Scotland and Vars


Accepting Death

Red in spite of pale demise
Art murmurs a mystery the mind cannot explain
Crisp crackles mark silence
Steps are shadows of forgotten experience
All metal eventually corrodes into dusty existence
Life is only eternal dieing
The colors of fall bring the gray of winter
Naked trees are the skeleton of entry and exit
The wind carries away ashes to ignite fire
Gentle is the passing into ether of tomorrow
Death is the loyal friend of the living
Unconditional is its love
Acceptance devours fear and welcomes peace.


Releasing Resistance

Exhaustion blurs to delirious delusions
Past seeps through cracked walls
Built while wounded
Holes where the heart should be
This stone pile of disappointed desires
Laments of bitter regret
Fear of repetition’s stagnant reality
Yours or mine?
Lost in love’s mishaps
Painful position of paltry passings
Burnt flesh of fevered fermented hope made sour
I am too weak to stand
I must dissolve into foggy fumblings of mind
Sleep calls me to rest in my sea of emotion
Floating above the pain in whispers.


After a brief moment in Dublin, where I visited the Wall and Keogh for an afternoon tea good-bye and picked up my forgotten phone, I flew to Scotland. In Glasgow, I let myself heal after a month of keeping a gradually creeping cold at bay. It was the first place since New York where I was visiting an old friend, and this allowed me to accept being ill and give myself time to rejuvenate. I bonded with my friend’s flatmates over Game of Thrones and The Wire and caught up on my sleeping, writing, reading, and chatting with family and friends back home. Being lazy was the best thing I have done for myself thus far on this trip. I was treated to feasts and stimulating political/feminist conversation nightly along with daily witty banter. I moseyed around art galleries and meditated at Loch Lomond with a fellow wanderer. I got my groove on briefly in a Scottish night club and laughed at the mating rituals of humans with Harry Potter. Most importantly, I learned about vars and will define them as such for those with question marks above their heads.

Var-An abyss of piss.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: