through the glass windows it rises muffled
a strangely forbidden language
it is a code of separation
on the grass even the slapping plastic transmutes into the tribal beat of distant drums

I remember it raining as condensed mists looking pout into the grey fog
or the night perforated by yellow lamps
only the sunlight light days are clear
liberated from the murk and the mire of oppressiveness
and still the gnawing teeth of boredom chewed through the walls
mind aching listless boredom


an expression of inquiry that invites or calls for a reply.
an interrogative sentence, phrase, or gesture.
a subject or point open to controversy
a proposition brought up for consideration by an assembly.
the act of bringing a proposal to vote.
to doubt


to accept as true or real
to credit with veracity
to expect or suppose
to think
to have firm faith
to have faith, confidence, or trust
to have confidence in the truth or value of something
to have an opinion; think

the time of forgetting

I’m not your answer. I’m not your solution.
I’m not here to offer you absolution.
you misunderstood me right from the beginning
you misunderstood why your head it was swimming
you’re drowning in tears of your own sweet creation
you’ll die from your fears, your loves and hesitation

tomorrow there’ll be one less infirmity.
tomorrow you’re free from your life’s agony.
yes, I won’t remember the long and forgotten,
the dearly departed in the ground lying rotten.
the sky it is bleeding. the sun it is setting
the night as it comes is the time of forgetting

the name

the room was dim
in the corner the strange priest dressed in black played with sanguinary rosary beads
blood clots
nodules and nodes along the strand of life
ending in self immolation
sacrifice flowing through his pallid fingers
the puffy dry lips mumbling phrases in Latin
the dead language
the language of the dead
thirsting for a taste of wine
roses held in the shadows as the darkness
whispers chuckled and spoke through silence
the dreaded name
fear held all other voices at bay in silent reverence


to perceive through the sense of touch
to perceive as a physical sensation
to touch.
to examine by touching
to test or explore with caution
to undergo the experience of.
to be aware of; sense
to be emotionally affected by
to be persuaded of something on the basis of intuition, emotion,
indefinite grounds
to believe; think


it becomes uncomfortable because they can not truly believe in any other outcome
it haunts them
a form of failure
out of order
if we had just
if they could just
then silence
if we just ignore

families are hardest
the aching want
the pressed silence
there is no hope
thin veils tossed aside easily
there is comfort and hiding
don’t upset your aunt
the secret
I become the family secret

there are so many secrets
whispered conferences behind closed doors and pregnant pauses
what’s the point?
the point is that I do not want him here all day
the point is that I can not cope
wouldn’t it be possible?
if only
if we just
if they could just
do you know what that would cost?

I do not recall when or why I stopped sleeping
and started to wander the house at night
relishing the silence
the dark cool halls
carpet soft against the soles of my feet
the brash charge of the cold linoleum
I was conquering comfort
building tolerances
searching the darkness

if only
if just
her voice breaks down
he is drinking all the milk
but he will not eat
she is breaking done
he wants chocolate milk
oh for Christ’s sake
what is happening to us?

and there it is
what is happening to them…

I stop drinking the milk

let go

let go!
let go!
I’ll never know until you let go.

let go!
let go!
you’ll never know until I let go.

let go!
let go!
when we let go we’ll know

I didn’t want to tell you

I didn’t want to tell you this.
I didn’t want to make you cry.
I thought that it was just a cyst,
but now it seems I’m going to die.

I understand that it’s frightening
but there is nothing you can do
life went fast and it’s quickening
the end will come and then it’s through

and the clouds are falling from the sun
and if we try to run there is no where to go
even though we know there is nothing we can do
still I think of you.


this isn’t the plague
though people avoid you
yet it’s more than they say
they’re trying to elude you

take a nap.
have a rest.
do your best.
avoid stress.
don’t die.

breathe in
breathe out
try not to
toss about

it is just an infection
escaping detection
it isn’t the plague
it only seems that way.


the other self stands naked in reverse reflection
a refraction of the self grinning back
recognition is not an identification but an error in discernment
we are the inhabitants of living flesh that is not our own

the picnic

they would drive into the country along back roads as anonymous strangers
walking with metal cooler boxes and folding chairs
never questioning the worn path’s existence
this was their private place
the picnic place
it was escape

here she would walk along the beach twenty pound lighter in perception
her present self absent
a taste of freedom
he shirtless would fuse and fiddle with the portable fire
his flesh sweating in the heat and burning in the sunlight
in sandals his socks dark anchors
heavy leaden leads
even on vacation he was chained to employment
life had narrowed and eroded him

in youth they had come here naked
splashing diamonds emerging from the water
wrapped in intricate emotional embrace
they were laughter
enticingly erotic
now she stops at bra and panties
the grayness of age over powering the bleach and advertised brightness
her anchors and chains a confinement denying escaped
she is shaped
she sees through the critical eye of judgement discerning failure
his eyes see the sweeping expanse of picnic
an allotment of time boxed off


she stepped off the sidewalk into the smooth reflective surface of the puddle
her eyes steeled, looking ahead
she knew but made no sign to indicate that the cold water had in anyway been unexpected or unwanted
a determined walk across the street
she was a motion through changes in shade and shadow
she disappeared into the small variety store
people disappear across the city into and out of doorways
a moment there then they are gone
like car keys left in the bowl by the door
sometimes they return
steam rises in streamers up from the grates and we wait for the magician to perform once again
an awkward silence and stillness rips a hole in time
the steady unwinding regardless of the hands the watch stops and I walk into deeper gray
only I do not know if I am walking away or towards

the garage sale

they held a garage sale
tables on the lawn
for a moment they were swept away in the event
memories diminished amid the excitement
it was a recognition subderma of the future
or rather it was the recognition of the abeyance of future...
a form of role play abrogation of position and standing
survival is discarding
to dispatch
and jettison weight

the doctor

in transition the changing amalgamation of cells erupts into a chaotic infusion as the immune system begins to execute indiscriminately. during the mitotic process eukaryotic cell mutations beneficial to survival are prevalent in superior numbers amongst the cancerous formations. biology is a numbers game without house rules, score cards or a timer. when it is over, it is over.


she smiled and with an out-stretched hand introduced herself
I am glomerulonephritis
you are leukemia i presume
that which infects our lives becomes us
consumes us
we were born dead
we are plague.

I can not eat the candies
and the flowers slowly wilt
they fade after the visitors have gone
the television chatters like a monkey
inanely flashing irrelevancies
distortions and distractions...
watching talk shows is like having a brain tumor
there is no meaning
just voices talking
saying nothing
meaning nothing.

the laughing girl

she comes in through the darkness
a smile and barefoot
it is 2 o’clock
darkness tells me it is night
her presence tells me it is night
she sings softly without words
then evaporates.

if I follow I find that I can not find her
I have grown slow
or she has grown fast
I laugh at the madness
I decide to walk
bare feet on linoleum
passed the now quiet common room of fretting parents and frightened children
passed the lies of sleep
I pick up a small stuffed cat
ragged tatters of a toy
looking into the dead glass eyes
remembering the forgotten

her laughter startles me to instinctually hold the toy as if it were alive
a hand gently soothing that which has had no life
her hand is small, pale
she gently reaches to the cat which I clutch tighter
the thought of mine banishes all other thoughts
a gentle pet and a smile
along my spine the warmth runs

sparks of affection
the tenderness long escaped floods
a river of kindness erupts through the dams
and I am crying
weeping with exultation
her smile shines
a star brilliant in the darkest night
she glows and radiates within me
my god I am alive

the coolness of her palm upon my glistening cheek
the earnest searching of her eyes
the wavering tenderness as a breeze blows across me
her wordless song fills with meaning
a heart beat
two hearts beat
in my hand a stuffed child’s toy squirms and mewls

oh darkness my eyes have seen the light
oh darkness my eyes have seen the light
oh darkness

but the tears upon my cheeks cool their fire
and I smile
she is here.

it’s so very quiet

it’s so very quiet
I hear the blood squish running through my veins

it’s so very quiet
the clock? time just hammering on the wall

I feel I want to riot
I’d rather go insane
than be the ghost, the pallor walking in the hall

but when the sun goes down
when the night clouds rise
I can see again
but I realize
it is only the toxin wearing off.

it’s so very quiet
and there is nothing here really for me to do
I sleep all in sedative
and dream all night of different times with whom?

but when the sun goes down
when the night clouds rise
I can be again
but I recognize
it is only the venom wearing thin.

it’s so very quiet
and I think I’m rather tired
and the sunlight is burning in my eyes
it’s so very quiet
and I am glad you came to visit
I know this must be very hard on you

but when the sun goes down
when the night clouds rise
I can be again
but I identify
it is only poison beneath my skin.


I did not expect to fall in love
facing death tends to alter the way that you look at people
they become even more temporary
you know that they will abandon you
you don’t want to get close like that
but she just kept coming
it was like I had no choice
or that she would not listen

Some people are like that
but she was infectious
but when she was not there it was colder
and I would find myself waiting for her
but I wanted her to listen to me too
I did not realize that I had been silent for so long
so long I had forgotten how to speak

and then a contagion of a person
an infection in a smile
a laugh
even a touch
how could I understand her?
I would look at her from a different world
I did not know
how could anyone have known?

nocturnal wanderer

Her eyes shine in wet virtues
I could believe in those eyes
she had the knowledge
the secret rituals complete with the meanings of the rhymes
it was upon her lips to chant down
to incant
she could invoke the ancient nature
but she only laughs
a mumbling murmur of laughter

I am dreaming I think
the flaxen hair in halo swiftly through the corridors
the songs of the radiator
the click and clack expansion and contraction
clocks measure in tics and tocks but time is expansion and contraction
it moves like the grass grows - in clumps
swift as we run
agonizingly slowly as we wait

The girl exists
she is genuine
it is the nocturnal wanderings
the lightness of her step
the hint of her laughter in the dreaded spells of silence
barefoot her progressions is the soft beat of the heart of the missing rain


star light star bright
the first star I be tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might

to burst violently as a result of internal pressure.
to shatter with a loud noise:
to make an emotional outburst:
to increase suddenly, sharply, and without control:
to change state or appearance suddenly:


a statement conveying fundamental character.
a statement of the meaning of a word,
the act or process of stating a precise meaning or significance;
formulation of a meaning.

the act of making clear and distinct:
the state of being closely outlined or determined:
a determination of outline, extent, or limits:

the clarity of detail;
the degree of clarity


this is a body out of mind syndrome
it is like a well
a deep dark well
I imagine it to be bottomless
featureless in the dark space between sight and sleep
confined and defined by an absence
an emptiness of features
this well features no features

the pinpoint is the circle of light receding
no thing survives here
at this depth
even the cold can not exist here
this is nowhere.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

the endless sea

for Susan
and those who have lost a love
death defeats only those who forget

bowed low beneath the onset of the north wind,
the sweet banshee’s howls scrape at the heavy moon low on the horizon,
drifting upon the sea
the scent of Bermudan flowers on the gales
a taste from far away
amid the torments of the pounding rain
into the endless sea of fear…

the loneliness is deep-rooted in cold soil
a darkness that cultivates a life in repose
the rain hides the tears in staring eyes
the halo of hair kiting on the sea of stars
reflection of the endless sea of fear….

we are mocked by foolish storms
the sky’s filled chalice runneth over
the day lost to the dreams of night
everything and everyone lies below the endless waves
in the endless sea of fear...

when it cuts,
deep as pain
lightning flash
then the tranquility of emptiness
the endless sea of fear…

thought in perpetual dead reason.
the blade kisses the night
there is no life for me watching the sea
waiting for he
this is no life for me watching the sea
waiting for he
the tears that i have bleed for thee
into the endless sea of fear…

and of love?
the harvest is a dark pool of blackness
devilish and cruel
forever in the night waiting
the rush of the dream is the sweetest pain
the clock is made of flowing tides
the endless sea of fear