Tag Archives: desire

Shhhh I’m Now A Terrorist (Apparently)

“True moderation in the defence of political liberties is indeed a difficult thing: pretending to want fair shares for all, every man raises himself by depressing his neighbour; our anxiety to avoid oppression leads us to practice it ourselves; the injustice we repel, we visit in turn upon others, as if there were no choice except either to do it or to suffer it.” Titus Livy

Be afraid,

Be very, VERY, very afraid,

For the revolution is upon us,

Upon US and WE are the enemy.

Friends,

Be no more my friends,

Deny you know me,

Deny our experiences,

And the times we have known,

For in the exercise of OUR now non existent rights,

Global,

I am a, shhhhhhhhhh,

Whisper,

Extremist;

A terrorist.

By virtue,

Imbued by parents who clearly loved me,

I fiercely ravished books,

Thousands,

And still do today,

Of every possible design,

Exploring thoughts,

Exploring my own as result,

Analyzing, accepting and refusing,

At the behest of rationality,

Ideas that I find genuine,

And dismissing though entertaining those,

That insult,

As Whitman would suggest,

My soul,

But shhhhh,

Whisper,

I am a,

Terrorist.

“War is peace.

Freedom is slavery.

Ignorance is strength.” Orwell

Our civilization,

So called,

Has declared war,

Globally,

Against religions for oil,

Against citizens for greed,

Against myself and others like me,

For exercising our minds,

Exploring facts in evidence,

Exposing them,

Expressing and disseminating them,

And for this noble cause,

According to the bastions of governmental influence,

My thoughts,

My words,

These words,

Make me a terrorist,

An extremist,

For bearing witness against the wickedness of an evil few,

That pit us against each other,

For the perpetuation of their iniquity,

AT YOUR EXPENSE,

And for this,

I am,

A terrorist?

“As man consists of body and soul, all our possessions and pursuits partake of the nature of one or the other. Thus personal beauty and great wealth, bodily strength, and all similar things, soon pass away; the noble achievements of the intellect are immortal like the soul itself. Physical advantages, and the material gifts of fortune, begin and end; all that comes into existence, perishes; all that grows, must one day decay. But the soul, incorruptible and eternal, is the ruler of mankind; it guides and controls everything, subject itself to no control. Wherefore we can but marvel the more at the unnatural conduct of those who abandon themselves to bodily pleasures and pass their time in riotous living and idleness, neglecting their intelligence–the best and noblest element in man’s nature–and letting it become dull through lack of effort; and that, too, when the mind is capable of so many different accomplishments that can win the highest distinction.” Sallust

As an extremist,

Well read and reasonably well written,

I posit that in this temporal realm,

I have a body that will pass,

While these words,

The ideas that they present,

Represent and in some cases resent,

Live on,

Non Omnis Moriar,

Each of you are as Sallust suggests,

Abandoning yourselves to sins of the flesh,

Gluttons feeding at the trough of your own demise,

Giving freely your bodies, minds and souls,

To a hapless few that centuries ago,

Created a system in which you are owned,

From the moment of your birth,

Until the moment of the execution of your last will,

And testament,

At which point they no longer own you,

Returned, as we all will be,

To the universe,

But you don’t need to believe me,

Although, for these words, governments now claim,

I am a terrorist,

An extremist because I QUESTION everything;

As for illustration you should wonder;

Why, on all official documents,

From governments,

Birth Certificate and Passport,

Are your names ONLY in Capital LETTERS,

I AM NOT SENDER D. MACLEAN;
I am Sender D. MacLean

And as I openly rebel,

Intellectually and with these words,

I am not owned,

As slave,

For education, knowledge and understanding have set me free,

Just as easily so too could thou be,

But be forewarned,

This makes you a terrorist,

An extremist,

For you stand diametrically opposed,

To plans laid out centuries ago,

Maintained, perpetuated and mobilized,

Through the states monopoly on several powers,

None greater than the use of force,

Physically through the Corporations of Police Departments the world over,

Revenue generators,

Through the industrialized militaries,

Revenue generators,

Who despite their oaths at will violate your supposed rights,

Financially,

Through death warrants and a monetary system,

That creates something from nothing,

In perpetuity,

Enslaving you quite visibly,

Through DEBT!

“They have plundered the world, stripping naked the land in their hunger… they are driven by greed, if their enemy be rich; by ambition, if poor… They ravage, they slaughter, they seize by false pretenses, and all of this they hail as the construction of empire. And when in their wake nothing remains but a desert, they call that peace.” Tacitus
Who are THEY?

Like any paperback detective,

Follow the money,

That facts in evidence are there for you to see,

Explore, analyze and reason,

With your minds,

Who THEY are,

But believe me, you are not one of THEM,

If you’re reading this right now,

But in your names,

And with your artificial currencies they are waging wars,

Of aggression, economic and military, psychological and spiritual,

To prolong this new form of empire and imperialism,

Colonialism all but in name,

And for these realities that I so deftly make you aware,

I am now to be branded a terrorist,

An extremist,

Because I can think,

And my friends, FORMER friends now as you should move from me,

Know this,

Tacitus was right,

Just look at the last one hundred years,

Unearth the facts in evidence,

And you will see the desertification of peace,

I assure you,

But be forewarned,

This makes you an extremist,

Thinking,

Makes you a terrorist,

And by doing so you will become and remain,

An enemy of the state.
“Nescire autem quid antequam natus sis acciderit, id est semper esse puerum. (To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.)” Marcus Tullius Cicero
As an extreme terrorist,

Because I think,

May I assure you thus,

I write from no moral authority,

As a former victimizer myself,

Instead I feel compelled ethically,

To disseminate thought,

Regardless of the outcome to me,

Not by telling you facts,

For facts are like statistics,

They can and are easily perverted in the halls of power,

For whatever nefarious means,

Instead,

From an informed and well read mental library,

I unleash a furious torment,

That should unleash in you an insatiable curiosity,

To THINK,

Critically,

To read, read and read some more,

For everything you think you know,

Every story told by your governments and institutions are falsehoods,

And your ignorance, YOUR ignorance reinforces their centuries old plans,

Do not blithely accept false narratives,

Presented to you by wicked people,

Of evil design,

Who own you,

Instead rationally arrive at your own conclusions,

But again,

I forewarn you,

These actions will make you an enemy of the state,

Perverts to a system that owns you,

A system that will defile or detain you,

Destroy or indebt you,

They will assail your work, your life, your bank accounts,

Your property and will take from you every supposed liberty you have,

At will, THEIRS,

Simply for thinking,

Because in opposition to their deceitful narrative,

You are the enemy,

An extremist,

A terrorist.
“In a republican nation, whose citizens are to be led by reason and persuasion and not by force, the art of reasoning becomes of first importance” Thomas Jefferson

Where is your reason?

What do you think?

I know of their persuasion,

I was a persuader,

I know of your acceptance of it,

Physical, spiritual and mental,

And you sit there,

Intellectually naked,

Refusing to see obviously apparent realities,

Trading your freedom for comfort,

Trading your thoughts for blood money,

As THEY, of whom you are NOT,

Are laughing because their systems are achieving,

By design,

What centuries ago was set in motion,

And by not thinking critically,

QUESTIONING EVERYTHING,

You give them ever more powers,

And soon,

Of this I am sure,

We will ALL be terrorists,

Silently stalked and hunted down,

At any mention of a perverted thought,

Against the machinations of power.

“In Company with Sallust, Cicero, Tacitus and Livy, you will learn Wisdom and Virtue. You will see them represented, with all the Charms which Language and Imagination can exhibit, and Vice and Folly painted in all their Deformity and Horror.

You will ever remember that all the End of study is to make you a good Man and a useful Citizen.—This will ever be the Sum total of the Advice of your affectionate Father,

John Adams”

By nature,

In my heart and soul I believe,

In the goodness of humanity,

However, I am acutely aware,

And have actively participated in enslavement,

Of you,

Using words like links in a chain,

That you will never see,

So long as you believe talking heads,

Consume products of spilt blood,

Engorge yourself with poisons,

Rather than devouring, blessedly,

KNOWLEDGE, which is POWER,

And which when used can SET YOU FREE.
But again,

You sit idly by,

As if the television, radio, movies or Facebook,

Can inform you passively,

They are tools of mass distraction,

To keep you from informing yourselves,

To delude you, divide and conquer you,

And believe me,

You have been conquered,

But through intellectual exercise you can and should free your mind,

In so doing,

Putting yourself directly in the cross hairs,

Becoming an extremist for speaking out,

Standing up and protesting peacefully,

As you are supposedly allowed to do,

But not for long,

And thus I wonder,

Will you read, analyze, examine and explore,

Or feast at the banquet table of lies that enslave you,

For the choice is yours?

“If voting made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it.” Mark Twain

Would they lock Twain up today?

Terrorist?

For social commentary necessary to expose,

The iniquity of man?

For in a way, they already have,

Having removed the word nigger from his works,

As THEY continue to white wash history,

Just as easily as Huck a fence,

And as a victimizer,

I admit my guilt,

In my knowledge that voting makes no difference,

For people like me,

Manipulated by vice,

Can rig any vote, any where, any time,

And yet, within the current paradigm,

If you don’t vote,

Which I beseech you to do,

You relegate yourself to arm chair quarterbacks,

Uninformed and deserving of what befalls you,

The real vote, the one that counts,

Is the artificial currency in your accounts and wallets,

Vote wisely and en masse and watch how quickly the tower of Babel,

Comes crumbling down,

But remember,

This opposition, active not passive,

Will brand you,

Just as I, an extremist,

A terrorist!

“The work of an intellectual is not to form the political will of others; it is, through the analyses he does in his own domains, to bring assumptions and things taken for granted again into question, to shake habits, ways of acting and thinking, to dispel the familiarity of the accepted, to take the measure of rules and institutions and, starting from that re-problemitisation (where he plays his specific role as intellectual) to take part in the formation of a political will (where he has his role to play as citizen).” Michel Foucault

I am Sender D. MacLean,

The third of eight children,

A man,

A lover,

A reader,

A writer,

A teacher,

A warrior poet,

As a now branded by government puppets extremist and terrorist,

Please I beg of you to understand,

The assumptions made by you are dangerous,

Not to me,

But for us all,

The collective known as humanity,

Which imperils every other species on this Spaceship Earth,

The rules, institutions, histories, established order,

They are all predicated on a contrived, well executed, funded and manipulating

Series of systems that seek to make idiots of you all,

And it’s working,

QUESTION EVERYTHING,

Take power back,

Rise up, PEACEFULLY,

United,

For an idea whose time has come,

Is more powerful than all the armies in the world.

“The first duty of a man is to think for himself” Jose Marti

It is a tragedy,

That I am become terrorist and extremist,

In exercising my first duty,

To think,

But I beg of you;

What would you do?
Will you perform your first duty?

Or will you sit absentmindedly by,

Until that coming moment,

I assure you,

When under cover of darkness,

Or even in the light of day,

They come knocking at your door?

That is, unless of course, you start THINKING!

Last week,

So called leaders of the world,

Puppets in their emperors finest clothes,

Gathered in Sodom,

The heart of financial terror,

Each presenting cases on the ills affecting our world,

Christian, Jew, Muslim and Atheists all,

At the pulpit of the New World Order,

Speaking vacuously,

Inciting hatred and promoting increased war,

Up to and including, yours truly,

Sender D. MacLean,

Extremist and terrorist,

WHY?

For thinking.

Scribo Ergo Sum!

“Once the government can demand of a publisher the names of the purchasers of his publications, the free press as we know it disappears. Then the spectre of a government agent will look over the shoulder of everyone who reads. The purchase of a book or pamphlet today may result in a subpoena tomorrow. Fear of criticism goes with every person into the bookstall. The subtle, imponderable pressures of the orthodox lay hold. Some will fear to read what is unpopular, what the powers-that-be dislike. When the light of publicity may reach any student, any teacher, inquiry will be discouraged. The books and pamphlets that are critical of the administration, that preach an unpopular policy in domestic or foreign affairs, that are in disrepute in the orthodox school of thought will be suspect and subject to investigation. The press and its readers will pay a heavy price in harassment. But that will be minor in comparison with the menace of the shadow which government will cast over literature that does not follow the dominant party line. If the lady from Toledo can be required to disclose what she read yesterday and what she will read tomorrow, fear will take the place of freedom in the libraries, book stores, and homes of the land. Through the harassment of hearings, investigations, reports, and subpoenas government will hold a club over speech and over the press.”

[United States v. Rumely, 345 U.S. 41 (1953)]” William O. Douglas

Base desires,

Primal; are actively used against you,

And YOU passively accept it,

Desire and Fear,

Desire to consume,

Fear of the invisible, artificially created boogey men,

Governments the world over are now using this club,

Branding those who would think,

Like me,

Terrorist or extremist,

But I am not those things,

I am a human being,

Deeply concerned,

Imbued with a mind that thinks,

One that encourages rationality and intellectuality,

I provoke and promote NO violence,

Although I do represent intellectual violence,

Whereby thoughts can destroy these machinations;

I encourage peaceful dissolution of the systems that own you,

But it is only YOU, YOU who hold the reins of that power.

Will you use it?
“Protest beyond the law is not a departure from democracy; it is absolutely essential to it.” Howard Zinn

SDM

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Neurotic Delusions, Grandeur and Love

 

232

How did I love you?

Those who saw the diamond through the coal,

With all of what I am,

Muses all,

How did I worship the very ground you walked on?

Praising your feelings,

Bowing to your desires,

And every whim,

How did I love you?

Do I love you…

The only way I know,

The way that you forgot,

Unconditionally,

And without equivocation,

For I am love,

Love I am AND

Love repeats

Inside concentric circles AND

Is rarely black and white…

Though hands outstretched I continued on,

Seeking the one,

She,

Muse,

That would liberate my soul,

Free my mind AND

Alight my every desire.

How did I love you?

For when our eyes met,

And your spirit dangled before me,

Muse (s),

I had no other choice,

But to fall,

Hard into you,

The way the universe seemed to be speaking to me,

Invisible vibrations settling frayed nerves,

Through you,

That I would abandon me,

So that I could have you,

The mistakes I made,

Now obvious,

As you let go,

Each of you,

Just in time,

For my mind to plot a new course,

In your heart,

No longer loving me,

Or so you said,

Leaving my neurosis to consider,

Once love bestows,

Can it simply disappear,

Back into the Ether from whence it came,

Or does it remain,

Inside our DNA,

Surely revealing a divine plan,

That is neither black nor white.

How did I love you?

Completely,

Parts of me still wondering,

What went wrong?

Knowing all along the answer,

Is that my mind,

No longer numb from the drugs and the drinking,

Had given way,

To something you couldn’t recognize,

Something you couldn’t,

You wouldn’t deal with,

Leaving me abandoned,

With the greatest fear I have ever had,

That I am not good enough,

Oh how did I love you?

How did we get to here?

This crossroads of our own survival,

Our mutual creative thrusts,

No longer mutual,

You fighting for your delusions,

Following your dream,

Loosing me forever,

I and I and I fighting my delusions,

The unintended consequence,

Of your decision and ripe cancellation,

Left me fighting for my sanity,

My toe clearly in the water,

As I let go,

Completely,

Of myself,

To be with you,

Left reeling now,

Forced to imagine what my life had become,

I and I and I crying out;

What has life become?

So plain to see,

But while you were looking,

You couldn’t see,

What was there,

Right in front of you,

Now vanished,

Like the tomes I wrote of our love,

How did we come to here?

Something snapped,

My synapses firing less than wondrously,

The brain affected by something,

As two hemispheres,

Left and right battle daily,

With demons that you never saw,

I never showed you,

The royal you,

For;

How could I?

As it would have interfered with what you dreamed of,

What dreams may come,

You would have lost focus,

And in the end,

You did lose focus,

On the one person that loved without condition,

From once upon a time,

To the end of my days,

So too did I,

And I and I,

Lose,

Control,

Of that which I value so dearly,

This mind,

This beautiful and tortured mind,

A Shakespearean Tragedy and fault all at once,

Cracked,

But not the code,

For the Ether still had and has in store,

A magnanimousness that even I cannot comprehend,

For when the Sirens sing,

I row away from the shore,

Seeking the enduring strength,

To ever more press on.

Inside,

I felt beaten by love,

Drowned in insecurities,

Anxious that I was not good enough,

Would never be good enough,

That finally,

My mind,

Had let go,

And I was about to be thrust to the other side,

The name that dare not speak itself,

And yet,

It was howling in my ears,

Twenty four hours a day,

Sleep at a premium,

If for only twenty minutes at a time,

Inside,

I was yet to understand,

That I was,

And would,

If I didn’t address it now,

Slip forever,

Into insanity,

And so,

Without you,

I sought the help I needed and need,

So that I can reclaim my life.

Reclaim and rebirth.
The gray matters of the heart and soul,

Seeking not a straight line,

But the road less travelled.

My Black Dog,

Said before and will again,

A rabid bitch,

She defies logic,

And escapes reason,

She demands that I sit silent,

Isolated,

Alone,

Sullen emancipation,

From the rules that bind all of you,

For at first,

While I was embarrassed,

Ashamed and frightened by what was happening,

I came to understand,

Through endless dialogue,

With a brilliant sage, sages,

That this curse,

As I have referred to it time and again,

This blessing and curse,

Is the battleground of my own survival?

At least with this mind.

Neurotic,

Depressed (not sad as many a Muse has maintained),

Bi Polar,

Hyper Mania,

OCD,

Murmur,

Seizures,

And more,

The laundry list of my body’s contempt,

For this mind,

This beautiful mind,

And warrior poet soul,

Ether,

Though this scorn,

Is nothing like the other contempt I have endlessly known,

Nor does this contempt define me,

I will not,

Could not,

I WON’T allow contempt to control or destroy me,

No I will fight,

I WILL FIGHT,

A war consistent, that paints itself here,

For all to see,

My contempt palpable,

For what this beautiful mind is trying to do,

And is in fact,

And then there is Muse…

Muse,

Her subtle fingerprints,

All over my words,

Since the day I entreated her to flutter into my being,

Her soul dancing with mine,

Painting pictures of imagined futures,

Though none as marvelous,

As just one simple kiss,

That settles in me a passion,

A passion others have known,

Though this time,

There is something ripened about it,

As if the cancellations of my past,

Have somehow taught me,

Not to give up,

Not to give in,

Instead,

To give completely,

To share,

Whether good or bad,

Exactly who and what I am,

Finding acceptance in her smile,

Finding strength in her eyes,

Finding solace when she touches my hand,

Sending me to a repose I’ve never known.

Muse,

Passion renewed,

Desire quenching my souls ache,

To be touched and to touch another,

In such a way,

That their entire day is lifted,

Their entire life finds new meaning,

All of who they are,

Not tied up to who you are,

Instead,

Together,

Creating an individualism,

That because of new love may emerge,

Muse,

New Muse,

She brings to me,

A renewed passion,

I bequeath these humble words to thee

And the beautiful love,

Already created in your image,

That now shines on me.

Millions of words,

Stained by love,

These words,

Since my journey of self discovery began,

All those years ago,

Repeated,

Out of the ashes of a love destroyed,

By malignant neglect,

This Little Prince rises,

To meet the challenges,

Of the voices in my head,

As I humbly submit,

To you.

SDM

Written from photo prompt at http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/2014/08/mag-232.html .

Some of the best writing on the net.

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The Translation of Deceit and The Temptation of Desire

Lost in Translation…

Words,

Just words,

Right?

Just words…

Right?

It is commonly understood,

Love,

Is universal,

Felt by all,

Yet is it?

Now I am not so sure,

Me,

The very embodiment of that passionate urge,

The swelling surge,

That is as uncontrollable as the tides or gravity

And impossible to purge;

For here I am,

On wounded knee,

Felled,

Having given all of me,

And willing to give so much more,

Tempted by another’s fruit,

As the story goes,

I was,

Knowing what I was doing was wrong,

Persisting still,

Not knowing that it was to get worse,

As all things forbidden usually do;

Forbidden,

Reassured by your tender words,

The trance like innocence conveyed,

That betrayed the festering truth deep within,

Words,

Those you thought I wanted to hear,

Penetrating so,

Knowing I wanted to hear truth,

Not momentary,

But everlasting,

Convinced that what you held for me was real,

Compounded by those words you said to me,

Mocking temptress,

Vicious villain leaving me caught unaware,

In that moment,

Perhaps you expected me to say something different,

Perhaps hoping I would,

Is that the case?

I guess I’ll never know,

And in light of what has come to light,

I now don’t care.

In love,

You let me float on cloud high,

Nine and silver lined,

Seemingly higher than I have ever been before,

Realizing now the manic apparitions,

When with those words you changed me,

In an instant,

Looking into the future,

And whole lives flashing before my eyes,

My imagination wild with expectancy,

Expectant,

See,

Ripe,

As names resonated through my head,

Through my fingers,

Touching my pursed lips,

Kissing life,

Trying to find the one meaning,

That could somehow compliment what I believed we had,

But did we ever?

No,

Your deception now clear,

Intention however lost,

Despite my over thinking.

Now what I am left to consider,

As my heart cries out,

Like a lone lemming,

In search of family,

The family I believed I was starting,

That you let me believe for too long,

Was going to be real,

Finally,

In love,

A child conceived of love,

But do you know what love is?

As poison dripped from your lips,

Seeping into my veins,

And killing me from within,

For that which I could not be without,

The manipulation of my desires, dreams and aspirations,

The game you play,

Not just on me,

But all.

Do you know what love is?

Truly inside your heart and soul?
Nay, simply the wicked game,

Played by your insecurities,

Those measured imperfections,

Shadows of shadows,

Wherein you hide,

Mata Hari to your own needs,

Momentary,

Stated,

Never satiated,,

By your own despotic evil,

Webs of deception,

As in my hurt,

My eyes wide open,

Availed once more,

Of the piercing screams of my dark companion,

Lifelong,

Depression,

That woeful Black Dog.

Left to understand what you never will,

For love would not do what you have done,

Could not,

Let me feel the way I felt,

Let me believe what I did,

Including as cannon fodder,

Our families both,

A lifetime,

Forever,

A loving girlfriend, wife and mother,

The most wonderful present you offered,

And as a man, I was ready,

To stand up,

Doing whatever necessary,

To support our burgeoning family,

Nothing I would not do,

Nothing,

And I would have been for you.

But no more,

Given the chance,

No more,

Given the chance,

No more shall I beg a fool,

For surely you are,

I was;

All that you wanted and more,

Instead blinded by your own iniquity,

A fanciful insanity,

Delusions,

Not unlike my own,

Though I never had a malicious thought, nor action,

Knowingly,

But for you, I was pawn,

And you were Queen and King,

Making a jester of my thoughts and desires,

Deeper into the burrow of your sham.

All that I am,

Once,

For all of you,

For each other,

For our families,

For our child,

The full spirit of love exposed,

Expressed,

And then repressed,

As now tempered reason,

And lies exposed,

Reveal no burgeoning translation would ever be,

Now,

Wandering lost,

In cultural differences,

Secret life,

Lives,

Yours now reveal,

Very real,

Though now free,

Stinging my broken heart,

Crushing my wounded spirit,

Questions,

Endless,

That will never be answered,

Or will they?

Seemingly the truth has set me free…

Uncertainty brash and deeply hurting,

A fragment of the man I was,

To become the man I will be,

Not for you,

But for a love requited,

True,

Understood beyond the words so meaningless to you,

Hmong Key,

The ‘Key’ indeed, you were,

Words;

Ones never lost,

In translations!

SDM

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Humbled (And Smitten)

Finally,

After all this time,

All this loss,

Peril, now seemingly, for the moment,

The wind in my sails,

Behind me,

Pushing me forward,

Coming into my own,

Finding again that infectious laugh,

And all I had to do – was give in,

Which is not remotely the same as giving up…

 

By giving in I discovered,

That the parts of me that are broken,

I and I and I,

Are merely callings to reassemble?

 

I and I and I…

 

The jigsaw of my reality,

For a quarter century or more,

Giving in,

I found,

Who my real friends are,

Cherished,

The ones that stood by me,

And continue to stand by me,

When I am down,

Feeding me with endless nourishment,

Of wisdom, enthusiasm, a gentle caress,

Of your many spirits,

Dancing like a kite,

Free to fly,

To explore,

Roaming together in the uncertainty,

For life has no instruction manual,

And arriving,

At what was always there,

Just deep inside…

 

Hiding behind shadows lurking,

Longing for a home to call my own,

Not the building,

But a true home, internal,

Safe,

Free from the outside world,

From my own skeletons,

Demons and Black Dog…

 

Finally,

Letting go,

Surrendering,

I have discovered,

That the parts of I and I and I,

Those for so long been counted as unconquerable,

Were merely signposts on the journey of life?

The I that desires to serve,

The I that desires to love,

The I that desires to be loved,

For I and I and I,

Find my totality there…

 

And this life is a journey,

Each day a new step towards the new,

N E X T,

Beauty at every step,

Even in the greatest darkness,

That at one time either too blind or too ignorant,

I could not or would not,

Engage,

NO more,

Not here, nor now…

 

Today I stand up,

I will be heard,

I will be counted,

I will seek and find without looking for it,

My greatest treasure,

I will celebrate the totality of who I am,

And in so doing,

Gain insight into what it means to truly live,

And my friends,

My real friends,

Stand by my side,

At the ready,

To, if necessary, again,

Pick me up,

Deliver me the tools for my own reassembling,

And I am humbled by it,

For as tears of joy,

Stream down my face,

Calling out to the Ether,

I know, that I am close,

And I can feel,

These emotions raw,

The immersion of the new,

Tempered by the wisdom of holding fast and true,

Waiting,

That I may use them,

To propel me forward,

To the place we all know I should be,

Humbled,

Grateful,

And aware,

I celebrate each of you,

You know who you are,

For causing me to realize,

That my passage had to include this moment,

All of them,

Desperate,

To reignite that passion that burns so brightly inside of me,

One that now awakens like a sleeping giant,

Though still contained, for the moment on B612…

 

My only hope,

Is that I too,

May repay your generosity of spirit,

By being who I am,

And returning to you,

The same generosity,

When you are at your lowest – or whenever you require,

Help you discover that you are a diamond in the rough,

Not a rough diamond,

An innate beauty that glimmers within you,

Your eyes shining,

Your smile gleaming,

Your soul teaming with the life you desire,

I hope,

I can help you see,

What so many have helped me to see.

 

I stand before you anew,

Understanding how far I’ve come,

And how far I still must go,

But I draw strength from you,

The royal you,

Demonstrated here,

With humble thanks,

These words are all I can give,

And all my heart, mind, body and soul,

For all of you have given me permission,

To soar,

And again I will thrive.

 

SDM

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Delilah…

I am withering inside,

As the rains like my tears fall unabated,

The gathered clouds,

Reminiscent of the nightmare ceaseless,

Filled with the bravado of thunder

And the electricity of lightning,

Since that fateful day so long ago,

And also so near,

Full circle,

Dimensional warp,

Words that sting like a bee,

Necessary but still,

Withering indeed,

Like an untended garden

On a long abandoned estate,

Once home to the grandeur of lavish parties

And sensational tales,

And they were and are tales, aren’t they,

Where the band played on,

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams,

Realizing that love has once more

Reached into the deepest essence of my soul

With sweet words,

Misunderstood by you,

Or worse yet misused,

Like weapons,

With promises of forever and a new life to come,

Not just mine, or yours, or ours even,

But that of our child,

My greatest desire,

Greatest joy,

Ripped right from my elation,

Plundered insurrection of an emotional plight,

Allowed to believe,

Encouraged even,

That this time it would be different,

Yet,

Walking the plank of a remembered discontent,

Twenty years or more,

Flooding back into my consciousness,

Reminded how happy you were,

To see my happiness,

Recalling as I told you about then and there

When you said, not this time,

Not with me,

Not for us,

And yet, today,

While you turn your back on me,

Behind the cheating and the lies,

As I never could,

For I don’t know how,

While it seems so easy for you,

Almost callous,

One word unnecessary,

Cold and calculated,

Defense mechanism?

Running away?

Afraid?

Disingenuous?

Know this, you can not run,

This story, experience remains with you,

Inside you,

Trust me, I know,

Unless you really can be that detached,

Though I can not,

And while my descent into this despair,

Ripens with each moment,

While others would eschew you,

I will not,

Spit vitriol and visceral venom,

I will not,

Like untamed cobras caught in a snake charmers gaze,

But that does not mean I do not see,

I can not,

Will not,

Not now,

Not ever,

For I did love,

Do love you,

Will love you,

Always knowing,

Inside this pain,

History repeated,

Divine retribution,

Suffering a fate worse than death knowing,

The father I could have been,

Will be someday,

Though between now and then,

My heart is dying,

My soul is crying,

My mind is reeling,

From wretched feelings,

Not deep with in,

But on the surface seen,

Like the x that marks the spot of my deepest fears,

Trying to hide behind affable laughter

And a smile concealing,

Nothing,

Please forgive me,

For what I have done,

What we have done,

And know this,

As the truth has set me free,

My love was true,

Is true,

Can you say the same?
Can I believe you?

(Rhetorical)

Beyond the thin veneer of the games you play,

The truth has set me free,

So free,

And while this pain remains,

The lingering memory of your smile,

Ever present,

Hurts my days and haunts my nights,

Fooled as I was,

Dream turned nightmare,

Eclectic visions of what was,

Is and could have been,

Reasons,

No reasons,

For just like the greatest trick the devil ever pulled,

Was convincing the world he didn’t you exist,

You’ve just vanished,

Trying to erase me from your life,

And maybe you can,

But I can not,

Will not,

For to me,

You will always be the love I craved,

The women I longed for,

The mother of my unborn child,

And between all those days,

From there to then,

When I again am awakened,

I will never forget,

What almost was,

What could have been,

Had others not meddled,

Had you the strength,

Has you compassion and integrity,

And the ability to see what was in front of you,

And we not had to hide,

Lurking in the shadows,

Where our child will always shine bright,

For me…

 

Not to  be forgotten,

Ever!

And my hair, will grow again…

STRONGER!

SDM

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Fate’s Slight of Hand?


Slight of hand?

I think not,

For love has made me daring,

Persistent and true.

 

While arming to the teeth the rambunctious modality of fate,

Tears,

Fallen from the heavens of your own aspiration,

Of experience as teacher,

For surely this love you need know,

And you do, don’t you?

A reward for a life lived on terms indivisible, from which you are,

My Hmong Key,

At some point, despite your cat calls to the opposite,

Tears will continue to fall,

Rain drops the size of flattery,

Smiles the size of a child’s laughter,

Brown eyes brighter than the big bang,

And woman,

You,

Hmong Key,

Tears free from inhibition,

Free from the same rules that you deride,

Finding the strength with in,

Knowing what you do not want to be without,

Washing away the iniquity of man (men) and time,

If only for a moment,

Crying out for Hmong Key to follow your own path,

And you do, don’t you, my Key?

You are!

You will!

A path you started walking with your first breath,

When you began to crawl, to walk and to run,

Forging a path that is not for the faint of heart,

Weak of mind or menaced by the soul,

In your rabid individualism you keep others at bay,

While at the same time pulling them in,

Ever closer,

With a swipe of your hand across the sky,

For in this world, at this time,

You are creator and created,

A new horizon realized by you,

For you,

At the zenith of your projection,

Can you feel it?

Will you?

Witness to your own grandeur,

I watch from the sidelines,

Having been placed there by you,

For the now,

Leaving me in a stubborn state,

For I only know how to love completely,

Fully and without equivocation,

Nothing I would not do,

Where I am always

Longing to touch in you,

That which you have touched in me,

Awakened this Warrior Poet,

To new realities

And a brighter future,

Ours,

Treasured Muse,

Of more import to my life than all the works of art,

Contained in all the museum palaces of the world,

Your grace the very air I breathe,

I crave you,

I desire you,

I need you,

I live for you,

Loving you with

Every beat of my heart,

And only sustenance is when our lips meet anew,

Each time,

As you grant me new life,

New hope,

New love,

Watching as I have,

As I will,

As I do,

The earth reaching up to touch you,

The heavens reaching down to restore

Your virtuous grace

Such that it may know your immensity as I do,

But I ask Hmong Key,

Why,

Why do you continue to run?

Though the question,

Rhetorical,

For I believe I understand.

 

As Muse,

As mine,

You cannot deny the will of the gods,

Nor run from your fate…

 

A happy home!

 

Our palace?
Built on the pure foundation,

Of a love so rare,

It defies all logic or reason,

Delivered,

As blessed and beloved gift,

From the Ether,

The universe has a plan for us,

Divine.

Until the end of time…

What do you say,

Perchance a dream,

Together,

Realized?

 

SDM

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The Moon and The Sun

Containing an insatiable excitement,

Strikes me as foolhardy, an unnecessary impossibility,

As driven by my favourite ladies,

So too I hope for you they will become,

This enchantment we can share,

As we did once, we will again,

Become,

Intoxicated by ambrosia,

Mistresses Destiny, Fate and Serendipity,

Clashing together in a beautiful symphony,

Where the universe is conductor,

And we are but pieces,

Brought together,

For our assimilation of what can be,

Such that only budding feelings may bloom,

Those that began the day we met,

Our eyes, our smiles and our souls,

Who could have known, between then and now,

Directed by the goddesses of love and attraction,

Into infinity,

True love never dies.

 

These Celtic deities; Achtland, Medb, Finncaev and Aidin,

Conchenn or Oenghis,

The sexual chemistry obvious and ready to be tapped,

Not touching you one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,

Touching you, even more so,

Possibly, though as yet unproven, one of the best,

With subtle giggles and tempted expressions,

Conversations free from the unnecessary melodrama of the daily grind,

Instead of aspirations, inspirations and the things that brought us here,

Carefully considered as this odyssey presses on.

 

Those passionate Greeks reveal,

Aphrodite, Eros, Hebe and Suadela,

Thalia, Venus and Cythera,

Each singing songs unlike the Sirens, toward our yearning,

Rather like the Muses,

Reaching inside of me and commanding forth,

Words that resemble silent thoughts,

Until this time was nigh,

Words unspoken,

Quiet admirations for precious enticements, subtle,

Those soon may unmask spellbinding intentions,

Those that again show this heart can feel,

Does feel,

Fluttering as hummingbird’s wings,

Flickering like the bright of a bonfire,

My temptations.

 

Perhaps Bintang, Ezili or Havea lolo funua,

Each together as quorum decide,

This pure desire shall be rewarded still,

Beating anew the drums of sexual fervor,

Communicating still in the abyss of time,

Finding a simple shared smile,

That leads to so much more,

Ix Che, Kanikanihia, Qadesh or Tlazolteotl,

Around personal fantasy’s conference table,

Drawing decisions from distinctions of pure desires,

Raw, ripe and blossoming,

As has been true for as long as we have known,

The perfect glint in the others’ eyes,

Knowing what we could have done,

Choosing what we did not do just as much as what we did.

 

What of Sjofn, Suadela or Urunrupuin or maybe Xtabay,

Are they to be believed that these hands,

These invisible forces,

Prevented us from jumping in too soon,

Giving rise to passions that may have dulled,

Without the anticipation of something so fresh,

As to rejuvenate our minds, bodies and souls?

 

Only time will tell,

If the grand design of these goddesses was of such import,

That the result, now within reach, is undeniable,

Their fallibility unchecked as mortals we,

Come together,

Crashing into each others lives like waves,

Leaving something each time we crest,

Taking something as we depart.

 

Only time will tell,

Preciously,

The wisdom of these loving sages,

The wisdom of our decisions,

The wisdom of our love;

 

Though I suspect,

Their sagacity is beyond reproach.

I am the sun,

And you Hmong Key are the moon,

And as the Hmong tale reveals,

I like the sun,

Die every night,

So that your beauty can live on,

Every night,

Always…

I love you!

 

 

SDM

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