Saturday, January 30, 2021

Nothing to Fear ~ Saturday, January 30, 2021

I've not tried gay love, yet. What I've heard: rainbow ๐ŸŒˆ flags and unicorns ๐Ÿฆ„ appear.

Virtual media created the icons. Emojis are to blame.

Energy redirect: when the world ๐ŸŒŽ fails your soul, champion your own life.

Not that I would know love. Married once and divorced. Once bitten, twice shy ๐Ÿคญ, fear

Obfuscates all values. Trauma in a dark room...my brother and cousin

Tortured me with their touch, they tickled me to death, my soul died ๐Ÿ’” out of shame.

To them it meant nothing, just fun ๐Ÿ˜œ and games ๐ŸŽฎ for boys ๐Ÿ‘ฆ. How ๐Ÿค” could I take a wife?

Resort to violence: my answer to trauma, as a child, I was blind.

If I could remember everything that happened out of Catholic sin...

Ever to blame the Church ⛪, teachers of trauma games♟, priests and nuns and deacons.

Despite their disavowal, the Church ⛪ is not to blame for my situation.

Gay love ๐Ÿ’— ๐Ÿ’— appeared with AIDS in my adolescence, sinister as demons ๐Ÿ˜ˆ.

As the news reported, it was the plague for some, even a crustacean.

Yes, I was a Cancer ♋, the worst sign in the sky. Crawling sideways, I find

Love ๐Ÿ˜ป finds me. The queer smell, mother is warm, then cold, oilsheet on a wet bed.

Outsider to the truth: I speak of what I know, what I don't know ๐Ÿคท is joy.

Violent objections, demonstrations of faith ๐Ÿ™, I know not what you know.

Even so, as a crab ๐Ÿฆ€, a pair of ragged claws can never get ahead.

Yet, to hear silent seas calling ๐Ÿ“ž me like sirens ๐Ÿšจ to scuttle across floors.

Even that made no sense when faced with life's choices. I sought love ๐Ÿ’˜ as a boy.

Terrible as it seems... I was a latch-key kid, there was no room to grow.

What was it like to grow in Huntington Beach? It was like Paradise.

Huge imported palm trees ๐ŸŒด, pumpjacks dot the landscape for oil ๐Ÿ›ขlike dinosaurs ๐Ÿฆ•, 

Ancient creatures feeding modern automobiles ๐Ÿš˜, the Age of Fossil Fuel.

To get around South Coast, we had to learn to drive, cars were necessary.

I've lived in Chicago for nearly twenty years. Transit systems are cruel,

Vulnerable places to co-exist as harsh environments vary.

Energy redirect: From tropical climate to a bull market price.

How the weather changes every twenty minutes, anything happens here.

Every night ๐ŸŒ™ on the news, we learn of car jackings, smash and grab burglaries,

Armed robberies of banks, drive by shootings, murders turn into cold ๐Ÿฅถ cases.

Rough town where two million people live in terror as victims of their fear.

Disparities over decades go unresolved, the market creates crime.

Restless youth with nothing to look forward to, no vacations with snow skis.

Ask around people know but no one says a word, I see phantom faces...

I watch the evening news, images on TV. My friends don't watch the news.

No one to bear witness, no one to testify, no one to take the time.

Burnt-out on the city during this pandemic, why even be social?

On my phone, I give up Facebook and Instagram, Twitter as well, unreal.

Waste of time ⏲️, isolate, hide away from others, these days become racial.

Find myself reading ๐Ÿ“š books again with poor eye ๐Ÿ‘sight, reading glasses to steal

Lingering coals of heat ๐Ÿ”ฅ burning in the fire ๐Ÿ”ฅ pit. I cannot sing the blues.

As I look back, my life gradually slips away, out of my grasp ๐Ÿ‘Š,  the past

Generates energy ✨: into the universe these molecules return,

Silent as cosmic dust. I am nothing but breath, hot air to some. I speak

As poets in the past evolved within language, the mother ๐Ÿ‘ฉ tongue ๐Ÿ‘… to cast

Nothing but the idea of demons ๐Ÿ˜ˆ into hell, the world ๐ŸŒŽ of make-believe.

Demons ๐Ÿ˜ˆ and the Devil ๐Ÿค˜,  sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll... I gave it all up, spurn

Unenchanted ideas in our disenchanted reality for weak,

Non-binding energy. I am not gravity and not frivolity.

I became serious when my sense of humor is harmful. I conceive

Correctly that my tone is ill-received by ears and eyes, right in the gut.

Ordinary people laugh in self-deception, the harm changes others.

Rightly, I laugh as well but my self-deception laughs at me in a rut.

Nothing but reflections, images and shadows, echoes from my brothers.

Still, I have seen the light flitting across the room, unharmed by gravity.

Appearances in space and time, phenomena before thoughts in the mind.

Precious little time left to wake ⏰ up before death but this mind is the same.

Pretend to get upset and yet I know better. I know this mind is clear.

Everyday I wake ⏰up to find myself alive and well. It is a game...

A game ๐ŸŽฎ of acceptance, take the good with the bad, there is nothing to fear.

Reading ๐Ÿ“š books like Borges, like James Joyce, like Milton, they all slowly ๐ŸŒ went blind.

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