The sun goes down on
another day,
another month,
another year,
another lifetime
filled with sunrises and sunsets.
In Seattle where the sun sets late in the summer,
we have more clouds than sun,
but I came to Seattle to let the rain wash away my pain.
The Sun still goes down behind those clouds,
whether we can see it or not.
There is something to be said in Love being in everything
just like the sun being out even though it is raining or cloudy or
I am upset about my regrets in New York City
under the moon where she called me her angel.
When the sun went down was when I made the most mistakes
with you but I was lost and young and scared of myself
thanks to my mom and all those mean things she said
as the sun went down on another day in small town hell.
The sun is always going down on me,
the sun is always going down on me,
Nico the sun is always going down on me.
the end.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
A Classic.
When I need you
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so want to give you
Its only a heartbeat away
When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day
Miles and miles of empty space in between us
The telephone cant take the place of your smile
But you know I wont be traveling forever
Its cold out, but hold out, and do I like I do
When I need you
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so wanna give you babe
Its only a heartbeat away
Its not easy when the road is your driver
Honey thats a heavy load that we bear
But you know I wont be traveling a lifetime
Its cold out but hold out and do like I do
Oh, I need you
When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day
When I need you
I just close my eyes
And you're right here by my side
Keeping me warm night and day
I just hold out my hands
I just hold out my hand
And I am with you darling
Yes, I am with you darling
All I wanna give you
Its only a heartbeat away
Oh I need you darling
Sung by some white dude with an afro, Leo Sayer, and remade by a big voiced lady for soft rock stations. But for some reason I have this song in my head constantly....go figure. I was never a big fan of this song but now I am.
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so want to give you
Its only a heartbeat away
When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day
Miles and miles of empty space in between us
The telephone cant take the place of your smile
But you know I wont be traveling forever
Its cold out, but hold out, and do I like I do
When I need you
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so wanna give you babe
Its only a heartbeat away
Its not easy when the road is your driver
Honey thats a heavy load that we bear
But you know I wont be traveling a lifetime
Its cold out but hold out and do like I do
Oh, I need you
When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day
When I need you
I just close my eyes
And you're right here by my side
Keeping me warm night and day
I just hold out my hands
I just hold out my hand
And I am with you darling
Yes, I am with you darling
All I wanna give you
Its only a heartbeat away
Oh I need you darling
Sung by some white dude with an afro, Leo Sayer, and remade by a big voiced lady for soft rock stations. But for some reason I have this song in my head constantly....go figure. I was never a big fan of this song but now I am.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Let it be.
Let it Be.
Let the flags unfurl as we march toward victory.
Let me be who I am constantly.
Let me hear the sound of her calling my name.
Let me run from the demons that have told their lies to me.
Let me lie down in the field next to my love.
Let me never look back.
Let me never forget,
who I am,
where I am from
and
what I believe.
Let it be.
Just let it fucking be.
-
July 2008
Let the flags unfurl as we march toward victory.
Let me be who I am constantly.
Let me hear the sound of her calling my name.
Let me run from the demons that have told their lies to me.
Let me lie down in the field next to my love.
Let me never look back.
Let me never forget,
who I am,
where I am from
and
what I believe.
Let it be.
Just let it fucking be.
-
July 2008
Be Your Own Float or Tattoos make me feel better.
It started on Friday. Seattle Gay Pride weekend 2008. The beginning for me was work, putting up flyers for random rock shows and Bend It, Seattle's awesome DIY Pride alternative. As usual anger erupted inside of me at the 15 dollar cover charge the only lesbian and dyke bar in Seattle was taking from people to be able to hang out there. I wanted to stand outside the fence with a picket sign protesting the alcohol fueled destruction wrought by the beer companies and their-"we support pride" banners. But instead I downed 4 shots of espresso at Cafe Vita and started a discussion with 2 lesbians sitting at a table about how pissed off I am about alcohol fueled pride and the cost of admission to the only girl bar in town.
"Alcohol is never good for any community!" I yelled as I walked off with my usual have a nice day attitude, but really inside I wanted to cry or tear down the fences of the Wold Rose's beer "garden" of self destruction and drunk girls grabbing at my cock.
On Saturday I was suppose to get a tattoo of FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt) on my ass but when I made the appointment I did not realize that it was pride weekend and if I got a tattoo on my ass I could not ride my bike in the parade because of the healing process. But I decided to use the appointment time anyway to get a tattoo I had always wanted to get-the name of my one true love. I had done a series of things in an attempt to get over it, many of them painful regrets including ripped up pictures, rings thrown off of cliffs and a painting destroyed. Nothing helped. Images of my artistic partner on the phone telling me she loved me more than him. Leaving me barren and alone 120 miles east of where we use to live alone but together every second in our hearts, in our minds and sometimes in our bed.
Almost 3 years of silence after that last phone call I find her one day in New York City only to come to the awful realization that now she hated me and blamed me for all the pain created after I left her in New York City. Although she was clean and sober, I could tell that she still suffered from my many regrets and the unrequited love between us. Even her husband realized this and tried to tell her to be happy that I was back and that she needed me. But the blame, pain and anger was all too deep and too much to bear. Things fell apart really quickly. I could not deal with the pain of her hate and the lost love between us. The last thing she said to me was "I hope you OD" as I was ejected from her life. Cut to 12 years later, she is now divorced and I am still in love with her. She sent me an email 6 months ago telling me that she still has parental issues. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I guess it is hard to be Jewish and queer even at 39. Her mom does not want her to be a lesbian and really she isn't. It is only my birth in female body that enhances her queer side. She told me straight out 15 years ago that she wished I was a guy, even though she is bi-sexual, sex with a woman and being in love with a woman is two different things. If her mom supported and respected her sexuality, I imagine things would be different. The lack of acceptance her mom gives her sexuality is silently tearing her apart and actually it is killing me. She told me many times in 1993 that we were going to be together when we were older and that it was the waiting that sucked. I still hang onto these words because it has been 15 years, I still love her and I cannot find someone else to love. It feels like our karma to be together but the bridge across forever sometimes takes a long time to bring you together with your soul twin.
So it was pride weekend and finally I got her name tattooed on my arm. The pain of the needles felt awesome on my arm as the name of the love of my existence was engraved in black for everyone to see. I am happy because I finally have gay pride. I am not ashamed to love who I love anymore. She is on my mind everyday. We were going to be famous with our little public access show that put us in Sassy Magazine and was 1 rated for 6 months on MNN cable out of New York City. Since then I have not met anyone that I connect with on a creative level and it tears me apart everyday.
With her name proudly written across my arm for all time, on Sunday I decided to ride my bike and be my own float for the parade. With my blue strap on sticking out of my pants I rode proud to be a gender rebel, proud to be who I am-queer and in love with an awesome girl even if she is afraid to love me back, even if she hates me, I cannot help but love her unconditionally. I finally felt complete gay pride and self love. It was a long time coming.
I felt a few demons being destroyed as I weaved in and out of the other floats on my bike, throwing out TCM (Turner Classic Movies) stickers to the crowd. No longer am I afraid to let everyone know this mask of pain I have worn for so long. As life goes on, I will be my own float through this parade we call life on the planet Earth. Even if she is not by my side, I will forever wear this tattoo with pride.
The End.
"Alcohol is never good for any community!" I yelled as I walked off with my usual have a nice day attitude, but really inside I wanted to cry or tear down the fences of the Wold Rose's beer "garden" of self destruction and drunk girls grabbing at my cock.
On Saturday I was suppose to get a tattoo of FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt) on my ass but when I made the appointment I did not realize that it was pride weekend and if I got a tattoo on my ass I could not ride my bike in the parade because of the healing process. But I decided to use the appointment time anyway to get a tattoo I had always wanted to get-the name of my one true love. I had done a series of things in an attempt to get over it, many of them painful regrets including ripped up pictures, rings thrown off of cliffs and a painting destroyed. Nothing helped. Images of my artistic partner on the phone telling me she loved me more than him. Leaving me barren and alone 120 miles east of where we use to live alone but together every second in our hearts, in our minds and sometimes in our bed.
Almost 3 years of silence after that last phone call I find her one day in New York City only to come to the awful realization that now she hated me and blamed me for all the pain created after I left her in New York City. Although she was clean and sober, I could tell that she still suffered from my many regrets and the unrequited love between us. Even her husband realized this and tried to tell her to be happy that I was back and that she needed me. But the blame, pain and anger was all too deep and too much to bear. Things fell apart really quickly. I could not deal with the pain of her hate and the lost love between us. The last thing she said to me was "I hope you OD" as I was ejected from her life. Cut to 12 years later, she is now divorced and I am still in love with her. She sent me an email 6 months ago telling me that she still has parental issues. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I guess it is hard to be Jewish and queer even at 39. Her mom does not want her to be a lesbian and really she isn't. It is only my birth in female body that enhances her queer side. She told me straight out 15 years ago that she wished I was a guy, even though she is bi-sexual, sex with a woman and being in love with a woman is two different things. If her mom supported and respected her sexuality, I imagine things would be different. The lack of acceptance her mom gives her sexuality is silently tearing her apart and actually it is killing me. She told me many times in 1993 that we were going to be together when we were older and that it was the waiting that sucked. I still hang onto these words because it has been 15 years, I still love her and I cannot find someone else to love. It feels like our karma to be together but the bridge across forever sometimes takes a long time to bring you together with your soul twin.
So it was pride weekend and finally I got her name tattooed on my arm. The pain of the needles felt awesome on my arm as the name of the love of my existence was engraved in black for everyone to see. I am happy because I finally have gay pride. I am not ashamed to love who I love anymore. She is on my mind everyday. We were going to be famous with our little public access show that put us in Sassy Magazine and was 1 rated for 6 months on MNN cable out of New York City. Since then I have not met anyone that I connect with on a creative level and it tears me apart everyday.
With her name proudly written across my arm for all time, on Sunday I decided to ride my bike and be my own float for the parade. With my blue strap on sticking out of my pants I rode proud to be a gender rebel, proud to be who I am-queer and in love with an awesome girl even if she is afraid to love me back, even if she hates me, I cannot help but love her unconditionally. I finally felt complete gay pride and self love. It was a long time coming.
I felt a few demons being destroyed as I weaved in and out of the other floats on my bike, throwing out TCM (Turner Classic Movies) stickers to the crowd. No longer am I afraid to let everyone know this mask of pain I have worn for so long. As life goes on, I will be my own float through this parade we call life on the planet Earth. Even if she is not by my side, I will forever wear this tattoo with pride.
The End.
Monday, July 14, 2008
My Head.
My Head.
My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.
My Head is a snake full of poison,
I strike you down with my tongue.
My Head is a cauldron of spells,
I magically make you appear.
My Head is a child full of nightmares,
you don't want to go there.
My Head is full of History,
my stock makes the market crash.
My head has a mind
and my words are my weapons.
My Head is a revolution filled with
martyrs whose day has finally come.
My Head is a TV channel full of
memories in black and white.
My Head is a heart filled with reincarnation,
with these rings I have wed.
My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.
My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.
My Head is a snake full of poison,
I strike you down with my tongue.
My Head is a cauldron of spells,
I magically make you appear.
My Head is a child full of nightmares,
you don't want to go there.
My Head is full of History,
my stock makes the market crash.
My head has a mind
and my words are my weapons.
My Head is a revolution filled with
martyrs whose day has finally come.
My Head is a TV channel full of
memories in black and white.
My Head is a heart filled with reincarnation,
with these rings I have wed.
My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
I write therefore I am.
There were times in New York City when I knew I was destined to be a writer. But those times were painful comedy. Funny to those reading about it, but when it is happening to me it hurts like hell.
Even as I was stumbling along making mistakes that would end up causing mountains of pain, I knew it was all going to be written about. To be able to understand it's place in history was an undeniable fact.
There were times when I would purposely make decisions that would enhance my life in order to fit it all into literary history. Making my life a better read by the outrageous choices I was making on a daily basis. All in the name of poetry and the unrequited mystery of love.
Intimacy is not always about sex. Writing is not always about poetry. Sometimes writing is the only way to know you are really alive. As if we are all ghost writing our spirit for a greater understanding of humanity and our lives on planet Earth.
Everyday with the one you love is intimate. It is only love that makes us breath and makes us work. Loves makes us believe in things bigger than the limitations we face in our bodies. I write for these reasons. I write to take away the pain. Nothing is as good as when we are writing together- the history of our lives, the history of our love.
Someday they will know just how I feel. This is why I am a writer. The greatest intimate moment I ever had that makes me the writer I am is the day I realized what I loved in you is what I have in myself.
the end (for now).
Even as I was stumbling along making mistakes that would end up causing mountains of pain, I knew it was all going to be written about. To be able to understand it's place in history was an undeniable fact.
There were times when I would purposely make decisions that would enhance my life in order to fit it all into literary history. Making my life a better read by the outrageous choices I was making on a daily basis. All in the name of poetry and the unrequited mystery of love.
Intimacy is not always about sex. Writing is not always about poetry. Sometimes writing is the only way to know you are really alive. As if we are all ghost writing our spirit for a greater understanding of humanity and our lives on planet Earth.
Everyday with the one you love is intimate. It is only love that makes us breath and makes us work. Loves makes us believe in things bigger than the limitations we face in our bodies. I write for these reasons. I write to take away the pain. Nothing is as good as when we are writing together- the history of our lives, the history of our love.
Someday they will know just how I feel. This is why I am a writer. The greatest intimate moment I ever had that makes me the writer I am is the day I realized what I loved in you is what I have in myself.
the end (for now).
Inner Vision
Inner Vision
My fields of Victory
Shine so bright.
Amazing Grace
you came to me.
These fields of war
so dark,
so loud.
We take comfort in the dead,
all around us.
Amazing grace
all around.
Divine Mother-
in this lifetime
I can see
All
around
me.
kpr
2007
My fields of Victory
Shine so bright.
Amazing Grace
you came to me.
These fields of war
so dark,
so loud.
We take comfort in the dead,
all around us.
Amazing grace
all around.
Divine Mother-
in this lifetime
I can see
All
around
me.
kpr
2007
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Down on my Knees
Down On My Knees
If addiction was offically labeled a disease,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the wars could end,
I would go down on my knees.
If the Kennedy brothers were still alive,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the dead soldiers could come back from World War Two,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the pain and suffering of this world could be healed,
I would go down on my knees.
If I could go back in time and fix my mistakes with you,
I would go down on my knees.
But until those days come to pass,
I will die on my feet,
so you can watch me rise,
with all the things I carry-
the painful memories of you.
If addiction was offically labeled a disease,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the wars could end,
I would go down on my knees.
If the Kennedy brothers were still alive,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the dead soldiers could come back from World War Two,
I would go down on my knees.
If all the pain and suffering of this world could be healed,
I would go down on my knees.
If I could go back in time and fix my mistakes with you,
I would go down on my knees.
But until those days come to pass,
I will die on my feet,
so you can watch me rise,
with all the things I carry-
the painful memories of you.
Identifying Marks
Another Bent writing assignment.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Identifying Marks
Tattoos
9 in all.
Letters T C M, lower left arm inside.
Skull and Crossbones with Droogie hat, lower left arm inside.
Lion as seen in Scottish Flag, lower right arm.
Name "Nico" above lion, lower right arm.
Punk rocker in Flames throwing Molotov Cocktail, lower right arm inside.
Name "Kim punk rock", upper right arm.
Symbol from the comic book character "Spawn", Upper Left arm.
Stick Figure with arm raised, Upper Left arm.
Giant X as seen in the TV show The X Files, Lower Back.
Shaved Head
Blue Eyes
Nose Ring
"Barbell" style earrings.
Birthmarks:
small mole on upper right torso between the right breast and arm pit.
Last seen walking up Pike St. toward Madison Market in Capitol Hill wearing camouflaged pants and black hooded sweatshirt with white writing.
Subject was also carrying a "messenger" style bag with an image of Brandon Lee from the movie The Crow.
If seen please call:
1-800-FUCK-YOU
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
That last line gets em every time--big laughs.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Identifying Marks
Tattoos
9 in all.
Letters T C M, lower left arm inside.
Skull and Crossbones with Droogie hat, lower left arm inside.
Lion as seen in Scottish Flag, lower right arm.
Name "Nico" above lion, lower right arm.
Punk rocker in Flames throwing Molotov Cocktail, lower right arm inside.
Name "Kim punk rock", upper right arm.
Symbol from the comic book character "Spawn", Upper Left arm.
Stick Figure with arm raised, Upper Left arm.
Giant X as seen in the TV show The X Files, Lower Back.
Shaved Head
Blue Eyes
Nose Ring
"Barbell" style earrings.
Birthmarks:
small mole on upper right torso between the right breast and arm pit.
Last seen walking up Pike St. toward Madison Market in Capitol Hill wearing camouflaged pants and black hooded sweatshirt with white writing.
Subject was also carrying a "messenger" style bag with an image of Brandon Lee from the movie The Crow.
If seen please call:
1-800-FUCK-YOU
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
That last line gets em every time--big laughs.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Mischa's Scar
Ok enough about my depressingly awesome punkrock life. Here is a short piece I wrote. I am taking a writing class called Bent. It is basically a class for people that consider themselves gay,bi-sexual,trans, etc. Basically if you are queer in anyway you can take this class. I love it and it is saving me from writers block. I am going to post almost all of the stuff I write for this class because frankly I am proud of what I have written so far. I call this one Mischa's Scar and it is about my ex-girlfriend who I met online in the X-Files chat room during the spring semester of 1999. She is from Vienna Austria and moved here to be with me in the spring of 2000. We had a long distance relationship online and through the phone for almost 6 months before we even met in person. She came to visit me in the fall of 99 with her mom. At that time I was really in the middle of my heroin addiction. She knew about it and wanted to help me. At the time she was one of those co-dependents with a savior complex so when I finally got clean she left me for some chick with a coke problem. Actually they are still together, as far as I know they moved back to Vienna Austria.
We ended up being together for 3 years. She helped me get clean and move to New Haven but when she walked out I suffered a 3 month relapse because the whole time I was clean I was not getting counseling and that ended up to be my undoing. But after that I started an intensive counseling program and I have been clean from heroin ever since. I would have almost 8 years if it was not for those 3 months, so technically I have been clean since august 2002 but I had a year and a half clean time before that.
Anyway without further adieu I present to you Misha's Scar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
She pressed the cigarette into her flesh. It sizzled and burned with the satisfaction of pain. Once the burn was in place she moved the cigarette to the next empty space on her arm, creating a checker board of cigarette burns on the young skin of her youth.She did this to feel the pain. 9 burns in a pattern. It made me sick to look at and I scolded her for it.
"Why did you do that?" I asked her. She just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Right away I knew it was not my fault. I had not done or said anything to cause this insane moment of self mutilation. I decided right there and then that I was not going to pay for her choice, but the scar that was left disgusted me. Now I would have to live the next few months, the next few years with that scar. Reminding me of my heroin addiction and the pain it caused without even meaning to.
We had only just begun our journey but I knew she had to be handled with kid gloves. Her fragile state shocked me. She was the one who was suppose to be strong. I was the heroin addict mess that needed to be nurtured and cared for. I knew right then that my 28 year old issues were too much for her 19 year old head and I wished we had not started this relationship.
Even though she was going to save my life, I felt like I was going to ruin hers. Now she was going to have a souvenir her whole life because of a bad decision, a painful moment and a relationship that was meant to go bad from the beginning. These fragile hearts that we have within our chests break without much help from the world around us. Mischa's scar will always remind me of how fragile we can be.
The End
-----------------------------------------------------------------
We ended up being together for 3 years. She helped me get clean and move to New Haven but when she walked out I suffered a 3 month relapse because the whole time I was clean I was not getting counseling and that ended up to be my undoing. But after that I started an intensive counseling program and I have been clean from heroin ever since. I would have almost 8 years if it was not for those 3 months, so technically I have been clean since august 2002 but I had a year and a half clean time before that.
Anyway without further adieu I present to you Misha's Scar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
She pressed the cigarette into her flesh. It sizzled and burned with the satisfaction of pain. Once the burn was in place she moved the cigarette to the next empty space on her arm, creating a checker board of cigarette burns on the young skin of her youth.She did this to feel the pain. 9 burns in a pattern. It made me sick to look at and I scolded her for it.
"Why did you do that?" I asked her. She just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Right away I knew it was not my fault. I had not done or said anything to cause this insane moment of self mutilation. I decided right there and then that I was not going to pay for her choice, but the scar that was left disgusted me. Now I would have to live the next few months, the next few years with that scar. Reminding me of my heroin addiction and the pain it caused without even meaning to.
We had only just begun our journey but I knew she had to be handled with kid gloves. Her fragile state shocked me. She was the one who was suppose to be strong. I was the heroin addict mess that needed to be nurtured and cared for. I knew right then that my 28 year old issues were too much for her 19 year old head and I wished we had not started this relationship.
Even though she was going to save my life, I felt like I was going to ruin hers. Now she was going to have a souvenir her whole life because of a bad decision, a painful moment and a relationship that was meant to go bad from the beginning. These fragile hearts that we have within our chests break without much help from the world around us. Mischa's scar will always remind me of how fragile we can be.
The End
-----------------------------------------------------------------
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