When we are born
there's no Wrong
or Right
there's no Black or White
there's no indecision
We sleep when we're tired
we eat when hungry
We cry if something's not right
we laugh at anything funny
We see with perfect vision...
At Kindergarten we make our first
Best Friend
The one person that held our hand
when milk time was a disaster
and we napped together
and home time came faster
because Friend times Fun
equals Time goes By
and One plus One
equals Forever Mine
In Little School we first meet
Prejudice
It's the pretty girl
wearing the pretty dress
while your hand me downs
scream your secret shame
It's her you blame
when your lifetime friend
who wore the same milk mustache
as you at Five
takes her side
the waves of I don't get it
washes over you on a tide
of unreasonable insanity
but your Vanity is total
to One minus One
equals Alone on a Beach
totals I Am No One
By High School you're confused
by the elevated status
of the praying mantis
the chickadee that seems to be
an all boy zone that is open 24/7
and the gentleman
that snakes out his hand
to land on your rear end
euphemistically called
the Octopus  
by then...
You've never really got it...
It made no sense
as the informative years
just saw you sitting
upon a bench
crying tears
that you eventually sniffed
upon you Third winter sweater
gazing upon a frozen pond
in the middle of an empty park
you saw the cracks the ice skaters
didn't
but it didn't make you feel better
So you call out... Crack in the Ice!
They look blankly at you twice
and continue to skate
with their own voice in their head
With a shrug your mantra sighs
I did what I could, I can't beat
someone else's vice...
Here come the working years
here comes the awkward fears
Of What if I'm not good enough
Where do I go when I've had enough
Where are my friends that I never made
What if I can't make new friends
Who can I talk to at the end of the day?
So heartbreaking...
to know that your best friend
that wore the same milk mustache
got married 2 years ago
and you weren't invited to the wedding
Even though you lived 2 doors down
for nearly 15 years, shared boy stories
and plenty of chocolate talking
and now she's having her second baby
while her husband is Manager
of the local Tyre King
and stupidly I thought
She got everything!
Except that I couldn't go to her wedding
because I was in South America
and I remember my Mother called
and said You remember Yvette?
She's getting married to Steve
he's going places, they'll have a family
next July, the joy on their faces!
So dear, how's things in Africa?
and I laughed with sorrowful Joy
at my mothers voice and said
Well Mom, the sky is Red
bleeding with sorrow
for all the animals slaughtered
but here's one truth about your daughter
She's actually in Brazil
about to board a boat
to travel further south
to places remote
to take vital medicines
and vaccines to those with no hope
She's taking her fully qualified Doctor
self, alone
Unmarried is not unfulfilled
Solitary is not a life sentence
our lives could be filled with
a million people, but in silence
eventually we'll get it

A medley
in dictum
as foreseen
anglicization collect
beat swimmingly
with intrigue
in literature
and euphemistically
tell realization
that further
eyewitness in
plurality with
fealty in
foreign affairs
here that
schlepp peace
with ferrety.

Lazily I sit naked on my favorite  carved antique chair,
by the writing table, fully immersed  in Kamsutra zen,
the randy one barges in, with a smile,euphemistically reprimands:
"Man, have a heart, your ****** is being unfairly wasted again"

Where to begin
I have many starting lines in mind
This happens when, like an oncoming storm,
A poem has been on its way for too long
The little, cloud of emotion, words, phrases
Creativity and art
Have been bustling in the back of my brain
And it all starts to burs in different directions
Infiltrating my rationality
My time management
My ability to concentrate on you
Or on me
Or on your luggage
My belongings
The future

Yes, this poem has been coming for far too long.
Some of the starting lines that I have considered might take you by surprise
(as many good starting lines do, and even more bad ones)
One was, “I have a beautiful face”
And the poem would go something like this
I’ve been told that I have a beautiful face
And sometimes, when I look in the mirror
I can see snippets of what people call that beautiful face
I can see the eyes that certain boys have said are pretty
I can see the cheeks that are chubby and lovable
I can see the outline of a human being with golden hair
Too often in the shape of a birdsnest behind my head
I can see the outline of me, which is also an outline of you
Where you stop and I start
You are everywhere
Except in me

Noone will make you stronger than you are
Noone will make you something that you aren’t
You can be
You can talk
You can try your best to share

But it seems that
The sharing is and has an element of consequence
It comes at the right time
When things are stable, the world is spinning steadily enough for your wine glasses to sit on the table, maybe perching, but safe, on the wooden edge
It comes at a time when you know what to do each day, and you do it
It comes at a time when you’ve figured out what’s going on
That you think you know what’s going on so you’re able to function
It comes at a time when you have a lot
Not plastic, not time, not food, not wine
You just have a lot.
There’s no word for what it is that you have
Its not love, but it might be the ingredients
You have enough of you- enough projects about you that you’ve worked on
Enough soul and love that you have devoted to yourself and other things
Those are the best
Actually maybe they’re the only
It’s a process of breaking down walls
And then building up bricks

It's a process of letting me be
Letting me giggle
And smile
And bruise, sometimes
It wont be your fault when it happens
But bruises make me stronger
They make me less willing to break down the walls
So I’ll go at a better pace
Thank you- for all of it
Especially the little bruises

I hope that I make you think
In a different way
In a new way

I hope that you can appreciate the
Simultaneously
Happy grateful loving
Pensive questioning and uncertain
Being that is me

I hope that this poem
Or letter
Or essay
Or collection of misfit words

Helps you see
That there’s a lot to me

The most that I can do with it though
Is try
To do good

I can’t say what good will come from sharing with you
But I can say that I think some will

You’re like a fortress: you don’t need, frankly, you make it seem, quite a lot like you don’t even want.

But that’s impossible because even fortresses need food and water, repairs and most importantly people to walk in them, and care for them.

I wonder- no, I hope- that in some way
Our fleeting encounters
Help you in some way
Maybe I can provide a sounding board
A bit of a mirror
Or evens simple companionship

I just hope to help
As you go through you lone path through life
Like we all do every day
That’s all, in good conscience, that I can hope

I will not take from you
I refuse
I absolutely refuse
So I cannot hope for more
At least not now

I don't know why I told you all the things that I did
If I could go back and sensor it all
I probably would
Like why would I tell you about the pink bridge
The pink bridge meant a lot to me
For different reasons
That's a story
And likely a sad one
That you don't know
I didn't know what I was doing
With my sexuality
With that of others
I didn't know what was going on
Or where I was going
But I walked across the pink bridge

Its funny
(first know that whenever I’m writing what will be a harder-to-write-clause I euphemistically write it as, it’s funny)
I feel like I cant tell you the story of my life right now
We’re too in the middle,
Smack dab front row center
And I feel like there’s just enough of it
That it can easily start to spill over the brims of the fruit basket
I’ll miss parts
I’ll miss pieces
I don't want to be needy
Or overly affectionate
I’m done with those things
With being too nice

You like to talk
About a lot of things
And you’re pretty real
The problem is that
My reality is
Different
Its one of colors
Feelings art
Words on a page like this one
This is how I live

And I’m worried,
Because I don't know
If this is what I should be doing to make a living
Since I know that it’s how I live
And feel most alive

I can always write though
In my head walking home from work
On scraps at a coffeeshop
On the kitchen table before dinner

It will never go away
I will always hold onto it

So funny
Again when I was writing this
I thought that maybe I could share it with you.
The answer to that is blatantly no.

It’s a bit like shock therapy
When you’d come to.
It was the Depression, sure,
And I was barely clothed and fed
But I woke up refreshed
Realigned and adjusted.
A clean sweep!
Surrounded by my loving family.
Back.
So this is the way things are;
The way things were,
Before
But it’s not so bad in comparison.

That over there was a disaster
The so-called
“Loss of consciousness”
Was I in a coma?
With witch’s feet
And those dancing trolls
A road leading where and why?
There are no other roads, so who cares the color?

It was a horror story, not a morality play
They were so presumptuous,
What I needed!
They told me that I had killed someone,
a complete stranger
and
That’s when it all got worse.

Bluebirds fly
Yes I suppose they do!
You are right!
I got my wish in a sick kind of way
I went beyond a “rainbow”
as it were

It was bad.
I liked those gorgeous orange woozy poppies
but so what,
I was asleep anyway.
Do you see what I mean?
Chased by monkeys and
people who don’t really like me.
Not really.
Not any more than anywhere else.
Despite what they say.
Anyway, everyone clearly had their own agenda.
It was a matter of convenience and opportunities.
What was mine again?
Oh yeah.
For it to stop.

The Wizard was a Kansas Man
He said so himself
And when I showed up
Well he decided to clear out
I guess we were two Kansans too many

Stay with us Dorothy!
We love you!
All of us!
We don’t want you to go!
Doesn’t that sound a bit odd?

So I came back with this bit about
Well “if I ever look
for my heart’s desire
again
I will look no further
than my own backyard
Because if it isn’t there
(It gets good!)
I never really lost it
To begin with!”
Can you believe that?
I also relentlessly repeated
HOME
Euphemistically speaking
and the word
LIKE
Which isn’t really a total and complete
lie

And somehow it worked
It came to an end
I can’t really explain why but
It could have been a Jim Jones situation.

But do you think that I believed any of it?
I escaped
And now I think that I know how to do it.
And I can do it again.
But to someplace
Else.

'til the sun rose beautiful,
        I said,
God, take me.

Then, like at 4:30 this
        sweet
redhead, smiled at me.

Until our eyes, mine and hers,
           met
at like 4:30 I said , God,
           take me.

You realize I wasn't serious, eh?
             I  said,
that euphemistically, hey?

Now that the sun rose red ,
            my luck,
turned for the better, Sir!

I admit blasphemy. I admit
       I might
have been hasty, in my request.

Consider the background to this war in the Ukraine, consider the effects of the accumulation of generated rage over the decades?

Russia has historically subjugated Ukrainians since the 1930s when Stalin, motivated by racial prejudice and a desire to dominate, implemented a policy of extermination which systematically starved the largely rural population to death in the phenomenon known as the"Holodomor"... and forbade any complaint being uttered by the suffering peasants with the penalty of being frozen to death in the gulags of the wilderness of Siberia.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Ukraine became an independent nation by popular decree. This was not received well by  Russia nor by the Russian speaking populace of the Donbass region in the East.

In 2013 revolution occurred in the Maidan Square in Kiev where protestors revolted against the thuggish government of Victor Yakunovych who had implemented, in the face of Russian pressure, a forced decision against the popular choice of the people for the Ukraine to join the European union.

The Maidan revolution resulted in the collapse of the Yakunovych government and his forced sudden retreat to Russia. Pro Russian separatist forces in the Donbass supported by euphemistically titled "Russian Military Advisors" in February of 2014, attacked loyalist forces of the Ukraine in  the self-declared Donetsk and Luhansk republics. Military escalation continued through to 2018 including artillery exchanges and the decision by Russia to militarily invade and annex the Crimean peninsular.

An undeclared war began between Ukrainian forces on one side, and separatists intermingled with Russian troops on the other, although Russia attempted to hide its involvement. The war settled into a static conflict, with repeated failed attempts at a ceasefire. In 2015, the Minsk II agreements were signed by Russia and Ukraine, but a number of disputes prevented them being fully implemented. By 2019, 7% of Ukraine was classified by the Ukrainian government as temporarily occupied territories, while the Russian government had indirectly acknowledged the presence of its troops in Ukraine.

In 2021 and early 2022, there was a major Russian military build-up around Ukraine's borders. NATO accused Russia of planning an invasion, which it denied. Russian President Vladimir Putin criticized the enlargement of NATO as a threat to his country and demanded Ukraine be barred from ever joining the military alliance. He also expressed Russian historic views, questioning Ukraine's right to exist, and stated wrongfully that Ukraine was created by Soviet Russia. On 21 February 2022, Russia officially recognized the two self-proclaimed separatist states in the Donbas, and openly sent troops into the territories. Three days later, Russia invaded Ukraine. Much of the international community has condemned Russia for its actions in post-revolutionary Ukraine, accusing it of breaking international law and violating Ukrainian sovereignty. Many countries implemented economic sanctions against Russia, Russian individuals, or companies, especially after the 2022 invasion.

The Russian genocide handbook was published on April 3, two days after the first revelation that Russian servicemen in Ukraine had murdered hundreds of people in Bucha, and just as the story was reaching major newspapers.  The Bucha massacre was one of several cases of mass killing that emerged as Russian troops withdrew from the Kiev region.  This means that the genocide program was knowingly published even as the physical evidence of genocide was emerging.  The writer and the editors chose this particular moment to make public a program for the elimination of the Ukrainian nation as such.

Legally, genocide means both actions that destroy a group in whole or in part, combined with some intention to do so.  Russia has done the deed and confessed to the intention.....and incidentally, recently Ukraine geophysicists discovered vast gas and oil deposits in the, then, Ukrainian administered segment of the Black Sea. These deposits would have had the capacity and potential to render the Ukraine, not only independent of Russian hydrocarbon dependence but also capable of being developed into a major commercial supplier of oil and gas to the European community. Russia's annexation of Crimea and the recent military occupation of the Eastern corridor effectively opens the door to Russian monopolization of these deposits...and closes the door to Ukrainian aspirations!

Ukraine bleeds, Russia’s Putin must live with the guilt of the suffering and destruction he has caused for the rest of his living days. Emotions are running high on the vast steppes of Central Asia, whatever the outcome of this turmoil, decades of hate and resentment, violence and vengeance have been wrought by this action, the birth of this animosity shall grow and pervade, unhindered, for centuries in the heart of the angry denizens of this poor, tortured land.

Ukraine, Ukraine...Cry the Beloved Country

M.
20 April 2022

I chase these ideals...
These versions of my life that don't exist,
They just become tormenting fantasies,
Sometimes, destroying everything I love in the process...
I begin to analyze the concept of what's "deserved,"
Deserved by whom?
Who's the authority?
The sky's the limit?
Not when you're shackled to the ground, shackled by the wake of your past,
You can't escape your shadows,
Lost in mistake after mistake,
Like a stone of scar tissue,
There's nothing left to wound,
Which exit did I miss?
Maybe I should have gotten off this road a long time ago,
What went wrong?
What went right?
Love, family, life, dreams...
This game full of tricks, fools, dogs, and thieves,
Blessed or cursed,
It's all this relative facade,
Romanticizations and fairytales,
You've got yours and I've got mine,
A nonsensical masquerade,
Wrapped in oblivion,
By dawn, the masks come off,
No one's dancing,  
And we're left standing naked with our truths, our choices, and our pain,
Daily reminders all around,
Everything is dulled,
A shimmering lackluster,
Sensations numbed,
Spare me sensationalization,
Please don't offer me prescriptions,
Don't offer me subscriptions,
They don't disguise the lies,
They don't smooth out the wrinkles of the sweet, euphemistically, sugarcoated descriptions of what is and what will never be...

Clandestine connections,
Undeniable, as we spiral through this network of intimate caves...
Slipped into a hole years ago,
Never seemed to crawl out..