because i am stupid and immature

The thing about gay marriage, even for those who are against gay marriage legalization need to understand, is that it eliminates excuse for gay promiscuity.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, I believe in promiscuity of all kinds.  :-)  but it helps those in the gay community put into positions of just a girlfriend or boyfriend, just a kept mistress, just a booty call.

Won’t eliminate, some will always be used by powerful men/women.  But this gives the same chance for commitment, without one group left to be preyed upon and used as if gay automatically means slut and whore.

That is why it was important.  For humane reasons, and it’s ok to believe that even as a church.  Because if you don’t, you believe in keeping a class of people that are only used for booty call.  And isn’t that a little sad.

So even for sects like the Mormon church, change is the better option. For if that adjustment is not made, it looks pretty bad for those members of a church that might be making their own late night booty calls.

it’s not about God and Love, or condoning what to some is seen as “perversion.”  like so many things in life now, it is about Money and Power.  did money and power create a class of sluts?  they just well might have, and time to make them un-create it.  that is the right thing to do,  that is the Christian thing to do.  a step for equality in marriage for all peoples, means that we eliminate that loophole.  it won’t stop money from using people as toys.  however, it now makes everyone use them equally once the church bodies get on board and realize that it is even sadder when a governmental body has to make the “right” moves to correct an injustice perpetrated by the church.  or at the very least, continued.  we cannot alter our traditions?

i suggest they become altered and put more in line with the foundations of equality.  which isn’t “making gays equal to non-gays.”  it’s making every person equal to each other.  it’s leveling a playing field that has been tilted for far too long.  tradition?  let’s try a tradition of humanity and humane ideals.  that might be easier to swallow in the long run.

i’m not saying that gays are not born gay.  but i am saying it’s complicated, and there are a lot of factors that enter into the picture.  i never believed in “sin” — it seemed the simplest choice to make very early on in my life.  i sort of go by the pirate code, as stated in the Disney movies.  “they are more guidelines than rules.”  if something is called a “sin,” i’ll break it to see what happens.  since i don’t go up in smoke from a lightning strike, can assume there is no “immediate” punishment available.  of course, religious bodies contest there is a distal punishment.

and we go, well — now isn’t that convenient?  and it gets weird from then on out.  much easier to simply say that there is no sin, only choice and directions.  paths that lead us into misery, and paths that lead us out of misery.  whether joy can be felt without its compliment of misery, is something i can’t know.  but i do believe that is what the afterlife is about.  it’s about equal playing fields.  it’s about rising everyone up, rather than having some down and some up.

if there is a heaven, it is a heaven of equality.  which means even God is just another person.  and that is where things become a little difficult.  but i look at it this way – we all have a responsibility to fairness and justice.  you can’t always do the ‘right’ thing, because maybe the wrong thing was done in the past.  we dream about time machines.  and isn’t that a matter of laziness?  not wanting to correct a direction from the present.  from the moment realized that things were taking a bad turn.

so for those who oppose gay marriage, think of this as a correction for things that took a bad turn.  and be thankful that you no longer have to base your piety on the sinfulness of others.  because that is what heaven would do.  yes, i’m stupid and immature.  and proud of it.

the envy of youth? by eebrinker

give us hope and earthly blessing,
all to know and all to see
where our solace, now impressing,
is the boon and delivery.

lord, how is the silent martyr
fed by all that’s seen and done!
when i raised a quiet hand
that left what started not begun,

what are tidings?
faith deriding thoughts instilled on everyone.

so too, now, i see all effort
as the least and most Divine.
truly we are born, restored
to paths, created — not refined.

where was conquest ever able,
on the eve of wilderness?
gone now, i can see the rabble
as the heat of deliverance.

are we metered, are we fettered
by contrived exuberance?

so there’s no one grinding purpose,
but to keep the purpose free.
on such hour, no angel faults us
for reduction, aimlessly

to be wounded for desire
which holds each want in wide array.
time is money for the buyer,
yet time is seller’s only play

born to worry, ever hurries
into art that arts its say.

so i find Reliance weary,
as a God she’s not well fed.
to begin we must be silent,
hearts that bleed into bloody heads

swollen, now, there is no fearing
for your brother, man nor beast
has such pious ages, clearing.
each bold thought lives for each cold feast…

where is shame to cast all blame
when all become the silent Least?

yes, there is a greater journey,
only fools would doubt its stride,
but i cannot bravely answer
man has all that his goals confide.

when has love been every answer,
when it’s truth that marks our paths?
so my truth becomes a dancer,
and such love is but lovely math?

” oh refresh us! oh, refresh us!
traveling through this wilderness.”

a musical parody, written in response to “the essay on self reliance” by ralph waldo emerson.


Unlock A Magical Danger


have known debra a while on facebook and she always has something fresh and pointed, some excellent work– visit her page and subscribe!

Originally posted on DebWrites:

Unlock A Magical Danger

*what’s beauty unless you use it like a hammer or a key? – White Oleander 


a lock jimmied one time too many

and then it’s just a matter of finesse

how rust gathers between the parts

dividing and divided, the disconnected 

link between body and a soul

part of each and all, unwhole

once picked over

only the smooth works here

greasing the grind, oil for the 

wheels that spin – until they come off,

unhinged, and a new spring sprung

for having been wound too tight

this is where it all jams  up

the squeaky wheel of getting 

hosed, the frozen hinge of all

that’s poised for springing 

loose from behind the door 

(you don’t want to open) 

when wild’s released like feral cats

into the dark of innocence, a nubile 

power learnt in letting loose – 

gone are those restraints which laid her roots 


View original 38 more words

Now she’s gone

She sat next to me in choir.

She sang very well.  Not like an angel.  Angels are soft and she sang like

she knew who she was and by God you were going to hear that.

she talked to me about management.  We agreed

that sometimes it takes longer to teach someone how to

do something, than if you just did it yourself.

She had this way of telling a joke

that didn’t ask for any laughter

because she wouldn’t be telling it unless she herself

was already laughing inside.


She was my friend.

I’m sad she’s gone.

I don’t hate cancer.

I don’t hate God.

I’m just sad.

She was a good person

and she was a harsh person

with so much good the harshness didn’t matter.


She loved everyone a lot.

She was strong and I’m sure that was not easy

to have to always be strong

and always leading.  And she might complain with

a joke.


I loved her.

She was my friend.


She sat next to me in choir.  She sang BETTER than angels.

Because she had a voice that was down to earth.

She is good people, I am lucky to have known such a wonderful person.

She is gone now and I want to tell her I admire her.

Always did.  She didn’t deserve this.  But she does deserve peace and happiness.


So I am going to believe she is at peace and happy,

because some part of her is, and in that somewhere she is singing,

and joking, and knowing exactly where it all flows.


In that place I see her telling me to get over myself,

and I find that it is enough to remember that she herself,

dealt with loss and found ways of comfort.


See I remember that, I remember her saying

how it was important to remember the good things.

Heart in her voice.


It wasn’t that we loved her.

It was that she loved life.


And so maybe death is nothing, because that love goes on.


up the stony hill

Deep red is scorched of Earth,
I recall the burned glades that once held only
earthly brown. Aftermath a mars-scape of
red and blackened silence.
How I refuse to hope? The politics
leave nothing, yet the fire never raged!

Our landscape marked in blue and red,
it’s not dismay! No, were we ever together,
ever one? The battle merely up and down,
never ‘off.’
So no, is not despair over gaping gaps,
my formulation runs a deeper shade of
angry grays; no thunder in this distance…

Perhaps. Though mostly now it’s settled,
for a future non-combustible by any means
or any-ONE hell-bent on delivering prophecy
as neatly as they may: Judgment day?

Judge this! I saw a more noble path in
continuance. You want the favor of God?
I suggest an appreciation
within a continuity of extended

What is a test that runs short and sweet?
It is no test at all!

The burn, the land of red and red from horizon
to bloody horizon. Is it time to weep, or
to pray for new beginnings?

I find nothing of myself reflected here;
and that is good.
The ghosts?
Oh you worry too much over ghosts and hauntings.
The past is integrated, not shunned and feared.
How else to hope in future redemptive spirit?

When life is bent to comprehension,
the value is based upon complete idiosyncrasy,
not complete collection, or
so I think.
The measure of the waver, distinct.

Me of then believed now would be
a floating leftover in radioactive
Earthly hell. And we achieved that, not!
How great is that and how many
to thank? This is how I see man:
those consumed with ends to define
their in-betweens,
and those with ends OPEN.
May we be and continue
to be a people with ends-open,
where no smooth ride to settled
options! My wish is that each continuance
determines its path, even that which
leaves a landscape red and scorched.
The earth a bloody mess, yet
how is this challenge weighed?

So tempting for any youth
to lay all at the feet of those before.
NO! I say that wisdom
passed along has greater value
than any debts.

So to these hopes, we shall endure;
shall endure?
I hope so. What I see now
is a chance. Not for politics,
but for money to once again
be under the rule of man:

Not man ruled by Mammon.
It is a hungry God(!) that should
NEVER be worshipped, never granted
leeway to become the star for which
all search.

Each person has within them, beauty.
Search for that, and I will take my
findings, deliver justice home to a reach
beyond tired footsteps.

My hope is in the goodness of Man; there it
will stay.

Prove me wrong? Oh, you have! And yet
the beauty of delusion is the force for change,
the molding of path to the future, not
future to the path.

See, it’s simple. “Make your dreams come true,” oh
that is so worn and trite! “Keep hope alive!” Again,
I fear that repetition has gained only boredom.

And all a programming, this I also know. One must
compute the ideologies planted as an opponent’s next
move (coup). Yet nothing sweeter than using a plant
in more directions for a betterment of betterment’s cause!

To turn its use, and this is where I smile,
oh smile largely on even the red.

The red, red Earth; burned long ago?
Yes, and how many burned with this Earth,
none of time knows.

I sense their love in ghosts and
absence, earned.

Regret can touch this clay and know we are better than this.
A sun here, it does not kiss and
tomorrow finds little remarkability in the pain.
Though sums do see aftermath and pride; to be alive
the past is already beaten,
and every thought for multitudes
runs downhill.

My sight? I see that I am not needed, now.
Yet that is good, with paths set and games
playing out in the general sense, as they should.

Arrogance? Pish posh! We deal with what we have,
and all these fine lines are taxing to the soul of mind.
It is the crossing, and instruction to note the

This flow to points of no-return…lol ohhhhhh
I had so many finished at the start. Now simply
frozen to a waiting stance,

and feeding hope. For how else is the fevered past
to settle-in? Comparison; contrast and the awakening
of lessor thoughts. Much more is learned by stance.

Red testimony a proof of land used well beyond its own purpose,
man and his silly hopes!
We will burn and let it burn! Oh no, no you won’t.
What brings rejuvenation?

One thing, and one thing only. That is to never,
never fail to see alternate paths; ways; actions; designs; modes;
complexities; contradictions; targets; policies.

I only fear unexpected hate. Expected animosity is nothing more
than self-righteous validations. So enough of that, too. Humility
seems like the white whale. Yet I think she was here
all along; pulling at my hem, dogging the very air, breathed.

Steps? They only count if metered. For now, dust patterns

This! This land is far too red.