Reality is a pain in the ass sometimes.

A few things for today - maybe no poem but we shall see.
I was reading a friend of mines blog where she shared an excellent story of strength through defiance and 24 year old bravado - you can read it yourself here. One of the commenters mentioned getting a CCL permit, which I read to be a CCW permit - a license to carry a concealed weapon. There are a lot of folks against this for various reasons but the aforementioned story highlights a point I often make in the face of the "wouldn't it be a better world without guns?" - my answer? - no.  what? you didn't hear that? - It was a resounding NO.
Say the story ended a little differently and the 24 year old was beaten or worse by the two offenders instead of backing off. What was she or the guy she was with going to do about it if it escalated into an absolute horror show? Not a damn thing could have been done except possibly call the police who would have arrived well after what ever could have happened happened.
I firmly believe that all women should carry a weapon that they have been trained to use in the moment of need. I would feel much better if my mentally stable wife would walk around with her SR9c in her purse (and maybe she does, who knows?). 49 states have acknowledged that this right exists for a reason - self preservation, among others.
I usually give this scenario - imagine a large man who stands nearly 6'2" - weighing well over 200 pounds and no-one (including doctors) would describe him as fat. A large animal and can be terrifying to behold. If he met a woman or girl and decided that he was to be a brute - is there anything that can be done to stop him? not by most unarmed females, however, a smallish revolver or auto is an equalizer - one that would stop even the most vicious attack. It is far better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.
I'll end this here but I am sure it may be carried on in the comments.
If you can - get a CCW, train properly and have it should the need ever arise and I hope that it never will. It isn't that you ought to live in fear, it is that you ought to want to make it to bed every night and wake up every morning unharmed.





for some levity...
look what I found!

Four of the most precious kittens - between my and my neighbors back yard. Jackson has already named one.

mittens.

a little on the self

Last night, after making love, outside smoking and the coyotes were getting close, I had my 1911 but after midnight it is too loud - we went inside. Listened to them get ever closer as we fell to sleep.
Now I am looking for a good varmint rifle - something in a .223 as I refuse to be eaten by an animal.

I don't think of myself as a contradiction but as myself - unique as all people should be and alike as all humans are.
a Poet, Buddhist, gun lover, biker, romantic, cripple - these are not contradictions and I practice non-violence in balance to the gun I carry on my side.

Yesterday I got read a smallish version of the riot act by a very good friend for referring to myself as a cripple. He said he winces a bit every time I say it and that I need to find a better descriptor. Maybe he is right - certainly he is honest, intelligent and an excellent friend. It is that I feel crippled, I feel like a Quasimodo hanging from the bell tower yelling "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" - but I know that I am not a cripple but have been crippled - therein lies a a major difference. In terms of strength and size I am capable of being a monster, frightening to some who don't know me and gentle and kind to those who do. The leg has been shortened and crippled, it has been cut and lives on in pain but when need be I still pick up and hold my seven year old to calm his fears, his tears and his to remind him that no matter how he grows - he is loved deeply and completely. I am not a cripple and as was pointed out by my friend - I would bust the chops of anyone who said so to my face - I have been disabled, but not defeated.

Seis de Mayo

To celebrate Cinco de Mayo yesterday I wanted a BLT but had chicken instead.
get it get it get it???

bad joke and I am not up on my game at the moment.

Illinois failed to pass a law legalizing the right of the citizens to protect themselves from harm. All criminals rejoice at the easy pickings! Also, it is an estimated 40 million that the state would have seen in increased revenue from the licensure alone over the next two years. A state going broke turns down revenue by three votes and once again Chicago is the cock block.
better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.

1. the bending of steel

poetry.

coffee.

a love of hard liquor.

rifles, shotguns, pistols

revolvers.

men were bound by

thinner threads then these.

2. hammering to form

poetry.

coffee.

a love of hard liquor.

rifles, shotguns, pistols

revolvers.

man’s bind was broken by

thinner threads than these.

3. the fine blade

beauty.

art.

love.

the eyes and body move

of a naked dancing muse.

man’s mind was broken by

thinner threads than these

 - Hoc Scripsi

Listening to Nick Cave and I couldn't be happier about the rain

Target shooting this morning, indoors at my favorite range - going with my favorite girl and my favorite pistol. The inspiration for Guernica was laid today in typical bloodbath inspirational fashion.

One of my favorite paintings - another one would be Van Gogh's wheat field with crows painted shortly before his death - arguably his final painting.

This weekend there will be a family reunion of sorts in NC - memorializing the death of my very good friend and confidant - Aunt Kathryn. I've two siblings - A brother (an Actor of Theatre Undreground fame (yes, that is the spelling)) and a sister of Denver Co. Vet tech profession. She will be going while I am sure my brother will be home holding down the fort of my fathers business.
one and a half days there only and I wish death had better timing that we (K, Jackson and I) could spend more time.
I'll be doing a reading of the last poem I sent to her and the last paragraph of the letter the poem was sent in. I still am unable to properly quantify the loss as I continue to write her letters that I am unable to send. They will be hand delivered to her in Heaven should I be able.

the poem to be read:

the artist dreams of nightsong and thinks of his paintings
 - For Aunt Kathryn

I wish the birds would sing
in the middle of the night
in winter,
though the windows are never open.

I wish the birds would sing in winter
though I stoop to pet a plant
inadvertently knocking over a light fixture.

I wish the birds would sing
in the middle of the night,
lights low, the party over
and missing every painting I’ve ever sold.

I wish the birds would sing
in the middle of the night
in winter,
though purple flowers want their bloom

 - Jhon Baker


I'll later post the ending of the letter but as of now I am intertwined in memory and bereft with melancholy.

read this recently and thought - yep.

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State,  This phrase is a dependent clause in the sentence. and as such can be removed without changing the meaning of the sentence. Just as in this example: Like most girls, Ellen plays with dolls."

You may shriek all you wish, but the grammatical fact remains that the right of the people to keep and bear arms is independent of the dependent clause.  "People" means exactly what it does in the First, Fourth and Tenth Amendments.

Your understanding of American History is flawed as well. The event that finally sparked the American Revolution was the attempted seizure of an 'armory' of guns and powder held by the state militia at Lexington. Like your modern day totalitarians, the Brits wanted to collect the guns and ammo to prevent freedom.

I make no corrections or additions of my own to the above anon statement, but simply like what I had found.

hanging christmas decorations or handling shotguns

another Jingle Poetry Potluck Monday. This week theme being - Hobbies & Passions, Pastimes & Entertainment...


Merry Christmas
 
I was the only one wearing a John Lennon t-shirt
and not camouflage or distressed leather
conspicuously eying shotguns, .357s and a few AR-15s.

it was a last minute decision
to go
a momentary hesitation
to leave

having breakfast at Baker Hill Pancake House
drinking Superior or something
enjoying the company

and the plangent chorus of diners
on a Sunday morning,
too cold for hanging outdoor decorations.


and I am unaware of looks or gazes
in other directions.




 - Hoc Scripsi




Not my best effort but it is all I have left today. I am not reaching for compliments as I am always straight forward about that but genuinely unsure about this one. 


Earlier I wrote a mess of lines and efforted those to a nose bleeding degree. I'll sleep on this theme and revisit tomorrow or maybe harvest something old to offer the masses.

good night, good night, good night - With Patrick out of the hospital and on the mend, I only need concern myself with fellow chronic pain sufferers. Rest well my fellows, morning is around  the bend.

Edit: several, too many - probably going to delete this entire post around 3 am or in the normal morning.  
EDIT: obviously I didn't delete it but I assure you that I did rewrite it several times before the first comment.

a comment of mine from another blog...

I once had to put a bullet from my .38 special snub nose revolver through my GPS navigator. It started with getting me lost in Chicago and finally drew it's last straw when it refused to update after I bought a new map set for fifty bucks. This properly served as a warning to all my other electrical devices which began to act properly afterward.

 said other blog can be read here.

but the story is true only it belonged to my wife and became rather unnecessary with her acquisition of an iPhone.


rest in peace Jack, I don't follow in your footsteps but thank you for inspiring me to make my own.



a poetry repost - but whose offended?

I want to see a bull gore a toreador

I want to see a bull gore a toreador.

I only ever pray when an
ambulance goes by
other wise,
I don't believe.

it's madness but
why can't it be cancer?
something nice and clean?

I hope this made you spill your tea.

- Hoc Scripsi 

Thankfully, it's fatal

I've not been present for the past two days.  I would ask, beg, plead for forgiveness but I do not believe anyone has been offended or should be if they were.

 there's a painting. Acrylic and ink on four canvasses. 54.5"x43"

The inability to have been present was entirely within my scope of control and I simply chose to not be or rather I spun into a depression that I am still in the grips of but am now choosing to at least be productive to see if that lifts me from the mire I find myself in. This isn't a good time for depression as I typically hate my poetry and prose when I am this down and this depression has chose to not set any new precedents in that vein. Posting may be a doorway out or into an abstract depression which would also be fine.

abstract depression being far more preferable to standard depression

So, here I am in mid post with two photographs that have little to do with anything, but what is this post about anyway? 

I long to write poetry about the beauty of flowers but I either pick them or they wither while the words lie in wait for the impressionistic moment when they will be most needed. So the flower dies and I write vignettes about soup, carpeting and the clean feeling teeth have after eating a fresh apple. 

who wants poetry about flowers? who wants photographs about flowers?

just in case you wanted a photograph of flowers

the sun hides

-    for Jackson


The sun hides
behind clouds &
cold wind
but
   wishes
        to
shine down on
my garden
for the flowers

 - Hoc Scripsi

just in case you wanted a poem about flowers - sort of.

sometimes when I am writing in my journal I have my .45 acp out on the bed. Mostly to admire it as it is a fine example of what American craftsmanship could be.

that's the way the glue sticks

I've been staring at the screen for over an hour thinking of something to say that isn't this, well, it is now. I considered writing a letter to the reader, sort of a 'dear reader' thing but that idea faltered as it wrote itself and had it not been on the computer it would have been hung up at the range and shot. 
I would just put out a poem or the completed versions of one's published earlier this week but it's too late for that as I am already writing. 
one of the greatest moments of my life was the discovery that two of my favorite creative people bonded over an album - Tom Waits and Bill Burroughs, The Black Rider. I listen to that now and it is distracting as I am trying to think of what I am doing here without making it sound like a letter, I think I may be failing.
When you get a perfect sight picture and squeeze back the trigger you have a tendency to miss but it can be assured that the bullet went exactly where the gun was pointed when the hammer went down. Nerves, anticipation of recoil, squeezing the grip incorrectly, and other all lead to a fraction of an degree barrel displacement and that gets compounded over the distance to the target. 
I drink coffee and write myself into a sort of stupor where I wander around the rest of the day with a blank slate and a stupid grin on my face, it has been pointed out that I abuse the wrong tipple for stupefaction but I cannot stand what I write when in an inebriated stupor.
I think later today I ought to weld something, anything really as long as it's metal and not one of my typewriters that works properly. 





open window
the cat sits
undisturbed





one of these days

One of these days, I am going to die.
and leave behind all of my sorrow,
joy, and anger.
All the love, I’ll take if allowed.
ascend into the kingdom of exile
as a poet, lover, and sometimes madman.

death shall never rear its distortions
to me, but, it’s beauty shall be mine.
Its touch to offer warmth in solitude.
death shall, inadvertently, immortalize
the memories of this self
and bring with that – comforts to you.
You,
who, in life, had always been my companion
and brought me all it’s renderings
you,
who in my death shall have no place
and in your own shall leave no place
for me. In death, we shall not remember
the names of our dead.

 - Hoc Scripsi

It's friday and what do I want to say?

There are still wars being fought. I think a lot of us have forgotten somehow. I am anti-war and a practitioner of non-violence. Yes, I have a fine collection of guns and I love to shoot them, I never said I was a liberal or a conservative. Simply I never said. But today I think of war - our wars, Obama's wars, they were Cowboy's but now they are Obama's.
Maybe we should reach out and shake up a few people and remind them that our people are being killed and that our people are killing their people. two peoples fighting one another for kings that have some disagreement. I think we ought to bring back fist fighting as a way to solve the conflicts. Less death this way.
War. War. War. Why did we stop having our leaders lead the troops into battle?


Thought tonight on War Consciousness


It’s War,
do you accept
without question
what do you offer
your children
loyalty

do you accept
without agenda
believe
offer prayers
money
market share
retirement
It’s War.

do you accept
cold
inhospitable
non-responsive
indispensable propaganda
it’s war,
do you accept.
without question
without agenda
this that we offer
can only be as now here
do you accept

without question.

 - Hoc Scripsi

Where I write

I was asked recently, Via facebook, where I write. meaning if there was a place as part of a ritual with my writing. As where it isn't ritualized and I write anywhere, diners, the car, on my bed, in the yard - where ever, you see the inspira moves around a bit. But the majority of it is done in a little room, painted red at the back of my house in a secluded part of Elgin.

a painting of mine - the sides and top are cut off so it's like watching a letterbox movie in pan and scan - I face this when I write or it is in front of me but I face the page.

My IBM Selectric III in it's newest position with a stack of poetry and prose under a brass monkey reading a book. My return address on a stamp.

within reach. Normally there is a coffee cup there but I wasn't writing at the time, a stack of nice paper that my wife keeps me in, a page a day, a XDm 9mm - loaded, an old hunting knife, the Bose remote, meditation beads under the page a day tear outs, a frog reading a book, white out and Maitreya Buddha holding my mechanical pencil. and scratch paper.

any questions?

sometimes it's a colt .45 or a .38 special but all the rest is a constant.

unmade bed

this is/this was

here, this is/ this was
the scene of our love
left only now to misshapen sheets
and my hands on your hands
    hands of a body
    your body
    eyes of windows immensity
    after evenings hour
    your moonlit being

here, this is/ this was
the scene of our love
and configuration of sleeping bodies
     head to head
     on cased feather pillows
dreamt singing voices
     of your gravity
     after midnights hour
and my obeisant being

this is
this was
the scene of
our love
now a windowless immensity
after mornings hour
and your vanished being

 - hoc scripsi


at this time I am working on three long poems and a short one. The shorty is completed I believe (I'll check on it in a week or so and probably hate it) but the longer ones need more attention. After that they are off to the New Yorker, then Atlantic and Harper's to get rejected - after that maybe the better journals where the will have a chance. I mention all of this only because I have no prose today other than this. I am devoting my energies to these poems and picking up my new pistol today - Illinois has a 3 day waiting period.

The other day I was called a Buddhist with bullets and it is the first time I enjoyed such a thing as this. It's accurate so it's fun.

om

Guardame Las Vacas

Monday morning and my brain has ceased working sometime over the weekend. Maybe yesterday when I thought it was a good idea to go to a range and fire off two-hundred rounds. Fifty with a colt .45 Revolver, Fifty with a .38 Special and the final hundred with a Walther P22; I had abandoned ear protection. Everything but the loss of my ear protection was a good idea. I obliterated a home-made target and my index finger got some excellent exercise.
Had an interesting conversation about cows with my shooting partner yesterday. I would like to own a cow as a pet but I would think it would get lonely and create a mess in the house. I love the cows, my favorite animal really. I always wave when I see them and someday I hope that they will wave back. Interestingly enough - cows do not graze facing east or west and in herds all face the same north or south direction while grazing. This was only discovered because of google earth.
Anyway, I don't keep books in my truck and rarely travel with something to read. I am more inclined to observe and be meditative with my surroundings and may puke if I try to read as a passenger - reading as a driver is nearly as bad - more blood and less vomit.
Guardame las Vacas, is one of my favorite pieces to play on guitar.

these are more or less unrelated except thought their progenitor. 

X8mX

I’m happy to say that
I haven’t heard from you in awhile.

I guess… how are you?
what you been doing,
are you working.
how is the family if you
    have one.
is that a new car.
did you ever solve that
    crossword.
is your whoever still ailing,
or has the obligatory disease
killed them off yet.
is your day to day in
good griping order…
and whatever other questions
that I have accidentally left off
should now be answered in
whatever order you like.

me? I am roughly the same
and still disinterested
in this general conversation.

- Hoc Scripsi

RoadKill zen Journal

The RoadKill zen Journal still has the issue up which contains the poem Togethercoloured.

Theater Underground has stated that they are going to be putting up accepted poem number two soon. I will make you aware.
Theater Underground and I were in talks for me to perform a reading during the intermission to their upcoming (this weekend, next weekend). I had thought everything was a go but have not heard from them since I last did when things were undecided. Well, it's opening night, I've kicked Narcotics or I am kicking them so there are now pain and withdraw issues to contend with and of course, it is too late for me to get ready for such a thing; even if they were going to ask which it is now painfully obvious that they in fact are not.

those be the noonish updates today, do not expect these everyday. Today I wanted to bring attention to RKzJ and to this: I hate when a submission goes out and there is no response. I hate it when people believe it is better to ignore an issue than deal with the problem.
here's what it looks like when I write the poison pen letters.

both of them are loaded.