My Assignment

My Ass... some would say.

It's on the line, I might believe.

It's presumptuous to think that I can assign my life a task, some might say.

What is clear?

Clear is when anger becomes pain.

When pain blinds by removing the sufferer from the life of the human race.

Why I didn't think that was possible. 

It is.

Slattern decides that baloney doesn't make strength happiness.

Fusion of the parts of life doesn't work peacefully, as the hydrogen bomb shoes.  (No, that wasn't deliberte -- nor was that -- but I'm leaving it.)

I hate failure.  I hate retirement.  I hate races of pain.

Illness has returned.
(With the penultimate sentence.)


Clams

Omens

I remember that I wanted to reorganize myself in this post.

But first --

I can't believe for others.  I can't know martyrdom and be strong.

My dream of rising for peace was what was the grand sturm und drang of feelings I possessed 20 years ago.  These feelings were:  anger, foolish (loss of security/certainty) laughter at my mind for being free (in an unfree body/circumstance).   What  does any of this have to do with "peace"?

I thought that if there was one way to be free, that anyone could embrace MY hope.  I passionately needed to show the way.  This was wrong and probably is now too.  No one that greets the day/night with happiness is going to like reading without believing that it is beauty and freedom that is where the Goddess gives the hope to be human with oneself.

I know where this is.  I am worried that no one will ever strongly grieve this rose (i.e., me.)

I wanted to make an impression -- leave a mark.

Now, why?

I lived in a family where there was right and wrong, as brought to awareness by father in accordance with the principles of America.  Now I have found in my mother a peculiar bigotry based on defensiveness about what other people think about us.  She asked me whether I thought that the Taliban were rejoicing about what happened in Connecticut.  This was unbelievable to me, but made me think about the lacks she had faced in her life that kept her from being aware of the realities of other peoples.  I am worried that I will never be strong enough to be happy.  The reason happiness requires strength is that no one created love.  It's there for all to choose.  I will that reason is strong.  I will that softness is loving.

This will of mine may mark me as "different" from women. And men.  I don't know.

Laughter because of loss is my own opening to myself being in the world.  I hate that I cannot be "appropriate," but FUCK YOU for demanding it of me.

I need to move somewhere soon.  I cannot stand being where I'm lonely.  Death is beginning to be cruel.  I am flying around my own existence thinking that when I remember peace a la a certain locale in Brooklyn, that I will have lost freedom.

I wish someone would physically embrace me.  Freely.  I miss that.

Chelsea, Rusty, Susan, Randy, LEYNDA, Antonia, I need belief.

Maybe I will change by peaceful kindness.

I was going to call this moosepile on the dog.  I think I will end by trying to make this change where many people created thoughtful free dreams (embers of culture and knowledge) that involve and are life that is -- pretty?-- not pretty but sublimely free.

That knowledge of hope is there to remember and maybe act on.

To Treitner

Grammr Hammr

Loff Bluff Droff Shoff in Stuff.

Laboratory wayne dries grain.

Now how sow crow low.


Tenner and a kemmer

Hop shop is bop.



Meals for Steels

A literal transcription of a conversation between myself and the bedroom carpet

I wanted to share my life with my friends.  I wanted to give them beauty.  I wanted to say, "this is for you."

But I didn't.

Bucket List

Some of this is fanciful, some of it is doable.  Of course, being psychotic, I can't tell the difference.  Maybe you will help.

Lifespan:  I wish to live longer than my mother, long enough to learn and transmit what I learn to others, but not so long that I am either a) alone or b) a helpless invalid.

Mindwise:  I wish to organize my thoughts and emotions in a way so that I can be beneficial to others.  I wish to be able to support people in their endeavors when I can, and at least not interfere in other people's activities unless they are obviously hurting themselves.  Obviously this requires knowing the difference between harm and not harm.  This is one of the more difficult distinctions for me.  I wish to be able to say with evidence that I have accumulated in my own life what makes me happy, what helps me live with myself and others, what is good for me and others, and what is not.  I wish to be able to know the relationship among justice, happiness, good and being true to yourself and also honest. 

Intellectually:  I would like to be able to contribute at some feasible level to the practice and knowledge of a) literature, b) politics and society (in a way that fosters change for transsexuals, the mentally ill, the poor ) -- meaning knowing what change is and involves, which I am not sure is ever going to happen, c) philosophy.

Spiritually:  I would like to be aware of matters of the spirit and how to cultivate it within me, without being totally self-absorbed in navel-gazing.  This is also a "challenge," (sorry to use that word) for me.  Know what love under will means.

Peoplewise:  I would like not to be disturbing, unless it's not in a destructive way.  Sometimes I feel that people learn from me when I am outrageous, or morose or manic.  I don't know.  Maybe I'll never know, since no one ever bothers to tell me.  I would like friends I can rely on who can rely on me who understand that just because I may have disagreements with them and say so doesn't mean that I hate their guts, but only that I am trying to be honest or I am simply trying to convey positions or ideals that make sense to me, even though they may not make sense to others.  I am trying to know what life is all about, and sometimes I have made mistakes.  Not be a racist.  Not be a sexist.  Not hate authority just because it's there, but not turn to mindless appeasement/co-operation.  Find and give love.

Books in general:  Read all of the books I have.  Understand the changes of culture that have taken place around the world over the last 5,000 years.  Understand the precursors of the modern, the modern, and what is happening contemporarily.

Music:  Go to a concert somewhere sometime.  Write a song.  Listen to music and remember the words. 

Emotions:  Become more or less stable and aware of the kindness that others have shown me.

Languages:  Learn a language.

Places:  Go to Europe again.  Visit Ireland and England.  Maybe study/travel, if possible.  Visit New England, the Northwest.

Parachuting:  Not.

Guns:  Not.

Cars:  Have one.

Relatives:  Visit those who may be supportive.  Know my own culture and why it's so different from other people's, so part of the formerly normal culture without being entirely identical to it.  Write about that.  Write about my immediate family, about growing up in the military in Arizona.

Writing:  Write something more extensive and better and more grounded intellectually, spiritually and emotionally than I have up to now.

Housing:  Have my own place.

Orgasms.  Have one again.

Health and Drugs.  Not hurt myself or anyone else.  Possibly means total abstinence.

Politics:  Not be in a cocoon.  But know that without love (under will) 'tis but the tinkling of a bell.
Write about women in "socialism."  Communicate working class values without hating myself.

Pets:  I'd love them.

Food:  Try new food. 

Work:  Find work that doesn't kill me that I don't kill.

Friends:  Ditto.  ("Kill" being a figure of speech.)

Show respect, live accordingly.  Follow my bliss OUT of the dark mire.

Learn, practice magic.  Believe.

Love NYC.

Poetry, strength, freedom, beauty, are everywhere.  Remember that.  Act accordingly.

Okay, enough for now.  I grow tired.

Drama

Morte

While loud masses reach my separated life,
I claim a single grain for you.

My importance is nakedness before it.

So, as horses meet and jest in the forest
On ground stolen by men in this house,

Lambs do feed the fame of many epistles, bringing
This painful peace.

Now you may laugh with your family
Without drawing the small-hearted.

As lakes reek, this ultimate year,
Please lift me, for Asherah near.

Man makes reason friends

Beth knew what I loved.  She was a lantern in my dreams.  I carried her knowledge into the realm of beauty.  I loved, for this which I am now, mingus the armorer.

I crowd around a vortex, seeing the memories  I have possessed sink into life.  I can deal with money.  I must like that which is peace when peace is rutted with the ways of openness.

That knowledge spelled it out:  Crass needs seek crap to like.

Materialism is weather as land.



Oh, none of this is even intelligible to someone who knows me very well.  Let me restate it so that it makes sense to those with an interest in a poet:

Allah drove his men to anger.
I ran toward his great wind (in the desert, natch).

Lambs of the Goddess same as its own rent.

I draw this woman's need -- That orgasmic argument(okay, I) tried to fail in order to achieve impetigo..




I know what happened.  That knowledge which knew it as fake was my rest in clan.  I saved my body for its rest.  This is the angry part of why I know a check (receive disability).

Cryptic means I am dreaming of hands (someone's).

You know where this has made another yergin.




Liberal presented as radical.

Daniel Yergin.

First paper at Stanford regarded energy policy!!!

Now you know.  Pink Pack Poem Makes brace.

Ow.




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Lamp is no one's gain.


Omalampreyouarenestingasrogue.

blood sucking eel.

That's me.


In a few million years I will be flack to a hope.


I apologize for the most dreadful tone of this.  I can only refer you to the fact that I have been somewhere realizing that I am a sick dreamer of marching to lesbian orphans.

Anguish is money with fancy taxis.

You were so loving.  You were so strong.  Now you grieve your body and your life.

I am you as rich rich rich fit proud natural finch.

Rich man goes to law to be lazy.

Hand over the dream and I will become an intrigue.,

Offenses made me fuck like a slinky.

I will now fall downstairs like a good spiral.