My Christmas Wish

On this chill
Christmas morning,
my only wish,
the only gift
I don't already have,
is you here,
by my side,
part of our family.
Loved.
Loving.
For all time.

Your Guide

There is darkness deep inside,
but if you set down your pride
and let me be your trusted guide,
then every fantasy will be satisfied.

Facing Fears...

I find myself fighting a battle between hope and despair. It is the 7th of December, right in the middle of the holiday season. During a time when we normally focus upon our families and celebration, another wave of attacks by people motivated by ideological fervor hit. Paris. San Bernardino. More dead bodies, more blood spilled, more sacrifices on the altar of fear.

We live in a nation that was founded on idealism. The idealism that builds hope and expressive freedom, a haven for people to live as they choose. A country that permits people the right to express their thoughts, ideas, beliefs, without repression.

Ironic that this society's antithesis is the narrow-minded dogmatism of the religious fundamentalist. We protect the right of belief for a group of people who frankly insist all other ideals be supressed.

And it is people such as this that feel the most threatened by such a libertarian ideal. It resembles secular humanism far too much, which is licentiousness to the extreme, godless and unconsciable to the devout, whose foundation is their faith.

This conundrum now obsesses our nation, as we stare down the barrels of guns aimed at us for no better reason than we are free. At the same time, there are groups in America that would prefer we became a theocracy, dedicated to their particular form of Christianity. To my eyes, both threats are equally dangerous.

The external forces of extremism, exemplified by the Muslim organizations of Al-Queda and ISIS point to America and the West as examples of how the Godless act, decadent and amoral. They feel that they are superior to those in the West, because of their devotion to fundamental Islam and commitment to the Faith's moral codes, which espoused that there comes a time of Jihad, where the infidels will be slain or converted. A time when the faithful will be rewarded for smiting the immoral.

All the while, forces that champion the ultra-conservative, fundamentalist core of America have begun mobilizing. No longer is fundamentalist extremism limited to fringe groups like the neo-Nazi groups of a generation ago, or the Ku Klux Klan. Now, we find religious extremism taking front and center in our politics, as more candidates woo the ultra-conservative vote.

I admit to being socially liberal, as an advocate of "alternate lifestyles". Both my choice of Polyamory and my status as a Dominant would make me appear debauched to both of these groups. Never mind that on many other issues, I am conservative in my position. Like so many others, I am classed as being a person who is immoral, simply because my core beliefs differ in some aspects to the norm.

For this reason, both trends are extremely troubling to me. It seems apparent that all proponents of our lifestyles need to stand up and become active, because we will get the government we deserve, the world we deserve.

If we don't get involved, if we stand aloof, we have no way of shaping the outcome of the trials of this generation. That is perilous in the extreme, for we live in a time of change.

We cannot yield the hard-earned gains our lifestyles have made in acceptance without a fight. We need to make sure our childrens' world is a better one for all.

Hoarfrost

My heart was rimed
by the chill of your spite,
leaving me frostbitten
and dying of lost love.

Primary

Two people,
their worlds combined,
even with other loves
that become aligned,
still the reality
of all that is
for the truth lies within.
The others have a flirtation,
a romance drifting free,
while you and I
have something more,
even if sometimes it lacks
that sheer elemental rush
of the lovers waltz,
because they have a page
a chapter in this story,
but you and I have a world,
made of pain and joy,
loss and longing.
They are a portion,
we are the world.

(c) Tortured Cyclone 2015

Thanksgiving

True Thanksgiving
comes from the acceptance of
the grace we're given.

November's Prophecy

November sleet chills,
providing a grim foretaste
of bitter winter.

(c) 2015 Tortured Cyclone

Je Suis Desolee

There are moments
that stand out
from the crush
of life's passage.
Moments that define
a generation,
a society,
an entire world.
Yesterday,
the forces of intolerance
struck a blow
against people
whose only crime
was being
at a certain place
and time
in the City of Lights.
To my grief,
again our world
is being defined
by people who choose
to stand against
a way of life
foreign to their own,
instead of following
the Way of Peace,
as their own scriptures
tell them they should.

(c) 2015 Tortured Cyclone

Dorian

What price did you pay,
that your life, your soul,
is bound to this painting?
The ravages of the years
hidden from casual view
behind a velvet curtain,
disfiguring your portrait
in your stead...
but trapped you are,
for he who controls
the painting you inhabit,
owns you absolutely.

@ 2015 Tortured Cyclone

Rain of Hopelessness

It falls,
trickling
like the failing
pulse
of heaven,
the weeping
armies
of Glory
grieving
mankind's fall,
the last drops
of hope's
life blood
bleeding out,
leaving
a barren,
dry sky,
filled
with despair,
the personification,
seasonal affecting,
of the wasteland
that is my soul.

Gotye's Prophecy

As time goes on,
it is a confusing paradox
of relief and sorrow
that all I've become
is somebody
that you used to know.

Review of Dan Brown's "Inferno"

What is it about Dan Brown?

Few authors in this decade are as polarizing. Every time Dan Brown's next book is announced, it piles up pre-orders through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other sellers. Bolstered by pre-sales, each book about Brown's tenacious and resourceful symbologist lands atop the best-sellers' charts for weeks or even months.

The criticisms of Brown's writing are legion, and it is not the aim of the reviewer to reflect on the storyteller's shortcomings, but rather to look at the reasons why his books remain the commercial juggernauts they are, by examining his recent bestseller, Inferno.

From the very beginning, Brown grabs the reader, opening in a Florentine hospital, where Robert Langdon awakens from a horrific, surreal dream, only to discover he cannot remember anything, a particularly traumatic injury for a symbologist who has eidetic, or so-called photographic, memory. Before Langdon has a chance to do anything about his physical and mental injuries, he is attacked by a killer. He narrowly escapes through the intervention of a mysterious and beautiful woman.

From that tense start, Brown keeps things moving very quickly, keeping the reader interested with little letdown in the action. This pacing, just a hairsbreadth shy of a pell-mell run, results in the pages flying past in a blur. With little effort, the reader has become invested in 150-200 pages of story before coming up for air. Like the previous novels in the series, it is an almost compulsively page-turning read, ideal for the beach, poolside, or airplane cabin.

One of the author's particular flashes of genius comes from his choice of subjects. From the arcane research at CERN into antimatter and the political maneuverings of the Cardinals of the Catholic Church during deliberations on selecting a new Pope, to the mysteries of the Knights Templar and the Freemasons, to one of the most quoted and influential pieces of poetry in the Western World, Brown chooses subjects to hang his plot on that capture the reader's imagination. Brown builds his suspense tales, using these fascinating and even controversial subjects as tentpoles for his plots.

Brown also chooses locales that fascinate, from Washington D.C. and London to Paris . His especial focus has been on some of the beautiful cities of Italy, like Rome, Venice and Florence. In his quick-moving prose, Brown succeeds in evoking these settings in a way that satisfies both the world traveler who has actually been there, as well as the armchair voyager who has never seen them. Brown succeeds in making the reader feel they are really there, a payoff from the extensive research Brown does on his settings.

Through the adventures of Robert Langdon, Dan Brown has succeeded in capturing the attention of a nation of readers. As long as he continues to evoke setting as effectively as he has thus far, continues to select topics that meld the public's fascination with controversy, and keeps grabbing his readers quickly and then keeping their interest until they are invested in his yarns, Dan Brown will continue his mammoth success, in spite of the shellacking he takes from the critics.

Why Do You Hate Me?

I don't know how it came to be
that I deserved your enmity,
however it's plain for any to see
that it is rancor that you feel towards me.

Did I say something that hurt your pride?
Did I cause you to look inside
and be disappointed with who you are
because I dared to follow my heart's star?

Did I commit the cardinal sin
of saying you weren't the best in
the field of artistic expressions
that you use to extol your transgressions?

Did I get in your way
from possessing someone yesterday
that you felt certain would give all?
That, to your lusts, she would fall?

Did I cause you to feel you fell
from the code of honor you tell
all and sundry you live by,
showing your words to be a lie?

Did I spurn you when you were sure
that all others I would abjure,
and turn to your arms to sin,
your lover only, your possession?

Did I illuminate truths about love
that challenged your illusions of
how certain relationships were meant to be,
making your choices far less saintly?

Or were you merely filled with envy
that I had blessings, gifts, popularity
you felt should be yours for all to see
instead of some other person like me?

The reasons don't matter, I will yield
to you this electronic battlefield,
because I have more important things to do
than waste my time with someone like you.

The Impossible Truth

What truth can be found
in the eye of a paradox
when the bipolar nature
of the black and white world
denies its existence?

October 27: No Passing Fancy

As I gaze forward,
I see a possibility
of something most
would find a fantasy.
The day approaches
where we three
stand together, a trinity.
Though you say it
is only a dream,
I'll tell you true,
this is no passing fancy,
it is our destiny.

October 26: Summer's Fall

The ominous rumbling of thunder,
impending end of summer,
thunder rolling, as rain starts to fall,
summer giving up the ghost.
Fall asserting itself, haunting cold,
ghost of winter drawing near,
cold fingers, dragged from the grave,
near sleep, Gaea's bounty interrupted.

October 25: Plastic Jedi

Imagined, the snap-hiss
of his sliding plastic lightsaber,
the dreaded respirator sound
of his nemesis, his father,
taken on adventures
on land and sea,
defeating the Empire
on every front and escaping
to fight another day.
That was us,
Luke and I.

October 24: Beachside

Eighteen fathoms depth
gives a different meaning
to days at the beach.

October 23: The Ravished Mermaid

The first tear fell,
and then three more,
as she wept for
the loss of her innocence.
As the tears multiplied,
becoming a river,
a torrent,
the deflowered mermaid
was lifted by their might
out of the pit
she had been cast
by her pirate captor,
and borne back out to sea,
escaping his bondage
and seeking the comforting depths
of the vast abyss.

October 22: You Can't Handle the Truth

My life has been stained
by darkness from the moment
of conception,
but it is hard to tell
which trauma shaped me
the most.

Was it being forced to relocate
seven times in 12 years,
unable to stay
in one place
for any lasting period
and put roots down.

Was it being driven
by abject desperation
when homeless
to prostitute myself
to feed the illicit hungers
of people twice my age?

Or was it the moment
of blinding rage
that left one life
changed forever
and threw my own potential away,
ending in imprisonment.

One of these three tales
is true.
Figuring out which one
is a challenge I leave
for you.
Because I'm not saying.

I don't think...
No, I know,
you can't handle the truth.

October 21: Echoes of Bitterness

It wasn't the week
you and Mom both passed,
or the moment when
my wife had a stroke.

Dad, it wasn't in the instant
they told me my unborn daughter
didn't last through the fight
for her mother's life.

It wasn't the time when I saw
the destiny of the business
I had given eight years to
was ending in catastrophe.

It wasn't even at that blink in time
where I was told my spouse's life
depended on a procedure
they refused to perform here.

No, the instant I became overwhelmed
was when you said, out of your pain,
Mother left me behind because
I couldn't take care of myself.

That was more than 40 years ago,
and to this day, I still deal
with the reflected waves from being told,
in effect, I wasn't good enough to keep.

Dad, every day that I expect
those who love me to desert me,
I hear the ancient echoes
of your bitterness and pain.

October 20: Como te Amo

Three little words that define
the entirety of my universe
and the longing I feel
for a reunion I have
waited lifetimes for...
  I love you.
One word, to wrap it up...
  Forever.

November Kindle eBook Special!

Only in November: DOG AND FOX, AND OTHER MUSINGS in Kindle format will be $2.99.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/1517214238/ref=mp_s_a_1_2?qid=1445556489&sr=8-2&pi=AC_SX110_SY165_QL70&keywords=dog+and+fox&dpPl=1&dpID=51GRNtOkS7L&ref=plSrch

October 19: Dear Universe

Dear Universe,
  I tried to believe
  ... and love
  ... and give
  ... and build up
  ... and I failed more than I'd like.
      Sorry.

October 18: Fishy Film Fantasies

Silver dario
and
his two siblings,
kings of the five
gallon tank,
cruising
the plastic reef
and kitschy
sunken ship.
Fishy fantasies
that they,
Quint,
Hooper
and Brody
haunt the wreck
of the Orca,
trying
to catch
that diver,
Bruce,
and chomp him
in their
great
white
Jaws.

October 17: I Can't Dance...

How do we still dance
when you are walking away,
and I am dying?

October 16: Dare We?

Can we challenge fate?
  Can we challenge fate?
Dare we change our destinies?
  Dare we change our destinies?
We can challenge fate,
we dare, our destinies change.

For what price is our love?
  For what price is our love?
Dare we pay it?
  Dare we pay it?
Our love is what price? For
we dare pay it.

Nothing less than life itself,
  nothing less than life itself,
dare we to wager in full?
  dare we to wager in full?
Life itself, nothing less than,
we dare to wager in full.

We dare challenge our destinies,
we wager our love in full,
we pay nothing less than life itself.
What is price,
to dare change fate?
For we can dare it.

October 15: The Dream

Just for one day,
the chance to make
an eternity from
the love we share.

October 14: The Chasm

I stand on a bridge,
swaying over an abyss.
Behind me, a past
dominated by responsibilities.
Ahead of me stretches
the realm of realized dreams.
This precarious perch,
buffeted by crises that seek
to cause me to fall
into eternal despair,
supported by the frail knowledge
that everything is in reach,
if I but continue.

October 13: My Risk

What is the risk I take
in penning these verses
to demonstrate the man
hiding behind the veneer
of respectability,
the man of dark complexities
leavened by a firm conscience,
someone unconventional,
that would be misunderstood,
a pariah, stigmatized,
were I known publicly
to be what I am.
Reputation, friends and family,
livelihood, are all at stake,
gambled to express
the hidden truth
that lies behind my eyes.

October 12: Triad

Amazed, I stand
before you,
confident that
destiny's debt is paid.
Every dream, at last,
fulfilled, and our release
granted from the
hideous doom,
infinite separation,
judgment of sentence paid.
Karmic debts met,
leaving us to
make our reunion.
Nothing can
oppose us now,
Princes and Powers
quiescent,
resigned to our mutual
salvation through love.
Trinity reforged,
universal bonds strengthened,
visions of hope
woven through dreams,
x-acted recompense for endless
years sundered,
zenith of apotheosis upon us.

October 11: Published!

Fifteen years of thoughts,
sticking to it, keeping on.
One book of poems!

October 10: Drunkard's Walk

The skirling pipes
enfold me in song,
leading me in a caper,
a hornpipe without direction.
First one way,
then doubling back,
heeding the notes
as they swirl in
my feverish mind,
guiding my steps
in some mad dance
composed by
the Devil himself.
Faster, slower, from
side to side, slide-step,
a marionette with insanity
holding the reins.
Throwing myself blindly
into the cacophonous storm
that buffets me,
trusting that the song
will bear me safely,
collapsing, spent, boneless,
with the last, piercing note.

October 9: Firestorm

I know that on that day
when we meet at last,
and I take you in my arms,
a firestorm will erupt.
Not the devastation
of the out-of-control blaze
engulfing all in its path,
but the purgative cleansing
of all of life's deadwood,
freeing me to rise from the ashes,
reborn in all of love's glory.

October 8: Blues

So often,
we tie the hues
of myriad blues
to the concept
of fidelity,
being always true,
but for me,
it was the color
of the abyss
I dragged myself from
over many years.
It was the shade
of depression
from being abandoned
by a mother
unable to cope
with her responsibilities,
and a father
whose answer
to emotional trauma
was to shut it
all out,
deny its place,
its power.
The young man
who was overwhelmed
by the damage done
by being left behind,
by being used
as a plaything,
by being unable
to turn everyone else's
emotions off.
The consummate friend,
always supportive,
yearning for the love
denied him so long.
From deepest, darkest
midnight blues I rose,
to the place I now
call my own
the robin's egg,
the midday cloudless sky
bright sun shining,
hope and possibility reigning,
just beginning to fly.

October 7: I Would Always Love

For all the pain and suffering
that I've experienced,
loving as I do,
there is nothing
I would change a bit,
because every instant of love
is worth any agony.
Every moment of flight
is more valuable than any price.

October 6: You Freed Me

Choosing which ties bind,
no duty except for love,
you're my greater good.

October 5: Gordian

How can I put
into words with structure
the magnificent complexity
that exists between us?

Not just a passion,
although our passions rage,
inferno-esque, sometimes dangerously,
in both our hearts.

Not just shared experiences,
though triumphs and tragedies
we have seen
in plenty, while together.

It isn't merely love,
like some grand romance,
because life's exigencies
have taken their toll.

Simply put, we are
the one thing that
both of us
would fight to preserve.

A man, a woman
and our two children,
we are family,
facing all the world.

October 4: Transmutation

The Philosopher's Stone is real.
How do I know?
Because the moment
you gave me your heart,
I felt its touch,
transforming this man of leaden worth
into the person I am now.

October 3: Slow Leaks

                            ling of lost
                   e fee                     cont
               th                  have            rol
         e               who             ne            t
      t             e                              ve         h
    a             l                                    r         a
  H           p             hoes                            t
             o            s              &              t        
I          e                     from                  a       c
           p          y                .       t           k       o
                       m    e     f      m  r          e      m
            f                 m    l      y    y          n     e
             o        n       "e    es                        s
                         i d       vas" ot          a   
              tn            noc              nis   rf
                 em              es   elg   mo
                          gduj           eht
                                   dnilb

October 2: Open the Pod Bay Doors

Trapped in the hostile void,
sent on a fool's errand,
unable to return to the safety
of the craft that brought you
far beyond Earth's orbital path.
A desperate plan, conceived
in the hope that Death's embrace
can be forestalled long enough
for decompressive force to propel you
to a manual airlock, knowing
if you don't, oxygen depletion will
be the grim finality of your existence.
But will that boldness be enough?
The very instrumentality that aided you
in reaching Jupiter's moons has become aware,
and rebels against its masters/creators.
Will your resourcefulness be futile,
or the first step in destroying a living machine?

October 1: Cloud-Minding

Stuff of rain and dreams,
ineffable wisps of thought,
scudding across sky.

A Reasonable Man

I know that many things
can be said in criticism
of the man I have become.

Overproud, vainglorious,
mercurial and lascivious,
at times, all valid critiques.

But I am well aware
of the fact that many
look to me, as an exemplar.

From that awareness rises
the recognition that I must
strive to adhere to a code.

To be a contributor,
to be a friend and support,
at need to be a defender.

For those reasons, it hurts profoundly
when someone claims to be
singled out, treated unjustly by me.

I offer advice, not threats,
and encouragement, not falsehoods.
I fight to avoid any facade.

If there is a problem, come to me.
I am not unreasonable, I'll listen,
even if I do not agree with you.

I do stand to defend the rights
of the members of this community,
and to protect the people I love.

Tell me what attacking behavior
is part of those aims, and what
I do that seems unreasonable.

I'm tired to death of the slander
of persons with sundry grudges
who do not have the courage

to seek resolutions,
instead of continued strife
and egregious misunderstandings.

Come, let us hold counsel together
to strengthen this community,
not weaken it with divisions.

Arrhythmia

A strong beat,
the sound
of our hearts
beating together
from the moment
we first touched.
Two lives meant
to be entwined.
Then a miracle,
it seemed,
life conceived
where it had been
thought impossible.
That was
not to be,
as our daughter died
in the struggle
for your life.
The grim price
continued to compound,
for your body
never recovered fully,
nor did our hearts.
The beating grew faster,
more erratic,
as things
became bipolar.
Either really good
or horribly bad,
we swung
like a pendulum,
and your health
kept getting worse.
Two boys conceived,
both surviving,
but at a pyrrhic cost.
Permanent damage,
unable to be healed,
starting an inevitable
that descent into decay.
After several years
with this
as the status quo,
now our love's pulse
is thready,
erratic and fading,
and I know
the day is coming soon
when our love
will flatline,
beyond resuscitation.
And how will I
go on
with our children,
when you're gone?

Remembrances

Towers would fall,
that September morning,
when fundamentalist Muslims
struck without warning.

A nation stood shocked
by this act of carnage,
but out of this tragedy
came proof of our courage.

As towers were falling,
heroes stepped forward,
sacrifice and rescue
in the face of horror.

No mere disaster
had al-Queda planned,
but an attempt to knock out
our military command.

For a brief instant,
we came together.
No Party, gender, race...
no division whatever.

Our world changed forever
on that late summer day,
revealed, a new enemy,
and come what may,

we who watched it
will always remember
the horror, the bravery
on the 11th of September.

Erotica Leper

Flames searing me
as your condemnation
marks me as filth,
the cruelty invoked
from memories
of repression of self
and a time when faith
meant belief in a God,
loving and benevolent,
not uncaring,
heedless of a parent's
grief and despair.
Like you, He was harsh
and callous,
demanding innocent lives
be snuffed out,
just as you feel
the creation of beauty
equates to abomination,
that the act of love
is somehow wicked.
I am outcast, unclean,
a leper in your sight.

July 2015 CycloneWriter - @17Numa - "The Kiss of Your Flame"

I ache
as
I wait
for the kiss
of your flame
to ignite
my passion
as no one else can.

July 2015 CycloneWriter - @thealnasis - "Desire"

man *desire-fullfillment
beast and children
just live to the
fullest

June 2015 CycloneWriter - @thealnasis - "Sequoia"

*Sequoia-
lord-of-the-rings
touch the face of God
forest humbled sans
half truth haiku

June 2015 CycloneWriter - @drerwallace - "Dangerous Anger"

Delicate, complex,
Yet Quick To Anger,
Wizards are best Left Alone.
The Only One meaner
than an upset wizard
is a nasty ol' crone!

June 2015 CycloneWriter - @I_BE_NUMBER_SIX - "Don't Poke the Wizard"

Once again
we are undone
by our misplaced
good intentions
that sought to regulate
and stifle the powers
of  forces
we did not understand

Laws were passed
in secret midnight sessions
under the broad umbrella
of homeland protections

Of course
the keepers
of the sacred myths
would have none of this

They rallied their army
from the bowels
of the Under Earth
and mounted 
a fierce resistance

Now we find ourselves
in a desperate war
with an enemy we created

All because
we chose to stir
the scalding cauldron
of Hell

Originally posted at stgreenie.blogspot.com 

Who Watches?

I don't need you
to love me,
or agree with me.
What I need
is for you
to take a stand
against an abuse
of the capacity
for our community
to police itself.

Why I Love

I've been asked before
why I love so many?
Been told by others
that I'm addicted to love.
I can't explain
a single specific reason,
because I know for certain,
there is more than one.

First, because my earliest memories
are filled with the proof
of the inability to trust
in the permanence of love,
when the one who should have
loved me unconditionally
abandoned me, because I
wasn't self-sufficient.
Over the years since,
I've only seen it proved
time and time again.
They always leave you
in the end.

On the other hand,
I don't want anyone
to feel the way I felt.
That there is no one
who loves them.
I don't want them
to feel that a mother
is a void that yawns open
like a portal to Hell.
I don't want them to feel
that a cousin is merely
another name for a molester,
acting out teenage explorations.
I don't want them to think
that every lover
is going to leave them
because love isn't real.

I love because I believe,
how else can you be loved?
I love because I'm desperate
to find something lasting
in a world where impermanence
was my first cruel lesson learned.
I love because I cannot bear
to face life without
someone else by my side.
I love because I cannot bear
to turn someone away
like I have been
so many times before.

I love, because if I
am worthy of loving,
then so is every one
of you.
And I will never
tell someone they are not
worthy of being loved.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

On Stereotypes

I face a lot of stereotypes, every day. It seems like everyone has their own preconceptions about me that they form off of the basis of reading a description and statements about my interests. Very few people take the time to leaven those stereotypes with reality, or they become angry if I don't act in accordance to how they feel I should act.

This is especially sad, because this is the place where all of my masks come down. Where I am able to wholly relax and be myself. And almost everyone makes assumptions based off of one facet or another of who I am, instead of taking the time to get to know me in all my complexity.

There are not a whole lot of people out there that are:

Polyamorous
Dominant
A writer
Advocate for a parent's right to choose
Abuse cycle survivor
Against career politicians
A musician
Trained to become a Baptist minister
Believer in reincarnation
An actor
Empath/Sensitive
Pro-military
Pro-Israel
Believer in the worth of chivalry
Proponent of gender equality
Firm believer in civic responsibility
Romantic and idealist
Believer in diversity

But few bother to see more than one facet.

And that is a terrible shame...

Censure Indenture

Cessation of creativity,
Ending artistic expression.
Negative suppression of thought,
Stultifying freedom.
Occluding the light that
Radiates from poetic endeavor.
Savagely crushing resistance,
However it may manifest.
Imposition, by self-righteous dogma,
Preventing the soul's healing and growth.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

An Admission

I am human. I have topics that are red flags for me. Things that instantly offend me. Things I find it very hard to close my eyes to.

One of those things is the perception of Polyamory. I find it instantly offensive to characterize any person's lifestyle as merely a game, and it is hurtful to see someone caricature it in such a manner. This is what led to my conflict last September with a member of the Twitter community about something he characterized as a game.

This is why I was deeply offended when I found out that the same person, at the urging of several other members of the Twitter community had restarted the game. If they did not know it would offend me, it is certain that the person who had posted it before was cognizant that it would do so.

The reason this is so offensive is simply because this is not a lifestyle that is openly accepted. It is a lifestyle, that if I was outed, could lead to ostracism of my family in the offline world. For several years, I have lived a lie, for the sake of my family. So it is a very serious thing to me.

Forgive me if I view someone characterizing this as a game to be highly offensive. Forgive me if I feel hurt by not only the person who restarted the game, but the people who urged him to do so. I cannot believe that they were not aware of how insulting it is.

Forgive me that I am human enough to have a hard time ignoring it when it is on the timelines of several people I follow. I was told it was none of my business, but the game was shoved in my face last time.

It is disingenuous to say you respect someone's lifestyle and say you respect them as a person, and then deliberately do something you know will cause offense. This has damaged my opinion of all those involved.

So forgive me for being a human being.

Thought About Tolerance

Consider this...

If we spent as much time trying  to understand each other as we do, pulling each other down, this world would be a far better place to live in.

We need more tolerance, not more judgment.

A Modern Model for Polyamorous Relationships: How It Can Work...

One of the strongest issues faced by any member of a polyamorous relationship is the strong cultural bias against polyamory in most American-influenced cultures. The American-influenced culture is largely based upon Judeo-Christian morality, which traditionally supports monogamous heterosexual relationships. In this day and age, there are a number of arguments that can be made to support the validity of this alternate relationship model.

One of the models for a polyamorous lifestyle can be found in Robert Heinlein’s novel, Friday. It is the formal “S-Group”. In such a formalized relationship, all adult members of the household enter into a binding contract, a hybridization of marriage contract and corporate agreement. Each member of the household signs the contract when it is made – and detailed within are all of the responsibilities and privileges that adult members of the household gain. The weight each member of the household gains in issues that need to be decided for the household is also delineated therein.

Often, as Heinlein puts it, the S in S-Group is assumed to mean sex. In fact, what the S means is security. This security comes in different forms.

One of the greatest strengths of the S-Group relationship model is the ability to communally pool resources for the betterment of the household. The struggle for financial independence has become more and more difficult, with more households in the customary relationship model of the married couple to be employed in order to provide for the well-being, along with that of any progeny. In an S-Group, greater financial security is a result – due to the increased number of potential contributors to the familial finances.

The security gained from a S-Group is not merely financial, however. As Friday explains, although she had no children, she was able to feel a part of the family (in the S-Group she was in) by playing with the children of the other partners in the group. This sense of being a part of family is comparable to the strong bond that exists within many sprawling extended families. There is always someone there.

Nowhere is this more important than with children. The bond formed by a child to their family is extremely important to their development. Often, in a traditional family arrangement, a child may end up left out, due to one or more adults in the family being preoccupied with their own concerns. Children need attention and nurturing, and the presence of an extended family unit, as shown in Jean Auel’s Earth’s Children books, can be a huge contributor to a child’s well-being. Ayla’s son Durc, even after Ayla is cast out by the Clan, is able to look to many of the members of the Clan for his care. Ayla consoles herself afterwards with the knowledge that her son would have no lack of people to teach him the things he would need to not only survive, but to thrive.

Similarly, in an S-Group arrangement, there are more people around to provide attention and caring to the children. This can help to head off the issues of neglect and parental ignorance that contribute negatively to many children’s formative years.

While the support of an S-Group is strongest for the children, that support is there as well for the adult members of the group. So long as lines of communication are open, the members of the S-Group form a support network for each other. This support can be a key contributor to the well-being of adults.

The contract-based arrangement of an S-Group underscores the seriousness of the relationship, as well. One of the common perceptions of polyamory is that all polyamorous relationships are those in which the partners have license to have intimate encounters with whomever they please, at will, and without consideration for the feelings of their partners. The contractual arrangement stresses the fact that decisions made by any one member of the S-Group have repercussions for all. Whether a polyamorous relationship is exclusive or not, if it is successful, it will always respect that fact just as much as successful traditional marriages do.

I highly recommend that people who are interested in polyamory take a look at Heinlein’s writing, as there are many examples of polyamory sprinkled therein. He also includes some strong exemplars of ethical and moral polyamory.

(c) Tortured Cyclone 2005, 2015

Dawn's Legacy

She claims her gaze
turns evil-doers to stone,
but the only stones I see
are the ones she keeps
throwing wildly at me.
I cannot understand
how it is that someone so mad
can remain active on Twitter.
More than six years now,
and over six hundred usernames
she has used in her pursuit
of the rather dubious fame
of being one of the worst
cyber-stalkers in the history
of the Internet game.
How far is too far,
before someone finally stops her,
ending her reign of terror?

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

Mirage or Truth?

So many people
are prone to label
anything online
as being merely lies,
nothing more
than wilful deception,
consensual hallucinations.

Then others dispute
it is a realm
of absolute freedom,
where people can
escape the circumstances
of a world
they never chose,
of a life
they are trapped in.

The reality of
the matter
is that the digital
is a world
same as the physical,
and that realm
has its own laws.

The primary law
of the online realm
is that of malleability,
where the inhabitant
is able to choose
their guise.

Correspondingly,
the online world
is dangerous,
especially for the unwary,
It's filled with
illusions and mirages
in contrast to our
offline world
of concrete, static reality.

Both perceptions
of the online world
are true ones,
and that is the paradox.
It is both
a consensual mirage
and a soul-deep truth.

(c) Tortured Cyclone 2015

Call me a Beast

Bitter is the pain
in my heart tonight
as I am reminded
that there are those
who characterize me
as a predator
upon the weak and vulnerable,
as a fraud
putting on an act,
as someone lying
through my teeth.
My friends, called sycophants,
my Beloved, called fools,
my deeds and words
deemed only camouflage.
My beliefs described
as falsehoods told
to deceive those
that I claim to love.
If I am such a Beast,
then repudiate me,
leave me in peace,
never trouble me again,
for such monsters
as you characterize me to be,
have a dark history
of savaging tormentors.

Done, and Done

You judge me
through every blink,
deeming me a monster
by the words I write.
But you know
less than nothing,
the assumptions you make
are all egregiously wrong,
and the lies you spew
just mark you
as the poisonous creature
you claim to destroy.
Your narrow mind
doesn't permit for diversity,
much less, a different
vision of truth.
I am done with you,
and done with your slanders.
As the Tom Petty song says,
don't come around here no more.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

The Net - Not So Neutral For Artists?

One of the greatest issues I face, as a Poly man, is the issue of acceptance. I live closeted in the community I reside in, because (even in 2015) the region of the United States I call home is almost as religiously conservative as the Deep South. The online world has become my outlet, for it is the one place that I can truly be myself.

Sadly, the narrow-mindedness of the offline world persists, even in the digital world. On Twitter, there have been recent suspensions of writers who specialize in writing erotica and whose focus is the same as mine. These suspensions thus far have been focused upon nudity in either the header or user avatar, but they are too focused to be a sweep of the entire Twitter community, judging by the proliferation of pornstars and other explicit porn accounts.

This is extremely troubling, as it is another sign of the spectre of censorship that darkens the digital realm. More and more, there is pressure from conservative organizations to "make the Internet safer." For the most part, well-meaning, it nonetheless is the tip of an iceberg that is a grave threat... the creation of a non-neutral 'Net.

Net Neutrality is a hot button topic for many. Something to consider is the fact that the online world is the last bastion of expression for many living in more-repressive offline communities. The infringement upon Net Neutrality raises the precedent of censorship, and that slippery slope can easily lead to tyranny.

Right now, authors of erotica are targeted on Twitter. What's next? A purge of advocacy groups that promote reproductive responsibility? Web pages for the Poly community? How about the groups that strive to protect and promote the LBGT community?

In the meantime, the sex industry continues to expand on the Internet, unmolested by these so-called bastions of decency. Hate groups continue to spread their messages of vitriol and intolerance. And narrow-minded rhetoric paralyzes the government of the oldest representative democracy in the world.

I ask you this: what is more important? Curtailing artistic expression on the Internet, or solving some of the clear and present dangers to the stability and well-being of the entire world? Stifling creativity, or working together to eradicate the offenses against civil rights that persist to this day?

For shame. Target something worthy of being targeted. Allow artists to continue to shine a light into all corners of our world. Even the ones you may not want to admit exist.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

The Right to Choose

No matter what you choose to believe,
no matter if I agree,
you have the right to do so.
This I defend, from all threats,
because to not do so would be
a betrayal of all I believe.
That doesn't mean I won't try
to change your mind,
if we disagree.
It just means that I respect your right,
indeed, every human being's right,
of self-determination.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

My Truth

This is my truth:
You stand for what
you believe in,
foremost of those
being your friends.
You stand for what's right,
even for adversaries,
because what is right
is what you hope
to receive.
You love without question,
because love permits us
to escape the prison of ourselves,
to touch another
and break them free as well.
This is my truth,
even if you disagree,
respect mine,
as I try to respect
yours.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

The Lightning Rod

So many times,
I draw the attention,
the ire,
the condemnation
of people whose opinions
differ from mine.
They see me
as an exemplar
of a lifestyle
they do not agree with
that represents something
they consider a threat
to their own beliefs.
All because
I have the conviction
to stand up
and say, "This is me.
This is who I am."
No apologies,
no evasions,
for once not hiding
from a world
that doesn't understand.
And I am grieved,
because even though
the Supreme Court
rules same-sex marriage legal,
anything not "normal"
is still viewed as an aberration,
an abomination,
when all it is,
is a different description
of what love can be.
So I become
a lightning rod,
drawing the bolts
of discrimination,
hoping they will not
be aimed at those others
who share some or all
of my beliefs,
praying for a day.
when I,
and they,
can live as we choose.

(c) Tortured Cyclone 2015

Retort

Don't tell me
my feelings are invalid.
That what I speak of
is a mere illusion.
You can judge from experience
of your own circumstances
but not having walked
in my shoes,
how can you say
that what I feel isn't true?
And what law says
that you are right
and I am wrong,
just because 99%
of the world agrees
with your view?

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

May CycloneWriter - @SydneyCarton2 - "Mighty Shiva"

Mighty Shiva,
Destroyer of Worlds and Evil,
Burn the self-righteous of our home,
Tear down their pompous temples,
Pretenders of virtue,
Elite religionists,
Pillagers of freedoms, gifted by Nature,
The "normals" who are unnatural,
Free thy children to live in peace and love.

May CycloneWriter - Me - Scarification

We scar the planet.
Bombs with the might
of a thousand suns.
Like Shiva the Destroyer
we have become.

May CycloneWriter - @PathwayGallery - I Am Become Shiva

The sinner
Is the saint
The hero
Is the villain
The killer
Is the lover
The most pious
Corrupt
Avowing this
Is knowing God

May CycloneWriter - @MSidel80 - Witnessing A Miracle

Upon seeing my creation,
I began to question
were we witnessing a miracle
in all its splendor
or watching the beginning of the end.

No one questions the genius,
yet the madness is
we failed to ask ourselves simply,
just because we can
does that mean we should?

One simple question
posed far too little
with such a broad reach.
We have come too far now
to ask those questions.

Now upon witnessing this miracle
I only have this old religious phrase,
"I am become Shiva,
Destroyer of worlds"
on my mind.

April CycloneWriter - @divorcequeen - A Far Better Thing...

I've searched high
I've searched low
Back to the cave
This dragon must go
To rest
Let the fallen leaves
Cradle my head
There will be time
For me to jest
With a puff of smoke
A deep breath
Better than the dragon choke
This place
Yes it will do
It gives a far brighter pattern
Than the cold, gray hue

April CycloneWriter - @MSidel80 - Final Moments

I’ve gone astray.
Lived my life on the very edge,
But for these simple few.
My final acts,
let those be the ones you remember.
Though my days are through,
I beg of you,
pass those on to the next.
Let my torch be ever lit,
from here onto forever.


(originally published on msidel80.wordpress.com - reprinted with the permission of the author)

April CycloneWriter - @NorthOfSorrow - A Far Better Thing...

It hurts me
To have let you go,
Yet it was done
To save ourselves
From total destruction,
Hoping one day,
We'll heal.

March CycloneWriter - @BklynMercado - The Fall of Camelot 4

The fall of
the American Camelot
was not in the fall of '63,
but the fall of Saigon.

Beauty's Proliferation

What is the truth
to be found in beauty?
The slumbering spirit
of the exquisite lurking
just out of view in so many things,
revealed for all to see
so very infrequently.
What honesty can be seen,
when the truth lies unglimpsed?
Too much goes unappreciated
because many people,
far more than should,
draw a line of demarcation,
stating beauty can only be skin deep,
when the precious essence
of what is beautiful blooms in everyone.
All you need are the eyes,
and the courage,
to look deeper into the world around you.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015
@TorturdCyclone

March CycloneWriter - @BklynMercado - The Fall of Camelot 3

The fall of Camelot
had become the scar
we're too ashamed
to acknowledge
and too proud
to repeat.

March CycloneWriter - @Vahata - The Fall of Camelot

The fall of Camelot
came not by a dagger.
No, indeed,
it came when a heart
fell in love with another.
AA ©3-15

March CycloneWriter - @divorcequeen - The Fall of Camelot

Fall of Camelot
Rope
'Tween heart & mind
Pulled taut

In the glorious time
Their bodies met
All thought fell away
Along with regret
Perfect souls meeting
For one night
Forever questioning
In the light of day

Lancelot & Guinevere
A love that slipped away
Through cruel hands of fate

She left with a warning
To never again
Look upon her face
Yet she haunted his every thought
For in his heart
No other maiden
Could replace

As her last breath slipped out
She called his name
A silent shout
He heard her call
Felt the fall
A time that would never be
A love
He would never again see

March CycloneWriter - @BklynMercado - The Fall of Camelot 2

Only Merlin foresaw
the fall of Camelot,
but no one believed
that Arthur would fall
except for the doubts
in Arthur's soul.

March CycloneWriter - @witchiestars - "The Fall of Camelot"

It's here, the fall of Camelot.
Her knight in shining armour betrayed their love.
The pallid witch smiles her hatred.
Love dies.

Alternate Verse for "The Rose"

Some say love,
it is a madness
that only leads to grief.
Some say love,
it is a tempest
that wrecks beyond belief.
Some say love,
it is a firestorm
consuming everything.
I say love,
it is the music
that taught my heart to sing.

("The Rose", performed by Bette Midler)

March CycloneWriter - @breath_words : The Fall of Camelot

The fall of Camelot,
a story composed of many things,
hinges mainly on the age old tale of
jealousy and greed.
Feuding and fighting,
laced with affairs and treason,
show that the downfall
came from many reasons.
The table was divided
by plots and schemes.
Factions and parties
continued to stir up things.
Lancelot romanced the queen
while Mordred was evilly scheming.
Using their deception as a ploy,
Mordred set his eyes on stealing.
The throne was what he long did covet,
but Arthur stood in his way.
Through trickery and forging,
with Mordred the throne did lay.
Once he had ensured that
the mighty Arthur was slain,
he was able to continue
his dream to control and reign.
With such turmoil abound,
the noble court became unmanned.
The biggest problem with Camelot:
a kingdom divided by itself cannot stand.

(originally published on Uink.ca - reprinted with author's permission) 

The fall of Camelot,

a story composed of many things,

hinges mainly on the age old tale of

jealousy and greed.

Feuding and fighting,

laced with affairs and treason,

show that the downfall

came from many reasons.

The table was divided

by plots and schemes.

Factions and parties

continued to stir up things.

Lancelot romanced the queen

while Mordred was evilly scheming.

Using their deception as a ploy,

Mordred set his eyes on stealing.

The throne was what he long did covet,

but Arthur stood in his way.

Through trickery and forging,

with Mordred the throne did lay.

Once he had ensured that

the mighty Arthur was slain,

he was able to continue

his dream to control and reign.

With such turmoil abound,

the noble court became unmanned.

The biggest problem with Camelot:

a kingdom divided by itself cannot stand.

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- See more at: http://www.uink.ca/2015/03/fall-of-camelot-by-breath-of-words_8.html#sthash.QcZNIK5z.dpuf

The fall of Camelot,

a story composed of many things,

hinges mainly on the age old tale of

jealousy and greed.

Feuding and fighting,

laced with affairs and treason,

show that the downfall

came from many reasons.

The table was divided

by plots and schemes.

Factions and parties

continued to stir up things.

Lancelot romanced the queen

while Mordred was evilly scheming.

Using their deception as a ploy,

Mordred set his eyes on stealing.

The throne was what he long did covet,

but Arthur stood in his way.

Through trickery and forging,

with Mordred the throne did lay.

Once he had ensured that

the mighty Arthur was slain,

he was able to continue

his dream to control and reign.

With such turmoil abound,

the noble court became unmanned.

The biggest problem with Camelot:

a kingdom divided by itself cannot stand.

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Subscribe and receive UInk Origins Free!

* indicates required

Email Address *

Powered by MailChimp

- See more at: http://www.uink.ca/2015/03/fall-of-camelot-by-breath-of-words_8.html#sthash.QcZNIK5z.dpuf

The fall of Camelot,

a story composed of many things,

hinges mainly on the age old tale of

jealousy and greed.

Feuding and fighting,

laced with affairs and treason,

show that the downfall

came from many reasons.

The table was divided

by plots and schemes.

Factions and parties

continued to stir up things.

Lancelot romanced the queen

while Mordred was evilly scheming.

Using their deception as a ploy,

Mordred set his eyes on stealing.

The throne was what he long did covet,

but Arthur stood in his way.

Through trickery and forging,

with Mordred the throne did lay.

Once he had ensured that

the mighty Arthur was slain,

he was able to continue

his dream to control and reign.

With such turmoil abound,

the noble court became unmanned.

The biggest problem with Camelot:

a kingdom divided by itself cannot stand.

- See more at: http://www.uink.ca/2015/03/fall-of-camelot-by-breath-of-words_8.html#sthash.QcZNIK5z.dpuf

March CycloneWriter: @BklynMercado - The Fall of Camelot I

The fall of Camelot
haunts our land
with memories
of Jackie, Caroline
and JFK,
and the struggles
that have still
not gone away.

March CycloneWriter: @_iLadyBird - The Fall of Camelot

A simpler time
Yet, life's complications
Are timeless
The fall of Camelot
Our collective cry
Hour of reckoning
Innocence loss

My Commitment

One of the greatest gifts
given us by our Constitution
is the right to speak our minds,
to choose how we wish
our pursuit of happiness to proceed.
As long as the pursuit
does not lead to harm to others,
I will stand and champion
the right for self-determination
of anyone, even an enemy.
Because that's what I believe is right.

© Tortured Cyclone 2015

Necrotic Heart

The day that you called,
you took part of my heart,
but then you stayed around
but never allowed
any communication
between you and I.
Every day, the wounds
of the damage you caused
uncauterized, untreated
grew necrotic, consuming
more and more of my heart,
leaving only a husk
of the vessel of love
wracked in agony because
your silence exacerbates
the condition, instead of curing it.

Knife-Edge Purity

There's a certain honesty
to the cold steel
of the knife
on your skin.
It doesn't make promises
of love that are lies.
It doesn't play with
your emotions, like they're toys.
It says, "one inch deeper,
and blood will flow,
and pain will blossom.
Push deep enough,
and I'll bring oblivion,
forever."
The knife is brutal
in its simplicity,
unlike people,
whose contradictions
lead to all of my sorrows.

(c) Tortured Cyclone 2015

Funeral Shroud and Death Mask

Walking through
my day-to-day
the world around me
sees the mask of duty,
the shroud of responsibility,
the hard-working breadwinner.
They never see the man
all you have seen,
clad in these vestments
that are doomed to be mine
until the day that I die,
and I will be buried in them.

"Reflection" by Christina Aguilera

The Last Prayer

I hear so many times
a sense of disbelief
that a specific relationship
could matter so much
to someone Polyamorous,
that losing that someone
would hurt him as badly
as anyone else,
as if being Poly somehow
made me less vulnerable,
or less loving,
than other people.
The difference, however,
is that in a non-Poly world,
enduring relationships
are hard to find,
and harder to maintain.
Both partners must accept
the other partner's ties,
and respect them.
This isn't always easy,
and I live in frequent worry
that those other ties
might take my loved ones away.
So I bury the fear,
praying for their happiness,
hoping that pursuit
doesn't take them away from me.

The Missing Piece

When I was born,

I was incomplete,

there always seemed something

missing.

A source of yearning,

inexplicable, unsatisfied,

a hole that I could not

find any way to fill.

Then came the moment

we met, and it felt

the whole universe

should hear

an audible click

as we came together.

Without knowing it,

you were what I sought

for all those years,

the missing piece

of the puzzle,

the rest of me

revealed.

(originally written for the VoElla.com Poetry Contest in January)

The necessity of standing up about DV

Earlier this week, VoElla published an article by the DV survivor and author, KendraLynn. She touched on a very important fact in that article, the shameful behavior of our system of justice.

In many DV cases, often the victims are at a disadvantage, for the aggressor frequently controls the purse strings. This means that the people who deserve the best support in the middle of their crisis are usually left with whatever assistance programs can provide. Their abusers usually have greater resources, and frequently no compunction about using every trick in the book to attack their victim, while appearing upstanding citizens within the courtroom.

The sad fact is that we need to ensure that the victims of abuse, in general, and DV, in specific, have better support. As it exists now, the abuse victims' ordeal has only begun by pressing charges. After that, they are then dragged into an environment where their story is doubted, sometimes aggressively so. A forum where they have to relive the most painful incidents, and have them dissected by a defense bent on winning at all costs, instead of committed to truth.  A battlefield that a canny abuser will take advantage of, to put on a facade of decency.

In fact, the abuser will often continue the tactic of managing public appearance. Convincing others that they are being totally reasonable, when their aim is the ongoing victimization of the DV accuser/survivor. Appearing to be the victim of the whole thing.

As admirable as the concept of "innocent 'til proven guilty" is, the courtroom ideal does the victim no services.

Added to that is the sad fact that we do not have an effective system of rehabilitation. Recidivism is all-too-frequent. Most abusers of all stripes DO NOT CHANGE THEIR BEHAVIOR. There are exceptions that prove the rule, but the common story is that the abuser returns to society without any real incentive to reform for real.

Correspondingly, the people who need our help most are often marginalized or outright opposed, while the overwhelming trend of re-offense is seen as a necessary truth.

Because rehabilitation is ineffective, the victim is left with little recourse, unless they aggressively advocate for themselves, or are fortunate enough to have another who will make sure to protect them from abusive behaviors.

And Net Neutrality comes into play here, because it is all too easy for an abuser to go online and create an alternate identity to continue their campaign of terror.

Pandora's Box is open, and Hope is very frail. We need to do more. Our families, friends, coworkers, and neighbors need our help.

And it is NOT Someone Else's Problem.

Grief...

A four-year-old child,
unable to understand
the complex motives
that drive a woman
consumed by her demons,
only knowing she left him behind,
taking his siblings
along with her,
leaving him with a father
broken by her desertion,
a man unprepared to be
both father and mother.
A man whose bitter pain
leads to savage words
that make the pain even worse,
making her choice to flee
a judgment of the worthiness
of the child left behind.
The child grew into a man,
his heart stunted
by despite,
by unworth,
by the self-fulfilling prophecy
that all will
abandon him.
The mother seeks to reclaim,
to heal,
to rebuild bridges
burned so long ago,
but he can't trust her...
And, then, in a moment,
she's gone,
and there will never
be a chance to reestablish
what shouldn't have been lost
in the first place,
but might have been recovered
if he tried.

Why Do I Write?

Why do I write? Seems like it should be an easy question, doesn't it?

Except it's not. Writing doesn't pay the bills, and with a two-child family and a disabled wife, that pressure falls on me. It's not like I have a rabid legion of fans who hang upon my every word, whose adulation feeds me a cocaine-esque rush. I have no extraordinary gift with words such as Hemingway, Shakespeare and Byron had. I'm not in love with my own cleverness, writing to dance with words simply to show off how witty I am.

I could tell you of the formative incidents in my life, that made me into the person I am. The abandonment, being a victim of abuse and a misfit, the tragedy of perpetuating the cycle of abuse, the disillusionment and despair of a man who faith failed and virtue became meaningless to. I could speak of the loneliness, the yearning, the misunderstandings.

I could speak of the gifts I've been given in great measure. The sensitivity, the Empathy, the facile intelligence. The insatiable hunger for knowledge, the ability to recall, the ability to perform, to tell stories.

I could tell you all of these things, and they are parts of the why. But the greatest portion of why is very simple. I write because I must.

It is as natural as breathing, and as necessary to me.

Neverlasting...

Check out @fieryverse's Tweet: https://twitter.com/fieryverse/status/562960892707741696?s=09

I have two poems in this collection!

Deconstructing a Haiku

A furry fury
rampaging in the bracken,
a wolverine's lair.

I posted this poem on Friday morning during a flurry of haiku written during my last break of my full-time overnight shift. I thought I would use it here, to illustrate the lightning-in-a-bottle process that is how I write poetry.

With less than two hours until the end of my shift as an overnight stocker, I realized it had been some time since I had written poetry independent of the myriad Twitter prompts I take advantage of, spurring my creativity. So I chose to forego the prompts for the nonce, using the opportunity to write several haiku.

As I wrote, my focus bifurcated, splitting between the words I was writing and
various seeds for poems. These seeds are thoughts, images, phrases, and other fragmentary bits that creep into my writing. One of the most common seeds comes in the form of plays on words - puns, double entendres, homonyms/homophones, paradoxes and oxymorons, and alliteration.

The alliterative phrase of a furry fury stood out to me, so I started thinking about what kind of creature would be considered as such.

Wolverines and badgers are, pound for pound, just about the most vicious mammals in existence. Especially when backed into a corner, when on the defensive.

From there, knowing I was going to write about a furry fury on the defensive, it was a matter of trial-and-error, looking for the correct words to fit the constraints of the classic haiku: Three lines; Seventeen syllables; First and third lines contain five syllables each.

I still needed to give the reason the wolverine was being such a fury. And that reason came, with the thought of its den. After trying a few combinations that didn't fit, I came to the final wording.

All in the matter of five minutes from initial seed to posting the poem on my Twitter timeline. Most of the process taking place subconsciously, or intuitively.

And now you see how I write!