Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Redhead Rebirth: Part II/II Reversal Of Rain

Next morning
i undo them.
the weaves
mixed with henna.

I feel whole
I feel so damn
fresh is my context.
to seek!

I level myself to
the woman before me,
my self and myself
the core me

In body
my spirit
i show her...

She careful-like
all wounds
of my

Like spirit
like mind
like feeling
and thought

let waves
of my tresses
let go
what i lost
           i lost

All wisdom
long survived
hold great value.
But mine was
somewhat inaccessible,
descended from the
Huguenots of France.
One of the largest exodus
the world has ever known,
that of the Hugeunots
out of France and Europe.
Much is lost and needs
re-placement in the history,
I would imagine,
under the circumstance of
flight and exodus...

I knew very little of my
heritage, as a result,
so this was not unusual to
be in a place of unknown.
What had my people lost?
What had i lost?

Alll i knew is i took up easily
the Eastern traditions, Mahayana
Buddhism came natural to
learn, and astrology and
mysticism were areas of
great interest and inquiry
to me. I felt at home with mystics,
psychics, astrologists and

numerologists, intuitives. Voodoo 

I found myself having to defend
the 6th sense type practices and 
practitioners often, in my conversations
with Western subscribers to religion
and medicine. I rather publicly 
hoped that being a redhead (of the 
henna variety) might help me better
defend and teach those who came off
ignorant. Rarely had i luck as a blonde.

If we are any of us to speak,

let then speak all the rest! is the basic
feeling i have about learning. Keep an
open mind and embrace aliens of any
kind (to you). Non-judgment was a
difficult stance to carry. But i tried.

I knew my redhead self and I
must also come to terms...
me and other, me and her...

Move out of
Like planets come direct,
a confrontational

Recline in lace
decline in latin
we carry mace
we pace
our homeland...
our iphones
they connect us
to one another
in waves of codecs
by candlelight
reading tarot decks
by high definitions
by low end theories
overstocked inventories
online reviews
identity theft stories.

vices for habits
and habits for
and friendships
for laptops
by webcam shots
taken of thieves
who lost pace
to technological
defensive strategic
mind weaves.

I now know
the worth of life
I now know
her cost

i feel calm
i feel scared
i feel...
i care

so still
set to dry

My hair
through hands
the strands
I ran

so hot
things ran.
the cold

Tonight i tried
real hard
to change

they dyed
my hair
felt good
though strange

this night
i cried....
old moon

my tears
they rose!
into the air...

The forces
that B?
got lost in
Gravitational musings,

How to help the sycophants?
Might some day these same
ones be sold out to
corporate sincerity?

I often thought up little
weak prophecies to pass the time.
Soon extant-phants
shall reside, born of lies,.
with purpose replete,
to make amends, kiss some
ass, and be oh so sweet.

i died
i lost
my self
again and again
this heavy heart
me down so.

If only my heart
i could cry...
like my tears that once fell skybound, atmospheric, like
a reverse sort of rain sometimes and will again...
in so being light as lightness may be!

 i believe that soon
Instead of washing
we may rinse
only rinse

The red i may rinse of its henna
imprint the self i may rinse of the
red like a memory recalled, felt again,
and surrendered.

Soon ...
j'espere, yes i hope i can find,
some way that my heart may devote and essay, to
render me selfless again in all my affairs.
To color with courage these opulent fears.



Being a blonde was no simple life,
unless being discounted 
is just what you like. I had my opinions 
and wanted them heard. To expect one
to listen than discount their statements and views,
well thats no equality and real frustrating!
Like being held hostage
or feeling all fenced in. 

Yeah some attention comes quicker to blondes, 
when beautys on topic or fashion the song.
But id trade it all quickly for a political voice, 
so the redhead experience might highlight this 

The redhead quality gave me great hope,
as redheads stand out from the average, due to 
the attention calling nature of the color red, and
the smaller percentage of the population born

Moral highground was such an insidious affair,
in the States. Ethical standards devised by schools 
and institutions, could alienate someone with 
alternative type thinking. I had been victim to this
sort of alienation based on my ideas i expressed,
and I often found myself standing up for those with
similar values to myself. 

Simultaneously found myself searching for the 
place i might belong...

High ground places distance
from common ground held.
Is not this type faction 
supposed to unite all believers?
how can believers believe? 
looking up? the strain on the neck, hey,
enough is enough. 

The atheists,
pagans, agnostics.
The goddess lovers
and huguenots,
muslims, Sufis
and Jewish.
Kaballah. Catholic.
Hindus, the sects,
Confuscians and Protestants.
Buddhists. The Taoists
and Llamas... the end.

Redhead Reborn - Part I

Today they colored my head
my friends
colored me henna
henna earth

Double D and Nickel 
took this blonde, her henna 
(with nowhere to go) - and made her 

Red... the color held so much significance to me!
Shark-infested waters - blood
Anger! Passion! 
Creative potency
Firestarter - Destructive capacity.
Fashion play to spice up an outfit or a look. 
Punks choice. Power color.
Love, matters of the heart, romance. 

After noon
my friends did
surround me,
laugh around me...

dread head! i was,
in the imminent year of the White Metal

I felt warm about red. 
So excited to be indoctrinated into the common bond of redheads. 
I felt love

things may turn...
over time
heat applied
to the shade...
but never will i forget those
shades of
deep deep 

Alone i 
through the secret
cut materials

the transparency
of wardrobes
over cereal

its hard
to change

Alone i comb
very slow
the finest teeth
through my hair

my hair is finer
may be finest!
dont believe me?
i swear!

In the evening
the fire grows
inside my belly
the fire 
that made
this henna thing

im sorry
i cant describe it.
its like lightning 
and thunder 
making storms
without sound.
its way 
below ground

something hot
something true
pure fire?
just due?

All colors
all shades 
of my moods
(except blue)....
they submit
to crimson
to blood
blood red!
(almost blue)

Someone else
in the mirror
met my eyes
stared on through

I represented
not so well
dumb blonde
getting wiser?

She too
Took off her
metal helmet.
Thats when i knew!
A redhead 
she faced me
urged me closer...
she could taste me!

I could taste her, too 
mixed with apple
sour dough 
and blueberry.
The very things i most
loved made her scent

 in my heart
there beat a place for her...
the other

before was fear...
would i dare?
approach her
mad stare?

her eyes!
my head!
cobalt blue
rustfire red

I took her eyes
she took my hair
I took her life
She did not care

She gave me her stare
i offered my self
she gave me her lightness
of her being,well...

she been there for me
she was the redhead in me
i was her devotee...

all before 
the decompression
the bleaching 
the fragmentation
and subsequent leeching
that done her in...
poor thing

still in me 
she manifests
amidst my grief 
behind my protests
in the scar that remains 
of our belle grande 
against ourselves ...

not no 

Monday, 17 January 2011

disarmed & disabled

You could have been a victim, but i dont see you that way, she told him. He was looking down there in the malibu cafe in northern idaho somewhere. it was raining, thats where, and he was depressed. there, somewhere. where it was raining and he was stuck in the mud. going nowhere...

Not even going mad, because he knew he lost sanity back in vancouver a decade earlier. his survival he credited to his dedication to drawing, pall mall blues, and the indestructible nature of youth. harm reduction rounded out the top 5 after music, which probably fell into a tie for third if he really let it rent time in his head...he didn't.

I dont see myself that way neither, he said, spinning the clouds of half &half,  half into an even & lighter  shade of mud in his coffee. half and half makes it whole, he thought, as the tone of the coffee went light as milk chocolate.

-- He loved her allowance of silence between words.....a rare quality --
He smiled up to her with sudden attention and focus, before saying with great confidence, its only karma i see, feel, awaken to -- whatever. you know what i mean? Its something I cannot help but follow.

Yeah. That's right, like sometimes not wanting to see what we have done in that light, after weve done them. Right? She smiled a little in saying so.  He looked up to catch her light beams dripping steady off her bottom lip (and he must have looked obsessed, must have looked the look in love!) cause he experienced her smile (the halves of senses connected up into the whole experience which was worth recording if not marketing and selling! he envisioned)...

and cause she was slowly pulling the little stone cup with the last little creamer away from his greedy eyes and hands. He coveted her, she was milk like sugar, so sweet was she! (she was). To be worshipped like divinity, was she, (he rolled the words into a rap inside his mind), to be caught like a buzz, she was! Yes she was.

-- He got lost in her time, travelled there, without a  fear. without a care--
He looked up above the creamer to the line where her camisol met her skin, then followed the line above her black jade  buddha pendant, with devotion (oh damn!), until the water logged his eyes and set him swimming even more so! Nothing, just nothing could bother him now. His eyes were so brilliant, caught up in hers. Made water dilute the dust the lashes failed to block when his attention turned to rapture, you see. The lashes beat time now to work the dust out to the tips and discarded back to air. Now she again became the recipient of his full on gaze. Separated only by air.

Mutuality... he could see it on her face. The world got a little brighter every time her lips tightened and drew up and out to show her too white teeth. she claimed she bleached them as a teenager, with the encouragement of a friend. Same year he started drinking and smoking weed. she was probably younger than him chronologically, but developmentally? forget about it!

Her beauty reduced him down a decade or so, to that teenage boy kinda crush kinda way, caught in the crossfire of her tractor beam scene. No worries! Her sexy forward lean toward him at the table? Forget about it. Depressed a little? Not right now. Not for this eternity in a moment.

His whole character was drawn a decade less stable. When they parted ways, their cups empty, the thought of being left by her made him shiver cold...he hugged his arms and stumbled home to put pen to paper and just try and recapture her, just try. Falling forward again with the pen stabbed into the paper on the table. Goddamn, goddamn! he cried. Having lost her again. His mood flipped like the charge of an electron. And yes you can imagine this element -- become unstable.

His eyes turning black into the darkness of the inkblot. His euphoria draining out of him, also into the wood table. Poor boy in love. Poor boy disarmed... disabled.

Monday, 3 January 2011

'true' (in response to a suitor)


by katya

actually when im
a thousand miles or more away
from a stranger
in a strange land
(in the same land)

i am always just
i could
reach through chatroom walls
grab you
and gently work
my hand down to the base
where you see me
now and

now &
(not just with your
do U see

i try not to
concern myself
whether its --
whether im gonna hurt
as i touch
tongue down
to taste

(loud A)


eyes will
then close


would it be a fitting end?
you buried in my bush?
there in the garden?

life and nature
natural life

fuck that game!
the man!
(and wife)...
all that matters?
outside city limits
when lived?