Blood In the Moon

Menses to fell those of moods; swelling pulse of red
Placed between fingers, fingers so light in touch
there, a wavering cloth bleached white as if battled to surrender

Timely comes cones of tail, swimming course and way
Lost minutes as the seconds fail
until
Centuries bulge, exploding silently
the bridge between the valleys of time

A knight falls to fate
A maiden eats the bitter
A peasant toils with head down to survive
A king wears the pride
A queen wails

Riches or Spoils?
Inside the Moon,
full of pull and sway,
a heart full of blood beating without any life.

Every moment on this planet is time of, was, is…

In the good ol days, tribes, cultures, countries, even individuals, all spent the day/nights trying to survive.

There were environmental hazards such as flooding, fires, winds, brutal winters, severe simmering summers. There were wars and fighting. Animals, insects, poisonous critters. Sickness, illness, disease.

Of course with such a struggle to survive most tribes, cultures, countries, even individuals, were very very very close to their environments. Tuned in so to speak.

In the good ol days, survival was the main moment to be. And then, it started to change. Science evolved. Technology budded. Heck, people even had fire and knowledge how to grow food and dabble with art, music, and what could be considered, sport or fun. Their true connection to their environment became severed, much like ‘today’.

The good ol days were not really all that good if you got eaten by a lion or had a spear shoved up your ass or some marauding group raped all your women, enslaved your children and killed your men… Which leads me to the following article I read today titled: California Dem State Senator bans ‘he’ and ‘she’ pronouns.

What fun! Can’t say that a marauding group raped all your women, enslaved your children and killed your men… The State Senator wants the word ‘they’ used instead, so to be kind to gender neutral folks.

So, in the good ol days she would have said, “A marauding group raped all of them, enslaved them, and killed all of them.” Huh?

That’s the world we have. Women with power to come up with stupid shit like the State Senator from California. Men with their balls cut off. And children who are raised in such a shit moment.

That’s okay though. All it takes is a reality check such as a huge and horrible natural disaster where men become men, women become women, and children who grow in a time where they can become men and women, that is, if they can survive that long…

I really really reeeeeeally find this world humorous. And, I miss the good ol days of just enjoying the gift of survival.

Swimming with the fish high above the sands
Currents kind and in command

Keel spine and rudder
Propellers push of mobbed
chaos
churning bubbles

Deep to find and sift
spying schools in session
evading baited points with aloof opinions

So easy to reach out with hooked hand
Grasping lipped gill and shimmering colors

A flip of tail to no avail
one
after
one
after one…

Watery world of comfort
Needs filled
no hunger
no pain
with random folly
counting other world seagulls.

Puppies are the best thing on this planet! Well, except for pizza, chips, snails smother in garlic butter, pizza…did I mention pizza?

Anyway, got a new corgi pup and man is she a handful. Eats more per size than I do. Thus the inspiration.
***
Sobo

So, nine weeks old going on fusion of puppy chow
Zooming around like a top
Chewing everything from shoes to the mop

Boy is she cute!
Black, and white, with a smidge of brown
and attitude?

Watched her take on the big boy
Watcher her torment the big girl
What a sight!

For anyone needing joy in their life over stress, work, and money
Get a puppy, a corgi is best
unless you want to be tormented
driven crazy
depressed…
then buy a cat.

Beneath the stout girders; steel formed to angle

Deck of gravel and oil

while above a nest of a bird

Hear the sounds as he moves about and around?

A lovely little fella; big feet, big belly, big ears, razor blue eyes

playing with the rain and snow, with tongue lapping up water

and fish swimming by.

Cars, trucks and people travel over and by

lost in their world concerned with life

Saw the troll peeking, the light coming from his eyes

Piercing

Revealing

his laughter rubbing the mind

taking a trip there tonight in a Dream

maybe play a game of cards and sip tea

for when the sun rises tomorrow, the troll will attend to serious business

tomorrow he will tickle a family of raccoons, chase ducks, and try to wear pantaloons.

,

Poetry. A most wonderful mechanism installed in every human heart at birth and remains after death.

Read a poem well written. Very poignant and vivid.

With poetry there truly is a reveal of that illusive wisp of soul, a sliver if you will.

*

Yes and No

Knowing a bit means a bit more

and less

No, sounds like knowledge

Yes, sounds like yes

To have been burnt brings the smell, the feel, of experience

To have been burnt means to say no to such futures which then brings

Yes, yes to know of the experience

Some say no when they want yes

Meaning they say no when fearing rejection

Rejection

Acceptance

A balance of no and yes

Some say yes when they want no

Meaning they say yes when fearing acceptance

A balance of yes and no

How wonderful indeed, the pointed pivot of fulcrum

Carrying the weight of balance needed

where full weight of words come to the center and blend

where yes means no and no means yes.

Divisible and with three

armed with and giving

Homer and friend and wood

Then there were three, and three again

such to begin

a grin

for really, what does it matter?

to reveal with slice after slice

the heart of Oak.

Who are you? Do you know?

Simple question really. Everyone mostly thinks they know who and what they are. And in this day-and-age, you can be most anything you want. You can be male, female, heck, you can be a tree, a dog… whatever you want… but, who are you? Do you know?

Humans love to cling to identities. Even if those identities are make believe such as, “Hi, my name is Bob, but actually, I’m Batman!”

Okay, so Bob knows he is Batman. That’s well and good unless Bob also happens to be the pilot of an airplane I’m flying on. I don’t trust Batman’s skill as also identifying as a pilot.

Pretty  boring what I’m writing about tonight, probably should as I identify as a writer. A boring writer true, but a writer. Thank goodness I’m not a pilot named Bob who is also Batman…

Lets see if you identify with the following: Druid, Witch, Warlock, Janitor, Dragon, Fairy, Troll, Ogre, Democrat, Communist, Christian, Frog, Rabbit… and yes, Batman. Are you any of those? Is this who you are? Do you know?

Interesting how many people look into a mirror and see an identity. A picture of who and what they are. Well, most people do. That one crazy woman who looked into a mirror and said, ” Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most batshit crazy of them all…(or was it, beautiful of them all?)” It all gets a little crazy when you identify as Batman.

This is what is great about being what i am. Now what I am truly is mostly boring. What i really am is considered crazy by this World, but not in mine. No sir/ma’am/it, in my World it really is wonderful and everyone knows exactly what they are and what their purpose in ‘Life’ is. It truly is.

Now, just as Bob is a pilot who also thinks he is Batman, that is well and good for him and those around Bob who like him. But really, Bob is Bob. Maybe a good pilot, maybe a bad pilot but for sure Bob is no Batman. Batman is not real. It is make-believe.

Witches, are they real? Of course. I know Witches well just as everything in this World is so easy to identify and relate too, but in the realm of what is real and what the realm of wanting to be real… well, those are two very opposing items.

Dragons of course are real, only not in the way humans know. Human witches, human warlocks and all the rest of the fantasy world of humanity thinks they identify with, those are just costumes that some people embrace.

And here is where it gets dangerous. It gets dangerous when reality of magik  meets magic of man. When a wizard  thinks they are a Wizard. Or heck when gods think they are God.

A little knowledge is a bad thing to those who cannot and are not prepared to know. Give a child the ability to light a match and then hand them a can of gasoline without warning them of the power of exploding gasoline… You get the point.

i am glad humanity are the children fit for the world they were given. It is fun to see how they grow and struggle with their respective identities. It also is fun to see the reality of Magik )cor to ti so( and how it exists alongside, almost like adults dining next to the children’s table.

Who am i? i am a Monster, something you should be glad you cannot identify with nor ever desire to be like. i have no Master except One. But like I said, I’m a boring writer…

Now, who are you? What are you? Do you know? And the true answer for humanity is: Forgive them for they know not what they do.

Billions of billions with billions more; these past millions of years of life

A dinosaur once so tall and powerful, now forever strong outlined fossil of stone

Tree’s noble and forever petrified never again to feed a flame

Uncounted mountains that rose and fell

so much, so much indeed, beyond counting in numbers using 1-2-3…

It is easy to take in the whole, the big picture, this world called, home.

Yet

so very easy to forget and remember the smallest of things, the smallest of numbers.

Lost in ourselves, we with our pride and thoughts

Billions of us, these creatures called, human

yet again

so very easy to forget and remember the smallest of things, the smallest of numbers.

Talk again, as there is always talk.

Talk of abortion, of rights, of

I, me, we.

Talk of laws, of emotions, feelings; pictures huge and grand…

so very easy to forget and remember the smallest of things, the smallest of numbers.

The planet you call home, this ball of soil and water you call, Earth

filled with billions and billions and billions of so many forms of life

it is indeed, special

even more so when blessed with the ability to know

and yet again,

so very easy to forget, to forget what we are, what we all are…

the smallest of things, the smallest of numbers…

we all possess the fetal heartbeat, we all are special

as all life is truly special

from the smallest insect to the largest tree

and to truly make it special

is to simply take the time to remember

the smallest of things, the smallest of numbers

and give thanks.

It is not the pressures,  blackness keep

Creature comforts there where debris falls

shells of mollusk and fin

whales echo in stories and song

Strands of life green leaf glimmer as sirens sing

cacophony a bit with in tune

peaceful actually, looking at trying light

buried high as in phyr, a dare to melt those waxen wings

young girls, flowers rooting in hair

airy transcendence  of laughter

Unicorn dream with lightning crash

thundering representation

a meadow near wooded glade

in center, a circular

there as spiders cling

bladed grass to witness

portal to the Sea.