25 February 2021

 You Helped Me Get Home, February 25, 2021, Bob Derickson, post-humously

I know this is where I began, a naturally divine universe of all faiths and all sciences, and none of them
To me, it was a stream of passion and life
In beautiful patterns, like intricate lace or a grandmother’s doily
I do not know where or when I am but am not afraid on this journey.


 Unbreakable, September 8, 2015

 
Best friend ever, the One I never knew
Or knew too well, my twin
Inner help and comfort given, he’d be a catch
Wonderful luck that he walked out the door, before
Lying next to me in bed, again?
Talking, learning me, using my words against me, for me.
 
Mental illness, lack of money:  issues not mine,
Charges leveled by others against him that I would not own,
But did, as though his thoughts became mine.
Then he left, the gas lighting idea planted by the ungrounded. Who does that to a person?
That I own, as he did me.
 
Utter that word - love - once,
I jump, limber like Desperation crammed under a desk
Ready to feed, starving, exercising patience.
Then all was “fuck me in the ass, man in the mirror,” as if he’d seen me watching.
What worthiness, this pig?  Judged
Against standards, I dreamt he dreamed.
 
Uncover self-knowledge and suffer
Dig into matters softly, patiently, then
Demand understanding, damn you, change!  Time’s up!
Closing:  “I would never treat you like he treated you.”
With perspective, decide what it means.
 
No, this was worse, unless he meant what he said,
Before my thinking fucked it up: This time I thought I knew what I thought I had
Before he was gone.
Blind, self-betrayed; self-cruelty unseen, crouched behind kindness.
The good news is that it’s all in my head! Feel better! Hugs!
Instinct is refusing to take something already perfect and painting it red.
 
This time, no unanswered questions, no hand-wringing,
Just a hammered finality.
Better a man leave before both exhale?
Better a man leave, having sealed the broken skin through which God entered?
 
 
At the end, safely, no one on watch: He gave me that.
But, what was the next right thing?
The gods had no clue, and so, burdened man
With trickery:  It’s never about what it’s about.
These gods want nothing.
They want what you want.
 
Men of integrity, taller by choice, dream
Of Homer’s gods, travelling in disguise, observing righteousness and wrongdoing, asking
When no one is watching, what choice will man make?
Will he become whole?
Eddie is such a man,
Taking the long way around.
 
Know yourself, if you can, so they’ll know too,
The exact measure of the pain you can bear.
Keep the journey alive, stay safe from their reach,
Be comforted, admit to your innermost self, that
They (not all) on this day (not every), you do not want to be.
 
Relationships should not be so difficult.
Love your family!  The one that teaches through pain
As you slowly disintegrate, unfit.
Nice clan, demanding obedience:
Sir, Yes, Sir! (But no, not from me?)
 
Be grateful for lessons; hold no regrets.
Thanks! Kisses! Smiles!  (What, no tone or inflection?  Still mine to make up.)
Emerson, perverted, they keep; me, his spirit.
When we speak of loyalty, we speak not of the wolf,
But of the spirit of the wolf, which from them has fled.
(Substitute different animals at no charge.)
 
(If this is about what it’s about,
Then the written means what it says.
Mea culpa.
Sorry, not sorry.  No life lived  in contradiction is easy.)
 
 
Stop testing me, universe.  I’ve had it.
 
 

 

Reflection on Forgiveness and Religion, July 22, 2014

Today is momentous.  The 2’s make sense.  2 is a pair, and two 2’s is also a pair.  I woke this morning grateful not to be in a mental institution!  Sleep really does help to pull things together, assign meaning.  Then I poured two separate cups of coffee.  My roommate was not at home.  I must not feel alone any more.

 I wrote many months ago that forgiveness is allowing someone to be fully human, without fear of reprisal.  It is allowing the ice to melt, and then swimming in the soft, harmless water of memory.  How can I be angry with anyone who has earnestly and out of love tried to help?  I forgive me and I forgive anyone else whom I perceived to be manipulative or untruthful.  Whether real, illusory, or some variant of the two, the release is the same.  Forgiveness is not absolution.  It is not a permission to turn from the truth, especially the ugly, simple truths, such as imperfection, ego, or the blunders of human nature.  What looks inelegant today might eventually be seen as a new dance move.

 I wish justice would be more closely linked to the truth about humanity.  Maybe fewer of us would be shouting for blood every time we screwed up.  There is a reason that those we might characterize as abhorrent (or similar such terms) do what they do, whether criminal or not.  Calling them abhorrent only serves our egos, and perhaps as a warning to others that nonconformity will not be tolerated.  This is not a message to send.  Do no harm, this is the message.  I guess that means I can’t follow through on my threat to kick someone’s ass.  Yeah, like I would have.

 Why do I feel so whole, so calm, today?  People lie and then deflect their lies because of insecurity about their future.  “This is illegal in California and Georgia.” I heard that just before starting down the rabbit hole.  Illegality does not make something inherently wrong.  It was a too-long journey, designed to help a man who had forgotten who he was - me.  Because I knew something was amiss, and because I sensed an unsolicited invasion of privacy based on circumstantial information -  information that nonetheless fairly accurately described a drug-using me as a man whose moral compass had apparently gone askew, and aided and abetted by another man, now forgiven - it all became a game of hide-n-seek, of clay to be molded.  “You don’t want to end up like him, to make his same mistakes.” This is what I heard.  Though I never would have even entertained such a mistake, I can see why folks thought as they did.  Like father, like son.  J  As an aside, I hope that man can forgive me from beyond the grave.  He knows everything that needs to be forgiven.  It was rather brilliant, some might even say supernatural, such was the winding path I created to lead myself out of this Forest of Darkness, to use my own metaphor from childhood, while finding courage enough to go back in, if need be.  I knew what I knew, and then was made to doubt.  I feared talking because I would appear insane.  It seemed like folks feared me, unnecessarily.  I felt judged and manipulated - my entire sex life under the microscope, eyes ever-watchful.  That with which I had never had issues became symbolic of barbarism, or of something unclean and prohibited, of harmful to self and others, of sin, that man-made concept used to control others.

 I had never realized the full extent of the negative impact of religion on the psyche.  Others did not realize the full impact of secretive therapy on an unwilling, or rather, uninformed and unknowing, target.  (Seriously?  That’s how it felt, anyway.)  In reality, it was just me being sexual and loving it, fully.  “It never goes away,” a friend once said to me.  He was right.  We must embrace all of ourselves, fully, without judgment and without harm to self or others.  (I’ve said this over and over - just look at past writing - so that is proof enough that I believe what I believe and need not keep repeating it.)  Religion has had even worse effects on others.  I’m lucky to escape relatively unscathed - and trust that that will prove to be the case in the long term.  Reform the religion, getting back to basics, keeping it simple, but do not prosecute any man victimized by it.  Hurt people hurt people, so address the hurt.  Prosecution is for persecutors.

 This is an incomplete picture, full thoughts and experiences funneled from pen to page.  Writing is a summation, a winnowing of rich and complex expressions of that which is.  Sometimes vague is the only option.  There is much I don’t know.

 I feel whole and calm because I realize that my truth has always been within me.

 Never shy from the truth.

The Need April 8, 2013

 
The Need to be right
            even grammatically
never helped a relationship
The Need fed itself but never the wasted, me

Even after, a miracle claimed prematurely as my own,
            Now the real deal - this was my turn, yet still
The Need followed me, having to be right even to help another but not helping at all, then
               unlearning the how-to script
               unlocking the mind cage and
                              Being free to help ‘not-me’
 
Just like that The Need disappeared
Another miracle? No, just more of the same,
because the thing about miracles is that
               they are never supposed to be about any One
 
The Need of true miracles is individual motion
                                             - payment forward
 
 

 The Fortune of a Racist, April 11-21, 2013

 

My dad told me once that
Having a twenty in his pocket
A beer in his hand
A woman on his arm meant
He was nigger-rich
 
A dividend of 80-proof boulevard whiskey:
Balance sheets of paint on his body
Proof of class inked on his calves, in black and white
Color was a luxury one could not afford
Superficial affluence manifest on a kid gone AWOL long before
 
A flag with stars in crossed bars marked him a
               Son of the Confederacy
Held tight between the long legs of a Marilyn
Caressing her pussy as one might imagine a sailor imagining being there
Between those long legs
Treasure ripe for exploitation
Affluence, abundance, profusion

 Ritual April 11, 2013

 

washing the sheets making the bed buying the lube feeding the dog petting the cat renting the porn calling the dealer driving the car getting the funds ringing the bell watching for cops fighting the fear dreading the chat paying the cash crushing the rock filling the point hiding the stash tapping the plastic stripping the shorts starting the flic tying the arm jabbing the needle missing the vein feeling the pain jabbing the needle f e e l i n g t h e r u s h tightening the ring pinching the nips pulling the cock talking the smack hearing the voices spilling the water closing the door closing the mind riding the high seeing the shadows feeling the fear seeing the flash m o u t h i n g t h e a h h pinching the nips yanking the cock craving the cock perving on cock fucking cock hell yeah porn and cock just one more boxed in

 

 


 


Night Note, September 3, 2015

Well, that was a little crazy, very painful, and wonderful all at once.

Yes, I definitely let my mind go to imaginary places.  And where were those?  To comedy, romance, friendship, lessons about life (including betrayal, which seems to have been a too-constant theme, and foolish longing for love - never happened to you?), and that I love the Golden Girls and I Love Lucy.  Apparently, women brought so much love and sensibility into my life, I almost couldn't imagine it, but managed all the same. I would like to be less naive going forward, because some are just plain devious, knowing in that arrogant way that they must be, they must be, right!  Ah, but they made themselves into bigger fools.  I refuse to allow them to drag me down.  Learn (really, this time, learn from it).   Fortunately, they failed to elicit much more than temporary anger and confusion before I went to sleep, with tears.  Thanks for those.  Without them, none of this might have been possible.  Sorry, but sometimes life's a bitch, even for others.  Thanks for sharing the cost of the fare to get here!

Night Note,  September 2, 2015

Mount Hood, Denali, bareback mountains everywhere ...
Maybe we need to make a bargain?
We'll wrap up, if you'll wrap up, or at least get really, really slippery and wet, like nature requires.
Water boys, water works.

I'm not sure this should be a piss equivalent thing because the sky is really, really big and the average penis is well, not nearly as big as my imagination.

Still, that would be a stopgap thing.  I sure hope pain isn't the only way to gain in this case, global political will to change climate change.  I guess nature can and should sort these things out.  I'm not a scientist, but I understand we have some good ones, ready to go.  Who gives the green on that?

Dirty, Eddie, dirty.

(I enjoy thinking, and realizing I still care.)