This is my PC poem
Don’t read between the lines
There is no deeper meaning
But at least it almost rhymes
This is my neutral poem
It is neither wrong nor right
It is not controversial
It is not day or night
This is my flaccid poem
It is impotent as can be
shi pi fu cu co…
This is my PC poem
This is my neutral poem
This is my flaccid poem
It is everything it should be
It is nothing it could be
And it is absolutely not me
In hotel breakfast area when I spot a piece of scrap paper on the buffet table in front of me. The paper bears my handwriting. I review the paper with puzzlement then pull out my phone with the aim of documenting this. I hold up my phone; the camera is zoomed way in and the lens is pointed to a space just above the scrap of paper. I move the camera down to find the paper is covered by some other hand-held electronic device. I pull the camera aside and move this new electronic device down. The paper is not the one I saw moments before. This paper is one I’ve kept in my wallet. It has contact info: addresses and phone numbers of loved ones. Frantically, I review the page in an attempt to find the writing I’d seen moments before. I turn the page over to find nothing. Now there are several blank scraps of paper. I dig through them. Now some of them are bills of currency: tens and twenties. The bills are rolled up and stuffed into a cassette-tape case…
I awake breathing quick, shallow breaths.
I learned today that there is a warrant out for my arrest. Of course I did stupid things in high school, but I honestly didn’t know of what crime I was accused. I hadn’t thought about it since I was 20. I was visiting my parents in Boerne, TX and was detained by local police while they searched my vehicle. They said I had a pending felony warrant out of Austin and were waiting on confirmation. After accusing me of huffing the touch-up paint for my car and detaining me for 2 hours, they let me go on my way. This morning, a friend sent me link to an online warrant registry. There is was: Phil Force – Wanted on felony obstruction of justice in Austin, TX. On Monday, 02/05/18, I will enter the police station at 715 E 8th St and identify myself to the clerk. From there, who knows what will become of me. If prison is the destination, I don’t know I will allow my body to arrive as scheduled. My purpose here is to help others. When I find myself taking more than I am giving, it is time to end my stay on this planet.
I dreamed I was put in charge of a street observatory. It was my job to ensure star seekers were given the opportunity to see stars. Visitors would bring stars they had birthed with which to light up the sky. We each reveled in the beauty of the others’ stars. A star seeker would toss a star into the space above the street and we each added our own to fill in the sky. We lit up the street with our own creations. And I felt at peace – grateful for the opportunity to see all of these wonderful stars and grateful to be able to show my own. On occasion, a visitor would bring a sun. These suns out-shown any other stars in the sky. As it was my job to ensure star seekers were able to see the stars, I often found myself redirecting these sun holders, asking them to keep their suns under cover and, when these redirections failed, asking them to leave the street observatory. This was not in my nature, as I appreciated all stars, even those that were way too close and burned. But, with the support of other star seekers, we made it work. Then a sun holder by the name of Ehs began frequenting the observatory. Ehs’ solar flares made it difficult for star seekers to see the stars. As Ehs’ solar flares burned anytime I attempted to shield them, I quickly became weary of engaging. What was once a most enjoyable experience for me, became a chore. And, although it had been fun for me, I knew it was my duty to block my new friends’ eyes from Ehs’ sun. If I failed to do so, the street observatory would die. So there I was, renewing my promise to my fellow star seekers to help let their stars shine and asking for them to help me to do so. They knew it wasn’t in my nature to block the light of any star, even one close enough to be called a sun. But time will tell if I have the strength to keep my promise.
I stand and blood leaves my head. I brace myself against the wall in front of me, my arms crossed above my head. I close my eyes. Today will be a good day. I open my eyes to see the hole in my heart on the wall in front of me. It is larger than I expected and an unusual shape, sort of the outline of a pepper with flesh missing from left side. Now I can see my entire heart – different shades of different passions color it’s surface. Each passion blends with the next so that it would be impossible to cut one love out. But here it is all the same, a hole, a void. And I know it’s name. Still, it is not hard to smile in this moment, to smile at this pain. Even this hole is a part of me. It is beautiful because it is a part of me. And, in this moment, it could not be any other way.
the advocacy of women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes.
Equality among humans is a noble goal. As a result of discrimination, many people with different demographically related identities may experience different levels of favor. The problem is not that women, or people of African dissent, or homosexuals are viewed as different. Many of our differences are apparent to those of us who attempt to see the world for what it is. The problem is that those in positions to provide favor would seem to give more credence to these differentiations than they are due. A scientific approach tends to result in an understanding that these arbitrary differentiations are fairly useless when it comes to determining the value of a person. So what effect does highlighting these differences have on those with the power? The natural response when one is attacked is to be defensive. As long as the attitude is one of us and them, those who are in power, will keep their guards up. Perhaps the goal is righteous, but the approach is twisting the message. Perhaps the approach should be equality for all. When we advocate for women’s rights, men may see this as a threat. When we advocate for equality of the sexes, most of us will recognize that this issue affects us. So, no, I’m probably not what one would call a feminist. I do, however, support efforts toward equality of the sexes. In many cases, this means supporting women’s rights. In few cases, this may mean supporting men’s rights. But this division is means to our enslavement. If we fight amongst each other, we cannot unite.
“Divide and rule (or divide and conquer, from Latin dīvide et imperā) in politics and sociology is gaining and maintaining power by breaking up larger concentrations of power into pieces that individually have less power than the one implementing the strategy.”
Nivek was a beast of short stature. He was just shy of 4 feet when he stood up straight, which was something he did often in an attempt to compensate. His thin, hairless body was a pale, grey color. His long ears often curled under his chin, except, of course, for when he was with me. Nivek knew from years of experience that I was a safe human. He knew I would not yell at or hit him. It was my aspirations of peace that made me such an easy target for him. Nivek took pleasure in pestering me. Initially, his apparent goal was to get a rise out of me. When he didn’t, he seemed to get a kick out of the fact that I took his abuse passively. He spent entire meals together poking me in the arm with his finger, making groaning noises as he poked. When this got no response, he began slamming his head against the table as he continued to poke and groan. No one in the diner paid any mind to his tantrums. When this yielded no response, he attempted to attack me as a person. On one occasion, he continuously attempted to dip his sandwich in my soup. When I refused, he suggested I was being a hypocrite, “Peace is sharing.”, he said. He enjoyed discussing the most vomit-inducing things he had encountered in the week past as I ate. Again, when I broached the topic, he accused me of hypocrisy. One evening, in the middle of a poking session, as Nivek pounded his head against the table, I looked him in the eye. He froze. I said, “Stop!”. The waitress, who happened to be passing by, said to me, “Honey, who are you talking to?”
I like to think that about 34 years and 4 months ago, I was given instant knowledge of my life to be. In that second, every pain and pleasure I have experienced this far in my life and will experience in the years ahead, were present in my perfect understanding – I saw the elation and heartache – I saw the first time I held my child and the time my father cut me out of his life – I saw connection and rejection – I saw every stubbed toe, every broken bone, and every orgasm. And I chose this life. This life is a game. Every day I chose not to end it is a day I chose to play. When we see life as intentional, it can no longer victimize us. Moments with the potential to inspire happiness and moments with the potential to inspire sadness do not happen to us. They are products of our choice to keep playing. So we may cry as a result of our sadness and laugh as a result of our feeble brilliance. But we must never forget our experience of this world belongs to us.
Religion is used to apply magical explainations to that which we do not yet understand. Different religions are the products of different people’s interpretations of that which we cannot explain. To adhere to a religion gives up the responsibility we each have to attempt to explain that which we have yet to. This doesn’t mean there is no higher power. The greatest force in this world is love. Love can motivate us to do the illogical. Love can inspire us to put other’s needs first. There is something in us that makes this kind of illogical behavior feel perfectly right. Our gods are what we worship. To me, love is God. While love may inspire us to engage in illogical behavior, the pursuit of love may be completely logical. Love is means to a better world. This does not reduce God to love, but rather, expands love to God. Sure there are things we don’t understand about our world. Some of us may choose to call these things magic until we gain understanding of them. Others may insist to rely on magic as means of explaination, works to decieve us and divides us from the truth. It would seem we are using different words to describe the same thing. Whether we call it magic or unknown, we are saying, at the moment, we can’t explain it. To say we know anything for ceratin would seem to take a certain level of arogance. There is so much beauty in our world. Whether we call it the product of a creator or the product of something else, we may be right on both accounts. It is when we try to define things in terms of certainty that we get into trouble. So float on with the pursuit of understanding, know your understanding may constantly change, and recognize that there is nothing wrong with this… And if this uncertainty bothers you, DO NOT look into quantum physics. I mean (brain splatter sounds).