Boys Who Do Girls Pretending To Be Girls Who Do Boys

You post a car for sale on the internet - nada.
You post yourself...
Love is a valuable thing.

There are boys proposing to be your sugar daddy. "What do you usually shop for?" they ask.
There are boys who have always been curious about getting done in the ass with a strap-on. Could YOU be the girl?
There are boys who propose to you - instead of boyfriend-dom - something discreet.
There are boys 19 to 63.
There are boys with naked upper torsos but no faces.
There are boys with pictures of girls making out with them.
There are boys with sunglasses on in tiny blurry pictures.
There are boys who will shave for you.
There are boys with resumes.
There are boys selling themselves as used cars.
There are boys who think that 9/11 was done by people living in caves in Afghanistan, and if you don't it's a deal breaker.
There are boys who want you to listen to their music.
There are boys who want you to visit their website.
There are boys with links trying to sell you things.
There are boys with successful careers and land.
There are boys telling you how your hair looks best, how you shouldn't cut it too short.
There are boys telling you that you will NEVER find true love.
There are boys saying: 'you probably wouldn't want an old guy like me' who are old enough to be your father.
There are boys who are from Russia and France who want you to teach them English.
There are boys who send you Choose Your Own Adventures.
There are boys who email you over and over.
There are boys who think you're their dark angel.
There are boys who have GREAT sense of humour and nice eyes (they've been told). And who don't like to brag, but they are very good at certain things.
There are boys who think sugar is poison, and that the sugar cookies you bake are deadly.
There are boys who post pictures of cats instead of themselves.
There are boys who tell you they've never done this before. That they feel stupid. That they know they don't stand a chance.
There are boys pretending to be girls.

...Love is a valuable thing.

*

diamonds deserved, diamonds but he
convinced me I was worth less

The Gloves Come Off

The gloves come off
and slowly
fill with the blood of
your lost dreams
when you figure it out.

Your cells curdle
with the nuclear
as it becomes clear,

Who they are
Who makes the wars

Thought Machine

Catch this moment and ride

Hands like delicate, trained spiders
Hovering in ecstasy
Or branches whimsically tapping at the window

Thoughts become real.

Hooked into this machine
That makes feelings matter
And maybe fall
Like Big snowflakes.
Big enough to see patterns.

To Describe

The So Overwhelmed
they are nearly silent
The Walking Dead
The Ones Who Woke Up
from the dream
tired and stunned from years asleep
orphans
hungry
who can only utter words
few at a time
to describe
to describe

Bombshell

What happens
when it all goes quiet?

Deafened by the
screaming fear,
As we decide
what kind of strangers we
want to meet~
people disappear.

As our dreams become
lost written thoughts
Ideas born premature~
Life too real.

We wanted perfect.
Too Good To Be True
like the glamorous fertility
of our televised dreams.
But instead
the perfection is
elusive
like a bombshell lover.

Wild Animals

Wild Animals.

We are all diseased.
Opposite of eased.
So afraid of pain that we are shaking
Like animals

Afraid of our flaws -
They can smell fear.
Get deep inside you and
Take you
To the other side.
Transform you
Into shrivelled nothing
Into thinking you are not
Worth a Breath
Scared and thirsty for blood

The peace
Beyond the blind.
Dull, Blurry In the distance
Beautiful shapes and colours
Sunset-orange basking in a mauve silhouette.
So easy to forget
A grease of stress
Gyrates
Oscillates
Twists
Resists
Are those strangers in my Heaven?

But then The Source
Within
Sprawls on the cougar attacking her child
Though its fangs have sunk to its young skull
Trying to snap necks
To kill

These wild animals out there
Hiding at the bottom of
Every paradise
In the heavenly meadows of your mind.

In strolling through the concrete forest...

...I happened upon a curious smell - wafting out of a small smoke shop on the cusp of the mean East streets was the glorious green tingle of herb... so I went in, and while browsing lightning bolt shaped bong ice cube trays, someone asked:" what's that smell?" The girl behind the counter was happy to explain that it was weed indeed, that there was a place in the back called The Vapour Lounge where you can sit and use their bongs and volcanoes for five bucks - free wireless, pool tables, and drinks and snacks at your fingertips. I know what you're thinking - dope. I didn't have any weed on me because I just got back to the city from L.A. but then I wandered into a back room where a Shaman sat before me with a plethora of plants, herbs, and potions of all sorts - yes people - we are the new New Zealand - legal drugs. Sitting there, the Shaman showed me a book he'd published themed magical marijuana and lit up a joint. This made my day so I bought some Blue Lotus, a happy relaxing flower found in the tombs of ancient Egypt. And as I ventured back out into the quicksand of stern fixed urban eyes, I found also next door to The Vapour Lounge the aptly named New Amsterdam Cafe, another similar delightful haven.

What I Think of Invisible Lines...

And the people who enforce them!

Crossed the 'Peace' Arch border yesterday to go shopping in Seattle for the day, well...okay, to run into a hot border guard I had the pleasure of meeting 2 days prior.

"What was the reason for your trip?" he asked.
"Pleasure..." (bat, bat)

But this time upon crossing the border into the U.S., I was:
- mocked for my choice of profession, lifestyle, and what was in my backpack!
- sent inside to be further questionned on what I was 'doing' today. Because no one goes shopping in Seattle. That's why there are all those outlets off the highway.
- sent inside with a slip for over an hour where no one would answer how long I would be there, signs up that said 'no public restrooms'. I was not even allowed to go to my car to get water.
- had my vehicle searched without me present
- was not even able to say 'fuck it' and turn around - I would have to register for this, apparently.
- and when I got up to demand to know how long I would be there, I got the 'watch her' gesture and was made a spectacle of.
- oh and then had a conversation with the guard that went like this:
"Where's the mall you're going to?"
"Off the 5."
"Where off the 5?"
"Just North of Seattle."
"How do you get there?"
"I turn off the 5."
"How will you know where it is?"
"I'll turn off the 5 when I see it."
(this is the short version)

Guess the first border guard didn't like it when I answered his question of how I paid for my car with: "money".

And THEN, on the way home [no hot border guard by the way : ( ]
- was sent inside again to pay tax on $60 of purchases, then sat for at least 45 minutes
- was grilled several times as to what the point of me going shopping was (!)
- had all my items rifled through and well as my car searched by dogs without me present
- and was reprimanded for not standing in the right spot, although I was the only one in line.

I say legalize EVERYTHING.
We'll figure out our limits eventually.
Take down the walls!

Crimethink baby, Crimethink.
(Thank you, Oshan for my new book.)

I Think, Therefore

I Am

(Descartes)

~but then came our friend Jean-Paul...

'The consciousness that says I am is not the consciousness that thinks.'

(Sartre)

If so we would be the dreamers who didn't know we were dreaming...
Sleepwalking...
And many times we are, but...
What is being awake in the dream?..

An Emerging
Dimension of
Consciousness...

(A New Earth, Tolle)