repost: ICAR (Institute for Conflict Analysis & Resolution) US

[This is a poem written for me by a lover]

ICAR (Institute for Conflict Analysis & Resolution) US
by Someone

with my hands
i can trace lovingly
the flowing
ink carved in
curved across
your beautiful back
bones all day

with my hands
i can photograph
and fashion
feathered serpent wings
sprouting
from your shoulder
blades

with my hands
shall i tell you how
to fly?
how high? too
close to
the sun and you
may fall
deep
into the sea

with my hands
can i mend sun
burnt waxy
waterlogged wings?

with my hands
i can't clip
your wings

Poem: In Mourning

In Mourning,
though natural,
heaviness of heart and
harder to breathe and
nothing seems funny at all.

Embarrassing why-asking,
probing around and around
with the tongue
to the nerve
of the decaying tooth:
Ouch
and do it again and:
Ouch
and do it again and:
Ouch
and one more time and:
Ouch!
And stop.

In Mourning,
stop probing,
the tooth that is far gone.
For Faith is still Faith
and Love is still Love.
My days still go on,
even without her bliss.
I did it before,
long before I met Miss.
And Miss will still be there,
I'll see her again.

So why am I feeling
that Mourning begins?

Poem: She-Addict

She cares for the drug
more than she cares for me;
Of course,
that's the definition of addiction.
I cannot say "NO" to her
and she uses my sympathy,
my empathy,
my love,
to manipulate me.
My feelings be damned,
as long as she gets
what she craves.

She lies to me,
hides things from me,
and when I catch her,
she cries and yells at me,
as if it were my fault;
Her behavior.

Going out of my way to help her,
I'm rewarded with abuse.
The more I give,
the more she wants.
We are both spoiled children,
though I try much harder.

Leaving her house
to be homeless again.
Left to the streets
feeling emptier
and more miserable
than when I came.

She does not deserve me, now,
and I deserve much better.

I love her.
I don't think she knows
what that means.

Mother-Moon,
I tire of her games,
I tire of her "take, take, take."
My life is hard enough
without her
making it worse.

The worst of all is that
She is now Me,
and I am now Ruby.
Seeing how I treated her
in days now too far gone.
Wondering if this is my Karma.

"You do not get to choose your Karma,"
Mother-Moon reminds me.

I wish she'd given my
8 pills back.
I wish she'd said,
"I love you more than that."

She did not.

Picking pills,
she sent me out the door without Love.
Back to my life:
Alone.

Prayer: The Serendipity Prayer

Gods grant me the Serendipity

to change the things I cannot have,

the Courage to have the things I do,

and the Wisdom to appreciate their differences.

List: The 12 Steps of Egotists Anonymous (EA)

1. We admitted we were powerless over the Laws of Nature - that we could not control everything in the Universe.

2. We came to believe that Powers greater than ourselves could control everything we could not.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of those Greater Powers.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to the Greater Powers, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have the Greater Powers remove all our defects of character.

7. Humbly asked the Greater Powers to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons, animals, plants, ghosts, and corporations we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such entities wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer, meditation, magick, divination, and service to others, to improve our conscious contact with the Greater Powers as we understood them, praying only for increased knowledge of their will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Poem: SF Mime Troupe

The SF Mime Troupe finds a way,
to say the things we need,
today.
The Holy Clowns have always told,
the total truth,
to young and old.
The Jester of the Kingly court,
includes the Truth,
in his report.

For of these methods I don't jest,
but put them to the final test;
For after show is gone and done,
for after all have had their fun,
for after clown's new jokes have passed,
I ask the questions I must ask.

Though I am glad we can be funny,
I wonder at the powers of money.
Though I know the truth they say,
I wonder if they changed the day.
For though I know the clown's are right...

That does not mean,
that we,
will fight.

Poem: Seraquil For Sale

Seraquil is being sold in our streets.
A most powerful anti-psychotic.
Similar to Haldol or Thorazine,
but in pill form.

Walking through the slums
you hear the familiar calls
of the drug dealers:
"Rocks, solids, dimes, Chiba, crack,
tar, heroin, OC's, Vicatin, Valium,
Xanax, Clonopan, Methadone."

Then suddenly:
"Seraquil, one hundred milligrams."
What?
"Seraquil, one hundred milligrams."

And what's worse is, it sells.
What has society come to
when people are turning to
the Street Pushers
for anti-psychotic medication?

We're fucked, man.
Fucked.