buttons and bows and ties to the nose

she didn’t help us dress up
or put on make up

at all
as in not one tiny bit
when we were kids
she’d put curlers in our hair
that’s about the most, ever

i used to think love was diminished

until i saw a mom
take her daughter around
to the college parties
so that the mom could drink beer
while the daughter flirted with
the boys …

she wanted to escape, that daughter
like a slave held against her will
a thing of value

to be traded … to be traded.

so that was the moment when i became
my grandmother’s friend
the moment that i realized love takes
all kinds of forms

is hidden sometimes
in things people DON’T do

********

that was when she and i
began to talk for hours over the phone

she probably thought it was all the
education i got at school….opening
me up to long conversations

but it was that mom
taking her daughter from party to party
known by all the college kids as the
worst parent ever

it was realizing what i had
a love that wasn’t buttons and bows
but was so much more

facades don’t fly in our family
in our family
love is not owing someone
for dressing you up just
like them — love was being in debt
for how much they saw of the real you

i think of that
when i notice girls dressed up
by doting mothers

the thing i used to be jealous about
until i changed my mind
while watching a mom trade on the beauty
of her daughter
as she tipped
the red cups of foamed paradise
into her gullet

i think how much more i was loved
or at least tended … held as a value
above any price
in this universe and out

and i weep for the loss of a parent’s parent
who really didn’t want to be a mom, again
but did it anyway
in HER own way
a grandma that couldn’t give two farts about frills and lace
down to earth
salt of the earth

there were much more important things to do
the world is full of hardship, yours only a
small part

beauty doesn’t last
just don’t be late for supper

and wipe your feet when you come into the house
but stop slamming that door, for God sakes!

and the thing is, it was beauty
a different kind of beauty
a different set of buttons and bows
we were given the kind
you can’t trade

can only smile at how life is funny
so funny above it all

quantum infinity to the absolute power of erratic thought

re: new concepts in quantum realities.

the thing about every concept, is the same one that plagues calibration. if you have three dials to calibrate audio, at least one has to remain at zero. with no solidified dial, any work to calibrate is only going to be successful by sheer luck. which is fine, if the intent is to spend your time playing with dials. but if your intent is to have a superior audio, then the important part of calibration is what you keep the same. i see theories that venture into areas of non-matter as playing with the dials.

now it’s always possible, that the dial you selected to remain steady, is the one that creates the most differences. so the only way you are going to know that, is if at some point you move that dial. confront other realities. i’m a structural engineer at heart. and an efficiency expert fan. lately i’m trying out the ideology for eliminating the concept of empty space. while science has accepted this for quite some time, that unless you are living in a vacuum, your air is not empty. the reality for most people is that an empty room is empty. that the sky is a wide, open space. that they are not IN something, but that they are ON something. so before science rushes off to disprove the nature of matter itself, they might want to make sure everyone has a working knowledge of it, first. because their other dials aren’t calibrated. so moving that one, will throw it into feedback screeching as surely as…. the sun rises and sets?

get the name straight and maybe i won’t shove a firecracker up your ass

the poor hired a rich, spoiled man to protect them…. what could possibly go wrong?

(Photo by Steve Pope/Getty Images), courtesy of huffington post

a child starts running to the street. you yell at them, stop! they don’t listen. keep running. by the time they are in the street, you are screaming at the top of your lungs, “Noooooooo!” and what is the child thinking, as he gets hit by the car? mom is crazy, she’s just a snowflake.

grow up. if one news outlet screams in horror, you can say oh that’s just spin. political preference. but when there are so many, that you fail to find anyone telling you to run into the street. except the one that said it was a good idea in the first place. the thing in the child’s mind, that says “this is the way to go!” and his legs are pumping. he’s excited! mom’s screams are getting more and more hysterical. “i effected her, he thinks. i am the best. i won.” and he dies, believing he won. she cradles the boy, weeping… tears falling on a face that still has a smile on it.

don’t call me snowflake. i’m the person that is strong enough and cares enough to scream. some day i won’t care. but that will not be because i’ve changed my mind. it will be because it’s over, and disaster can’t be avoided. i’m thinking that time will be about tomorrow …….. but even so, even if i’m no longer a snowflake to anybody, because i don’t care — the presumption that caring is weakness is pretty dumb. the easy path is to just let everything play out. because it will ……

and the republican party will carry every bit of stink. while republicans try to make fun of people that care — because you know, nice guys finish last. and for some reason, too many weak people need to feel big and bad. or it suits a craving. and yet, they are the ones that need trump to somehow save them, because are weak. or they need to defend the fearless leader, because he is weak. make up things in their heads. alternate realities. because the truth is too hard — because they are too weak to handle the truth.

fact is that the USA is weaker on the world stage, now. i’m still a little puzzled, why so many americans chose to be weak rather than strong. because i’ll make this clear: you didn’t elect trump to get into the fight. you elected him to lead your retreat.

i don’t know what that makes you, or makes us. but i’m pretty sure the cowards — the snowflakes — are those hiding behind flags as they flee american values and flee the world stage of progress. i’m pretty sure that the ones with less courage, are those using name-calling and behaving like children. i’m relatively positive, that a badly behaved leader inspires badly-behaved citizens. and i’m relatively sure most of us know this.

there are many ways to be brave in the land of the free. i would suggest that using snowflake — or any name-calling — doesn’t make you much of a brave citizen. makes you a coward. someone that doesn’t understand that you can’t fight for freedom if you won’t even fight for your own dignity. i know that I FEEL WEAK if i resort to calling someone a name. use a put down to give myself a false sense of victory. i know that is when I AM at my weakest.

i know that desperation only happens when you think you are going to lose something. i know that loss is a figment of the imagination. we tick-tock our lives. hoping the future doesn’t somehow kill us all. i’m not sure what patriotism does that’s good. seems that every list for it comes up with stupid actions, not brave ones.

i wish my country were better. i really don’t know what is wrong with them. maybe there is something wrong with the water. or some drug. or some tv program or movie that convinced them to give up reality. and i would ask the rest of the world to bear with us ….lol …. but i don’t see that as being wise. if america is acting like an enemy to your country, treat her like an enemy. treat ME like an enemy. don’t forget how insane a large part of this country has become. crazy enough to think the strongest among them are the weakest among them. blinder than bats.

blinder than a child running into the street. perhaps they will look up in time. i’m not counting on it. all they see are riches and dreams for more riches. and we all know how much more than their share they already have. don’t even realize it.

that’s the part i can’t handle anymore. it’s like greed compounded by idiocy. like they collectively decided it’s ok to steal if they all are doing it. or ok to rape, if they all are doing it. or ok to call fellow citizen snowflakes, if they all are doing it. and i’m kind of sick of these sheeple. kind of sick of this country and how it makes excuses after excuses. lines its pocket with lies and deceit. arrogance and impossibility. you know how some of the old prophets dressed down the people, raged at them in the old testament? i feel like that. and i always felt those prophets were pious doomsayers. i look down on them. so don’t want to become them.

on the other hand, they were a product of the situation. some day maybe the tale of how the USA went through a tough time will include history of the snowflakes. the ones screaming to not go this direction. the prophets, dismayed and horrified by their own people. maybe we will look back at this, and call it a close one. as mom stands on the side of the road, and still cries tears …. of relief.

happy 4th of july.

and btw, my name is big-butt squirrel. was called that by boys at camp one summer. use that one if you want to call me something that hurts.

butterflies sit merrily

all my errors fall through burn holes in my clothing
how far does foreboding leave our hearts encased
in designs and desires of exact appraisal
left to gnaw on fires of yester-deigns
the slight of mind causing
all difference of cause

within too much effect
….

the unity of things is greater than we have stipulated in common understandings
matched along the way with pride that is overflowing
with undeserved consequence

the night drifting on an ash
dust the very thing
nobody arose
from

a bundled link to every chain
where locks are colors
(cloth are hopes for perception, melded)
and light is the blessing until
sleep demands a darkness

a silence

a dawn of importance that only lifts
once all veils are holy

once all matters are tested

and the only lack
is more time never fully correlates
to more deeds

perhaps one for the plot
under crows and flowers, gifted

the say is at the heart of being
and i do not fear destiny

only my inability to see greatness
in actions molded by inadequate parcels

by the stretch to some kind of light
and growth
when a whole is stagnant

burning inside pools of sorrow
unexplained
but for the need to govern
each and every tomorrow

with what the morrow-deigns
absolute(ly)
….. beautiful.

standing for nothing in particular

i wish i was drinking, still.

stopped for no righteousness,
no pure desires;
no health reasons.

stopped because the alcohol
lost its effect–

turned into grape juice.
and expensive for only grape juice!

so i wish i was drinking, still.
wish alcohol worked anymore.

apparently my system decided that’s it,
and would no longer get drunk–
oh well.

i miss the reward system;
the feeling of being adult;
(i never finished rebelling)
and it’s a delicious feeling
…the smooth glass, the chill of ice;
the verification that I have arrived
to this milestone
that was so forbidden,

so scoffed…and every elegant person
drank,

but now no easy way
to sign off a prim wagon.

it’s like conscripted goodness,
when i truly would not have bothered
with this show.

part of me laughs
at being exemplary to state,
“sober for 5 years now!”–
like taking credit for shrugging;

for using the breast stroke on the herd
to keep your head above conformity.

sober is such a subjective concentration of belying condescention:
such a release of convoluted forgetfulness!
i was never NOT sober
when drunk.

it didn’t bother me to be less.