When The Whole World Howls

what did you see there,
on that road when setting sun
began to blink again, again
and turned into a threatening heart
beating so slow and pumping out
the blood of stars and planet-scars?

How did it feel when phantom friends
just went on walking, on and on
oblivious to open wounds
in skies above, your breast below
and the railing reached and grabbed your hand
and tired death grinned madly dull?

You heard a noise, a scream of sun?
A scream of clouds, of blood or heart?
A scream that slashed thru everything
so real, so loud, so everlasting
What to make of that?  That sound
When the whole world howls and howls

and howls?

“I was walking along the road with two of my friends. Then the sun set. The sky suddenly turned into blood, and I felt something akin to a touch of melancholy…My friends went on and again I stood, frightened with an open wound in my breast I stood still, leaned against the railing, dead tired. Above the blue black fjord and city hung clouds of dripping, rippling blood. My friends went on and again I stood, frightened with an open wound in my breast. A great scream pierced through nature.”
Edvard Munch

The Holiness Of Empire | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Last year there was some sort of change that occurred within me…the events of 16 years ago, horrendous as they are, began to appear to me as a boil, a corpuscle, a pimple deeply infected…a symptom.

I decided that I was not gunna write anymore tribute poems, because been there done that.

Nothing else really can be said about the ones faced with horror thrust upon them in the land of ease and plenty.

But what of those, millions rather than thousands, who have had empire shoved down their throats and up their ____ …?  I started thinking about things differently.

Becoming the fuck toy of Empire never ends well.  Supporters of ttaf are soon gunna discover this.

One year ago…I think I began to nail it a bit.

“…and what of empire…
or is it Empire
and how
it sanctifies itself
in the blood
of many martyrs
in the tears
of all the saints
and quenches
every thirst
in the wailings
of the haints…”

Source: The Holiness Of Empire | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Across the Aching Blue Sky | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Three years ago…
Are ashes ever really dead?
Or just a different form of life?

When you see that I have died,
when you look into that place
where my odd, quirky connections
once melded resonant
and found resonant splendour
in heart…and in hearts too

and you see the ashes, chilled,
overlaying stone cold coals,
become grey overcoats
covering what I finally learned
to be so ashamed of?

Scrape those cinders up
shovel and shoe them,
trowel and trough the grits,
find a yearn to place them in,
decorative and strange,
intricate and engraved
and singing,
like me back then…

and carry that vase back
across the silent square,
and toss my ashes high,
yes toss them in the air

Let them fly across the sky
in one last kiss, then wave goodbye,
and falling, floating, snowing what made
me special and vibey…

I will let go gently…and slip away,
away…

Source: Across the Aching Blue Sky | Charissa’s Grace Notes

That Awkward Moment… | Charissa’s Grace Notes

We have all experienced this, haven’t we?  Everyone?
That moment when our head goes from Bugs Bunny’s smug smile
to a jack-ass head because we feel so foolish and dumb?
Or is it just me who feels this…

it lays there, bloated
in between when you
and the other person
connected and laughed
(or that’s what you thought)

and when you speak
and your heart falls
out and open
on the floor
with the inscription

would you like
to come over
for dinner and wine?

eyes narrow,
furrowing brows
and glance off
to the side
and it shifts

and it’s game over
flowers fade
the smell of smoke
and burnt cookies
lingering

Source: That Awkward Moment… | Charissa’s Grace Notes

On This Shore I Break,We Break | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I wrote this for the first human other than my dearest darling to really see me, Charissa…she has never not seen me.  She has never seen him, even though she knows all about him, and I have told her everything about him that matters and also that she has asked…

I would tell her everything without reservation…but sometimes, she simply is bored by him, because he is an absent caterpillar and she loves the butterfly.

By the way…where do caterpillars go when the enter the chrysalis?

I love you Dani…you are my first friend and my dearest heart of friendship…special and distinct from the many friends and sisters I now have.  ❤

PS:  Pay attention to the line length…just a hint

Listen…
you can hear
my words in waves
breaking on your beach
and celebrating…

lament at long last left limp
in clammy depths
‘neath the surface of seas
of blessed forgetfulness
and chuckling…

midst the shells and sand swirling,
rejoicing surf returning resurrected,
remembered, sanctified by sorrows
faced and sorted…yielding
wholeness certain, sure…

on this shore I break,
we break,
on this shore gently
and joyfully too
we break…

on that shore
that someday shore
we will unbroken break
on that shore and in that circle
by and by…in that circle

by and by…

Source: On This Shore I Break,We Break | Charissa’s Grace Notes

White House photos show Trump sitting alone at Camp David while Pence runs hurricane Situation Room

you did this, ttaf supporter…this is on you.  You put this inept clueless criminal in power…and all his corruption is pouring out like the golden showers poured down on his head…this is on you.

Shame on you…shame.

White House photos released over the weekend show President Donald Trump sitting quietly alone at Camp David as Vice President Mike Pence and other cabinet members gathered in the Situation Room to deal with the devastation of Hurricane Harvey. Investigative reporter Christina Wilkie‏ pointed out the photos in a Twitter post on Sunday. New: WH releases pics of Trump’s #HurricaneHarvery briefing today. Trump alone at Camp David. Everyone else w @VP Pence in WH Situation…

Source: White House photos show Trump sitting alone at Camp David while Pence runs hurricane Situation Room

no melody down here in sight | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I wrote this a couple of years ago…about being othered by dull insensate humans…or did I write it about supporters of ttaf…or likely I wrote it about evangelical so-called christians whose blood sport is the judgement and death of anything that sings, that moves in beauty…

or did I write it about you?

There is still time to influence who it is about, with your true song and love.


it was eyes,
everywhere each one
attached to a beak, each beak
trilling so shrilly, chattering
in clakkety chirp-chirruping
in brackish raucous screams

loserloserloserloserloser

this forest was once a place
of wonder and the night
so full of promise but now,
it’s like the stars have fallen
from the sky and become
these birds, these birds with eyes
and beaks and nothing to sing,

just screams in a trackless forest
with a past turned out to be a dream
and a future that’s just a strip mine
yet unzipped, yet undug yet torn open
and a present consisting of merely
the sound of these eyes so sharp
and beaks blunt just like red clubs

and no melody down here in sight

Source: no melody down here in sight | Charissa’s Grace Notes

The Privilege of Neutrality

My friend John Pavlovitz hits another home run.
If you are white, and think you can just withdraw from the mess, this is for YOU.


“I know many people like my friend. They’re otherwise decent, responsible, good-hearted men and women, who don’t realize how insulated they are from the kind of fear and threat that people of color, the LGBTQ community, Latinos, or Muslims experience as a working reality—and this insulation gives makes inaction tempting, especially when moving into the fray invites such conflict.

“That we feel a choice in these moments is even possible, shows the subtle and insidious ways privilege works. It allows us to have urgency as an option—where for others it is a necessity. Some people are fighting for their very lives, and the idea that they could or would opt-out isn’t a consideration. It shouldn’t be an option for any of us if we claim humanity as precious…”

Source: The Privilege of Neutrality

Donald Trump travel, family depletes Secret Service funds for agents

This is the modus operandi of this absolute fucker.  He has a historical record of having people working for him and then turning around and stiffing them for their wage.

Remember how he said he would drain the swamp?  Well, besides hundreds of other ways that he has in fact increased the surface area and fetid nature of the swamp, he has also enriched himself by staying at places that he owns…and thus the extra security detail needs rooms at those places…and all that money goes straight into ttaf’s pocket.

I don’t know which makes me sicker…his avarice, or the ttaf supporter’s indifference.


Agents must protect Trump – who travels almost every weekend to properties in Florida, New Jersey and Virginia – and his on-the-move adult children.

Source: Donald Trump travel, family depletes Secret Service funds for agents

How Trump Ruined My Relationship With My White Mother

Why I do not “go there” with you, ttaf supporter.  This article says it well.  Besides, if I ever did go there with you?  I would begin to pull out documented fact after documented fact, triple sourced and you would fly into a rage screaming Fox News and libruhls done brain-washed you!

Read the words of this person.  He says it so well, what this blind allegiance to your political past is costing you in your real life future.

Like most of America, I’ve had a week. Whereas Charlottesville, Va., touched off a week of necessary discussions, debates and arguments centering largely on our president’s ignorance and emboldening of the very real problems in America, I’ve had exhausting, draining and, ultimately, disappointing arguments about America’s race problem within my own house with my mother.

Source: How Trump Ruined My Relationship With My White Mother

Fox News Can’t Stop Literally Crying About Donald Trump’s Worst Week Yet

Fox News watcher, ttaf supporter…when even your precious Fox News which HEAVILY skews reality to support an over-arching story line that does NOT match up well with actual events…when even Fox News is forced to acknowledge the bald face truth about the monstrosity that you and Russia elected president, well, where will you run to know?

It is clear that the evangelical right still has its lips clamped firmly on ttaf’s tailpipe, which is unconscionable and Antichrist…and yet they so easily and quickly can condemn every single LGTBQIA person to hell without even knowing them…

but here is a major clue:  If your precious David Jeremiah is not acknowledging the evil of ttaf equivocating about racism and evil, then he is a false preacher.  Period.

Listen…ya fucked up.  We get it.  Don’t make it worse by thinking you must go down with the ship.  Just turn away from him…NOW!!

The tears have been steadily streaming ever since Donald Trump’s controversial press conference on Tuesday.

Source: Fox News Can’t Stop Literally Crying About Donald Trump’s Worst Week Yet

How one former president handled the Klan speaks volumes.

ttaf has just flat out taken off all his clothes and abandoned every pretense that he is anything other than a flat out racist.  He did this in a press conference…and he did it with relish and boasting.

He lied about what happened over the weekend, in lies that are so easily fucking debunked that it beggars the imagination that he could be so bald-faced.

He reminds me of a serial killer who just finally gives up pretending and just wallows in the blood and gore.

He sought to equivocate, which is a bit like comparing the sides of the Allies and the side of the Nazis and saying they are equally morally reprehensible.

He is completely ignorant of the difference between Stonewall Jackson and and George Washington.

ttaf supporters…you put a mirror in the White House, and your faces are the ones he reflects…a liar, a racist, and a bloodthirsty bully.

God have mercy on your pathetic souls.

Below, I post a comparison of leaders…George Bush Sr is a man of principle, and this is what that looks like.


“I just felt I had to speak out.”

Source: How one former president handled the Klan speaks volumes.

Charlottesville and the Effort to Downplay Racism in America | The New Yorker

This is what happened…and commentary about it.  A GREAT think piece!!


“Over the weekend, Charlottesville became the site of an extended white-supremacist revival meeting. On Friday night, like a nightmarish graduation procession, a few hundred white supremacists marched with torches down the long green lawn that leads to the Rotunda, the University of Virginia’s signature building.

“They chanted Nazi slogans in the open, undisguised, unafraid of being photographed, proud to be seen. They circled a statue of Thomas Jefferson and attacked a group of student counter-protesters who held a banner reading “UVA Students Act Against White Supremacy” at the statue’s base.

“On Saturday morning, flanked by militia men carrying automatic weapons, the white supremacists assembled in McIntire Park, with swastikas and Confederate flags fully visible; David Duke was there, along with other representatives of the Ku Klux Klan.

“The counter-protest had grown. Religious leaders had gathered at dawn to pray, and progressive and anti-fascist groups tracked the demonstration to Emancipation Park, which was once named Lee Park, after the Confederate general. There, the violence implied in a “white pride” protest erupted, and the rally was dispersed.

“As the counter-protesters moved on foot towards the adjacent Downtown Mall, a man who had come to town to show his support for white supremacy drove his car down a wide pedestrian alley, killing one woman and injuring nineteen people; he then backed out of the alley and drove away.

“This wasn’t the first white-supremacist rally held in Charlottesville in 2017, and it likely won’t be the last. On Saturday, the self-promoting white supremacist Richard Spencer, a proponent of oxymorons (“peaceful ethnic cleansing”) who is also a University of Virginia graduate, filmed himself saying, “Your head’s gonna spin, how many times we’re going to be back here . . . We’re going to make Charlottesville the center of the universe.”

“The white supremacists have successfully pushed a narrative that they chose Charlottesville because it represents progressive values. Ostensibly, this is all a protest over the impending removal of a large statue of Robert E. Lee. Jason Kessler, the organizer of Saturday’s rally (and another U.V.A. graduate), calls Charlottesville a “very far left community that has absorbed these cultural Marxist principles advocated in college towns across the country, about blaming white people for everything.”

“In fact, Charlottesville, while it is home to many progressive people, skillfully models the exact sort of coercive propriety and self-exculpation from the legacy of American racism that has allowed white supremacy to publicly re-emerge….”

Source: Charlottesville and the Effort to Downplay Racism in America | The New Yorker

A Lament, The Day After…The Day Before

Our culture is infected nigh unto death, and death is walking the planet in the guise of human skin…in pustules of hate that infect the brains of privileged THINGS that are fallen OH SO FALLEN from grace, from their birthright…

drunk on privilege and wasted on hate and mainlining the toxic excitement of hunting and killing, these sorry pitiful lost WRECKS have willingly gone werewolf and become nothing but sentient beasts.

Quite simply, you must. YOU MUST. Effect some change in your life right now this very day…and NO!! GET AWAY FROM ME, asking ME what it is you can/should do…why are you asking this small child, when there is a Slain One who showed us the way in the days of His flesh, and He lives even now and speaks to this world thru Holy Spirit, my Mama, who sheds light into darkness…

and into the darkness of your unknowing She IS SHINING and will speak if you listen…

…and then act. DO. DO WHAT SHE SAYS.

Maybe you should walk to work everyday carrying a sign that says something on it.
Maybe you should go next door, a block away, and reach out to the person that rises in your heart to reach.

MAYBE WE SHOULD CANCEL EVERY FUCKING CHURCH SERVICE TODAY AND WALK THE STREETS IN SACK CLOTH AND ASHES FOR OUR UTTER FAILURE TO LIVE OUT THE GOSPEL!!

We need some kind of antibiotic to kill the strain of bacteria loose in our body politic…well, I think that antibiotic is the Gospel of Jesus Christ (not the gospel of evil so-called preachers and fearful status-quo priests)…and I think that every single one of us who can still see that this is evil and deadly are the white blood cells.

I see a culture that has engaged in self mutilation, has engaged in drugging itself…and I see a people in power who wring their hands and say there is nothing we can do that is a sickening echo of the mantra that was shoved down my throat when I was executed and cut loose from a place that supposedly thought I was something valuable and yet when it came right down to it the man-made thought up written down rules were held more sacred and inviolate than my bleeding torn and tattered heart.
How has there not been a dropping of all things and a rising up?

We need a nation-wide deliverance.

And even within my own circle of acquaintances, I KNOW there are those who blame the BLM protesters rather than the racist, drunk on demonic doctrines of death, hate infused SENTIENT BEASTS who have willingly discarded their Divine Spark…

and this makes me so sick I wanna puke.

To be very vulnerable, I don’t know if I am safe around people today…well, to be more honest, I don’t know if they are safe around me…Because

I WANT to inflict THE WOUND THAT WILL NOT HEAL UNTIL WE SEE OUR SISTERS AND BROTHERS OF ALL RACES AND RELIGIONS HEALED…
I WANT to step on your toe so hard you will limp forever, blessing the name of the Wounded Healer Himself…
I WANT to vent your side, so that you would never again gather possessions to it to feed rapacious greed and instead would gather the least of these to staunch the flow of sorrow and slake their thirst for mercy…

When the prayers of the people go up this morning, and the presiding human says to offer the prayers not yet prayed, how do I not just SCREAM AND SCREAM WITHOUT CEASING…so loud, so offensive, so volatile that NO RELIGIOUS SPIRIT COULD STAND IN THE SUMMONING OF THE HOLY SPIRIT OF GOD TO HAVE MERCY ON OUR SORRY GREEDY SLUMBERING ASSES?????

How can I not pray for an hour, in vehemence and tears?

And to be quite honest? I TRULY and DEEPLY suspect that the vast majority would call for me to be disciplined and reprimanded, more upset with my disrupting of the expected order of a worship service than the absolute defiling of our culture with the disruption of justice and the flow of mercy.

Yes.  The Cows of Vashon would mill and moo and low and trample…and chase me out the door straightaway…Or WOULD they?

What are the odds that during the night the watchmen have been gathering sack-cloth and fashioning slip on garments, and burning the watch-fires to collect ashes

(why Charissa, you dumb bitch, it is not Ash Wednesday, wtf with the ashes, idjit???)…

What if the leaders are ready, handing EACH person a garment made and saying that unless you don that cloth and take a mark of ash, for THIS SUNDAY, you do not come into the house…for it is a time of repentance and rending garments. It is a time for face falling and weeping aloud and BEGGING for the streams of justice to wash thru the House.

Well. What an…EXTREME..girl you are, Charissa.

Umm…okay. SO I WILL SETTLE FOR THE TRUE HEART ATTITUDE OF SACK CLOTH AND ASHES THIS MORNING!!!
Can you even summon the fucking COURAGE for THAT???  Can you BURN your fucking programs and orders of the day and expected liturgy and smear your own HEART with ashes and let your face be rent with tears on this day??

What the FUCK is there to preach on if not this?

If our dire and needful moment is NOT front and center and a call to repentance not issued then we do indeed serve a false god made from human hands and not the GOD of gods, the One who came and suffered and bled and invited the outcasts first.
Let us go outside the city, bearing His reproach…for there He awaits for us among the outcast. And in returning to the city after, let us draw near to the gates, and to the entrance of the doors, and to the high hill beside the Way where our paths meet…and hear the voice of WISDOM…the voice of Holy Spirit…the voice of MAMA who is SHOUTING SHOUTING SHOUTING to all fools and indolent ones DRAW NEAR!!

Statements by ecclesial bodies are just that, especially when the orthopraxy of said bodies still is exclusionary in so many ways and practical applications.

I don’t know what to do with myself right now. My chest is red and scratched as I claw and claw seeking to tear this pain from my heart.

I am well and truly troubled and do not know the way forward today.No automatic alt text available.

My Fellow White Americans…

 


“For the back of the house: no, all Trump voters are not white supremacists. YES, all Trump voters were comfortable electing a white supremacist to the highest office in the nation. This tweet is weak because the President doesn’t want to upset the members of his base because the members of his base are either okay with this or they are the very tiki-torch-lit assholes pictured above. These are guys wearing MAGA hats. These ARE the faces of your base. This IS the same rhetoric that Trump has always espoused. It’s Racism Classic™, now with Extra Tiki.”

Source: My fellow white Americans. | I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog

Julius Goat on Twitter: “Imagine if these people ever faced actual oppression. https://t.co/dhPCbtfEjO”

Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect 

There IS no “other hand”.  There IS no “other side” that must be heard.

There is hatred and devotion to satanic ideologies that have slaughtered millions and millions…and there is resisting this.

If you are not against this, and openly against this…then you are for it.

Period.

Any attempt to ameliorate this, to talk it away, to justify it…any attempt to “Fox News” it is in itself evil and enabling.

++++++++++++

From the Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect:

MR. PRESIDENT, LEARN THESE WORDS FROM ELIE WIESEL OF BLESSED MEMORY: “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

Source: (6) Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect – Home

They Are Your Family Now, Not Me

ttaf supporters…the ones in the background are your family now.

Not me…not anymore…not until you denounce them, and their new avatar of bigotry ttaf.

ttaf is saying to us that there is moral equivalence between the Nazi demonstrators and the counter protesters…

there is not.

If you think there is, then I have no truck with you.  Ever.

I denounce ttaf.  I denounce all of his supporters.  I denounce the hatred and bigotry on display.  I denounce those who claim the name of Jesus who refuse to have their eyes opened by this orgy of hate and racism.

God save us…we are truly entering into hell.

Image may contain: 3 people, people standing and outdoor

White Supremacist Mob Carrying Torches Attacks Anti-Racist Protesters in Charlottesville – UNICORN RIOT

ttaf supporters…

if you write this off as “fake news” you sign the line that satan offers you…your own piece of mind and security and prosperity in exchange for your soul.


Charlottesville, VA – A group of hundreds of neo-Nazis, KKK members, and other white supremacists in town for Saturday’s ‘Unite The Right’ rally assembled at ‘Nameless Field’ on University of Virginia (UVA) campus Friday night.  The group was marshaled by a security team who instructed them to march in a column bearing lit tiki torches. […]

Source: White Supremacist Mob Carrying Torches Attacks Anti-Racist Protesters in Charlottesville – UNICORN RIOT

Yes, This is Racism

My friend John says it again…straight out.  And I will say it too:

If you are not horrified by this you are a racist.
If you will not see how ttaf’s silence on these matters sets the stage for them, then you are a blind racist.

+++++++++++

“Sometimes we just need to say it without adornment or finessing.

“What we’re watching unfolding in Charlottesville, with hundreds of white people bearing torches and chanting about the value of white lives and shouting slurs, is not a “far Right” protest. When you move that far right, past humanity, past decency, past goodness—you’re something else. You’re not a supremacist, you’re not a nationalist, and you’re not alt-Right. This is racism.

“This is domestic terrorism.
This is bigotry.
It is blind hatred of the most vile kind.This doesn’t represent America.
It doesn’t represent Jesus.
It doesn’t speak for the majority.
It’s a cancerous, terrible, putrid sickness that represents the absolute worst of who we are…”

Source: Yes, This is Racism

An Eclipse Of Grace

we are down to it now
here in the land where dragons
have forgotten their names
and deny their children
who loved them

Puff and Jackie are no more
it is now all sturm und drang.

A monster has arisen
and graves quiver and tremble
as fingers long thought dead
scritch scritch scritch
on those coffins so
recently buried

and show that they live
and gibber in glee
with prospects of release

scritch scritch scritch

but the moon has not forgotten
does not forget her beloved
now hot and baking in the
disjointed unhitched sunlight
called not-Puff (Sturm) not-Jackie (Drang)

called alt-
and hate
and patriotism

the moon has made her move
and soon will shed her grace
a respite from unrelenting baking light

An eclipse of Grace is coming
to save from the eclipse of Grace
found in this screaming perpetual
day without softness
without tender coolness
and velvet still…

I hear the moon move
in the dry drumbeat of bramble
as I pass by, smelling their
desperate intense perfume

the canes of thistles move
in the wind like bones
and sing to me

sooon  soooon…
beneath the croon
of probing beams
that are definitely
way more than they seem

the sky will bend and yield
as moon she rides in day
and comes to eat, to take within
her belly all the taint
of poison so-called light

our moment of escape will then present!
a moment, chains can break and curses rent!
in dark while others fall upon their face
we who watch well an eclipse of Grace…

can learn there at her knee, her royal knee
and small eclipses everywhere we’ll be
from our burnt courage burnished bronze in heat
as we the moon and grace together greet
and mercy kisses truth…at last they meet

may things be healed by our eclipsing feet.

The Twenty-Five Hour Yesterday | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I wrote this poem in 2015…taking on the topic of privilege, and how it devalues everything it touches…like entropy works…especially erasing the humanity of those who serve privilege to the same degree that they exercise it over their fellow human beings.

Supporters of trump the absolute fucker, I am taking DEAD AIM at YOU.

Some of you ttaf supporters think I am mean…but you are wrong.  If you were to wake up, there will come a day that you will thank me for keeping you from a fate FAR worse than death.

In the poem, there are italicized lines.  They signify to the reader that the reader is to “sing them in their mind” with the tune that corresponds…

“…We stand before God today
even though entropy
deferred yesterday
we stand before God
as Their Potter’s clay

the urgency
of the present moment,
shaped not by nostalgia
for what once was,
but remembrance
for who God was,
and is,
and ever will be.

that fierce urgency of the now
within a world in need
not of more pointing fingers
and dividing speeches, but of
people willing to rise up
and work as if we now already
are God’s people willing
and surrendered.

I deferred entropy yesterday
It was the least I could do.”

Source: The Twenty-Five Hour Yesterday | Charissa’s Grace Notes

We Lords of Tuscany, We Ladies Of The Meadow | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This poem is a tender special one to me.
The imagery involves a person who is on the gallows,
and staring off down the valley as the wind whispers thru their hair…
remembering their life.

Anyone who loves poetry will adequately apply the metaphors…and if you are new to poetry, try to remember that so often times the best way to talk about stuff is to talk “beside it” and “around it”…so the real Truth can leap up on you when your heart and soul is ready, and not before…you cannot wrench it up unto yourself without murdering it…it must “tumble” to you easily and all in a moment.

It’s why it is so difficult to talk about it…
breaking it down kills it, and not breaking it down
leaves it too big to describe well.

At last we finally
have come down to it,
perched here on this edge
of sun-bleached splintery white planks
and darkly stained with shadows and blood.

I hear the wind winding
thru the distant trees wistful,
insistent and full of desire for
golden times long past and golden
songs sung oh so long ago.

It saws its way, the wind, it saws.
Forth and back, across again
that one long thin strand fixed just so
to that grey ancient, heavy beam
that I can barely see because

history’s speck embedded
in my eyes and clawing,
scratching them
and clouding my ocular
true blue vision…

Source: We Lords of Tuscany, We Ladies Of The Meadow | Charissa’s Grace Notes

13 past 13 | Charissa’s Grace Notes

One of the most important and least favorite things from last year was being faithful and diligent to listen to my muse as She SCREAMED in warning and horror regarding the monster who was approaching power.

I mean, c’mon…I don’t know what is greater:  his sociopathic narcissism, his intention to do harm to less powerful people, or his literal willful stupidity!

ttaf actually said in an interview that Jeff Sessions should NOT have accepted the nomination to the Attorney Generalship of the United States “if he knew he would recuse himself over Russia…”

Constance:  let that sink in.

If you were picking someone for something, and you ended up getting investigated for something…how would the person who you picked have any way to know you would be investigated, especially if you were innocent of all wrong doing?  So why would there even be a need for recusal?

If you were the person picked…would you fill out the papers completely?  If so, there would be full disclosure and thus the person picking could assess ahead of time whether there would be a conflict of interest…but only if they knew ahead of time there was a possibility they WOULD be investigated!!

Except that ttaf insists that this whole thing is made up!  That it is ginned up and is fake…he claims there is no there there…so why would it matter if Sessions felt the need for recusal?  (Which, by the way, is so patently firm and completely established, he likely would have gone to jail if he did not recuse himself).

ttaf insists this is all out of nowhere…and yet he says in the interview with the NYT that Sessions should have told him ahead of time about his need to recuse…which clearly gives away his lie.

ttaf does this kind of shit continuously and consistently…it is the only thing consistent about him:  his utter ruthless commitment to his own survival.

He knows that he is guilty and in deep shit.  HE KNOWS.

And he also knows that you, supporter of ttaf, do not give a shit about any of the crimes, the ways that he has sold YOU out, for his own profit.

You used to be intelligent and thoughtful, parsing lies easily.  But now in your greed, your need to preserve your privilege, you will lay down for him like one of his underage models and beg to be raped by him.

I literally despise him…and I despise and pity anyone who refuses to see that he is the biggest political disaster to hit the USA in history.

He is a mirror to you, ttaf supporter.  Look at him…that is who you are.

the cuckoo clock so pasty white,  so dull
ticktocks its hands to point at the orange cull
and jumps out crazy, chiming, shrieking shrill
the wall is trembling in its echoes still
CUCKOO CUCKOO CUCKOO CUCKOO

Source: 13 past 13 | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This World Too Much

It was somehow so moving, so compelling
up from the shaggy earth, looming and shorn
so sleek with steel and concrete ribbons running.

It wrapped around the way
the way entwined with it
and it was wet and smelled of wind forever.

I stood, soaked to bone and fully brindled
against that wind that prodded at the dangle
of knots, of cracks, of edges all atangle.

And yet, somehow it still all glowed in glory
and still my eyes thrilled at the vital touch
of movement, place and people in the crush

perhaps I love this place, this world too much.

The Outer Rim Of Ruin

I walk around the outer rim of ruin
and ruin walks the inner rim of me
and ivy climbs, caresses every beam
as I surround and caress every bone.

The ravens, hated birds of spite just sit there
and croak in harsh and squawking dark duet
their song of ruin running on the old walls
and dripping down in tears inside of me.

The empty windows stare on desolation
the broken columns gnash the air in sorrow
the floors are jumbled messes of despair lost
lost trying to just get from here to there

But still I walk around the outer rim
and still it walks the inner rim of me
I wait for that return, that restoration
When love comes home, comes true, and I’m set free

A Spoonful Of Sugar | Charissa’s Grace Notes

The bitter lil pill…narcissism…this from 2016

ttaf mainlines it

Can
you swallow
the bitter pill?
The pill that’s come
to dull our conscience,
cushion comfort, corners
nipped just so, sides longer
than tops and bottoms,
that exquisite little
emerald coffin-
shaped bitter
little
pill?

Life’s
fragility, life’s
impermanence…

Source: A Spoonful Of Sugar | Charissa’s Grace Notes

It’s The Blood Of Stars | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This poem hearkens back to the poetry I wrote directly after the Pulse massacre occurred in Florida last year.  I was interested as it emerged…connecting different threads from those immediate poems (you can find those right around the dates in mid-June 2016…use the calendar at the bottom of the page)…up thru the poems of around July 4th…and on to this one (and “Hidden From Your Eyes“)…

It breaks my heart that the foreboding of these poems came true with ttaf…

…but it breaks my heart even further that so few were even aware.
and now it all melts
under falling skies
skies weeping
bleeding

it’s the shining blood of stars
dropping and everything
spinning and melting
down under just
one touch

one

touch of that stricken star’s
living draining dying
diamond
blood

Source: It’s The Blood Of Stars | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Hidden From Our Eyes | Charissa’s Grace Notes

From last year…a tragically prophetic poem about life in the time of ttaf…


Can you feel it
bouncing off steel beams
ricocheting off raw stone,

the sound of gunfire
off in the distance
grim and getting closer
in cold grey shuffling
grave-steps clotted
and rotted
and ruined…

Source: Hidden From Our Eyes | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Finally!

We finally have a President who takes care of the IMPORTANT stuff…yunno, like talking in Professional Wrestling Lingo as if he is giving an interview to “Mean” Gene Oakerland…

Yeah, thank GOD we finally have someone with their priorities straight!!  He spends his time battling the media with insults and ripostes and hate!!  He does NOT concern himself with that boring shit pertaining to national security, fair elections that are not defiled by foreign powers (and this fact confirmed by every Western country’s intelligence services)…

Naww…he is busy hitting out, tweeting vile shit at uppity wimmen and in general being a complete ASSHOLE…just like all of White America that he represents!

Gotta make you feel just GREAT having trump the absolute fucker at the helm, with a constant stream of invective, hate, lies, disinformation, crazed ravings…and somehow able to be praised by those who defile the Name of the Lord by calling this man a Christian.

How awesome that we have a carnival barker at the helm, a snake oil salesman who doesn’t have the slightest clue how to run a country let alone be honest…a thing with a vile inhumane dictator’s hand right up his backside making ttaf his puppet…

Yeah…so awesome…finally

I Lost Time Today | Charissa’s Grace Notes

PLEASE:  Read this out loud, and zero in on the rhymes as the key to where to place your meter.  Lovely, lovely effort, this.


I lost time today…misplaced it completely
as I sat, wondering how
the lavender takes body and position
in the skies above.

Does it wish its way up there?
Does it woo with song and dance?

Notes so sweet floating on air
to paint and wash and seize its chance
to smear its bloody beauty stain
upon the sky’s face once so plain
just blue…and now in wonder-grains
of beauty brief that won’t remain…

I lost time today…

Source: I Lost Time Today | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I Fly Steady On | Charissa’s Grace Notes

The only comment I shall make this year during Independence Day…from a couple years ago

 

Past Lady Liberty,
looming silent still
thru slant snow, icy, cold,
frozen feet firmly planted
atop the broken chains
of captives loosed, unbound.

Past her seeming sightless eyes
fixed on an end unseen (as yet)…

Source: I Fly Steady On | Charissa’s Grace Notes

9 Things To Know About The Senate Health Care Bill : Shots – Health News : NPR

You do realize that if the new supposed health-care bill passes that you will lose your Medicaid?

Don’t you?

Oh yes…and that money will take the form of tax cuts for the poor pitiful wealthy in our nation.

Have fun with that…dunno what you’re gunna do, cus they already have all our money, we can barely make the mortgage payment.

These are your guys tho…and they are repealing Obama…ought to tickle your racist funnybone something fierce, yeah?

Senate Republicans are calling their health care bill the Better Care Reconciliation Act. It shares many provisions with the House’s American Health Care Act, but goes further in cutting Medicaid.

Source: 9 Things To Know About The Senate Health Care Bill : Shots – Health News : NPR

Microphone cut after Mormon girl reveals she’s gay at church

Hey…this heinous and evil action is not unique to this one church, alas.  It is standard operating procedure in evangelical cultures.

But notice something particular…read the article and notice:  she was not doing any sin.  She was not sexually sinning, she was not defaming anyone else…she was simply being authentic and vulnerable.

That list in 1 Corinthians 6 which is used to rape, pillory, and execute LGTBQIA humans “In the Name of Jesus” is a list that refers to actions taken which flow from an unredeemed heart…here they all are:

sexually immoral
idolaters
adulterers
thieves
greedy
drunkards
slanderers
swindlers

…and of course the infamous supposed ban on same sex relationships which was actually speaking to the unequal and evil power dynamic practiced in those days by men of power over young and exploitable boys…very similar to how today’s Rape Culture looks.

Sexual immorality is a perversion of sex
Idolatry is a perversion of worship
Adultery is a perversion of relationship
Theft is a perversion of property rights
Greed is a perversion of desire
Drunkenness is a perversion of pleasure
Slander is a perversion of truth telling
Swindling is a perversion of relationship

…and the practice that was mistranslated by the KVJ translators is simply a perversion of sex no different than sexual immorality…

Not one of the root things is in itself an evil!!
This list is by no means exhaustive…but what is exhausting is the evil idolatrous, slanderous, swindling undertaken by millions of so-called Christians EVERY SINGLE DAY who carry it out in Jesus Name…and ignore all the other things in the list.

You’re merely a sinner in need of God…unless you are a homasexshul.

Truthfully?  It is your own guilt and shame which you scapegoat onto LGTBQIA people as a sop to your own guilty conscience.

This girl is far closer to the kingdom of God than the rest of them put together…because she is authentic!!

I suggest you try some…you may end up having a few less “Lord Lord when did we see You’s” to answer for…
SALT LAKE CITY (AP) — A video of a young Mormon girl revealing to her congregation that she is lesbian and still loved by God — before her microphone is turned off by local…

Source: Microphone cut after Mormon girl reveals she’s gay at church

President Trump’s Lies, the Definitive List – The New York Times

Oh yes, I know, I know…all you ttaf supporters think ttaf is “God’s anointed”, which is an absolute bastardization and perversion of the New Testament covenant.  You believe the words of Daniel Jeremiah and Franklin Graham over the words of Jesus Himself.

Here are the lies of ttaf

Obama’s secret struggle to retaliate against Putin’s election interference – Washington Post

This article is work…which, sadly, diminishes my confidence that ttaf supporters will read it.

But what if it can be viewed as one’s patriotic duty…to save the country from knaves and villains?  Would you stretch your soul then?

Here is the killer to me:  out of ALL the things that ttaf has put down, insulted, lied about, accused and bourne false witness over, not ONCE has he addressed the factual reality of what Russia did to our nation in 2016.

That alone should make you wonder…but you are as the citizens of Troy who fell victim to the Trojan Horse.
Pull Quote:
“In political terms, Russia’s interference was the crime of the century, an unprecedented and largely successful destabilizing attack on American democracy. It was a case that took almost no time to solve, traced to the Kremlin through cyber-forensics and intelligence on Putin’s involvement. And yet, because of the divergent ways Obama and Trump have handled the matter, Moscow appears unlikely to face proportionate consequences.”

Source: Obama’s secret struggle to retaliate against Putin’s election interference – Washington Post

Deaf Earth’s Denial | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This is my favorite poem of mine…it is old, actually, comparatively speaking, having mewled and clawed its way thru my inelastic soul still soaking in oil to be made pliable and flexy…

This poem is explicitly about gender dysphoria, and specifically my own experience of that as a child…a child newly divorced from herself and dedicated to performance to be sure I remained loved and accepted…after all, I was the girl who wandered woefully, tearfully with no words to describe the pain and horror within and so my litany was “it’s the end of the world…to which the response from adults around me was to mock me with sarcasm telling me that “nobody loves you”…

…which most certainly was not intended to destroy me but which poison was no less destructive given the intent.  It was into that pool I dove headlong and knowing that performance had to be utterly perfect to avoid harm from shark and wave.

This poem is historically accurate, and related poetically.

When you read this, do try reading it aloud, as the rhythm and meter are very intentional and seek perfect repetition one with the other from stanza to stanza, so as to mimic the flow of the clouds overhead in the wind.

…I remember, sweet fields of red clover,
green stalks soft and new, tops dipped in crimson,
just before being baked by the shimmery sun
but after they’d stripped off their equinox frocks
to lay naked and sunbathe and snooze…

Source: Deaf Earth’s Denial | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Has Evangelical Christianity Become Sociopathic? | HuffPost

I just have to share this article here…I hope you reach into your suitcase of courage to read this look in the mirror.  If you consider yourself a christian, I challenge you to repudiate these tendencies in your own heart…and if you do not consider yourself a christian, I wish to apologize deeply for the horror show that has been inflicted on you by those who claim the Blessed Name…and do so in utter vanity.

“The 2016 election demonstrated an especially high level of insincerity, shamelessness, poor judgment and pathological egocentricity among Christian evangelicals. James Dobson, who once said of Bill Clinton, “Character does matter. You can’t run a family, let alone a country without it. How foolish to believe that a person who lacks honesty and moral integrity is qualified to lead a nation and the world,” and then said of Donald Trump, “I’m not under any illusions that he is an outstanding moral example. “It’s a cliché but true: We are electing a commander-in-chief, not a theologian-in-chief.”

“The evangelical Christian message is loud and clear. They care for no one but themselves. Their devotion is to the version of Christianity they have created, which calls for ruthless abandonment of immigrants, women, children – even their own – and anyone else who doesn’t fall inline with their message. Social justice, which is mentioned in Bible verses over two thousand times, has been replaced with hardline political ideology. Principle over people. Indifference over involvement. Judgment over generosity.

“Every generation redefines what it means to be, or belong to a religious group. Religious ideologies, interpretations, and doctrines are fluid. But whatever it is, or whatever it becomes, is made by the people who belong to the religion and what they collectively decide to make it.”

Source: Has Evangelical Christianity Become Sociopathic? | HuffPost

Father’s Day: An Illusory Mourning

If you read here regularly, you know enough about me to know why “Father’s Day” is a very problematic day to me…for I was in the situation that a woman gets thrust into when she for whatever reason is required to be “father” to her children, whether it is due to death or divorce, or the joining of two women, and each of them trade off time in that role.

As I was not out to anyone, least of all myself, there was the expectation by everyone that I would simply “know” what being a father meant…but really the best I could do was follow the example of my own father, watch what other males did, and try as hard as I could to be present in the lives of our children.

Alas, there was the unfortunate cultural baggage to deal with as well…something each generation discovers when their children grow up and become all-knowing teenagers and rip you to shreds with their withering rejection and depths of knowledge that “obviously” exceed your own!!

I have watched, read…and mourned as my life and history has disappeared before my eyes as it is recounted for others thru the pen of writers who leave me agog in the distance between their claims and what I have lived.  I hold in my hands letters, cards, and other mementos that say one thing and links that cross the transom leading to “myth-making” and demythologizing that seem to suit the maker’s whim and need while utterly ignoring whoever might have been present, however unaccounted for…

…and certainly there is great territory that I now see which I could not see then…mourning and grieving is hard work, but real transformation/metamorphosis is even harder because it demands first and foremost accountability to some truth outside one’s self…and it is slow…3 steps forward and 2 back so often…

…believe me, you have not known horror until you devote yourself in the midst of deep pain and sorrow over the course of years to this transformation only to find it entirely dismissed because of the presence of a two step back moment!!

But this is the lot of a transperson…dissociated in childhood, high functioning and intelligent enough to hide it from everyone including herself, only to find everything shifts dizzyingly in middle age and a brand new person who was always there emerges to the surface offering life to everyone but bringing so much death in the process.

One is forced to know one’s self…or die.
One is forced to live one’s life…whether accompanied or abandoned.
And one is at last glad to find moments of authenticity stretching into entire days, becoming weeks and promising a solidness that may last for the few years left on this stage called life before my candle is blown out.

And that brings me full circle to “Father’s Day”…and an interesting unfolding of meaning and history and experience as writ in the poems from that day in 2014 and 2015…

…I will never write another one.

Never.

Any further writing on that subject is more than adequately covered by the ones whose memoirs cover the gamut from memory to gaslighting, to myth making and destruction…and telling the stories that make sense to them not only their past but their present…for what a joyous role it is to be present scapegoat for those unhappy and not realizing that many independent choices have led them to the place they are in and that of their own volition and doing…as long as I am there, that result can be shunted off onto me…and thus provide some measure of relief and comfort, and maybe even some space to grow and grow up…

for certainly this is the role of a parent if not a father…

I love no less than ever I loved…perhaps even more now than then…but I am far less invested in measuring my own self based on the things that are said to others about me…because I know myself now, better than I have ever known, and I accept the successes, the failures, all rolled into one and called “a life lived”.

I think that I get to some of these feelings, emotions, conclusions in the poems on this subject.

At any rate, it is clear to me that there are new puppies who eagerly drink, and a multitude of souls who have begun to call me mother, or spiritual parent…and my job is to be who I am, in joy and full participation…if those from the highways and byways come willingly to the table, I shall serve them what goods I have, and continue in my quest to be utterly emptied of anything left to give on my final breath’s exhalation.

I suspect there is much to be gleaned in these poems for any parent of adult children…but I cannot be the judge of that…only embrace the process of being a parent to those given to me…and rejoice as I see the tools I diligently sought to impart put to use…even if it is for my flaying, dissection, and repudiation.

God knows I love them…miss them…and wish that I could know and be known by them.  But that option is not mine to know or even demand, for it is wrapped and concealed in the illusions and fogs of times future…

but maybe Christmas principles, lessons…perhaps Christmas visitations will give all Mr. Scrooges that reprieve we all wish for, but so few will embrace due to the fires of taking responsibly for being a chooser of free will in a determinative world…

And so to the poems…oh, I’ve many poems written to my children individually and collectively…but these three specifically concern the horrid day known as “Father’s Day”, and they are my only answer I shall ever make to the long horror show letter received on this day, or the articles about me that so deeply and mortally wounded my heart…I await with longing the day of resurrection that shall come.

Here are the links…if you are still here to click:

The Footprints Of Ghosts

Beside This Ring Of Ashes One Year Later

The Blossom of Memories of You (Father’s Day 2015)

I Am A broken girl And I Am | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I am a broken girl and I am

not so easy to love like
carefree normal confident girls
next door in cotton and flannel and lace.

I live inside a fortress and I hide

inside shields and my soul
lives centuries in seconds
I am a survivor of wars
that break the strongest
men so flimsy.

Source: I Am A broken girl And I Am | Charissa’s Grace Notes

One Reason Why Evangelicals Won’t Abandon Or Protest Trump: Spiritual Coercion | HuffPost

Really Strong article…this goes out to those who claim the name “christian” and yet worship ttaf instead of Christ
“This rhetoric of submission too closely resembles the rhetoric of the White Moderate who told King to wait because he was creating too much of a disturbance.

“The White Moderate of 1963 and the white evangelical of 2017 are both “more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; [and] prefer a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”

“But King points out that “we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with.

“Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.”

“It is time for white evangelicals to stop being the spiritual doppelgängers of those White Moderates from the 60’s who will be always be remembered as the stumbling block to racial equality and social justice.

“Quoting verses about prayer and submission to authority in order to keep yourselves comfortable while the most marginalized are being targeted is not obedience to love and holiness. It is a sad, misdirected violation of both.”

Source: One Reason Why Evangelicals Won’t Abandon Or Protest Trump: Spiritual Coercion | HuffPost

So Trump Supporter, What Do You Love Most About Him?

“…Now, I know you’re not supporting him simply because you voted for him and you have to save face now—even while seeing how inept, unqualified, unhinged, and terrible he is.

“I know you’re not doing it just because that’s what FoxNews tells you to do—and you always do what FoxNews tells you to do.

“I know you’re not just sticking with him because you hated President Obama and Hillary Clinton so much that you voted simply out of spite and are now digging your heels in out of spite.

“I know that you can’t share his contempt for Muslims and women and the LGBTQ community and the poor.

“And I know you aren’t doubling down in support because you approve of the misogyny, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and racism associated with him and his Cabinet.

“It surely can’t be any of those things.

“Obviously the list of reasons to love Donald Trump is nearly endless, but if you’d tell me what you love most about him and why you’re still supporting him, I’d love to hear it…”

Source: So Trump Supporter, What Do You Love Most About Him?

The Footprints of Ghosts (commemorating my first Father’s Day as myself) | Charissa’s Grace Notes

From the first “Father’s Day” passing since I entered transition…wow was I naive then.  Since then, the hell-words and deeper hell-silences have scarred deeply.

I will never ever celebrate or participate in this day again.

But this poem…ahhh, I was ringing the bell on this day.


The fire crackles and pops
its diphthongs and phonemes
in that hot and feisty
rapid-snap delivery.

“Dad!  Dad!  Daddy!  Father!”
It says this in living
letters of merry blazing
iterations of what …

Source: The Footprints of Ghosts (commemorating my first Father’s Day as myself) | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Reaching People Who No Longer Value the Truth

POWERFUL essay by my friend John Pavlovitz…

trump supporter who also claims allegiance to Jesus Christ:  this is you.

“In the turbulent days in which we find ourselves, our most formidable adversary is not the one who is most intelligent, cunning, or even immoral—it is the person who no longer has need of the truth; who ceases to be burdened by the existence or veracity of data in order to believe what they believe.

When someone has reached this place of delusion, their only pressing commitment is preserving the myth they’ve told themselves—and so their minds for all practical purposes are rendered nearly unchangeable. To reach a different conclusion would involve them rewriting the false story they’ve already convinced themselves of and vigorously defended, sometimes for years. To consider another alternative becomes a threat to their very identity—and so rather than arguing with one’s own mind, the much less complicated or time-consuming task is to simply tell it what it wants to hear regardless of whether or not it is real.”

Source: Reaching People Who No Longer Value the Truth

From Provence To Salamanca | Charissa’s Grace Notes

From last year, a poem describing leaving a place of fruitful becoming and ending up in a place of religious bondage…it wormed its way out of me freely and insisted on the geographical terms, which now in the age of ttaf make far more sense to me.

we had wine
rose wine, pink
blushing with laughing
joy in the midst of
a light crushing

we were in Provence,
and it was warm and sultry
but not thick or sweaty
in that yellow light seeping out of
the ruddy dirt…

Source: From Provence To Salamanca | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Burnt Offerings | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This is an older poem, and I really like its rhythm.  Try reading it aloud, for you will find that the sound of the words shapes how you say the coming ones.

These words are my offerings burnt
singed in fires of pain and hurt
written as gouts of bright blood spurt
from my contrite soul.

I take treasure from my heart
pleasures, pains, my every dart
burn them for a brand new start
the incense of my spirit …

Source: Burnt Offerings | Charissa’s Grace Notes

Rebecca Solnit: The Loneliness of Donald Trump | Literary Hub

This article is a powerful examination of how privilege works…and shows that trump the absolute fucker is the collective mirror image of privileged people in the USA, even those who do not have copious wealth and yet still retain utter privilege as elites in our country.

I am trying to imagine a whole four years of this corrosive soul…and I cannot.  I imagine that those who place their trust in trump the absolute fucker will find themselves with no soul, having sold it in exchange for the delusions and empty nothing that trump the absolute fucker and his minions will visit upon us.

Empty, washed out and vacant souls, gaping like some bank had foreclosed on them, and stained forever with the blood of millions.

“He is, as of this writing, the most mocked man in the world. After the women’s march on January 21st, people joked that he had been rejected by more women in one day than any man in history; he was mocked in newspapers, on television, in cartoons, was the butt of a million jokes, and his every tweet was instantly met with an onslaught of attacks and insults by ordinary citizens gleeful to be able to speak sharp truth to bloated power.

“He is the old fisherman’s wife who wished for everything and sooner or later he will end up with nothing. The wife sitting in front of her hovel was poorer after her series of wishes, because she now owned not only her poverty but her mistakes and her destructive pride, because she might have been otherwise, but brought power and glory crashing down upon her, because she had made her bed badly and was lying in it.

“The man in the white house sits, naked and obscene, a pustule of ego, in the harsh light, a man whose grasp exceeded his understanding, because his understanding was dulled by indulgence. He must know somewhere below the surface he skates on that he has destroyed his image, and like Dorian Gray before him, will be devoured by his own corrosion in due time too.

“One way or another this will kill him, though he may drag down millions with him. One way or another, he knows he has stepped off a cliff, pronounced himself king of the air, and is in freefall. Another dungheap awaits his landing; the dung is all his; when he plunges into it he will be, at last, a self-made man.”

Source: Rebecca Solnit: The Loneliness of Donald Trump | Literary Hub

To Come Back To | Charissa’s Grace Notes

This is a simple love poem…it’s about that moment, that one timeless on-the-precipice moment

the one that you wish would never end…

Source: To Come Back To | Charissa’s Grace Notes

it’s that moment
when lungs forget
how to billow
in and out faithful

when air is tangible,
shimmering silvery-alive,
right before our
hushed wide eyes

that moment when
we both know finally…