Category Archives: Poetry

Destroyer of Worlds

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I wrote this poem during one of the dark days…you out there, you cisgendered, please please open your heart and listen.

You literally do not know what it is like to be NULL, to be NOT and naught…

That doesn’t mean that you cannot feel hurt, pain, despair, depression…but at least you can be at home in yourself.

For transgender people, this is something that we have never ever experienced, that feeling of belonging to ourselves…

I am asking for your kindness, if you could find it within yourself to be kind…to not call us trannies or shemales or freaks, etc…and to not assume that we all just want sex so we are doing these perverted things.

It is so much more basic than that.

Anyway…here is the poem…
Smoke is a metaphor here (clue alert lol!!) for Hope, for Love, for acceptance, for Being…
smoke is the revenant released from wood by fire…
ponder it.

Destroyer of Worlds

Smoke is gone,
dispersed on unknown
Winds of Strange Terror and Havoc…
and Abandon.

Acrid scents that once
stirred memories of
Happy hearth
and hale health,

now just
lament of torched heart
and rejected soul
I mourn, I grieve,
and keen from the loss,

my voice
a soundless scream,
my throat ripped
by silent strain
to utter no noise while
my heart shrieks

Ahhh…
trees bend and move,
and grasp and grapple
but Smoke twists…
flows…and passes thru,
ghost of some future happy hope…
alas that phantom hope

Smoke has gone
and I am ruined
forever marked
and branded
with loss.

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Les Séparés

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Les Séparés

N’écris pas. Je suis triste, et je voudrais m’éteindre.
Les beaux étés sans toi, c’est la nuit sans flambeau.
J’ai refermé mes bras qui ne peuvent t’atteindre,
Et frapper à mon coeur, c’est frapper au tombeau.
N’écris pas!

N’écris pas. N’apprenons qu’à mourir à nous-mêmes.
Ne demande qu’à Dieu . . . qu’à toi, si je t’aimais!
Au fond de ton absence écouter que tu m’aimes,
C’est entendre le ciel sans y monter jamais.
N’écris pas!

N’écris pas. Je te crains; j’ai peur de ma mémoire;
Elle a gardé ta voix qui m’appelle souvent.
Ne montre pas l’eau vive à qui ne peut la boire.
Une chère écriture est un portrait vivant.
N’écris pas!

N’écris pas ces doux mots que je n’ose plus lire:
Il semble que ta voix les répand sur mon coeur;
Que je les vois brûler à travers ton sourire;
Il semble qu’un baiser les empreint sur mon coeur.
N’écris pas!

N’écris pas. Je te crains; j’ai peur de ma mémoire;
Elle a gardé ta voix qui m’appelle souvent.
Ne montre pas l’eau vive à qui ne peut la boire.
Une chère écriture est un portrait vivant.
N’écris pas!

N’écris pas ces doux mots que je n’ose plus lire:
Il semble que ta voix les répand sur mon coeur;
Que je les vois brûler à travers ton sourire;
Il semble qu’un baiser les empreint sur mon coeur.

N’écris pas!

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Hobson’s Choice

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This poem is about that place where you just cannot win in a relationship…if you do not speak, you allow the person to harm them-self with selfish actions and attitudes…but if you do speak, they will be hurt by the hard truth that they have been awful pills…

My partner just went thru one of these…

Hobson’s Choice

Speaking never says what hearts are crying
Mouths cannot explain the bloody truth
Thoughts forbidden breaking, blasting, flying
Diving after foolishness of youth.

Actions done but done with such politeness
Explanations stacked up like cord wood
Other deeds committed in rich rashness
Raging in the tempests of no good.

What’s greater wrong, the rudest indiscretion
the revelation of a hungry heart
or blank indifferent lack of comprehension
of any wrong or false step or misstart.

i do not know, i do not see, no i do not
have any good in me, no i do not.
To speak is to confront and thus to lose out
but silence is to choke a spirit’s shout.

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My Heart a Book of Love

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My Heart a Book of Love

A book of love, composed by stilted hand
And tongue, stilled by True Beauty’s Blessed Face
Ah! Crippled yet compelled to rise, to stand
And take my heart and blood and make my case.

But ’twere ink blood, and tongue a fearsome sword
I’d be dry, drained before I’d scarce begun
To transcribe my desire and cut the cord
That binds my soul to earth’s dark woeful run.

A  thousand swains, a thousand thousand more
Slain by this tongue become the sword of love
Would give but just a drop of ink, no more
The blood of every poet’s not enough!

Doomed if I write, doomed if I do not write!
Ah Blessed Doom! I yield to your sweet Light.

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No Roadmaps Now

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One last post for now

No Roadmaps Now
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You are going the same place
you always were.  We are…
all of us going there.

Blows rain down in cloudburst clamour
We are nails…we get pounded.
“God pounds his nails” the character said.

But it’s in your face now
It is in your gut, gripping and gnawing
Who will you listen to now? The fear? The pain?

Their song is always the same…threats, mocking laffs
Rinse repeat, booga booga boo!
Their voices have no power but what you loan them!

And you need all your power to yourself.  Dare you empower yourself?
Dare you look past the prejudices, the religious fig leaves, the uncertain awkward fears
of the many who swim on the surface?  Their lack does not change the available!!

Look not inside, for there you see
the dandelions…harmless in appearance, but the slightest puff
and they spread thru you…and clone themselves
Until you are no longer a rose but one big dandelion.

Look not around to others…they are faithfully what they are…UNABLE.
you have no roadmap, you have no footsteps to follow
But you DO have a COMPASS…a SEXTON…
Instruments of old to navigate by Unseen and Signifiers.

You have a sigil…but it is called FAITH
So get you up in the morning…sing
Wash your face. Sing
Choose your life today…Sing
Control what you can, and all else hits the umbrella of SING.

Blaze me a trail baby…for I am on the same path.
My body doesn’t know it yet.
And along the way I will catch up to you
We will walk together, hand in hand into that night…

but fear not, cus I know the One who has overcome that night
and walks in Day forever
Call out! There is no roadmap baby
Follow your heart…walk on the water!
What is there to lose?

Only fear and pain.

Sadness over how people do not deal with things

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I am sad tonight, as I watch the aftermath of someone who is headstrong and stubborn and refuses to actually understand the love they are being given.

This poem is about that:

None So Blind

When looking thru the lense of self you find
A singular defining of your mind
By one and only one stark measurement:
How it affects your fate, your detriment.

Narcissus rules the day and speaks aloud
To push a reasoned balance to the cloud
Of flowry deception and flattering ruin
While pride conspires to mix a bitter brewing.

Alas, all others get reduced to nonce
When glimpsed thru that dread mirror even once.
But in the end it isn’t they that go
But just the selfish, and they do not KNOW!!!

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On Well Trod Paths For The First Time

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Walking in well trod paths, lined with costume jewelry, and
Mardi Gras Beads and party favors from last Chinese New Year.
Seeing what I have always seen? Am I?
Tin foil stars and Kmart Christmas ornaments,
and yard sale poems on plywood and velvet.
I know what they all say already……..

…but…wait, whaaa?
What did that one say??
OH!! Pearls, and emralds came from the Universe’s navel!
Wait…what did THAT one say?
Omg…Jewels and riches, and royal clothes.
Stupid me…I walked this path so often that I only saw what I had forgotten I saw!!

Seeing the forget is horrible, void.
But now I have crossed that thin line
and Damascus is in the rear view
and scales are gone
and I am flying, oh god…

Now I can see

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Canyons and Butterflies

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Long now have I considered the presence of absence
In canyons…majestic by what is not,
Stunning in what is gone.
And yet, talk and rail and howl, Charissa…
Canyons answer not back, or if they
Do they speak only echoes.
Canyons have changed me, but not I them,
Not I…puny, and wratihlike to their Absent Presence.
Fool! Stop explaining!
Stop handing out Rosetta Stones
To entities which do not care to read
But rather would gather voices and then
Speak echoes.

But then, in the shimmering sunlight,
Flitting by, white gossamer
Butterfly bumbling, bouncing
Break dancing in mid air
Heedless of the yawning gulf
Simply floats over the precipice
And is…itself, singing in flight
Speaking by being
Uncaring who hears, sees or knows
And LAUGHING at the canyon-like boasts of
The presence of what isn’t there being best,
Better than the absence of what is there.
Canyons and butterflies…
My polarity extremes.

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The Most Faithful Lover

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The Most Faithful Lover

You there…always
As long as I can remember
My first sensations, first dashing plunging
Baptism into this world.
Throbbing
Smashing
Lurking
Slinking
Smiling
Pitying
Accompanying

Always there…du dum. du dum. du dum.
Keeping time, making time, marking time
Rhythm of your horned hard and callous crusted
Feet.

You have kept me from death
Though your price is high
you have brought me to life
Heeding nary a cry

And now, grown
you sit with me comfortably
At peace, and I with you
My most faithful lover…

Pain

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Battered Ship of Love

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Battered Ship of Love

boats

Seemingly shabby
and worn
Appearances of abandonment and leafless
apple-less branches.
But look…with eyes, with heart,
and see a vessel…the only one which
can cross Styx

Love has slain the ferryman, and
flows to hearts, two hearts
and weaves…turns straw into gold
Have you courage to turn from the shiny clipper
from the santa maria, the pinta and nina?

Francis Drake and pirates rove the seas, and perils wait
but
this ship is small (NOT)…shabby (silky and homey)
and passes unnoticed under the arrogant eyes
and takes me to her and her to me
and we to the land that’s beyond the sea

Rose behind the Sun, light behind the stars
Shine on us and lead us home

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Sail With Me?

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Sail with me?

In boats, empty yet not abandoned…
but pregnant with empty
waiting for
us

Sail with me? Dare to take your
Courage in hand, your heart
in the grip of grace and
step out into the
boat?

Vistas yawn, lazily, beckoning with
Misty tendrils and gauzy contrails
and I wonder if there would be
Joys, happinesses, long pleasant
silences as we
sail

Sunny and warm and snug
Sail with me?

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The Vines

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Poetry is woven into the warp and weft of this creation.  The balance of sunrise and sunset, the pace of the tides, the trill of the birds and the rustle of the winds in the trees.

On it goes…everything in harmony, or dissonance yet in time and rhythm.   Let my first written post be a poem I wrote called The Vines.  It is a poem about humans, really…about anyone who wants to become…more!  Better!  Higher!

The Vines

They are tortured, the best ones…
the vines
Tortured!
Planted in skeins of shitty shallow soil.
Plopped into rocky ruins of ancient volcanic thrashing
and bucking.

They Thirst!
DIPSO!! SITIO!!
They will not drink vinegar, ruined wine

But instead they dig
Down
Roots compelled, FORCED past rocky reams
and veinous minerally walls.
For moisture.

The Vinedresser is compelled…not by cries
but by VISION and the future
of the wine to come
from the best ones, the tortured ones
the blessed ones
Forced to grow and be fruitful.

On that Day the vintage will be poured
and in humble amazement the vines will
ask why…why so blessed, why so rich
why so wet and every thirst quenched,
and stoked…

On that Day

On the Shore

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On the Shore

Brrr…I am a lil skert, starting this blog.  It is the very first baby step towards being out as who I really am, the me that I was born to…I am frightened, and yet so excited all at once.  I love this picture, because it shows how I have always been…gazing out, yearning, standing off to the side, there but not there…and I like that there are 3 women down in the shelter.  They represent my core support…bless you ladies who love me with your hearts!

And I love that we are all surfers in this pic…waves are toys and funland rides to surfers, skimming along on stormy waters and dancing.

I have no idea where I will be in 3 months, in a year.  I have no idea who will be in my life besides the ones who are with me, and who will be out of my life.

May God give me grace to welcome all in, and never shut any out, and then I can have peace, knowing that I have lived in integrity and shalom, and that I am literally not responsible for the choices of others.

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