The Lie of The Gods

With fire and hell, brimstone breathing sulfur fumes burning eyes she cries out, she cries out, she proclaims as some great cruel force not named love she says:

Artist Ettore DeGrazia's Way of the Cross depicting Jesus bearing the cross

Ettore DeGrazia’s “Way of the Cross”

Thus she spake. Indeed she did. So we go to hell in a handbasket, to hell, to hell without a handle on the basket.

Thus he spake. To hell with you! To hell, to hell, with sinners oh ye mortals mine. I gave you life you little girl I can take it away just fine, and in my time, MY time.

I AM GOD (there are no multitudes).

So they ask, the children, eyes bigger than anime characters, more hollow than Ettore DeGrazia faces of Jesus of Children of Earth: All haunted masks watching the dead dance across the panoramic vista of our lives.

I AM NOT GOD the child realizes, faces the father the mother the ancestral line. She cuts, he bleeds. He starts a fire, she is the burnt child.

I AM NOT GOD the child knows, for god would save god would save

god would SURELY save.

There is a list we call commandments
LOVE AND HONOR god, father, mother
But there is no corollary, no analog no dialog no GOD
if LOVE AND HONOR of the child
is not equal to and perhaps closer

Why continue the cut, the bleed, the fire, the burn?

Gods lie. Honor thy CHILDREN
Honor Honor LOVE Protect ALWAYS
The blessing that you were given
where lies, and gods
do NOT cut do NOT bleed
do NOT catch fire

do not burn.


Used To Be Daughter

Tell her I am dead
So she need not suffer
Stay awake at night
color drawing of Mexican Folk Art
Reading the grief
I can’t help but write

I used to be her daughter
But sickness took its toll
Add time and age
and we all, we all,
we falter

I used to be like her.
There used to be laughter.

Tell her I am dead now.

She no longer need suffer.


Counting Coup: One Year

Today marks one year I’ve been bed-bound with ongoing illness, treatments and lack thereof. After a full year of working my way through the complexities of the U.S. Medical Industrial Complex (it’s even called a complex!) I am finally on what I hope is the right road to a real chance at a cure.

one year ill

It’s going to take another year though, and I’m going to need to look to my peeps for ongoing love and support. That’s a lot to ask, I realize, but trust me when I say without my friends and extended global family, I wouldn’t have lived through this first year. There were points where it was just too easy to give over to pain.

That the year was filled with great global tragedy, the loss of a childhood friend to alcoholism and the absolute agony of watching a dear, dear child pass away and my heart is pretty stomped on. It’s been hell on earth for so many and me being me, that just adds to the depths of my own despair in ways I don’t know how to compartmentalize. So much heartbreak.

I am personally ready to somehow pick up this dead tired head and body and face another six months of hospitals, blood products and the joys of immunotherapy and all the joys that come with it (not). Why? Because I finally got angry, and that’s a good thing as it pushed me into action.

So I’m going to count coup and come up with 10 things that are milestones I want to recognize as I enter the second year of this very challenging life experience.

Counting coup: marking the triumphs

This is an unordered list because while I’m counting, no one triumph takes greater precedence.

  • quit drinking alcohol
  • halved the amount of Prozac I take
  • have become mostly vegetarian
  • can still bend myself in half (yoga)
  • reduced expenditures by splitting living space with my best pal
  • say “fuck” a lot less often
  • I’m learning to draw silly monsters
  • great improvement in close personal relationships
  • I don’t want to die anymore
  • I can actually see a productive future

I have to also add that there is an ever deepening empathy and sense of respect for humanity. Life is really a hell of a thing to happen to a person, isn’t it?

Enough about me . . .

Any triumph I made was due to the vast kindness of others. For this I am ever grateful. More than anything you are helping me heal some deep rips that were in my soul since childhood. You’ve comforted me, supported me, loved me. You haven’t abandoned me, pulled me down, made me feel worthless and unworthy of life. I am a child of humankind and I feel a deep, abiding connection that had been destroyed through child abuse, neglect and my own bad choices. That triumph’s all you. No psychologist or medication did that for me.

Celebrate yourselves on this day – as I am counting coup and celebrating each of you, too.

I love you all.