Archive for the Greatest Sorrow Category

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi…. さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女 (or 780 hugs and kisses)

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Greatest Sorrow, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Poetry, Tsukimono-suji on March 4, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

 

No more I love you’s…?

No more bickering.

No more ultimatums.

No more angry words.

No more expectations.

No more disappointments.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The look in your eyes

betrays what you cannot

bring yourself

to say…

to pull the trigger

and end the suffering

between us,

yet you’ll never respect me

unless I do

what you cannot.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Its one thing to love

yet quite another to be in love.

As deeply as I am wounded,

I thank you for that.

I was born

to write torch songs

and you shall be my

most cherished inspiration.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

That’s why they call it a

CRUSH…

When you meet,

it takes your breath

away,

the same as it does

when it’s over.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxox

Nothing else

makes me feel more alive,

or more aware…

from the first gasp

of anticipation

to the anguish

of

the death rattle

of the horse latitudes

and doldrums

that slowly

led us here.

After all,

what good is all this loneliness

without the angst of solitude?

It awakens

our survival instincts

like the feel

of

Death’s hot breath

upon our necks

and nothing

spawns entropy, decay and oblivion

like the stench

of complacency.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

With nowhere else to go

for either of us,

this prison we have built

of our disillusionment

is

as real as our inability

to walk away.

With no where else to go,

our love

has turned into an ocean

of poisonous disappointment

in which we drown

each day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

I feel compassion for

your anger,

resentments,

and sorrow,

but I can no longer

join you in them.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

When one door closes,

another opens,

which is how it will stay…

I’ll even leave the light on…

if it is meant to be

you will thank me

for that

one day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

No more “I love you’s?”

Hardly…

I will love and keep you

in my heart forever,

but I refuse to always be the first one

to say the words…

It’s just too much

like shouting

down a well.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxo

So kiss me goodbye

as I wish you well;

let’s see how we feel

in a week or two

of our

trial divorce,

Our Banishment.

Just pretend

I’m not here…

someone

that you don’t have to love at all

so you won’t have to resent

that we are both still here.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

We have learned

to treat strangers and pets

with more kindness

than we allow each other

and it is our shared expectations

unfulfilled

that has brought about

this despair in ourselves,

who are the only ones

whom we can blame

now that I

can no longer

bring myself

to sing the songs

that only make me cry….

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No kimi….

さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女

(Goodbye My Beloved White Witch)

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei,

さよなら ぜつぼう せんせい

(Goodbye Master of Despair)

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

09/18/2016

(As you can see by the date, I have re-written this so many times that I’ve lost count, and yet…I seem to be unable to post it, lest the true meaning be misunderstood. It is one thing to write torch songs, and quite another to live one; one thing to understand suffering as a source of inspiration, and another to be addicted to it.)

If we hold our tongues just to keep the peace, what we end up with will not be worth keeping.

Because I believe in Love I believe in you. Because I believe in you, I believe in You and Me.

THFWS & TTM: The Twins

Posted in A Womens Flower, Bardo Thordol, Bereavement, Bigotry, Civil Liberties, Collaboration, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dominance and Submission, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Gravatar, Greatest Sorrow, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Liberation Through Hearing, The Rain Dance, The Talking Monkeys, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Uroboros, Vagina, Vision Quest, Water, Witchcraft, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

The Twins

When Darcy’s water broke, everyone but Darcy, Mark, Anastasia, and the midwife got out of the pool, preferring to lend their support and encouragement from the sidelines.

Episiotomies are the most frequently performed unnecessary operation in the United States (depending upon your opinion on circumcision), followed closely by cesarean section because doctors are simply not willing to take the time necessary to properly prepare a woman to birth children in the way that they have done since the beginning of time.

And because time is money, greed is the prime motivator in those decisions followed closely by laziness, a lack of imagination and an unwillingness to embrace a multi-disciplined, holistic mode of therapy.

It is never easy to deliver twins, and they are considered a “high-risk” case at best, but if there are no other complications, midwives will better prepare a woman to deliver just by virtue of the way in which they facilitate the effacement and dilation of the labia, and vulva, thereby rendering a tear-free delivery…in most cases, which was why the Neonatologist was also present…for all the other complications that could possibly arrive.

Cutting to pre-empt tearing is like amputating a limb to prevent a future break that may never occur. The simple fact that the suturing done to stitch the episiotomy frequently results in painful postpartum sex, sometimes for years seems to escape most doctors, who never feel a thing.

Anastasia had met Kat(rima) while they were studying together in nursing school. They became fast friends during some very fast times, but eventually Kat dropped out to study acupuncture and become a midwife. She had also delivered both of Anastasia’s children under water.

Darcy had watched her youngest sister being born at home on the kitchen table because her mother could not afford health care insurance. She had come from a family of commercial fishermen in tidewater Virginia and most of her early life had been spent learning how to “make do” on next to nothing just to survive.

To suddenly be the primary focus for any needs she or her children could ever want for with money no object was to feel gratefully empowered in ways she had never before known.

It takes a very special kind of woman to pull and stretch the surrounding flesh of the vagina sufficiently to accommodate the delivery of a child. If you have ever been privileged to witness a birth with the assistance of a midwife and compare it to any hospital delivery you’ve ever seen you quickly realize  how nurturing and baby-friendly the former is compared to the industrial atmosphere of a hospital delivery.

Many women may tend to feel uncomfortable touching another woman in such an intimate manner as is done by the midwife, but compared to almost all males, they are generally more nurturant and intimate with each other, perhaps by nature, or perhaps because our culture does not embrace homophobia as tenaciously among females as by the generally fearful, self-conscious, strutting, posturing roosters that the males of our species are so often want to make of themselves, especially in their early youth.

Regardless, some women are also programmed for nurturance from a very early age and Kat was one of them. She loved women as much as she did men and she fearlessly and self-consciously embraced an inborn commitment to caring for anyone who deserved her attentions.

And in all fairness, if an OB/GYN doctor were to perform the same procedures in a hospital setting, they would probably be up on charges before they left the parking lot.

Discretion is the lesbian consigliere of Valor.

Meanwhile, most of the Ancient Ones had arrived. The spirits of Lukumi, Los Guerreros, Roti, The Dark Mother (Kali’s almost accidental namesake), Ganesh, and seemingly countless others either sat perched upon the peak of the roof, on the branches of the surrounding trees, or were joining Darcy, Mark, Anastasia and Kat, the midwife in the water, which is one of the most amazing and provocative ways to experience their presence.

Water that contains the usual minerals and electrolytes found in either municipal systems or well water is an excellent conductor of electro-magnetic energy, especially if it contains amniotic fluids, and a number of  the Ancient Ones liked to playfully caress, poke and prod those who can allow themselves to be open to the sensations they impart as they flash back and forth across the pool like dolphins preparing to tail-walk over the water.

As the contractions came closer and closer together and her dilation increased, the cauldrons began to boil and steam and it was at just about that same time when Boop-Oopa-Doop (aka “Betty”) flew in and landed in a Key Lime tree next to the fires beneath the cauldrons.

“What’s up, Toots?” she asked of no one in particular.

Almost in unison, they waved and replied “Boop-Oopa-Doop!” She was widely known throughout the multi-verse, and generally well-liked by all.

As a fellow embezzler of time and space, She was quite adept in arriving precisely when what appeared to be a portent of something spectacular was just about to happen.

The visions that appeared in the cauldrons were similar to those that had foretold of Darcy’s ordained place within the primary group.

It was the image of Darcy surrounded by thousands of primates doing the Bandaloop Dance at sunset. This time, there was a melody that could be heard by everyone, yet recognized by no one, except the primates outside the Sanctuary, and perhaps Darcy, who also began to hum along with it.

The ArchAngels, who were watching and listening to the images and sounds projected and amplified from the cameras quickly incorporated it into their song cycle while the saxophones began to answer and the rest of the band reinforced the melody with harmonizations and counterpoint of their own.

In the area beneath the screens, the Primates had assembled to perform the Bandaloop Dance in unison with the video feed from the cauldrons. They never seemed to need any coaching; it was as if it was something native to their instincts.

As the singing and dancing reached a crescendo, Darcy delivered the first of the twins, a vigorously healthy screaming female, followed in due time by an equally beautiful and perfect male.

There was no video coverage of the delivery, but everyone who witnessed it poolside fell into silence as they each recognized the uniqueness of the twins.

“Unique” is one of the most frequently misused words of the last fifty years, but in this case it was no hyperbole, because in the entire history of the earth, there have never been two children born who possessed the appearance of these two children.

The female was thankfully much less hirsute than the male and absolutely gorgeous to behold, but there was a decidedly simian appearance to her which was not so much apparent until one saw the two of them together, because the male was undoubtedly the offspring of Frederick, who was himself the only one of his kind.

Aside from a slightly exaggerated supra-orbital ridge, somewhat longer than average arm length compared to their overall length and a little more space between the bottom of the nose and the top of the upper lip they looked very much like any other human infant, except for the feet, which were structurally identical to those of the Chimpanzee. This meant that both of the twins had four opposable thumbs each.

This would prove to be the beta upgrade to human feet for these children, who quickly learned to use them like a second pair of hands whenever their shoes were off, which never happened in public, lest  it give away the identity of their father.

But perhaps most importantly, their spines and pelvis, as well as the alignment of their hips were consistent with bi-pedal ambulation. Also, their foramen magnums were located more anteriorly at the bases of the skulls, consistent with a vertical stance directly above the spine.

Given the genetic diversity of the human animal, their appearance was surprisingly human.

The eventual legal decision as to whether or not they be considered Hominid would be prolonged as much as possible for their protection, but eventually, after they are given the opportunity to establish the authenticity of their genetic structure, as young adults it would become their time to be recognized as who they really were.

Since they were not born in a hospital, although their footprints were recorded and notarized by their attorneys, no publicly accessible documents would be filed unless absolutely necessary.

Because the dearth of research, evidence and testimony of Frederick was so well documented, he alone would best serve as the face, the voice, the words and the ideas of a truly self-aware, sentient being demanding his rights to recognition of his ascension to a higher level than was previously judged as at least adequate by the gatekeepers of the most exclusive country club in the animal kingdom called Humanity.

Once his case was won in court, the twins would have their day of recognition and autonomy without outside interference.

It was uncanny however in the way in which their facial expressions were the visage of Frederick’s. Not something one could quite put their finger on to tell of the identify of the father unless you knew Frederick well enough to recognize the similarities.

Although their skin was quite pale, their hair was jet black, but finer than that of the other great apes. Their features looked beautifully exotic…perhaps slightly Asian, or even African or some allele of the North American aboriginals; refined, yet primal, with very large, dark brown eyes. They were strangely beautiful, and once you began to look at them, it was almost impossible to avert your eyes from their soulful faces.

To a casual observer they appeared to be beautiful normal humans in nearly all aspects, but given the transcendent understanding between the members of the group, it was immediately common knowledge as to the paternity of both of them, though no one spoke directly of it that night, because they already knew that everyone else knew.

The remarkable similarity of the genes and chromosomes between Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Orangutans with human genetic DNA had enabled a union of Frederick’s sperm and two of Darcy’s eggs, despite a long-successful tubal ligation.

Vigorously demanding their evolutionary participation in the replication of their currently unique species, they out swam all the other combined seeds deposited into Darcy’s love canal that evening, just as two eggs had also almost inexplicably made a quantum leap past what was believed to be an impenetrable barrier.

There have been legends and rumors of unions with either male or female human participants and simians throughout the last fifty years or more, but no surviving evidence and great hatred, disgust and violent hostility are often expressed at even the mention of such offspring.

A doctor in Malaysia for instance who allegedly intended to artificially inseminate two female orangutans with human sperm more than forty years ago was murdered, and his laboratory and domestic facilities burned to the ground along with the two female orangutans.

A mere rumor possibly fabricated by poachers that Diane Fossi was copulating with the gorillas whom she was studying likewise may have prompted her murder.

The subject of interspecies erotica is likely to invoke images of Tijuana donkey-shows, women from Amsterdam copulating with huge canines or sheepherders and hillbillies in general. Once the sniggering and fascination over the perceived degradation of the human subjects stops (shortly after the titillation factor wears off), the tendency is to get hautily self-righteous and violent.

As disgusted and revolted as so many claim to be, few can or will avert their eyes once they should witness it.

The book of Leviticus states that if a man shall lay with an animal, that they both shall be killed. It seems unfathomable that the ancient Hebrews believed that somehow the animal was complicit in the commission of the act, but then again, the book of Leviticus is harsh, which may explain why it is such a favorite of Pentecostals and other similarly bloodthirsty and judgmental fundamentalist Christians.

If you stop and think about it, the only true fundamentalist Christians would be the Messianic Jews who were the descendants of either the authors or scribes of the early new testament and the Dead Sea scrolls.

Ironically, it should be noted that some of the most dangerous fundamentalists would be the modern-day ultra right-wing sex-and-pleasure-hating American fundamentalist Christians, who generally want no part whatsoever of Judaism (including the Old Testament) unless it justify self-serving, vindictive, self-righteous wrath, punishment and judgmental retribution. (Muslim Jihadists notwithstanding…keeping in mind that it was the authors of the Crusades who have also sown those seeds.)

The twins were the first scientifically verifiable prototype of this union, and no one intended to make the results known to the general public for the sake of the safety of all parties concerned.

As you may recall, during The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, after Man first diverged from his primal ancestors, the offspring showed a remarkable increase in each successive generation in intellectual capacity due to the doubling of the SRGAP2  gene despite an eventually lowered total brain mass compared to the earlier, larger Neanderthal . Similarly, these children would later prove to be far more advanced than any primate…even Frederick, had ever been.

In the light of the previous events of the day, everyone in attendance was openly grateful for the revelation of the paternity of the children.

No one had suspected, least of all Darcy that it was even within the range of possibility that she was capable of conception in the first place, let alone by way of the world’s one and only Bonanzee.

Everyone in attendance openly displayed tears of joy as Anastasia and Mark helped hold the twins to Darcy’s breasts. She was absolutely radiant, looking for all the world like the proudest mother of all time…the way every mother should.

It was about this time that the visions from  the cauldrons began to change. A face began to appear that looked as if it was painted in smoke. Although initially vague and indistinct, it eventually took on the appearance of Frederick’s face.

Although the synchronization between the lips and the voice that everyone heard was delayed, nonetheless everyone who witnessed it clearly perceived the sound of Frederick’s voice in their heads as clearly as if he was personally whispering the words directly into their ears.

It was later confirmed that whether or not they had taken The Knowledge everyone who heard them verified the words that Frederick imparted to them.

First he repeated his last words spoken to the world at the time of his death. The recordings that were made of the camera feeds showed the video, but no audio was recorded. Fortunately, for posterity he also signed his message as he had before.

To it, he added a final remark. “For those who wished me harm, you have not seen the last of me. I was not born to be so easily dispatched. For those of you who knew and loved me, you too have not seen the last of me, because there is so much more to unfold as our work progresses.”

“Just as Man received a hand-up fifty-thousand years ago, it is now time for Man to lend his hand to his simian cousins to allow the natural evolutionary process to begin again. Who amongst you would deny us that opportunity?”

“Since the time when Man first traded Instinct and Intuition for Reason, he has suffered for it on so many levels that the members of our inner circle have now only really begun to realize.”

“The ancestors of Man can provide him your connection to our mutual primal past, including telepathy…if you can just learn to stop talking and relying on words to express yourselves. You have as much to gain as we do in the symbiosis of our union.”

“Our children will become the beta-version of Mankind. It is time to embrace our next evolutionary quantum leap.”

“Keep me in your hearts so that my spirit may abide there with you all as you raise our children together.”

This was clearly an event that had shocked and surprised a group who had become accustomed to the bizarre and unbelievable in a world where the impossible had become commonplace.

Most religiously oriented persons of any faith would have considered the entire event an abomination, or the work of the Devil, were they to learn of it, but in the hearts and minds of the inner circle of The Home for Wayward Souls, it was a well-received serendipity.

And so it was, that this group who did not believe in a disapproving, punitive, vindictive and jealous God the Creator (either Aravat or Eloah, Elah or Eolith in Hebrew) nonetheless learned to embrace a union with what has been referred to as the Guf, or Treasury of Souls without conflict or contradiction, and who believed in the persistence of the Soul

And it was good…very, VERY GOOD…like, well…(you know the rest)…..

Namaste

THFWS & TTM: Before the Phoenix Rises Again…

Posted in Bardo Thordol, Collaboration, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Demonization, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, Greatest Sorrow, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Self-Defense, Sentience, Sex, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Liberation Through Hearing, The Talking Monkeys, The Tyranny of Evil Men, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Uncategorized, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Uroboros, Violence, Vision Quest, Witchcraft with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Before the Phoenix Rises Again…

Stan noticed the man’s eyes before he even recognized that they belonged to Sebastian G. Lodge. What caught his attention was the absolute malevolence that betrayed his intentions long before Stan even saw the gun.

If you are trying to provide personal protective services in a large crowd, it is easy to get lost in a sea of details of the entire crowd. It is much quicker to scan the crowd for the eyes that will tell you their motive from across a room…or a plaza.

If the eyes don’t look right, suspect a motive, then look around for the details that indicate the owner has a plan and the means to constitute a clear and present danger or a threat.

It is easy to spot murderous rage or malice, but Stan also knew how to spot the cold, calculating eyes of a professional sizing up all the other details surrounding your protected charge. Although they too are conspicuous to just the right eyes, Lodge’s eyes literally telegraphed his emotions.

Stan was already reacting instinctively in a very long series of reflex arcs that had been initiated by plan, by practice, and by execution more than enough times to ensure that they occurred without conscious thought or mental action…the Tao of the Gun.

Before he recognized Lodge he had already thrown his body into the path of his adversary…Instinctively, and without hesitation as he drew his weapon a very few milliseconds before Lodge produced his.

He did not have to wait to act…anticipation is the first step in establishing and maintaining control before it can ever be lost.

Lodge’s eyes were like two hard-boiled eggs floating in a bowl of beets…his face was contorted with twisted rage and unfocused pain. He looked like he had been drinking and crying all night, and snot dripped from his nose into his gaping, drooling mouth while he seemed to gasp for air as he began firing at the center of the group.

Four rounds struck Stan as he leaped, still hanging in mid-air; three in his chest, striking his body-armour, as one grazed the outside margin of his right thigh, throwing a small puff of blood, skin and material from his pants into the air as it ripped through everything that stood before it.

It seemed like the whole event was in extreme slow-motion as Stan heard the report of the shots, the whiz of the bullets, the thump they produced on his chest, the sight of Lodge’s semi-automatic pistol recoiling and Ka-Chunking another round into the chamber as empty brass flew into the air, raining down on the courthouse steps with the tinkling ring of death reverberating and splashing around them, although most people only heard the shots themselves.

Stan watched as he saw Lodge’s chest explode before the sight profile of his pistol as he triple-tapped the cardiac silhouette. He did not execute the customary head shot because it was too close quarters to shoot anything but center of mass for fear of striking a non-combatant. He did not have to think about it. That was just the way it was…Instinct…Reflex arc…before thinking.

In crisis, you revert to your most basic level of training.

A head shot through the tip of the nose as far down as the bottoms of the lower row of teeth, or through the ears or just below the base of the occipital region above the spine would have produced a flaccid paralysis kill rendering Lodge unable to even pull the trigger of his weapon.

Stanley knew how to do it…like in Genesis, where “Zofran Knew Sarah, or Rachel, or Hanna…(or better still, all three) and it was Good….” Biblical knowledge involves the most intimate of familiarity…not just how to….but in fact to do, as well as when not to…when there is zero margin for collateral damage.

That’s the disadvantage one faces when they are forced to be fighting on the side of Good…Lodge was not so constrained….did not have to worry about the outcome of his actions, like stray bullets for instance.

Just the same, Stan did the best anyone could have hoped to do in the situation. Stan was the very best of those who did what he did…He was almost perfect….

Lodge was dead before he hit the ground. You could have told so by the sound if you knew what to listen for…like hearing a sack of meat hit the sidewalk from six feet up. Half splat, half thud and no rebound whatsoever.

It wasn’t until he heard Darcy’s scream that he knew for sure that almost wasn’t quite good enough…as he realized that Lodge had fired five times…or how that one fifth round, fired as Lodge was dying, already headed for the ground had ricocheted  off a stone step and struck Frederick in the chest.

As the news cameras captured it, Frederick signed “Carry me in your heart” to Darcy, who was holding his head and shoulders on her legs and next to her swollen belly.

Then all of the members of the group heard Frederick’s best, most sonorous voice in their minds as he told them “It’s still a good day to be me…I have done, and seen and thought things no mere Ape could imagine…I love you all… please protect our children…they are the sons and daughters of Man, the same way Man was the Son of God…their fate lies in your hands and hearts…Remember me to them…and remember to talk to them in our special way.”

He also simultaneously visually signed the thoughts he sent to the members of the group for the benefit of all those who would witness it…either now or later…courtesy of those who would capture that moment forever on cameras…his last living communications with the world.

Thoughts and words that would be subject to much debate as to their meaning for a long time….

As Ash and Merle rushed the other members of the group into the limousine, Stan cradled the body of Frederick in his arms and carried him to the shelter of the vehicle as Frederick took his last breaths.

When Rescue showed up, they pronounced Lodge dead, and tried to bandage Stan’s wound, which Anastasia had temporarily dressed with Stan’s (unused) handkerchief and his tie, but the paramedics apologized that they could not risk “contamination” of their equipment by Frederick’s blood or bodily fluids.

The police were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, taking statements, setting up a perimeter and marking it with “Police Line. Do Not Cross” tape, photographing everything in and out of sight, marking angles of trajectory, cataloging and bagging spent shell casings, drawing two chalk lines, and documenting and sampling every drop of blood that anyone could find, yet somehow seeming to take forever, while fighting and posturing over rank, jurisdiction, procedures, protocols, and press releases, as well as the relative length of every other cop’s penis within a five-mile radius.

Eventually, everyone got back home to the Sanctuary. The police were remarkably blasé about releasing Frederick’s body to them almost immediately.

The group was grateful for that, but it hurt to hear the officer in charge declare “…it would be different if he were a human….”.

A trauma surgeon was summoned to the Sanctuary to attend to Stan’s wound.

Had he been a police officer, he would have been on administrative suspension with pay pending an investigation, but he was not so constrained.

There was no DA willing to charge him until proven otherwise, like a regular citizen could anticipate, but he was no hero either. He had been assigned to protect Frederick who was now dead, and although he undoubtedly saved the lives of the others, there are no consolation prizes for heroism.

Management had no further interests in the case. Frederick was dead and he, as well as the other Primates were now the property of The Home for Wayward Souls as far as they were concerned.

Lodge would have represented the last loose end in the whole equation, had he not conveniently self-destructed the way he did. Management immediately began to begin the process of demonizing Lodge to the public to give them sufficient distancing from his actions.

Management had also suspected that Stan was “compromised” for some time now, but in the scheme of things, his continued discretion was considered guaranteed in a way that would serve their purposes.

The continued safety of the members of The Home for Wayward Souls was in Management’s best interests…at least for an appropriate length of time for the public to forget them and turn their attention back to the regularly scheduled programming of current events designed to promote the economy and the public’s best interest of neurotic consumption.

An additional midwife was waiting for them, but Anastasia took charge of her emotions and focused on Darcy’s care in much less time than anyone…even Anastasia…would have thought possible.

If you are a nurse, that is how you cope. You focus on the lives that need to be saved…and the lives of the yet unborn…postpone the grieving for the dead…its called Triage…you learn about it in school, but when you are forced to do it in real life, you (later) realize how it protected you, no matter how hard it is later to reconcile your grief, for that moment you are protected by the actions you take.

Make no mistake…every time you let one of your patients into your personal space, if you let yourself be touched by their humanity… what you don’t know at the time is that whether you save their life, or not…if you protect and sustain them until they can be turned over to a higher level of care, you will carry those emotions felt and witnessed by you within you forever…or until they get replaced…pushed out…by something worse, or better…as the well begins to overflow….

Darcy was not in labor yet, the fetuses were not in distress…at least not now…but she knew, and Darcy sensed, that to not prepare for the inevitable would be to invite disaster.

Ash called a friend of his who was a Neonatologist at Miami Children’s Hospital. They had been undergraduates at Gainesville together and he played the baritone sax exquisitely. He was to be there…“just in case….”.

They were as ready as they could be, given the circumstances.

And then, when they least expected it, the grief…the realization…the internalization of it all struck them almost simultaneously.

Ash was trying in vain to find a Mortician to prepare the body, when someone suggested a cremation, which was then envisioned as a funeral pyre about the time that Darcy began to weep, then sob uncontrollably.

The grief swept over them like a giant wave as they began to hold, hug, and kiss each other as they surrounded Darcy. In moments like that, grief so shared boils quickly to the surface much more strongly than most people could possibly experience alone, and yet in so sharing they become galvanized by it.

The chimps and bonobos had been in the public area outside the Sanctuary and were celebrating and dancing as the verdict was announced. They also witnessed the news footage of Frederick’s assassination shortly afterward.

Malkira and Lilith were at the rectory awaiting the arrival of the limousine, and been shown their son’s body and allowed to sit with him to grieve. The other chimps and bonobos stood vigil outside.

When she calmed herself a bit, Darcy asked Merle to please administer her a proper dosage of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Merle agreed that the ability of any of the known effects of the drug to affect any harm to the neonates or to her was extremely unlikely, but he nonetheless felt compelled to ask her if she felt she was mentally prepared for the effects of the drug.

“I have nothing to fear…I intend to embrace all knowledge and experience as it comes to me from this moment on…and I invite everyone else to join me poolside, because I have the distinct premonition that I will be delivering my babies very soon…and since we are all family…I think everyone should experience the event according to their own level of comfort, and that we should all experience it together….”

“Count in on us…me…and Charlie…” (no one ever calls him that but her, btw…) “…right Honey-Cock? As one life (is) ushered out, new life enters…no?” Suki was usually the first to volunteer, or for that matter, the first to get naked whenever the opportunity presented itself.

That was one of her most endearing and charming features…that, and her ability to seem like she was on a trampoline while everyone else was on solid ground all around her.

With that, Ash, Kali and Mark nodded in agreement and approached Merle to accept the Sacrament as well.

Five minutes later, they were all naked in the pool with Darcy, who was sitting on the steps holding the rail with her left arm, bracketed by Anastasia and the midwife on either side.

Much earlier, it had been decided that Darcy would birth her children in the water and for weeks now, the solar heaters had kept the temperature at just below 100 degrees, so as to mimic body temperature. Anastasia had delivered two of her own “water-babies” years before who were now grown, and she recommended it highly.

Kali and Suki set up cauldrons for the scurrying. They were certain the The Ancient Ones would be there for the birthing.

Sobee and Sharma were scampering around in the bushes and flower beds beside the front doors, playfully anticipating if they should have to transform into sentinels, ever on the alert, but playfully good-natured about it all. They could go from chameleon to iguana to dragon in the blink of an eye, and back again just as fast.

Charles called them the “Quantum Lizards”…explaining how if they could transform in “Planck Time”, (basically faster than anyone could measure it…something like 1 sec to the negative forty-third power), then they could do as they pleased, and if they did it in a closed universe, they could expand the interval of Quantum Probability far beyond that.

And even in an open universe, if they could transform back and forth that quickly, the persistence of vision would make them appear to be solid and permanent in whatever form they chose.

“Form is Form, Emptiness is Emptiness…

Form is Emptiness, Emptiness is Form…

No Form, no Emptiness…

An elephant rides a mouse that dances to the song of a guitar with no strings…

Form is Form, Emptiness is Emptiness.”

They were the “Great Embezzlers of Time and Space” as it turns out, and just liked to hang out at the Sanctuary whenever there was something interesting happening and very special doormen were needed.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was full and the sky was absolutely clear.

The ArchAngels were playing a four-hour song cycle they had written several months before in anticipation of the arrival of the twins.

Charles had Lothar set up multiple video cameras to capture whatever appeared in, from or around the cauldrons so as to project it onto the screen that flew above the gardens outside the Sanctuary.

Raul, the talking Cuban Tree Frog was there as well, narrating and reporting for the Intergalactic Geographic Channel in his customarily hushed golf tournament narrative voice-over.

It was a strange and beautiful night. One in which the despair and tragedy of Frederick’s death was nearly eclipsed by the ushering in of new life; where great victories were marred by great personal loss.

Twin souls were standing in the wings, waiting to make their appearance on the stage of Life. It was already guaranteed that they would be loved and cared for in ways for which few children could ever hope or dream.

Not all children await such an auspicious entry into Life, but for those who do, it does not matter if they are destined to become luminary figures the world will long remember, or just another lost soul who found a good place to land for a while.

Jesus was born in a manger. Lincoln was born in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere, right now, a Buddha is being born, although no one knows it yet. No one ever knows what will be the fate of children at the time of their birth. It is enough just for them to be born.

The news of the day heard around the world would be of Frederick’s murder, with an anecdotal reference to the birth of the children in the Sanctuary, but for the members of this church of common mind and heart, it would forever remain a day of bittersweet contrast of the best and worst aspects of what it is to be alive.

This was to be a very special and wondrous night.

What have You Done with My Goddess?

Posted in adversity, Appreciation, Dancing in Dreamland, Goddess, Greatest Sorrow, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Keep Coming Back, Liason, Love, NSFW, Poetry, Torch Song with tags , , on July 14, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

*****

What have You Done with My Goddess?

Dull eyes staring back at me
Misplaced anger
and my own misdirected self-pity…
Who was hiding
in this shell,
this empty house?
…this tired, bitter imposter?
I pray she can forgive me
for not recognizing
the face of my own widow.
A Goddess mourning
the passing of her own Hero,
forever plagued by the ghost of
Yesterday’s Greatest Love.

A minion of years….

Yesterday’s Bitter Ashes,

The sweet honey of Love and Passion

and the mixed emotions

of realized dreams,

great hopes

and

Devastating Regrets.
*****

Come with me.

Take my hand again in Love and Faith.

Remember what was…

never forget….

Let yourself feel the anguish

and acknowledge what we have lost.

Let it inspire us again.

To live each day

as the resurrected idols

of each other’s Idols.

Rekindle the fires…

Breathe life back into each other.

Reanimate The Dream.

*****

Yesterday we found and lost each other,

as well as ourselves….

I remember the joy we felt

the first time I gazed into your eyes

and chose to ignore the foreboding…

knowing my life

would never be the same.

Knowing that our destiny could not be ignored,

Hoping it was all a dream

from which we never would awake.

*****
We are old souls that have lost our way,

our selves,

and each other.

Rediscover today, My Goddess.

Your Hero awaits his Idol.

Take my hand and walk with me

together into tomorrow

and…

Never Forget

Yesterday.

*****

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

You are my goddess yesterday,

today and tomorrow.

Alone, I hear my own heartbeat.

Can you?

It is the knocking

that I pray that you hear

at the door to your soul,

begging to come back inside…

forever wanting to come inside….

Miami’s yesterdays

wash away

my daily preoccupations

like a summer monsoon,

laying bare

the memories

of years gone by.

Sweet memories of what was

and bitter tears of regret

for a million missed opportunities

to have lived better todays back then.

A hurricane of emotions

blowing away the doldrums of horse latitudes of inertia.

Too many todays taken for granted…

Too many yesterdays

of apathy,

complacency

and boredom,

borne of mind-numbing fatigue

spawned from forgotten exhilaration…

that each of the first days

that seemed like they would never end.

Anticipating every day,

just to wake up next to my Goddess

with the realization that our love

was not a dream;

that my Goddess was real,

and she was mine and I was hers.

God and Goddess were alive

and magic was afoot.

T
o
o

M
a
n
y

L
o
s
t

Y
e
a
r
s
.
.
.
.
¿?

This poem was written long ago, before Suki and I rediscovered each
other.
I found this poem after believing it to be forever lost. I should have known better…it was written almost a decade ago in the midst of a reawakening I was experiencing while quartered with my flight crew in Miami Shores at the Marriot Courtyards.
We had been grounded for the last five days first for maintenance, then for weather, when I had this epiphany and it wrecked me completely.
IT was written for Suki. It took a long time for her to take it to heart, but she kept it just the same. There came a time when she experienced a sort of spiritual death and this made her gasp her first new breaths.
Shortly afterward I started writing what was to become Dancing in Dreamland. It took me eight years to write it and another year before she would read the first words of the completed manuscript, and about five days to stop crying after she did.
We have both been breathing a lot better ever since.
It is a call to arms to resuscitate a lost lover in order to resuscitate a lost love.
XO,
Chazz

Charles and Suki Get it all Back

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Cumming Back, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Greatest Sorrow, Imp Of The Perverse, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , on December 22, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

THFWS: Charles and Suki get it All Back

And so it came to pass that a very young telemarketer also in the employ of PharmaCorp. was re-assigned to a seat facing Charles at a time when it would be difficult to imagine him being less susceptible to feminine guiles at all, and yet, there she was. She worked in the cubicle that faced Charles’, and might have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been so damn tall.

Even as Charles slouched into his office chair, he could still see her face peering around her monitor screen. He had never noticed her before, even though she had been with the company for over a year.

She was only about thirty-something, which those days seemed more like the new nineteen. She was very slender, petite and graceful in appearance, and much too pretty…it just hurt too much to even dream anymore…at least those days.

…But she wasn’t conceited, or full of herself, which still was not nearly as remarkable as was her sense of humor. She wasn’t just hilarious…she also found Charles to be the wittiest, and most clever rascal on the planet. Admittedly, Charles’ guard was down when humor, culture, intellect, or literature was involved. It never occurred to him initially, that there was any other kind of connection between them.

He just felt better when she was around.

Charles had long since given up on the idea of even imagining having sex with anyone who would consider fucking him. As a vital, virile male, he was already dead, but in serious denial of the fact, despite disturbing suspicions.

Then, she dropped the hankie, just to see if Charles would pick it up. She hinted at how there was something missing in her life without coming out and saying so…she let Charles figure that out on his own. She loved his million-dollar words and his generally chivalrous, but licentious nature.

She was very clever, although quite accustomed to being pursued by “the dirty boys”, but wasn’t used to being seduced with words, or gestures.

That’s one thing upon which Southern women with a high degree of native intelligence who were not born of privilege could rely…that they will feel unappreciated, underestimated and indentured to a life that had not been of their own choosing from the beginning and was already winding down into wistful resignation without ever knowing the feeling of being swept away by a tide of passion and infatuation by a worldly man of letters, of experience, and danger, who will speak to them with deference and respect, who will ask them their opinions and make them feel important and worth paying attention to for something other than sex and other household labor.

To Jennifer, Charles was the most dangerously intelligent and sophisticated man she had ever met, and he didn’t seem preoccupied by her looks or her figure, but rather focused his attentions on her mind and her feelings.

Charles had been celibate for so long that the only time it hurt at all was when he was reminded of it.

Jennifer made him feel interesting and attractive, and somehow desirable, but what was really captivating was how badly they both needed validation from their spouse’s, and how provocative it was to experience it from someone else.

She was not very sophisticated, and would have made a lousy poker-player, because her emotions would have betrayed her every time. Where Charles was very deferential and showed her kindness and respect, she wore her heart on her sleeve from the moment she arrived at work until they left. They made a very peculiar looking couple. She was tall, pretty, young and physically fit, and he was short, a bit overweight, and although he looked about fifteen years younger than he actually was, it was definitely a May-December work-spouse romance.

And although Charles had some concerns for what might have been regarded as impropriety, he quickly noticed that although most everyone in the building was aware of their infatuation, the effect was that he was treated with more respect than ever before by not only his co-workers, but his supervisors as well…and for good reason…once again, his sales figures were skyrocketing.

Telemarketers are a very superstitious lot, and for relatively good reason, because just like fishing, some days you are lucky, and other days you suck. Also, because of a practice called skill setting that is used in all computer-controlled dialers, there are any number of ways to stack the deck in favor of some, to the detriment of others.

Many extol the power of positive thinking, which can yield significant results, as long as you are not on the rolls of the Doomed, which is where about eighty percent of the sales staff is stuck at any given moment, but there is another intrinsic factor that for lack of a better term could be called Mojo.

In the fifties, white people called it Moxy because well…they were white, and they couldn’t entertain the idea of anything “too ethnic”, but where luck leaves off, a charmed existence is just getting warmed up. When you are too cool to even need to swagger, because you have nothing to prove, and everyone wants to be your friend, nothing can stop you. You are Majik.

Nothing threatens you, and you possess a generosity of spirit that encircles you in its protection. When you possess it, you may not even think about it, and unselfconsciousness may well be one of its earmarks, but when it is gone, it will be conspicuous in its absence, and you will seriously consider selling your soul to get it back.

Most call centers are hotbeds of infidelity, and one more torrid affair could go unnoticed in a place like PharmaCorp, but there was something almost innocent and touching about Charles and Jenny that just seemed to make people smile when they were seen together.

Charles used to “dress for success” when he first came to work, and was often mistaken for upper management by people who did not know him, but over the last eight years, he became increasingly disinterested in appearances, and referred to himself as “a walking clothesline” and eschewed any pretense of any kind as regards his wardrobe, and dressed more like a “parrot-head”, an expression for residents of the Florida Keys (also called “Conchs” by the residents themselves).

He replaced his traditional suit and tie with his own version of the three-piece, meaning a floral print shirt open in front, worn like a jacket over a tee shirt, and jeans or shorts, sneakers and sunglasses.

He drove a Toyota four-wheel-drive pickup truck that was over twenty-five years old, and had been extensively modified and upgraded. It was tall and loud, and very aggressive looking. It was covered with every imaginable amateur radio antenna you could imagine… (and yes, he could, and had talked with the space station on more than one occasion).

As colorful a character as he presented, his boyish charm and his big beautiful Willy could have gotten him an audience with anybody but the Pope, despite his frequently impoverished state through most of his life. It clearly gave him pleasure and energized him just to see how far outside his class he could get in either direction.

He was an almost iconic manifestation of those of his generation who were raised and sent to colleges and universities by working-class middle-class parents who could barely afford to send them in the first place who truly believed that once you got a degree, every manner of success could be yours if you were only willing to work hard enough.

He was also one of many who proved the paradigm wrong, although he also frequently learned how to live outside all class structure by his wits and creativity at the most unpredictable moments.

As a result, when he felt mojo flowing toward and through him, he instinctively would go with the flow.

Suki, on the other hand, could and frequently did have any man she desired whenever she wanted, but had never been in love before, except with Charles.

She was uninitiated to the intoxication of The Crush of Infatuation, except with Charles. She was more uncomfortable than she would admit when Charles first told her about his attraction for Jenny, but once she intercepted a text message that asked “Have I told you that I love you today?” She went into a high-speed tailspin.

Sex is one thing, but Love…Polyamory? That was not only out of the question…it was not even a question in the first place. ”How the fuck did this word suddenly spring out of nowhere without any warning? I never even heard anybody use it in a sentence before….”

She crashed and burned. She wept for days on end. She was inconsolable, and unreasonable. She read omens and meditated.

She felt defeated, despondent, and hopeless despite the fact that more than a year before, she had referred to her relationship with Charles as “Hopeless…it(’s just) gone, (and) that(’s) all there is (to it).”

Nothing is more seductive than forbidden or seemingly unattainable treasure. She became determined to discover how to regain Charles’ infatuation. She decided to learn how to get back something she thought she didn’t want until she realized how much somebody else wanted it.

She decided she wanted to learn to surf The Crush with Charles.

Sometimes, the ways of Majik and Power seem inscrutable, and the paths all obscured or blocked unless you learn to see what has previously been occult; before you learn to see with eyes that were as if they had been closed all your life before that moment.

Suki just needed a little outside intervention that happened to come when she least expected it, doing something she would have thought to be unrelated, that despite all her efforts to the contrary had paid her admission to yet another stage of enlightenment that she did not know she was seeking.

Which was a very good thing because none of us have all the time, monkeys and typewriters we would need without a little random, chaotic good luck and Majik Kharma.

Pandora’s Box

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Conjured Up Next, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotic Poetry, Fun, Greatest Sorrow, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Torch Song, What You Have Conjured Up with tags , , , , , , , on July 24, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

Pandora’s Box

We were children when first we opened Pandora’s Box,

Precocious, Curious, Unselfconscious,

and Unsuspecting.

We had already learned

How to fashion

make-believe armor

from Sarcasm and Cynicism

to cover hearts

Too tender

for their own

Good.

I remember the morning you stood outside my window

asking if I could come out and play.

The sunshine lit your smiling face like

Heaven,

and I had a new friend who made me laugh

and long for adventures yet undiscovered.

We found Pandora’s Box down in the basement

One rainy day in January,

but we took it up to the attic

to try to find a way to pry open the lid.

The instant we started

the most amazing, blinding light came pouring out

Like a nuclear blast

Bathing us in cool fire.

We were so excited

and couldn’t wait to discover more.

As we threw open the lid

the room was filled with Angels and Wizards,

Majic and Mischief, Dragons and Drama.

and the Music was from another world,

familiar, but unrecognizable

It mesmerized us both

 until we were hypnotized

in a trace from which we thought there was

no escape

because we sought none,

and Bedknobs and Broomsticks

would never seem the same to us.

When we opened Pandora’s Box

we created such a ruckus

that we were banned from both the basement and the attic

But once that majic had been let out

there was no way to get it all back in.

It just refused to go.

Something there is that does not wish it so

To be confined or limited

or be told NO.

But as much as I miss the box,

I miss our friendship more.

This is More

Posted in Acknowledgement, Greatest Sorrow, Love, Torch Song on July 11, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

I would miss a cool ocean breeze on my face,

or the warmth of the sun.

I would miss tequila

or the sweet smell of Kush.

I would miss oysters,

Naked, Wet, and glistening,

awaiting My Desire.

I would miss those high-speed

runs along the beach

Going much too fast,

with the top down at night.

I would miss Romance confounding

All Reason,

Or Love Seducing Logic.

I would miss the moon,

or the feel of the night air in Summer.

But This is More.

My heart aches for you.

And nothing else

can make it better.

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