Wrong

I am not proud to know you
Nor am I glad we shared
Those six years of my life
I wish I'd never cared

Now all those memories
I wish I could erase
And all those kisses I gave you
I want to take back from your face

I'm ashamed of the support I gave freely
And erase every loving word
From that thing you call a soul
For mine that you butchered

I take back my life I wanted to share
And pray you remain alone
No one to come and lay
Fresh flowers on your tombstone


And when I close my eyes at night
I wish upon a star
That you know inside your shriveled heart
I can't stand who you really are


Loathe you call me friend
You are that which I regret
I am not proud to know you
I wish we'd never met




(image is from zeh235.deviantart.com)

Beauty, Unchained

I bask in the fragrant decadence and stroke the desire as it lingers, fitfully, on my skin. The night air, itself, clings to my slumber-ridden mind, memories and thoughts of a life unfold in the spiraling staircase that leads to the innermost depths of my consciousness.  And at the bottom of those steps lies Beauty, chained, encased in glass, the poison apple motionless by her delicate fingertips. I know what must be done, and gingerly remove the apple from Her presence...Her voluminous hair spilling around Her smooth shoulders. Her skin like fresh cream, Her lips like buttered rubies. I lean in, filling my eyes and my heart with what could never have been had I not stumbled blindly into the trap that led me to this place.

I lean in slowly, realizing too late that the poison was not intended to be consumed, rather simply contacted by the unsuspecting victim. My hand, wretched with venom, burns as I lean in to kiss Her, a fairy tale in the making... She accepts my mouth hungrily, She takes my ache and makes it her own, She sings the song of Angels and Demons.  She rises from the case, hair blazing from Her head, eyes aflame with arcane power. Her voice, thunderous in my head as the poison works into my essence, echoes as she speaks my name.

"Daring to bring Beauty into this world takes courage, my love. It takes more than most are willing to give. You have sacrificed your flesh in order to summon me here, into your life. Your body will be reborn in time, but your soul, your wondrous and caring soul will forever have been touched by my kiss."

I feel the darkness claiming me, I feel cold and damp, but unable to warm myself.  I sense pressure all around me as I fall, headlong into the case. And in that place, deep in my soul, I become eternal. I become myth. And Beauty, unchained, walks in my stead.




(inspired by two simple words, and a life most fulfilling)
image is "Goddess 14" from magickalgraphics.com

Thanksgivin'

(Thanksgiving in Camp by Alfred Waud)

With clarity and brightness, I stare at the electronic page before me and think about what it is I will offer you all today. I think I should just let my gratitude guide me and see where it goes. So pull up a chair and grab a deck of cards... you can flip through them or play solitaire while I type, it's okay with me.

Thanksgiving.
I remember being young, my family gathering around the house. I remember the big bowl of nuts in the shell, and that I liked the almonds and the hazel nuts best, but walnuts were a pain to eat. I remember my Grandfather hovering over the pickles and the olives. I remember the smells of the meal being prepared, the potatoes being whipped in the giant old aluminum pot, the meat stuffing being heated again after cooling all night in the unheated front hall (did we ALWAYS have one of those no matter where we lived?  Seems it!). I remember the turnips and carrots and sweet potato and just so much food there on the table... it was glorious to a kid to see all of it spread out and waiting.   And I remember the comically large turkey being summoned from the oven and placed at the head of the table where my Grandfather sat.  He would carve it up, dish it, and then it would be passed around to join the other foods already plated or being plated as we talked and laughed.  Oddly, here my brain takes a detour.  My Grandfather was the one who always carved the turkey.  not my Father. And up until right now, I wondered about that. But I'll give the man a nod and a huge amount of respect for deferring that honor to his wife's father for the entirety of the man's stay in this life.  That's a lot of respect that drives a decision like that, and I think my Father deserves the same.

Where was I?
Oh, the turkey.
It was never dry, as I remember it.  I've cooked some doozies in my life, but my mother didn't. Tradition and care drove her ability to cook a beautiful bird.

Then came the football, and the cleaning, and the loafing.  It seems that my clarity ends after the meal, and it becomes a muddied mess.  Dishes, of course, and some chatting, but I think the meal really overshadowed the rest of the day.


Today, things are a little different. I used to go to my wife's family for the meal, then dessert with my family (if at all), but that's not happening this year.  So for the return to my joining my family for the meal, drama-free, I am thankful.

I am also thankful for a great many other things... shall I list a few?

• My health, and the health of my family. We're getting older for sure, but we're still kicking.  
• My children. Both of them.  My son making a life for himself in a different state, and my daughter finding ways to grow up too quickly.  
• My family. All of it.  Even the new members I recently added by way of reunion or by choice. I am grateful for the support, for the sharing, and for the love you give.
• My life, and the opportunities I have in it. 
• My art, and the chances I have been given to explore things I never thought possible.  
• My memories of those who have passed. 
• My kitteh, Magic. (who is sleeping the day away it seems!)
• You. All of you. Those of you who visit my blog to see what the hell I am up to now, or to read the latest babbling or poem or story or whatever... why you come here is not important, but that you do is.  
• My friends. Old, new, often or seldom seen. The ones with whom I have crazy adventures and the ones I have touching, quiet moments with.  The ones who take me up on the offer of a shoulder, and the ones I cry on. I am grateful for your friendship. Always.

So there it is. A very short list of just a few of the things I am thankful for this year.

Oh, yeah. I might have a couple things that I didn't mention.
Gina and Jennifer.
Yeah. I'm pretty thankful for them being here, in my life so boldly and bravely. I am thankful for the trust they display, and the kindness, and of course the love.  That glorious, warming love.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.

I love you.

Weight of the Past

Burning daylight in your eyes, I fully expect to feel your gaze upon me, asking if I will squander yet another beautiful day. I wait, breathlessly for the words to fall from your lips, cutting me down for wanting to be here, quietly in your arms. I let my breath begin again, ever so quietly, lest I provoke you into yet another verbal tirade, tearing down my already injured soul.  I can feel the weight of your words forming in your throat...

And you whisper "I love you" instead.

Tears stream down my face as I realize that you are not her, that all the years I spent being trained to respond are gone, the demands for obedience and impossibly high expectations replaced now with love and tenderness.  And I tremble inside for having thought of you that way. I shudder at the thought of having to overcome these feelings in the presence of wonderful you, and I hope deeply that you can see who I am through the conditioned reactions.

"I love you, too," I reply, my hand tracing lazily over your cheek.




We are fragile things, conditioned over years by our partners, by our friends, or family members. Sometimes those conditioned responses spill over into every other part of our lives, and we begin to break down our natural responses and replace them with what is expected.  Sometimes for the better, often at the expense of ourselves. So when the expected response is turned on it's ear, we hopefully begin to see that we CAN feel good about our own reactions, and with some luck, they return along with who we really are inside. To all those suffering from this affliction, my heart goes out to you.  And I include myself in those people, and I try as hard as anyone to rid myself of those reactions that have been needled into me, but I fail from time to time.

So with love, and hope, I'll keep trying.

I hope others do as well.  Life IS beautiful.  We just need to remind ourselves of that from time to time.

Lazily Down the River...

So, yeah. Things move on in strange ways, and we are sometimes unprepared for them. Kind of like when friends just drop by and you are sitting there in your underwear wanting a burger and some tater tots, you know?    I had a wonderful trip to beautiful and sunny Los Angeles recently. It was full of family and friends, and felt more like coming home than going away, which is good. I had the chance to actually contribute a little something to a CD release party for someone famous, met some exceptional people, and even got to help make the caterers happy at the end of the night.  The Feast of Samhain was just fabulous, and I even got to celebrate with my Pagan lovelies! Not to mention seeing the Amanda Palmer show and meeting a really interesting human being there... It was just a great trip.

The return flight was supposed to be a sleep-fest, since I was just plain-old beat, but instead I discovered that I was seated to just the most fabulous human being and had a great conversation about so many different things.  Truly, one of the best trips out there. And then I returned, into the arms of my other love.  As I previously spoke, a goodbye into a hello, and it was warm and caring... more than I ever dreamed possible.  And then the news fell.  My sweetie in LA was suddenly given the chance to start a new career, and our life together became more possible. So here I sit, staring down the barrel of another holiday season, but this year I am not wallowing in the turmoil of a fading marriage, but instead I am reveling in the hearts of women I love, friends I care for, and family more than ever.  It is a wondrous feeling, indeed.

Moving along (please keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times), I get to thinking about how people perceive my public blathering about Polyamory. I wonder if there are a lot of folks just shaking their head. I'm sure most of you who read this blog know how I see the world.  If not, well stay tuned, will you?  But I do wonder sometimes.  I get asked here and there if it's really necessary to be so public about my life.  I think it is.  I think that it's important to be open about this stuff (within reason, that is). There are certain details I don't need to disclose, and I don't. I DO think it is meaningful and positive to be up front about it, and to live by example... (and I often call myself "Mr. Bad Example" as many of you know).

Honestly, there are a couple things that cropped up lately in conversation that I'd like to share.  The first is the concept that polyamory is somehow wrong.  It isn't. It's beautiful.  It's comfortable. It's honest and open. And it's for me.  It might not be for you, but it IS for me.  One of the concerns that pops up now and then is everyone getting enough time. Admittedly, it's tough.  Sometimes very tough.  But we keep trying to find ways to make it work.  It's obvious that it is important to keep talking about all of the issues as they come up, and this one does from time to time.  So far, it's worked out.  As we spend more time actually together, I am hopeful that it will settle into a comfortable rhythm.  We've had things that needed compromise, and we have managed pretty well so far.  I'm certain we will continue to be considerate of each other's needs. Love goes a long way.

Another thing that popped up in conversation is the subject of someone wanting more as things progress.  Probably.  Who knows, right?  I answered that poke with the same thought that I answer most other questions about things that haven't happened yet - I simply put my faith in our lines of communication. I think that we will be able to handle those kinds of things as life marches on.  It will certainly be difficult to come to an agreement  but again, I think that we can all be considerate.  I'm even pretty sure that if one or the other need a little more time (or even ME!!), then we will be able to work out something that allows all of us to feel comfortable. I have lots of faith in what we share.

I'd be really happy to answer questions regarding any of this stuff.  I believe in this life, and I love what I have.


Wrapping up, I suppose. Here is a toast, to starting new lives, to having new homes, and for the very best to those I love.

Without the trust and understanding of two very incredible women, all of this would simply be another life.  Instead, it is truly magical. Onward and upward to the future.  I don't know where it leads either, but this road rarely traveled sure has some beautiful scenery.

Thank you.

I love you both.

Coming Home

One of the more difficult parts of long-distance relationships is the goodbye at the end of the trip.  It's never easy in any circumstance, and certainly not here, but there's a twist. This goodbye also ends in a hello. Polyamory sometimes comes across as something other than the beautiful, caring thing that it really is.  But here, nearing the sadnessof goodbye, I am also faced with another joyful hello.

I have said many times recently that the presence of one heart does not make the absence of the other any easier. I miss each one, I long to feel that closeness and be near to the melodious sounds of my love's voice. Each of them. It's so damned hard to say hello without remembering that there was just a goodbye. It seems so easy to some who do not understand, but it is far from that.  There is the aching, the stinging, and the sense of loss that comes with each goodbye.  There is, of course, also the joyous elation of each hello, as well. That warm sense of tenderness with that very first hug, that very first kiss.  It is beauty in sadness. The easy solution, as so stated to me from time to time, is to choose one. But would it be easy for you to choose one of your children over the other?  I didn't think so. Each is loved completely. Each a part of you.  The case is the same here.

Instead, I will embrace each heart as I do, I will love and care as I do. And I will miss each heart as I do.  But I will also be so very grateful for that first embrace, that first gaze into loving eyes.

In this case, coming home means leaving home. Just as it did a week ago. Just as it will over and over again.

Tadaima.

(the image is shared from a facebook posting - if it's yours, just ask and I'll take it down)