Monthly Archives: February 2013

The Top Ten Reasons The United States is The United States


…Drumroll, please!…

10. WalMart! McDonald’s! Starbucks!
…oh. Wait. I forgot we took over the planet with our supersized mindlessness. Moving on…

9. We might be technically owned (and maybe even operated) by China, but they ain’t got nothin’ on our Chinese food!

8. You can carry a gun, kill an intruder in your home and even end the life of a fetus using taxpayer’s money; but even if you purchase a bulletproof vest or a health insurance plan, the premiums and efficiency of either can’t protect you from the statistical likehood of your death occurring almost a decade before the majority of other “first world” countries.

7. The metric system. Huh?

6. Inner cities, rural counties, and especially these good ol’ suburbs. Nobody gets excluded from the excitement of the local shopping mall!

5. John Denver, the Rocky Mountains, bluegrass music, the Appalachian Mountains, Blue Oyster Cult and religious freedom. No sarcasm here, folks. This is the substance of all things good and worth our while.

4. Jesus. You know, despite the blinding darknesses of our increasingly shallow society, the light of God shines brightest in the most unexpected places. The local diner off route 66, the elementary schools, and even the scenic drives here all bear a certain presence of inexplicable grace and beauty.

3. The Fourth of July. Barbequed ribs, fried okra, explosive glory in prisms of neon, splashing across the horizon over rivers and skyscrapers with kids laughing and music playing. These things make me proud to be an American.

2. There is always somebody knocking on our door. Asking if we are afraid of going to hell, soliciting support for the local T-Ball Tournaments through candy bar gluttony, delivering our Amazon purchases and occasionally relieving us of our children for a few hours with outdoor play. But sometimes the doorbell rings because our neighbors cooked us some love and dropped by to share it. That’s as American as it gets.

1. Women vote, give birth, make a living, and occasionally even marry each other. Men allow this to happen. (As opposed to… You know, trying to stop us and discovering we somehow became smarter than they are somewhere along the way.) Although… I won’t say what I think of Sarah Palin holding the microphone in representation of We The People…

We work as though our life depends on it, because life in America sort of does depend on it. However…


Yes Is In The Air


Sometimes it all seems incredibly beautiful. There is a reason that can be felt, a purpose that leads and stirs and guides within us. The air feels spacious, gracious, glory-filled and alive. The sky stretches itself to fit all the possibility and wonder inside it.

Other times the heaviness weighs the spirit so far down that the only tangible thing is a question without answer. We get so caught up asking ourselves Why? that we lose sight of the Where and How. The here, the now, are all that really matter.

Everything else is circumstance, tangent, circumvention.

Oh Fuck.


What are layman’s terms
For fuck me
Fuck around
Fall off and die

What exactly constitutes a pity party?
What remote notion
Of self-worth
Is required
To celebrate un-entitled suffering
As though I know I deserve better?

Oh honey.
Don’t even go there.
I might be a lotta fucking things
Out of my right mind
Up and down
Crazy, if you will
But I know my shit
I’m smart as they come, love.

Lonely girl
With too much goin’ on upstairs
To cling to the short end
Of some imaginary stick
And claim it as my
Typical right
My pathetic plight
My own, holy roller
My own

Trust me.
I know well enough
This circle-jerk circumstance
Is the culminated finish line
Of all my many efforts
All my lonely irons
In all my own lonely fires

I have always been free

From your fault
And burden,
Habitual having perspective

The blame I always
Kept for myself.

And when I say that
I am what I say I am,
And if I wasn’t, why would I say I am

And when I say that I’m a loser baby
So why don’t you kill me

Bear in mind
That this is not what fucking pity looks like
Pity the fool who cares to spew such ignorance
This ain’t pity, big poppa.
This is rage.

Edges, Soft and Frayed


Vivid shades of sensuality
Peel themselves
Layers, layers
Beneath the lens
Behind the filter
Giver, giver
Sees the fantasy of fullest
Bare appeal

This, things too surreal
To be real
Sunshine on skin
Flesh, flesh
Such a wonderful mess
Of reds, pinks, flushed warm and deep hues

Laying in the luxury of ultraviolet shades
Of metaphysical haze
Of open, open

Too, when the windows are
And the mind also is
And coming together,
Most certainly
Everything does
Seem to, seem

Because, because
This golden way of thinking
Releases good hormones
From the cranial space
Hypothalamus stays
Full of wonder
To release, relent, revive
Our bodies from the inside

Out, out
Old wrenching ball patterns of thought
And leave this peace here now to bloom

Sweet Epitaph


And were an epitaph to be my story I’d have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.
Robert Frost

Certain, to feel
and to revel, reveal
Refrained from fall off of
The fill

Oh heaven
And real
Our moments
You steal

All time
On earth
That we deal

As we reel
In with
Barter and bills
Hundreds and thousands and millions
(…Here we count, there’s no use counting)


Add to my will
All the laughter inherent
Of my way of life
I give this
To inherit

Alone, wealth untold
The richest of riches
Uncounted in gold
And unbound in its merit

Have it, compound it
And spread it around
Pass, please it down
In abundance, for –now

and –ever (of course)
Dearest moodiest blue
It always was saving itself
there for you

Though Here
Right within,
Remaining unfounded

Legacy’s flight
Once and always

Upon eagles and

Then expound