Coming home under the full Moon

As where I was, faded behind me
The moon appeared
Fully exposed on my horizon.

Looking up into the face
Of all that was to become,

I remembered all the things
Still to be undone.

Is the moon above you now?
Smiling its earth shattering
Love into you face?

Or are you still trying to
Unfurl his crippling embrace?

The moon
Not unlike my other
Lover the wind,
Always reminds me of you.

Even those places
Within you,
That are still untrue.

Yet,

As I passed onto my own valley floor,
The moon dropped behind
The rock wall of my soon to be,
goodnight.

The Beauty of Life..........................

....................is often obscured through the prism of time.

When we have very little time, life can seem hazy and unfocused.

Whereas when we have abundant amounts of time, oh how long the horizon has become!

Time, like love requires patience and consideration.

Therefore, time has always been my friend.

We niether argue, mislead or dissapoint one another.

Nor does it hold itself out to be something that it's not.
I like that about time.

It is what it is, and thats all.

Wouldn't it be great if we were all like that too?

Visiting the attic, I discovered this:

Shorts(stories)
can enrich your
understanding
and heighten
your global
experiences



Often I use short vocal expressions to broaden the awareness of the person whom I am attempting to engage and subsequently subdue, though I often use it as a devise to paint images within their body and mind, my goal is just to enlighten and release.

Sometimes, it's so much a part of my sense of expression and placement, I can forget about the hearer and leave them entranced(encased) within the montage I am using for the purpose of illustration.................................

Maybe, some day, I can paint you into a perpetual day break, a collage of new and increasing wonderful beginnings?



In the between of it all; thanks for the look and remember, reach out beyond your borders often, some of us are actually quite nice too!

Celebrating our differences

Each of us brings to our life a unique temperament and style. This is our special gift to the world.
How monotonous it would be if we all expressed ourselves in readily predictable ways. Differences in ourselves, is the spice of human behavior that makes us so fascinating to each other. Some of us charge boldly through life taking risks; others choose to play it very safe.

Some of us are eager for social interactions; others are more satisfied being alone. Some are spontaneous; others are planned. Some approach each day with gusto; others are cautious. Some are perfectionists; others are less exacting with thier outcomes.

In love then, we need to become acutely aware of these differences, and be sincerely careful not to force our values upon those who we choose to love, within whom we see, different behaviors. Our loving another should always makes room for everyone.As long as we remain open to differences, we are constantly enriched. There are as many approaches to life as there are various peoples in this world of ours. The more of these uniqulely different ways we can come to understand and accept, the more full, complete, enriching, and loving our love thus becomes.

The French say, "Vive la difference." Love echoes that phrase boldy! Love and Patience.

Love from the Heartland

A Friend………..

Accepts you as you are
Believes in You
Calls just to say Hi
Doesn’t give up on you

Envisions the whole of you
Forgives your mistakes
Gives unconditionally
Helps you willingly

Invites you over
Just to be with you
Keeps you close at heart
Loves you for who you are
Makes a difference in your life

Never judges you
Offer you real support
Picks you up (emotionally too)
Quiets your fears
Raises your spirits

Says nice things about you
Tells you the truth when you need to hear it most
Understands you
Values you

Walks beside you
X-plains things you didn’t understand
Yells when you won’t listen
Zaps you back to reality

The Wind and I

Last night in my dreams, The wind came to see me.
Thinking as I do about you, Wondering maybe more than I should,
He showed me some of the reasons why You are as you appear to me!

As I rose up in his arms,
He took me into your valley and allowed me to tickle you with a gentle breeze,
and you what, you smiled sweetly, I almost wept openly.

After I drifted past you and back into the sky,
I could see your days unfolded before you, and I just had to sigh!

You, unlike the wind, are often tufted and turned by the whims and needs of others.
Pulled and prodded this way and that for the sake of someone else’s pleasure..........
sorry for this, truly I am baby.

This day then, tomorrow even, and every new day that you know of me,
Please think of my as a Sunny little Island waiting just for you.
A place of your calm and resting breezes, not another person who needs your attention,
But a one who's attention you already have.

Midnight: Part 2

It’s strange, how things can point to something just beyond your Vision, for then it happened. Something or someone touched me, and as I turned to see who or what is was, the club was again being raided, setting off a series of events that would finally alter and then change my outlook on life, love, the lust of power and vanity that sprung from the monies made round every midnight!

Perhaps this story started long before this night; not that it made any difference to the people with whom I interacted then. All they knew and needed to know was when I was to be on that street and in that club. It’s obvious, even to me now, how that regularity led to very this problem unfolding in front of us that new day.

Where were we all to run? How many of us would escape, and at what cost, and to whom? In the next moment, all that I had laid out long ago would now work to my benefit or my detriment. I had already discussed with Pamelynne what to do when the unthinkable happened and we had to go separately into the night, whom to call and what not to say.

So her safety wasn’t my issue right then. Making it out to the Amtrak zone was my only chance of escape; there the local cops had no jurisdiction. Only if they chased you onto the platform could they follow, but one small fence and a six-lane toll way separated me from my freedom and that was the moment I faced. Many days later, someone asked me if I ever looked back to be sure she was okay, if I had seen what happened to her in those fateful moments round that midnight. But if I remember anything about those fading moments, it would only be that I was thinking about the next time midnight would come back around for me.

Midnight (in two parts)

One of the best things about midnight is that it comes every night.
No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, midnight she always appears on time, ready to exercise her right to be needed, a new day coming just after her arrival!

This though, was not to be a midnight that would soon be easily forgotten, nor the events absolutely forgiven. Turning the corner to the club with Pamelynne, I could feel the energy in the air. This was always the pulse I hoped to feel when I got to work, but something about this night seemed a little out of place, a little more electric than usual.

Looking around, I saw nothing really out of the ordinary. There was Gi Gi as always, over at the Slice Bodega, looking like his toupee was on straight tonight, a cop drinking his coffee under the canopy by the alley and the flower girl had her cart down by the corner, all things seemed just the same as every midnight.

There was not an unusual number people milling around, nor was anything visibly different about the people; college kids and townies. Suburban divas and working girls, all looking to be seen, hoping to be cool, needing to be different. There was nothing new that I could see with my outward senses, but something seemed different. Something seemed eerily out place there, like a movie seen before, but not fully remembered. Walking up to the spot, I hung back, as was my usual, waiting for Pamelynne and Anthony, one of the doorman, to have their moment together.

It was odd even to me, how after all these midnights, they still played that game of theirs. She waits by the hydrant until he sees her and waves her to the front of the queue, he with his head down, she with a soft kiss on his cheek. Was she calming him, the way she always did me? Or was it he who calmed her? No matter really; the dance was always the same between them, and I always figured Anthony to be gay anyway. No, not just because of the way he always acquiesced to my needs, but in my opinion he was just too damn beautiful to be a straight man!

Watching them and sizing up the nights’ crowd, I just knew that something was going to happen; I just could not shake my uneasiness. “Maybe I should pass? Do I really need this night to make my week?” Before I could even finish that thought she was moving again, Pamelynne I mean. Being led into the club by her doorman, holding his hand, like she would somehow fall if he were to let it go, looking over at me as if I weren’t the one who had taught them both this midnight dance!

Now, it was my turn. Walking up the doormen’s’ rope as if its’ meaning did not exist for me, seeing, but not realizing, that there were people waiting to go where I needed to be, I followed her inside. Gesturing to Anthony as if to say something but having my own game to play with him, I entered the door, waiting, as always, for him to stop me; yet this time, he did not.To be continued.....................................................

Is it raining Where you are?

Choosing and then
Allowing yourselfTo be chosen
Still affords me
A choice

For the gift that I seek to give
Is that gift in
Which you desire most
To be given

Yet the eagerness
Of your existence
Is still the abbreviated
Longings of your heart

The slender unfolding
Of your love then
Will forever
Shatter

My illusions
About why
Any other man
Would not love you!

What if................

..............eyes wide open, is still not enough!

Some days, I do not actually write. Not because there are not things, places, or people to write about, mainly my inability to get it moving stems from net being able to focus.

Wanting to write, desiring to express myself is only part of my process around turning abstractions into words. More often, I am just breathing and that act of catching one breath becomes a word that supports a sentence, which then becomes a meditation en route to a story.

Sometimes, people within my sensory areas can create a ripple that I can use as a propellant, though mostly it is through their subsurface pain and the things that I can discern they are hiding from that makes the window into a story open wide for me. Even in the vacuum of a total stranger, a story is often revealed to me by the placement of their hands on a table, or hidden under the flickering of their eyes, maybe even contained within the voice in which they address a small child.

To follow and explore these stories are of great value to me, though they often cost more than the completed story is worth, for the pain I must wade through to get the chance to see the boundaries of this new and exciting place, is never as easily forgotten as I would like. Oddly enough, each moving body part contains are story.

This I discovered when I grew old enough to warrant a hand shake from others, seems each new person who I came in contact with, revealed to me something about themselves whenever we touched. Some of those early stories were the best if not for the intense rush of revelation that washed over me, some where so diabolically beautiful it made me weep immediately, others were just the vaporish endeavors of the uncared for among us, but each was as sweet as the fall rain, in its intensity, and cleansing side effects.

In trusting ourselves, We indeed find Love.

Too often, I am met with skepticism because of my very positive and overtly passionate approach to Love and trusting. Because of this, I have learned to ignore the notion from others, that I am either foolish or naïve because of my belief that all things are possible to those who choose to believe in them.

Often, even I am truly baffled by how agitated some people get when I explain my belief that love unites and secures as nothing else can; that without it, trust and forgiveness are impossible to maintain. For me, it doesn't seem that this is such an outrageous proposition, though; it does seem to bring out the foolishness in other people!

When we cease trusting, negative forces take over. Good intentions go unappreciated within a mind crowded with doubt and suspicion. Everyday expressions of love are suspected of having hidden meanings. Misunderstood behaviors, give rise to monumental traumas! We worry that we will be deceived if we trust too much, Yet, we not consider the consequences of not trusting enough.

Therefore, we need to enhance the love that we seek from others.
In all the world there is not a single people exactly like any of us.
Everything that we produce is authentically ours. There will always be things we don't understand about ourselves as there are things we don't like about ourselves. Despite this fact though, there is no true reason not to love ourselves.

There is a definite dignity in our uniqueness. Our fantasies, dreams, hopes, fears, behaviors, abilities all belong only to us. They are what make us who we are and open the doors to what we can become. It is indeed true that in our lifetime we may never really know ourselves in any true sense of completeness, but it is our gift to God to never stop trying to work toward this goal, for our search for love can only be enhanced through our realization of self.

Being everything that you are is enough for another to love you.
Being ourselves in a world where most people want to remake us into their fantasy of how we should be, will always be our greatest hurdle in this life. Though, even if the disapproval of others is a powerful deterrent, it is hardly a strong enough reason to be less than who we truly are. If we want to be happy, to be loved, to be understood and accepted, sooner or later we will have to assert our right to be ourselves. By being ourselves, we are saying to others that we are indeed lovable, for we first, learned to love ourselves.

Mondays Musings

Within the breath of a flower
I can often see the essence of its beauty
Even as my eyes gently close around
The impossibility of its embrace

Just outside of my longing then
Are the reality and the wonders within
Each contained under the forested
Canopy of my life outside the
Many distant cities

Love and Patience

Nothing nurtures love more than patience.
It is that quality that allows us to wait, to be long suffering, to understand, to hope.

It sometimes seems that this is all but forgotten in a world that is forever on fast forward.
Patience denotes self-composure and contemplation in the face of disappointments and failures.

Nevertheless, we want action, we want solutions, we want answers. And we want them at once. This philosophy has been responsible for a great many hasty judgments in our past, which have caused a great deal of unnecessary pain and despair to ourselves, and those we should have loved.

In love, the most vital answers take time for discovery, time that is sustained by hope and the gentle absence of pressures. Many of our problems are only stalking shadows that often disappear in the light of patience. People who love well, and love long, have learned to accept the times of change, challenge, and discomfort, along with the moments of sublime joy, beauty and grace.

The greatest reward of patience is a love that endures.

A whisper or a brick....................

.........…the choice is yours.

A young and successful executive was traveling down a quiet neighborhood street going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. Though he was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something, as his car passed sped through, no children appeared.

Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door!
He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag up to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, and grabbing the nearest kid to be found, he pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about, what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost me a lot of money. Why did you do that?"

The young boy was apologetic. "Please mister, please, I'm sorry......I didn't know what else to do. I threw the brick because no one else would stop." With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. "It's my brother. He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up." Now sobbing, the boy then asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Turning toward the boys brother, he lifted the handicapped brother back into the wheelchair, then took out his handkerchief and wiped at the fresh scrapes and cuts the child suffered in the fall.

Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward home. It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. Though the damage was very noticeable, the man never repaired the dented side door.He kept that dent to remind him of this message: We should never go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick to get our attention. Surely God whispers to our souls and speaks into our hearts, but sometimes, when we don't have time to listen, He will allow another to throw a brick at us too!Listen to the whisper.... Or wait for the brick?

Even you know the answer to that question!

What if, Paralysis and Fear are not your Friends?

Have you had good ideas and insights, and never acted upon them?
Have you started to support another person and then faded out of the picturewhen they had success? Have you mustered the courage to start something but never finished it because of someone else’s failure(s)?

Our soul often sparks us with the right guidance, love and power to do something. In that moment of inspiration, it sure feels good, right and true. BUT so often, that clarity and energy doesn't last. We don't follow through. We don't bridge our soul's inspirational idea into tangible formation(s) of our ideas. Is it that we lack commitment?

If we don't act on an insight, an opportunity is lost. And our souls don't nag. They may beckon to us indifferent ways but they don't repeat the same messageover and over until we get it. When we get a sense of what calls us forward, we need to commit to consciously do something. When do we do this? Tomorrow, next week, after this project is completed, later ... all never come.

Though we may honor our commitments to others, we often weasel out on honoring our commitments to ourselves. So next time a message feels right, honor it and yourself.
The more we act on the guidance that comes to us, the more it will come.
Your spirit is speaking to you for a reason.

Trust this process and your inner voice to live more abundantly!

Todays story is called

Once when I was still a Super Hero, I remember finding a wounded kitten under an abandoned building. Strange it seemed, I had never in all my years of crime inspiring adventures ever found a wounded kitten before.

At first, I was unsure what to do. What with my black cape and all, the Kat hair and dander was surely going to make a mess of my one clean outfit. Stealing myself against the consequences of another nasal infection, up into my arms the kitten was cradled and both she and I sleeked into the dark safety of my lair.

Hmn I thought, what's a lair without a kat to roam around within it?
Thus began the adventures of Black Man and the Raven Haired Kat!

Seems even the strangest couplings can produce wonderful results. After that kat and I became like one, all of our individual troubles just seemed to fade into the distance. Here with me, she had the safety of finally belonging without the pain or the suffering, and yet, still she was free to be herself. Whereas for me, not only did my sinus infections go away completely, but now the lair was clean on a regular basis(she was a bit bossy, that kat!).

So now, when the day has finally sunk beyond the steel curtain of this dirty city. Look behind you when you hear that old familiar sound, for the soft rustling of the leaves is often the last note you'll remember, before Black Man and the Raven haired Kittie start their conquest upon those who only seek to dismember You!

What if I was wrong...........

......................would it change anything?

I used to try to set aside
Some time for being lonely
I would simply close my eyes
and sing my own song
and it's almost like I'm home

Loving in a place where only I belong
Do you believe in loneliness
I used to believe that you did
for underneath those eyes always you hid

Before this day I never feared the night
darkness closing in allowed me to live freely within
Do you believe in loneliness?
I did!

It was a great weekend after all:

Well I must admit that I was actually worried about my developing friendship with another, but it looks like things may just work for the best after all!
In the between think about this as the next improbale thought,I am always a phone call away. For the rest of you vouyers who do not know my # I am really very happy with the response(s)!

Though it is true that no one knew that I was capable of disliking another person, I appreciate the feedback anyway. Maybe in the future I will omit the names( someone thought it was them, sorry! ), or offer my thoughts in a more broad based way.

Who knows though, these are my thoughts, and I will indeed express them as best I can, but I will be more sensitive as to who I give the address to in the future.
Over in the bay area :) , please!

Anyhoo, the new week is here and I have no lunch dates, but that's okay.
Maybe I need to spend some quality time with my own thoughts and not the thoughts of somebody else? Shame really, I was so looking forward to learning more about her!

Whatever happens though, everyone please enjoy your time with whomever you choose and I will finish the previously story next week.
Even if I don't let you read it :)

I know..........................

Okay

Truly, the perfect man is not Gay!

The perfect man is gentle
Never cruel and never mean
He has a beautiful smile
And keeps his face so clean.

The perfect man loves children
And will raise them by your side
He will be a good father
And a good husband to his bride.

The perfect man loves cooking
Cleaning and vacuuming too

He'll do anything in his power
To convey his love to you.

The perfect man is sweet
Writing poetry from your name
He's a best friend to your motherand kisses away your pain.

He will never make you cry
or batter you in any way

To hell with this stupid poem:
The perfect man doesn't have to be gay.
The perfect man is indeed any man who desires to be that way!

When you were a baby.......................

....................................................... did you ever think that being who you would become as something to be thought of as stressful to others?

Recently I wrote a number of things about myself that I could never easily explain to others. Things that when read by their intended audience was very revealing of the who and what I actually am. Sing along if you know the words:

Yesterday I bit myself.

Not that I haven't done that before, it's just that this time I thought of the words that often leak form my mouth. How sometimes those words penetrate the person hearing them and causing unintended consequences. Did you know that words are everything to me?

Often when I have spoken in the past, the thoughts and feelings of others are upset or awakened. Revealed or embraced. Uplifted or crushed.I was thinking within this dream about someone else and I remembered that I heard the sound of glass breaking around them as well.

Strange this sound, it reminded me of a moment in time when I lived in Boston and Pamelynne and I were lovers. She was so open and beautifully eager then. I used to sneak her in dance clubs and we would drink and slow dance the night away. Always when the music stopped, she would ask me questions about who we had met, and why.

Something about the sound of that glass breaking reminded me about you. No not you, her over on the left! How you're always trying to balance your strength and power against mine. yielding to my essence and then fleeing the embrace and comfort of my words when I am not there to cloak you in my touch.

Writing about this disconnect that I often sense in us opened the door to my longings for another that I had recently forgotten about. Yes, there is a point to all of this but why bother revealing now? For right now, my heart is open..................not needing anything but to give as it wills.