And I believe again.

I believe that – even for me, there is a love, someone out there, someone who might have a heart as scarred as mine to know the depths of immense sorrow, someone who has traveled far pat that and knows what a Warrior is, someone who knows pain and light.


fuck. I’m not writing this. I’m gloriously terrified. I have had many lovers and a wife, but without question they were meant for someone else. I was meant for someone else. I blessed my wife with my dearest friend, I have blessed my lovers with their absence of me. I still love them all, and as long as they are happy – well, that is all that I need from them. I could not be what they wanted, for thousands of reasons combined. The reasons don’t matter. They are happy. That does.


Then, dancing on the edge of an age that I once called ancient, wanting so desperately to have a reason to go away forever, something happens. A call was answered, and I found her, and she is me, she is everything. We have only known each other in this life for a short while, but – but she fills my heart, and FUCK, I am not writing this!


I am. I need to. Of all that my life has been, through all the death and agony, I never though that I would find her – but, I did. More appropriately, she found me. (I knew that there was some reason I was given the talent to write…)


It is strange – terrifying how her life mirrors mine. It is strange and terrifying that it does. My life hasn’t been one of an angel – I have never hurt except in the eyes of the law, even through all of my addictions, all the drugs…


I only did what I did to erase the pain. I only did what I did to die inside, I needed to.

I held my .38 Colt Cobra snubnose to the roof of my mouth, loaded with the hammer back, my finger on the trigger, a slow pressure. Something made me stop. That was 1999. I wondered if tomorrow could be better. “What if tomorrow is just a little bit better?”


I sold my gun the day after it was in my mouth  – and then, I knew my blades. I still do, but now they are a part of my life, not my death. I don’t want to die anymore, and honestly, it is not because of finding her – it is because of my few friends. Past lovers, new friends that have entered my life only recently – (D, I told you that you are a King – remember who you are…)  and knowing that I have something to give that I am still alive.


We all have something to give, each and every one of us has been blessed with a certain passion that no one else has, or has ever had – a certain talent, an exquisite love that just might be able to change one


life, that is wondering why.


My Holiday present is this, to you – Go out dressed in your most extravagant garb, and smile – sincerely – at everyone who looks at you.


I do this every day – they seem to like my hat – and the most important thing is to smile first – think about the world we live in, what people read in the news, every day. SMILE. Let them know that soon, the Angels will take over the world, or not – but let them give a chance to remember how to smile. So many of us have forgotten.


I smile again – for the first time in far too long, with all of my heart. All of it. It is not my mother that was missing, though I still yearn to look into a face that I com from, have a billion questions answered – but I now know that as much as I want to just simply see her, my birth mother was not the empty piece of my heart.


I don’t do this. I do not pronounce lovers or loves – but this woman, Luna – this person, the Moon that shines on my Sea – she makes believe in so much – and she makes me believe that I won’t be alone again. Ever – and I trust her.


I have very seldom written about new loves, and most of you who read these words knos that most of what I write is the unwanted child of pain – but now, I write about her and what she is to me.


I am uncomfortable doing this. I don’t know how to write my love. I only know how to give it to others.


She is me – though a bit more boisterous. I am quiet – and she ain’t. (Luna, I know that you will read this, and I promised from the start that you can’t expect anything but everything from me – and you better do me the same honor,,,) But – I believe I have found her, found “the one.”


It only took forty years of growth. I am blessed. I know that sometimes it takes much more.


I am not writing this, I am, and I mean every word.


We are all blessed – but fucking hell, be patient. In the meantime, create magick.

Welcome my Luna, the Moon reflecting on my Sea. She is us, as far as she is me. She is me.


at the rainbow's end, beginning

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue,

and those dreams that you dared

to dream

really do come true.



I dared, I still do.

I dreamt, I still do, I need to as I am not me without my dreams.


Dreams really do come true, if you dare to dream them.

You need to trust me on this. You need to believe.


I am broke, I have nothing that this holiday calls to give, so I will give you me and something that I have learned. Nothing less, nothing more.


Believe. That is all, that is not easy.


Look at my life – the life of a lone wanderer, the life of a vagabond in love with everything but finding nothing to match his magick. How long have I screamed for “the one”? From lifetimes past, present, perhaps the future, I have dared, I have given up my life looking for – her.


NO. I have grown, I grow, I have searched and I want to believe that this search is over, I believe. I believe. 


I know.


I know that it has been far too long that my Sea has reflected such depths of love in the Moon, My Luna.


I need you to believe, as all of your dreams will come true.


Look at my life, see me.


Keep dreaming, keep daring, love.

at the rainbow's end, beginning

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue,

and those dreams that you dared

to dream

really do come true.



I dared, I still do.

I dreamt, I still do, I need to as I am not me without my dreams.


Dreams really do come true, if you dare to dream them.

You need to trust me on this. You need to believe.


I am broke, I have nothing that this holiday calls to give, so I will give you me and something that I have learned. Nothing less, nothing more.


Believe. That is all, that is not easy.


Look at my life – the life of a lone wanderer, the life of a vagabond in love with everything but finding nothing to match his magick. How long have I screamed for “the one”? From lifetimes past, present, perhaps the future, I have dared, I have given up my life looking for – her.


NO. I have grown, I grow, I have searched and I want to believe that this search is over, I believe. I believe. 


I know.


I know that it has been far too long that my Sea has reflected such depths of love in the Moon, My Luna.


I need you to believe, as all of your dreams will come true.


Look at my life, see me.


Keep dreaming, keep daring, love.

Becomming again…

Precariously perched on the edge of the backrest of a bench in my strange and beautiful beast, I write these words.

I am back.

A couple months of solitude, a flatline life, wondering why things weren’t happening and dwelling in not having instead of allowing what is possible. I know better, but we all forget – the heart stumbles and is lost, and then, so are we.
Perhaps this is a time needed to become again, as each time it has happened to me new life has been found, and though the stuggle is not small, it gets easier with the knowing, with the awareness. Gots to swim through the emty to find the full, yes? No light without dark, ya know? In many ways I prefer to swim in the dark – in music, in appearance, in all of who I am, because there is something I have learned. Even though life can be so horribly painful at times (and if you aren’t a stupid fucking lovehippy and know this) it is the pain that makes us grow into who we can be. Who we already are, just need to remember.

But I digress.

I’m back – for now. Full of love and passion and a good dose of fuckitall, This is a message from a beautiful woman who I have not yet met, but none the less, filled my heart. Her message, my response, and her again:

Please forgive my brazen approach but your call
> > to arms of circus folk caught my eye and led me
> > to your page. Your images are quite beautiful
> > and have touched a side of me I have long kept
> > fast asleep. They have stirred a long past
> > memory of someone I once was or perhaps someone
> > I am in some parallel universe. Sadly
> > responsibility keeps me from being what I know
> I
> > am (for now) but I’d like to say that having
> > glimpsed that little bit of you that you’ve
> > chosen to share here on tribe, it has given me
> > hope that someday soon I shall wake up and
> again
> > be Me.
> >
> > Your magic is real and while I’m not very good
> > with words my intent in having written you is
> to
> > simply say that you have touched a strangers
> > spirit and reminded them who they are.
> >
> > Thank you and….. love

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

kSea flux wrote:
> There is nothing to forgive – or bettersaid,
> nothing that I have the authority to. Your words
> and the beauty behind them remind me of who I
> am, of why I am here – and for that, I sincerely
> thank you. There are times that darkness falls,
> and I forget, don’t understand, lose that part
> of myself that makes me who I have become.
> Your words have given to me the same gift I gave
> to you, and my heart opens again, believing,
> knowing.
> The challenges to become who I knew who I knew I
> was and am has been difficult and not without
> sorrow, not without immense sacrifice – but I
> have never experienced a joy equal to it.
> It was only a few years ago that I gave up
> everything (with the help – or perhaps a better
> word is insistance) of the Great Ooh Ahh, The
> Great Shoobeedoobee, what we call the Universe
> but is much more than that, there is not a word
> in english that I know how to describe it – but
> hells, it finally made me listen – and in the
> few years that have followed, I have never felt
> such sorrow – or such exquisite joy.
> I have never felt so incredibly alive – and it’s
> about friggin’ time!
> Honestly, I must call you out. Fuck your ”
> Sadly, responsibility”. This is your life,
> YOUR life, and be who you are. Open your eyes,
> release the sould that you obviously know is
> imprisoned in what you think you must do. What
> you think you must do ain’t it, beautiful woman
> – it’s who you are, what you have to offer that
> will make a difference, and a difference needs
> to be made, with the will of a warrior. A
> Warrior of the Light.
> Give yourself to who you are, and everything
> opens. Though without question there will be
> challenges, it is being true to yourself that
> Spirit takes notice, and helps. Magick is
> everywhere – we are saturated with it, we just
> need to remember how to work with it – and from
> looking at your Tribey profile, I’m prety
> certain that you know what I am talking about.
> Becomming who you are is the greatest of
> reponsibilities, and the Great Shammalamma is
> waiting, wanting – to help.
> It’s not an easy road, I will assure you of that
> – but gods, the rewards are more than you could
> ever imagine.
> “And how long have you been
> the language of a story
> that could be true?”
> This quote comes from a small, strange book that
> I found and felt AI needed to buy eith my last
> sniney pennies when I was arond seventeen. There
> have been many times I have forgotten it – but
> now I need to create that story, write the
> language, word by word.
> I implore you to do the same.
> Thank you for what you wrote.
> The evening befor I received your message, I
> looked to my runes for something Ineeded to be
> aware of. I drew only one, as I usualy do, and
> it was Ansuz – the messenger rune, signs,
> signals, gifts, and to be aware of them.
> Your wordsare a gift, a sign. I am a warrior –
> and though i occasionally fall – I need to get
> back up, and be who I am.
> Thank you, and without question, with love…
> ~ kSea

Message     Your kind and loving words have me left me in a puddle of tears. Amazed and grateful am I that you understood what I wrote, welcoming me with your encouragement and sharing your strength by allowing me a glimpse of a world that seems so familiar. Traveling this world as a Warrior is only hard when we forget who we are. When we forget that its merely a game and that we have the tools which enable us to play in it. Sadly we as humans turn the tools into burdens and imprison ourselves by our very use of them. We get so comfortable in using whats familiar that we forget about all the other wonderful gifts we have come in with…… that is until we get reminded of them.

I have been sitting stagnant in this life I’ve made for far too long. Allowing my spirit to become dim, my soul hiding underneath a life I’d chosen in a guise thats called sacrifice. I find it annoying that I sound like a such a martyr (meh! really how obnoxious) thankfully I’m not one to wallow in self pity and I would have done what I’ve done regardless.

What I didn’t do was remember to feed my spirit. Allowing fear holding me back from seeking those like me who could nourish me with inspiration and creativity. I guess I felt I didn’t deserve it…. old programming….. whatever, again meh. At any rate I know what it is to give everything up. Not really give up everything but lose everything by having it all taken away from me. Part of everything includes the person I once was. The trauma that that caused me was in fact a blessing. A blessing simply for the fact it made me birth the person that I am now. It has taken me years to climb out of that darkness but I’m grateful, for that darkness became the womb out of which came Luna. That darkness allowed me to explore the deepest crevices hidden within my psyche, my shadow showing me the magic that I am. Thankfully my spirit was filled with enough light that I didn’t get lost

All that work has made me strong. Stronger than I’ve ever imagined. But like a butterfly stepping out of its cocoon I’ve got these wings that I’m not used to. And they are still wet, still covered with that silk I wrapped myself in and have been struggling to step out of. I know I’ve got to push through that barrier in order to fly because fly I must but the scariest thing for me is that my wings wont work and that I will fall. I’m trying hard to trust in myself …… and trust others by having faith that they are on the same path as I. That I can have the luxury to explore and to find those who would explore with me. That there are others who
would want me around to explore with.

I am learning that one cannot travel this world alone. Thats a new concept for me. I’m sure I must have past lives as a monk in as much as I have enshrouded myself with solitude using “responsibility” as an excuse from participating in my own life. You are right by calling me out and saying I must step out and make a difference. If only for myself. For only then can I be the warrior that I am and make a difference to those that need it.

I can see that I am only now at the beginnings of my story. A story I can make come true so long as I believe it. So long as I can imagine it. But I must continue to wake up and shake those cobwebs out. And I must allow others to participate in this story and color it with their beauty too. An artist cannot create something if they have nothing to create upon. Your words have placed in my heart the beginnings of a new chapter. Its up to me to create the storyboard.

You made me smile when you wrote you pulled the ansuz rune. I have ansuz as part of a binding rune tattoo’d on my back. Its to remind me of who I am. I have always been a messenger. That you pulled that rune not only doesn’t surprise me but it fills me with assurance that I am here to do what I do.

Your words have been a blessing dear kSea. You like me are also a Messenger. An angel guiding one of his own back into the light. With tears in my eyes I thank you, my gratitude knows no bounds. My heart is filled with love and wishes for nothing but the best of everything for you that is in this world. You have truly added enough of your beauty to make a difference in it.

If you are in ever in need and if I can be of service please feel free to come to me and I will be here.

I am forever grateful
in love and without question my blessings

L –

~ ~ ~

I feel a bit uncomfortable putting this down for so many eyes to see, but – no. I am as strong as the tallest mountains, I am a dragon – but I also have a heart that needs. I simply wanted to share my remembered joy and what it has brought with my friends…

When the child was a child…



When The Child was a Child…


These words, this song still echoes in my heart. They always have. There was a time I remembered bits of it, but from the source there was to much beauty to concentrate on all – My mind has forgotten all but these words – Als da Kind Kind war – and it has been these words that carried me, propelled me, driven me. Perhaps this will let me sleep better tonight. I know them all now. I know the entire poem.


I am the child that has escaped from the prison of being an adult, yet I still try to be responsible for my affairs in my way. Like a child, I know that there are some things that are much more important than money or home, such as believing in dreams, magick and beauty.

I am the child who has been fortunate enough to become the adult that was expected of him, lived through lifetimes in this way and had the wisdom, love, and foolishness to come back to a child’s heart. I am the child who danced in the Disneyland Parade with a tutu ant tattoos, I am the child who laid the corpse of my best friend outside of my tent with a full bowl of food and water, making sure, as always, that she was well taken care of.


I am a child, and because of my betrayal to the mundane, need to be a stronger man than most – I am not accepted well. I am, at times, yet I still need to hide, even when no one is searching.. I am a child who laughs alone when he spills things, who still has a heart that is fragile,

who still prefers to suffer in searching for his own paradise, instead of becoming a pawn in someone else’s. I’ve learned too much.


When I was a child, I had won almost all the medals for archery at a camp, I was the best. One day, perhaps I was eight, nine, ten… I pulled back the bow as far as it could reach, aimed up, far, far above the target, just wanting to see how far, how high the arrow would go. I took a breath, held, and released the arrow.


I learned something that day, but I think I only realized it now. It’s not hitting the target that counts – it’s seeing how high we can fly.


Targets are always far too low. Fuck the glory. Be who you already are.

(And yeah – I got in shitloads of trouble, knew I would – well worth it.)


What are any of us searching for, if not the magick of a child’s heart, to find that arrow that is a part of us?


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Lied Vom Kindsein (in English)

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.

~ Peter Handke –



Six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.


For some reason or none, that is when my eyes opened. I love my odd beast, nestled in its belly. as the cars fly past, No one can hear me scream here.

and I do.


Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow – Why, oh why can’t


 I  ?



Seven in the morning, the dawn unfades and I need to crawl under the covers again soon, I pick up the broken glass as full as I could get it with death medicine and drink. I know better, but still, I know the agony of sleeplessness. I don’t have sweet dreams, not these days.


I miss my Bean, my pup. As I remember her, as the salty water rolls down my face, I can’t help but re-live the final times, and perhaps it is absurd, but I crumble every time.


and they can’t hear me scream in here.


Tea, I miss you, because you are one of the very few that know and understand, one of the only.


I don’t believe that I have ever said this, but thank you. Thank you for being such a persistent pain in the ass knocking on my tent wall in The Forest, thank you for so much of everything. Gods, you pissed me off when all I wanted was to be alone,  but I told you that because I could, and now, years later I still mourn, and I will always thank you.


I will always mourn for my girl, and in the dawn I scream again. No one hears.


Eyes blurred with tears , I can’t write anymore. You knew her, didn’t you?  A love monster…



nothing, everything

1:00pm in the afternoon and I wonder where the rain we were promised is. All I see when I look out the windows is sun and blue sky. I’ve had enough of that growing up in San Diego. Still, the air is cold and I prefer it that way. On these rare occasions I miss New York and snow, grabbing onto the back of a car and sliding, skitching to my favorite bar, gloved hands desperately holding to the  bumper, boots always boots sliding across the snow, ice– but that was lifetimes ago. I loved the danger, I always will. At times like these, I miss the snow.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


7:o5pm, back to Falkor II after reading, back after feeding a dear friends pup. back and always wanting. Where is Zen? Is it wrong to want more of me, from me, to feel complete yet still yearn for more? Growth is why I am here – and through these words I become.


I am Goddess, I am god. I am everything and nothing, I am me, one of the few, one …

one who tries to break the set boundaries, one who tries to tear down the walls, my own, built as solid as they could be with far too much loss, loss from the womb, the peace that I never had. I search. I search. Find, lose, find again. I am a Warrior, I am a King, Queen, I am everything and nothing.


Nothing. Passion, Everything.


What is passion? Far beyond love, far beyond reason – in between love and hate is where it lies, in between dark and light. I am nothing less than passion, in between everything that matters. Are love and hate really so different?

I ask myself. I have no answer.

All I know is that it takes far too much energy to hate, and if I would be given a choice, I like to love.

If I could hate you, then I hate a part of me. We are One, the One, Goddess and god, nothing less, never, always. All Ways.




Sitting in the MotorBeast, which I have decided after careful consideration to name Falkor II.


11:00pm, Thursday evening. I sit comfortably on the benches that I left, thanks entirely to friends – Bobzilla, DangerAngel, Indira. Folded warmth underneath for a bit of softness on my 20” plank of a bed until it’s built up, beautiful pillows which match perfectly the way I want this to be, the picture of my Grandma Dot always present, looking at me. I got the gas lamp working, and though it sheds little light, I love the beauty of it too much not to have it on when I am in here, when it is dark. Warms the place up a little to, and acts with the low wattage heater that I bought to keep me comfortable. This is a beautiful home, all alone, all mine to do with what I wish.


Still, so much to do. I need to get it running. I need to find a cheap pair of decent computer speakers, as though I love the clarity the headphones I have give me, I don’t like having my ears covered – and the computer speakers pretty much aren’t worth a damn.

I need to paint the inside, which perhaps I will begin tomorrow. A friend came by a while ago with some flat black but I need some sheen, and recently bought some semi-gloss, just trying to figure out what to paint black and what to leave alone until I find the deep red that I want to accent it. Or – fuck – I think of a room I had which I painted a beautiful deep red with black accents. I’ll figure it out tomorrow, or tonight.

Actually, I just figured out what I will do. Cool. It will be perfect. I’m good at this shit.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


The light rain falls on the Oaks, gathers from leaf to leaf and slides down each, the drops grow, combine like mercury, and in their heaviness fall onto my home, my Beast, My Dragon –  my home. I think when I finally get this thing running it will be the rain that I chase – or maybe put a showerhead hanging over it, as this, this is more beauty than I could ever describe, the symphony of raindrops falling on my roof, a cigarette, some bourbon, some music and some words. This is what I’m doing tonight – I’m celebrating.


Work has been scarce these days, but recently some decent things have come in – a job smaller than I thought, but a good possibility working as a handyman for the man who began the Green Tortoise empire – I call him back on Saturday, and it sounds good.


I watch the raindrops slide down my front windshield, and I need to pause for a moment or a thousand, because I’m busy writing, not appreciating all that is going on around me.

drinking passion

There are times that I question who I am, what I have to offer, the levels of my passion and perhaps how to control them.


I seldom question that, my passion, its size. It’s how I bring lovers close then drive them away, either with too much or too little. Give me an understanding ear and let me believe, I will give you far too much, the fire is always inside of my heart , but what is the fuel that makes it explode? I know exactly but cannot put it into words. Far too few who offer this, the perfect questions that make me remember me, the subtle flesh that awakens my hunger – far too few.

We grow and learn, we learn what we need and I don’t compromise anymore. I travel thousands of miles and meet one that travels hundreds to meet me, we know what we want, we remember the times of ours born of pain, honesty, and desire.


I look for something to give me strength again where I need it, and standing in the shower, did again. I remembered this, a piece written by a dear friend and occasional lover in southern states…


and these, Her words…



“…once more i am caught by you. Talons deep in my weaknesses. you would hold me, and you would have me…

…the world is reduced to one
chaise lounge.

moments are measured in heartbeats between the blows of your thin hands against my flesh. every strike shoots lighting past my teeth, i gasp, sigh, groan… sinking deeper into the vermilion fabric, displacing pillows as i go.

still wanting to argue, on principle, i make small, whiny protests which only serve to remind us that you have won.

your heart rages against the cage of your ribs.

i am stripped down and made into sacrament.

i lick myself from your lips, and let you go on and on and on, well after i have been sated. again and again i buck, telling you “too much!” so sensitive, after climax: your kisses hurt, and yet i don’t make you stop.

an eternity later, you are at my side, face close to mine. i get lost in your green gaze and once more my breath gets sharp, my pulse quickens. you work your fingers inside of me with one hand, and clasp my throat with the other.

i want to tell you to reach in, to split me open. instead i cry out incoherently, unhinged by your touch. my hands fly about, madly.

i could die. and gladly. (i’ve always trusted you….)

i find myself in a place of surreal calm with you. it is deep and dark and warm. spicy sweet, like ginger candy, like cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom. enveloping, it covers me like hot ocean waves, and i just can’t bring myself to be bothered by it…”