Be

Who told you to love like this -
this inscription of the heart?

who told the flowers to open,
toward the midday sun,

who tells the sun to rise,
against the faded moon,

who brings breath into being,
bloated life bleated into seeing,

who taught your eyes to witness,
the bounty of the earth?

who taught the earth to fill round,
and bound it to the stars,

who told the water to matriculate,
circulate through the body of life?

who taught your mind to speculate,
educate it's own meandering,

who thought up your dreaming,
told them how to sing?

Who told you to love like this -
this madness, insecurity -

creation has always said "to love,

Be."

Love Poem

dream with me
like the wild, fiery skies

dance, dance, dance
sing to creation
step with me, land
with me

feet under foothills
guardian hills, rocks
tumbling in our time
our rhythm

love alongside
my imagination
your dreaming -
soul speak

"it's a marvelous night
for a moon dance,"
a story we told
when we were younger
laughing, holding on
to youth

dance, dance, dance
fling your heart open
let it spill across
the painted skies
northern lights
like a love poem
we wrote
with our souls

Undefinable Me

sense of belonging
or longing

nations commiserate
enjoin members

yawning across a divide
as wide as the sea

dancing alone
inside the undefinable me

Lucky Pennies

sorrow is like a penny
turning up beneath
joyful dancing.

face up, tail down
postures of grieving,
wings spread, lifting,
neck bent back,
stars leaning into
stretching palms

it comes, it goes, comes
and goes
day and night, day
and night
and joy leaps between
two sorrows, two tears,
two leaning into night,
broken hearts.

though the dancer
dances under the gracious sky
she always scans the earth
faces up, tails down
postures of grief
reasons to cry

The Last Lesson of Living

The gift of silence
can be powerful grace

Instruction-
teach nothing by teaching
only by living, for
everything you need to say
is in the way you move
through the world.

Loving is the only lesson
worth living, anyway.

Birth

rootless trees are like empty oceans
silent speaking, still emotions
rage that breaks apart the sky
broken wings that do not fly
or rusted tongues stuck in teeth
rigid hearts without belief
sickness spreading fiery graves
thousands heading from what saves-
not grace in spades, not faces laid
upon a withered stone, replete
neither truth that wakes beneath
the laden soul, the things we know, we know
we knew all the while
carried seeds in our disgracing
what feeds our embracing- like loving
only never acted out or stretched too thin
never parceled out or kept within
not labeled or produced, not stolen, ordained,
given like wine we pour on affection
causing us to lose direction
instead a taste of open truth
the smells we gathered in our youth
intangible tangibles tasting
forgive and forgiveness wasting
our moments here on earth
we know what we know from the moment
of birth

Insanity Is

They told me
I'm crazy
like lazy with a neurotic bent
my shame as frogs
born with extra limbs
talking to the winds
shaking in my bed
shedding social norms
like exoskeletons
breaking under the light
of my half-crazed mind
half-sighted blind
they told me

They- they are
a mysterious them
them behind social curtains
social certains that tell
of right versus wrong versus
the timing of my lunacy
the frailty of my thoughts
spilling nilly across
hearts and minds unsearched
besmirched with affective knowing
effective growing in social soils
a mind like mine that toils
and churns the fettered lands
challenges where it stands
has nothing to offer but painted ruin
nothing officially human
only madness where they see
this is what "they" told me

In beauty, as some say
walking carefully through
healing dances that laugh my pain
into quickened recognition-
superstition to the world, but I
dance freely in such spaces
paces matching ancient time
rhythms matching ancient rhyme
and I am sewing up the things
torn open by the world
the sea of faces that ripped open
the softer places in my soul
my dancing makes me whole again
and my poetry is my heart
art walking through insanity
no matter what mysterious others
try to say of me

I am not an affect of existence
purely trained to save balance
clown dancing on your "normal"
but cloud dancing in the skies
I am not proof that you are sane
in comparison to my longing, my suffering,
my pain
I am not proof that you are capable
or culpable, or mean, or good,
because you cannot stand me up
against your soul- against the whole-
and declare my mind unfit
God created and He designed
aligned the heavens with our earth
declared our birth to the angel clans
formed our hands inside the womb
lifts us up from our tombs
carries our souls in His warm embrace
knew our face before we could breathe
and all of that with such mighty ease
that calling one of His creation
an aberration, a sin against all life
or trying to fix it to your own likes
seems to me you're trying to be
a God amongst men, hypocrisy
pointing fingers across to me
damn near idolatry of the human ideology
that's what "they" try to sell to me.

But, I don't believe it- not for a minute
not for a second do I stress
I just do my best and I know
I am dancing in God's own shadow
in His filling grace
my face upturned and ignoring "they"
no matter what society tries to say.

All Roses

stumbled roses kin
to crushing madness
petals to skin in rushing sadness
sorrow leaking out
from corners meeting corners
thumbs pricked on thorns

we are what we scorn and
we are what we hate

deliberate grieving
in windows, folded souls
like molded bowls
of shattered clay- we are
fear on scrit and stones

our homes as ashes burnt in dust
the rust from petals breaking palms
the alms of madness, the greeting smile
the widowed wanting, the waiting mile

the fervent tearing of reflection
infection washing bloodied hands
we are these lands, these broken gates
these broken fates and hungry souls
these holes too deep to find their fill
the still of morning and deadly flash
of sun across a foreign sky
who am I inside these scalded flowers
showers of such deadly arms
that blacken farms and shatter homes

what I destroy is what I become
what I become is what I will bear
I will bear my neighbors trough
his bow across my bended back
taking back his sorrowed past
free at last, almighty God-

shuddered to see me staring thus
into my blackened face- unjust
and petals crushed like ruined faith
who in faith had stolen mine
had stolen fate like bruising time
I wait for him to quiver right
the just upon my heart- my part
in speaking lame or too quietly
he stares back at me- defiantly
but makes no move
no stirring up our yesterdays
reminding of the debts to pay
or crushing me in single blows
he knows, I think, the face of God
he sees it there in me
and I, in all my poverty could not see
the grace of ALL humanity

reflecting back, it seems,
into the deepest part of me

(the part that only God can see)

Petulant Whiny Banana

You know how, like, when you're 16 and everything is better said with music? You know, like, that feeling?

Today I am thinking of my family. I realized, upon some introspection....that music just won't suffice.

So, here is a video I love.....that pretty much sums up all of my feelings about my family. You may have seen it before, I have posted it before.....it just really warrants another go. If you can figure out how I am feeling after watching this......please let me know. I could use a little direction. =)

Thoughts

I feel like my life is always transforming.

I have come to some conclusions, though I dislike the word "conclusion". It means end, which isn't really where my head is.

I am pretty comfortable in the learning space. I have ideas, sure. They are based on all sorts of life experiences. I have fought for my ideas, and I have changed them, and I have been led astray by them, and they have landed me in my wonderful life here. Ideas, ideas, ideas. They are vastly important and....well, extremely silly. Don't cling to anything- not life, not relationships, not ideas. Let go and things get a helluva lot easier.

In any event, here are some me-isms I have found lately.

1. Family is important. History is important. If you don't believe this, try asking someone who has been deprived of both. Make-believe family and pretend history (ancestral and others) are not good substitutes. Nothing- absolutely NOTHING- can replace knowing who you are and where you come from.
2. Compassion and love - loving - those are what we are here for. There are no greater lessons and no greater gifts.
3. Tolerating family is your responsibility. You actually do have responsibilities toward your family. Don't go MIA for 30 years and then come crashing back into someone's life claiming all the benefits of your familial ties. If you have forgotten how to behave like a family member, don't expect other people to remember how to treat you like one.
4. That being said, love your wacky family anyways. Life is too short to miss out on so much.
5. Nobody will ever love you the way your family loves you. I'm sorry. I know it sucks. It's still true. I bet there are exceptions. Like, Mother Teresa would probably love me more than any of my family members. But there are few people out there like her.
6. Dogs are awesome. Every kid should have one.
7. Women have forgotten their worth. Men have forgotten their responsibilities toward women. Until we talk about those things, all the politics and religion and culture in the world falls flat. Wanna tell me all about your politics and how they will save the world? How are you treating the women in your life? Let's talk about that.
8. Muslims are beautiful people. There are bad Muslims and ugly Muslims and mean Muslims, but they are the exception. To think that the religion is dominated by meanness or brutality is to be hateful toward an entire group of people, and that is how war starts.....that is how genocide starts.....that is always the justification for evil. Don't fall into that trap. War is necessary sometimes, but at least be honest about it and don't try to assuage your own guilt by turning "all of them" into "something bad".
9. Death is hard to watch. It is hard to bear. It makes me think of my own death, and what I will leave my children. I don't think about leaving them money, or material things. I think about leaving character. Someday I will die, and my children will have a part of me to give their own children and grandchildren. If you think this isn't important, refer back to number 1.
10. I am beautiful. I am a complicated, beautiful, amazing, intelligent woman. I don't say that as a way of degrading other people. I am constantly amazed by other people. As far as I can tell, there is a great amount of beauty in every human being. I believe in the power and beauty of people- I believe people are important, and valuable, and should be protected. Human beings are an asset, not a drain.
11. Motherhood is sacred.
12. So is fatherhood.
13. So is childhood. And, they only get one of them. This frightens me, because I have failed my son in many ways and I can't go back in time and redo things. He only gets to be a little boy once. I get one chance to do it right. Remember that when you have kids.
14. Dress well for things. This seems to be a lost art or something. We hear all about the Muslim girls who wear modest clothing and how offensive it is to our Western ideals, yet go to court or a funeral sometime and see how far we have fallen. We no longer have any respect for anything. Dress well when you go out to dinner, a funeral, a wedding, to court, or the theater. You are not only showing self-respect, but respect for the people around you.
15. Think about the other side. Whatever you are doing, think about who it will affect. Just think about it- it isn't hard. Consider this: you have lived your life and it has been yours. Do you know much of anything about other peoples lives? Instead of assuming that they are full of shit or misinformed, simply assume that they have developed their opinions based on their experiences in life. You may not want to admit that you have had different opportunities or experiences, and it is easy to put the onus on the person "complaining" about their life. People really do experience stuff that you just cannot imagine. There is suffering and anger out there that is utterly incomprehensible to you. You don't get it, but then again.....you don't have to. It isn't yours. Let people have their experiences and don't worry about it. It is very paternalistic to suggest that you have a better understanding of the lives of other people than they themselves do.
16. Prepare for death. I mean that. It seems awful, and it is. But you could die tomorrow and your family would be set adrift. Get your stuff in order and let them know ahead of time, just in case.
17. Forgive. This is connected to compassion, which is connected to love. Compassion is connected to understanding, even if it's just the admission that you don't really understand. Look, sweetie, I have no idea what you have been through and I don't know why you are behaving this way. But, I love you and I am here for you. I am trying to understand, I am trying to forgive. Like that.
    

Personal story: My mother and I have had a tumultuous relationship from the beginning. I have come to understand a few things about my reactions to her.

I was adopted away from her, and reunited at 17. Immediately she tried to claim the role of family member, which she had not earned. It wasn't that I felt it was her fault that she hadn't earned it- it was simply the truth. It wasn't hers. She couldn't claim the benefits of motherhood when she hadn't put anything into it (besides giving birth to me).

Then, she tried to label all of my experiences. Everything I felt, she thought she understood. But how could she? She isn't me, I am not her, this is MY experience. She wasn't adopted away, I was. It was mine. Trying to label it or dissect it was a dominating thing to do, and I was deeply offended. I wanted to have my own voice.

I realized that I, too, was labeling her experiences. Because I felt abandoned, I assumed she had abandoned me. Because I felt hurt by her choices, I assumed she either hurt me on purpose or didn't care that she was hurting me. I didn't understand at the time that I was stealing away her voice, too. Everything that she had experienced became about me; everything I experienced became about her.

This was a kind of cathartic thing for us, because it did away with the "otherness" we had felt for years. Now we were impacting each other on a very profound level.

This couldn't last. All attempts to take back our voices felt like a re-wounding. She tried to talk about her experiences, and I heard "I am this other person who abandoned you."

I tried to talk about my experiences, and she heard "I am this other person who is angry and hurt by you."

Neither of us saw the human being behind all of the pain and posturing. We still haven't. Isn't that a shame?

In any event, there are my me-isms and a personal story for flair.

Now go love each other.

Computer Tutorial

How to get to Banana Queen Blog:

Begin Again

reach to embrace you
face you, eternity
turning me inside
pride and want unwilling
dealing in myth and lies
reach to face you - like myself -
keeping truth at bay
say the words as they fall
they call an ancient call
shivers down an ancient cord
the sword is mighty but the word
can sear the soul in halves and halves
until the pieces fall like rain
and our children pick them up
to begin again

caution gives our story
unsung like lessons bit
between the bread of living-
what is giving if we still
the will to share ourselves
our halves that split the heavy sea
ancient worlds and mighty trees
of life that seep inside our veins
and our children pick them up
to begin again

Turn toward the broken dawn
long ago awakening
taking bones and grinding
binding tomorrow to the past
lasting truth spilled in the sky
lies are hidden with our touch
our songs and giving break the bond
repeating what our elder's learned
water, earth, and heaven fly
we are a moment in this place
reach for my strong embrace
fight the setting as it breaks
the mortal chains
and our children pick them up
to begin again.

Abandon

My mother left when I was young
too young to remember
being left, or being with her

I was adopted, and raised,
by Narcissus incarnate, the flower
I was his reflecting pool

I ran off young, too young
to know the rules of living
so life broke me in half

I met my birth family, a blessing
and confusing because
nonchalance leaked out everywhere

I grew unsteadily, like water
that seeps over rocks
I defied obstacles, became a woman

waited for someone to realize
that I existed, that I was
their family

a few did

more didn't

I struggled with a sense

of abandonment

suddenly much older, a mother
success falling everywhere
and now the phone rings

you can't rush other people
they have hearts and minds
same as you, same as you

but I wish I had been worth more
than a leisurely walk
toward reunification

adoption is lonely sometimes
makes me feel less than
less than whole family

not worth knowing too well

inspiring fear or memories
or regret
or anger

like my mere existence is tragedy

but, I am neither sad nor resigned
because I live in a beautiful life
I only wish you knew

My Life, Begun

I wish I saw the world
or the world saw me
and held me uncurled
in the waving fronds
swirling ponds with pools
of cool water, unrequited
with life uninvited, and wars
like stories veiled, held
under shimmers from the sun
my life, begun

I wish I could coil
and uncoil like a snake,
taking part in retraction,
stories eaten backwards
half words like poison,
biting tongues and I
could slide under shade
fade into patterned grace...
my snake-like face
and fate like tracing
curls I left in sands
time that holds no clock
sliding under rocks and
speaking in reverse-
in verse like ssssslippery lies
biting tongues and I...

I wish the folding unfurled
the world called my name
and I came like a child
whose mother cries a worry
to the wind, my life begins
in water and ends
in lies, and I want
to feel the push and pull
the full extent of living-
cords swimming to their break
a snake that knows its soul
unbending as it goes
and I want to fall into grace alone
home inside the shimmered glass
the passing from a child into yon
my life, begun

Just like me

Think you have rights?
Natural, inalienable,
written in love, or stone
tablets or scrolls or....
maybe stars that write
across the evening skies
breath, life, living,
believing, giving,
receiving, touch....
where are they
in the miles and yards
of paperwork assigned
to drones who do not know
you
where are your rights
in piles and scores
of laws and legalese
employees who do not know
you
where are you in the middle
of this law and that
new laws, regulations
outright manipulations
here is how to live, how
to breathe, how
to be
you
You think you have rights?
In the middle of this....
collective madness,
this unholy trade
for something
that looks like happiness
but restricts, constricts,
confines, refines,
defines, contains,
until all that remains
are rules with schools
that teach and preach
what not to pray
or say
and how to be
a human commodity
collectivity
never something new-
not YOU
never in this mindless space
this place for human drones
our human homes
with cameras and intruding faces
watching what you do
telling you what to do
what it means to be
you
and you would trade
your rights away
to feel this way
like children coddled
swaddled babies crying
always buying what they sell
hearing the lies they tell
you will be happy, and safe,
and free
as long as you, and you, and you,
and you....
look and behave just like me.

and I love you...

Maybe two souls collide
stars astride, falling
crashing to the ground
the sounds of breaking glass
the shards of breaking stars
on breaking grass until
a breathing soul awakes
shakes the ground with longing
belonging in each other
like none other in the sky
live or die there cannot be
stars in the heavens alike
the price we pay for intimacy
the price we pay for height
and laughter rings in open air
open cares like freedom in a smile
all the while hearts ripping through
the soldered skies for these few things
heaviness brings them falling
falling into orbit with all souls
all souls that fly between the two
the words we breathe and dare not say
that you love me and I
and I
love you

Haiku

Pussy bitch cunt whore
call me these I'm back for more
love, hate intimate

Dancing and Burning

I have a dream

It wasn't long ago
skirts got hiked up,
bras were burning, frozen fingers
gripping elastic as though it were a sign-
weights lifting off shoulders

Freedom sang and we danced
King cried into the skies
"I have a dream!"
a dream that included women,
though they grabbed at the dream
with icy fingers slipping,
pussies sliding out from under
places unseen,
suddenly waving like a white flag
the flag of unconditional surrender
into the world marked by men

coarse lines etched into pavement
left over from wire burning
feet stomping, madness
strange wet dreams swimming
into the American consciousness
because no-
not everyone
can
be
free

no

Not everyone can climb
into their liberty, their dreams,
the doctor had a cure
for one disease, but the cure
only made women sick, sick,
our pussies and breasts suddenly
hanging from us like jewelry
our prized possessions
passed around at parties

no

we did not rise to the side
of men, we did not see the end
of oppression, no
no, we danced and burned
and cried out to the goddess
and fucked every man we found
and danced around and
around
until the "movement"
made us sick in our souls

We are less women
nameless with our sex
defined under the weights of men
defined in a world that
does not value men OR women
not modesty or power
not prayer, not life
not community, no

no

Now we are androgynous
we had the dream and it slid
down our inner thighs
we lost the dream
like a violent miscarriage
which is what the "movement" was-
a miscarriage of justice
never finding the souls
of women

no

It only sought to write on women
expectations of a man's world
here is what it means to be free, little girl
let me hand you your liberty
you can be naked before me
I will fuck the freedom from you
but you will never see bondage
beyond the illusion of change,
smoky veil hiding the reality
of a dream
never fulfilled.

Hello Barbara

A poem my mother wrote without realizing she was writing it. Her words, reorganized.

=======================

Hello Barbara
she did the usual
it sounds like she might be having
some sort of disassociative break
I've been thinking of her
I understand her fierce love
it borders on scary to think of

of course I'm permanently barred

rejection
seems to be
written in the skies
proof of our love
always has to be
easier than
nothing - doesn't seem to be
touch, thinking of her, hope,
clinging to less

I don't know how
to be Sky's mother again
and refuse to answer
so am I to come knocking?

all other parties
were hoping that her fierce clinging
her scowling deathmask face
disorganized hope
that it's nothing, but then again,
Maybe
We love her
her sister, mother
brother
and refuse to risk

she doesn't seem to be enough

on with life
and forgotten

Tour mi abode....

Me, as a wee pup.

My refigermator - my angel, my candle holder, and my umbrella death tree.

Coolest stuff ever, minus my cups (hang on the white hooks).

Living room.

Living room, plus my "altar" and my dying spider plant.

Count your blessings.

Some of my favorite books. The one at the far left is "A World at Arms," which is actually one of my very favorite books. =)

Miscellany

Ecuadorian mask is guarding my honor ropes.

Cuteness

Creativity run amok.

SALTINE BOX? WTF BFF?

Happy Easter

Oh no she din't. Oh yes she did!

Max was confuddled.

Where most of my books are these days - several sterilite containers. Yay bed bugs.


Finit

A Dream I Had......

Eepy Crawl

Sketter-bites

P.S. No Fatties

Barely there, slender, fit, in shape
virginal, good in bed, mother
no children, no baggage
brilliant and beautiful
but not more brilliant
than me

Whore, modest, faithful
but my buddies
should want to fuck her.
Tall, but not too tall
talented, but not too talented
Looks for equity
while making dinner
but doesn't whine
about how hard
it is to be a woman

Strong, but not so strong
that she can make it
without me
Dependent, but not so much
that she relies on me
because I want
her to be committed
to me, but
I don't want the responsibility
of being committed
to her

Willing to fuck me
almost immediately
but no history
no prior lovers
to crowd out
my insecurities

Educated, but
not moreso than me
willing to bow out
from a fight
in order to pander to
my fragile male ego
She must be able
to say she is wrong
even when we both know
she is right- just to
preserve the peace

Must be okay with me leaving
on a moment's notice
and turning my cell off
but she needs a GPS
in her ass
because I might become convinced
that she is fucking the check-out guy

Must clean up after me
because I work hard
and she is the WOMAN

Must put up
with my wacko family
including my mother, who
was either a psycho whore bitch
or the virgin mum herself
and sometimes both
so any woman
must understand that dynamic
and must not question it
when my mother cuts her
into a million pieces
over Thanksgiving dinner

Also, she must not
get pissy when I can't decide
if I love my mom or hate her
but I don't want any woman
with deep-seated daddy issues
because that's not my problem

I need a woman
who has never been hurt
so she won't take that out
on me, but I need her
to understand that I have been hurt
and might take it out on her

I need a woman
with no scars that show
if she can stuff them down
and only let the sexy parts
that appeal to my manhood
out into the daylight sun-
if she can smile through
her contractions
if she can pretend she
has never been hit or hurt
by men
if she can be my sexy queen
goddess freak
virgin mother
then we will totally work out.

P.S. No fatties.

Raaah Sol