(in 2017 my parents wanted to move us to Shenzhen, China - for a year)

No luminous field of stars tonight and no rain as yet, just booming thunder and the play of light on darkness.

I lay in a grass clearing, watching the sky. Swirling clouds and flashes of light - bright streaks - as far as the eyes can see.

Wind whips the trees, the sky, my hair. Leaves irregularly blow by as if in a hurry or perhaps debris from some strange slow-motion explosion.

I feel at home in this chaos. This angry sky mirrors my mood, my life at this moment. The next few days, next few hours will change everything, for me, or nothing. My future looms suddenly dark, frightening and empty.

Am I really caught in this plan, this parental gravity, this storm, that can upset my entire life, where years of furious work are meaningless??

There is no compass for dreams, they know only passionate directions. I’ve defended them as best I could, like a lioness, a lover, but there’s no stopping a storm.. I guess.

As the rain begins I know one thing.. I will not move..

Parents, the keepers of the door to this amazing universe..

To them I am a fragile sapling, staked for its own good. Protected from sweet kisses, funny and salty, somber and delicious.

Parents, those figures of authority - from whom our true lives are kept.

Protect me from scars no deeper than a blush, from rustles on a soft battlefield, caressed curves, tousled hair and appetitive breaths of each others air.

Parents, who guard against loves bombardment, the persistent courtship. Giving ground in slow but immense movement, like those of continental plates.

Parents, whose power will fade with no more cause than time, gentle as mist, as powerful as a waterfall.

What's the scariest book you ever read? ... Some Stephen King book like Salem's Lot or The Shining? For me it's Kate Millett's ****** Politics ... Oh, man ... Now THAT will scare you to death if you're female.

I discovered a man, overheard at my church, who actually believes his *** is a sign of power and of superiority. WHY am I so startled? Some childish trust not yet scrubbed off?" Or worse yet, some belief, not yet strangled, in a better world? See, stupid me, I thought this bill had been paid, by sufferance, by real people like Elizabeth Stanton, Carrie Catt and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ... by entire generations who ran through those tangled woods emerging cut and bruised ... if at all.

What is it like for HIM? I see him eyeing us, his little inferiors who bleed with the moon, with secret, catlike distaste ... regarding female opinions as slightly impure ... then, with calm, Godlike grace, granting females the forms of servant to assume.

Can I, can we, be forced to accept this inheritance? I don't know ... All I know is that this prejudice, so strangely without substance, strikes me like a dueler's lucky ******, robbing me of attendant rights and wit ... springing a tender trap of doubt in the future and abandoning me to stammering.

Memories of an old friend's drum;
rejoice as your paths intertwine
and leave an emerald mark,
like a ferry towards safer shores
to guide you between kin's ways,
planting the roots of clarity
where you'll grow with the rhythm
of a ready wan light.

I will pretend this day doesn't exist
Just like the person, it demands remembrance
But only in the locked ivory pages of my diary

The pain I have yet to unpack all come rushing back
The memories of you and the present lack
I cannot say you were an inspiration
I cannot say you taught me how to be a good man

I can say that behind my willowed face of pain
That I will always be apart of you but not in vain
I will take the gifts bestowed and continue to grow
Without you and let karma give you the seeds you sowed
All poisonous like the tainted water I had to grow in
Your toxicity within me so potent

Invaded my home unwillingly like a rodent
We supposed to be forever and always but your actions rendered you an opponent
I was hand-fed rage by your hard hands and I failed to notice.

His slippers still in the corner,
           I wear them sometimes
scuffing along.

I'll fill these empty shoes  
                              one day,
           making you proud.

For my situation in life
I don’t blame my parents
or anything like that,
They may well have been crap
And ****** me up
(Just Like Larkin said)
But blaming others won’t change anything,
It is as it is
And I try and take ownership
Rather than mitigate and delegate
Hate.

Over the years
I’ve met many people who look back in anger,
Blame all the faults they have,
All the problems they’ve encountered,
On their parents
Or others,
How they were raised as kids
Else treated at school by a teacher.
And, you know,
Maybe it’s true
And maybe it’s not,
But I try hard
Not to linger,
To doff
And point an accusatory finger.

Standing naked and alone
Facing with all your faults,
Taking ownership is difficult
And accountability *****,
But when the blade of justice swings
It’s important - even for such a schmuck as me -
To face the consequences,
Not to duck!