Buckley's Hope

I only hope that at the end of the day I can honestly say my intentions were good and the ugliness I brought to the world was all part of the making of the beauty.

I talked to Eddius on the phone last week for a goodly while. I cried on Sabi. I needed to be validated, and I was. What do I know of this strange creature I have become? But. I remember now I have always been a strange creature, and that strange creatures are not incapable of bringing positive energy to the world. So. Who knows me better, the stranger, the one I live with, or the old friend? Nobody knows me, but all know something of me. I don't even know me, but I am beginning to trust that I know better than some. I know what I mean to do and why I mean to do it. It may be that in the end intentions are unimportant, only success or failure. In that case, I am an invalid person that I challenge you to bring down. But as for me, I am willing to be happy at least for now. Satisfied by my own gluttony. Comfortable in my stolen bed of gold. Looking in the mirror with admiration, as the people shout "how will you look yourself in the eye?" I will wear my sins like a robe, and laugh at those people who never get to see the beautiful dress of good and kindness and miracles I wear underneath, and respect most of all those who see me naked beyond terms of good and bad.

What am I really under all those layers? Is mine a heart beating in fear or a heart beating in hope? This heart flutters in rapture, scared one moment hopeful the next, sure that there is some bigger purpose to the blood it pushes through me. Is this a sunrise or a sunset within me? I don't know but it burns and paints the sky. Muddy pastels gush through me. Glowsome scarlet oozes out my pours. And if it burns a little bit, this light passing through me, I hardly notice until someone asks. Swimming through this murky lake of self-doubt, I will smile at the parts of me shining through the brown water.

Oh, and I promised my self no more metaphors. But, I am a metaphor. I am a poet. Even if I am not a skilled one.

I heart

Some of you have expressed some concern over my last post. Due to my distrust in and lack of skill in metaphor, you may have thought I was talking about feasting on you. That's understandable considering, and maybe that is what I was talking about. But really I think I am more concerned with my many selves than with any of you when I write on this blog.

Granted, I am no victim. I am no lion. I am what I am. I don't deserve anything, and I don't believe you do either. It is a weak creature indeed who would believe that it is weak or boast that it is strong. I am not always strong, and I thank all of you who have been there for me in my weaker moments.
I don't believe in metaphors, and words are metaphors. I do believe in meaning and that words and metaphors have phatic meanings. I think you get what you want to get out of them. In a way what you get out of my poems and words are more a reflection of you than my self.

But in this post, on the much hated Day of Valentine's, I want to actually speak to you and about our connection. If I have made that promise, "I love you," then I will do my best to keep your best interests in mind, but not because you deserve it. I will love you and i will treat you accordingly because I think you are awesome and I want to fill you with the joy you have given me. I will love you and treat you accordingly even when you hurt me, and even when you very clearly don't deserve it. I will love you because you are you. That's part of what I think love is. It doesn't matter how much you have given or not given me. It doesn't matter to my love if you have struggled for me or if you have revealed yourself to me. I once thought like that, but not so much any more. For many years I have not understood why I give so much and yet people give me so little. I have not understood why people feel like they owe me so much, are so afraid to hurt me. I have learned that I can take the pain and that people hurt you whether you deserve it or not. Love is not a system of give and take. That's a lie. If love were about getting, then you would get what you were manipulative enough to get.

I am manipulative. I can spot manipulative people. I will allow them to manipulate me sometimes, but if they get out of line or seem to abuse their power over me, others, and self... I quickly lose interest. I manipulate willing participants only. I am openly manipulative. I accept that I am manipulative and skilled in manipulation. I like people I am incapable of manipulating without permission. I love people who manipulate me in a positive way, and who let me manipulate them positively. I do not like it when people don't realize how much they powerfully manipulate those around them, and therefore use their manipulative powers without proper respect for those powers. I really don't like people who underestimate how good I am at dodging these powers. How many tricks I know so well. More disclaimers: I am talking about nobody specific in this paragraph but rather more generally about my own preferences and weaknesses.


I have come to believe that in the end you only deserve what you are capable of getting, and you are not capable of getting love, only experiencing it.


So know that today, if I have ever loved you, I love you now. I want the best for you. I feel sad when I hear that you are sad. But, as for me I am going to be happy. It is my hope that you will be happy for me, but you don't owe it to me.

Don't believe anything I try to say or cause you to feel unless you want it. If you believe nothing else Francis, Shannon, Eddius, Rose, John, Sabi, Rosbert, Quinton, Fro, Arlo, Ben, Marc, Ruby, Monkey, Chris, Jizzy, Jessi, Ratrick, and Stevie...please believe that I do love you. Whatever else it is I mean by love, at least know that you fill me with indescribable joy and interest me deeply. I think you are beautiful. I write on this blog to try to make a connection with you. I wish you all the best, and I want to bring you joy and interesting times.

joy of joys

i've got about two shreds of sanity left, and i am pretty sure the cold night wind wants those too. perhaps, though, i don't care. pain is pain is pain... i learned that long ago. i am bigger than this. i am bigger than anything i have ever imagined. and, if i am scared a little by that i am going to just have to deal with it.

there will be no hiding. (as if hiding were possible for me.) there will be no carefully placed words or slightly altered truths. there will be no looking back. i will not say "i am weak" when we all know i am strong. too strong? scary? yes, i am scared of my own strength. no, i am not scared of anything or anyone. fuck you too. all of this. i owe nothing to pain. i owe no tears. i owe no grief. i owe nothing. there is no owing to be had.

i roar. i prowl. i strike. i feast. i do not look back and wonder what would have happened if i had treated the deer better. i am not a vegetarian. i am a lion. i am a monster. i am what some have called evil. but fuck feeling regret. fuck feeling sorrow. fuck not realizing what i have and feeling the full on power of what i am. i'll bite my mate, my fellow lion, my dangerous best friend. i'll run wild and free with him. i will forget the deer, all of them, all together in one big forgetting. i am bigger than logic. i will leave logic and sorrow and fear and regret for the humans and the deer and the antelope, and the other creatures i devour. i am animal. i roar.

"And do you want to run with my pack?
Do you want to ride on my back?
Pray that what you lack does not distract

And even when you run through my mind
Something else is in front, oh, you're behind
And i don't have to remind you to stick with your kind"

-Joanna Newsom, Book of Right On

not myself

friends, colleagues, and random stalkers... please take no notice. all that shit about wanting to be noticed... i don't know where it came from. i want to hide. i don't want to care. i don't want to live the big life i have been pounding my head on walls for. what i would like is to laugh. just you and me or all of us... let's have a big laugh some time.

i miss jackie chan movies, and veggietales, and talking all night, and mama mias, and three dragon ante, and going to Parables, and eating at Fazoli's, and Lake Zorinsky, and Blinky, and Marching Band, and Scheherezade.

i ache for Lady Peacock, and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (the computer game), and Pirates.

i would give anything for a Shnookerz picnic, an April Party, a Pepsi Party, or a night spent sitting on Eddius' driveway.

but that's done and gone, and what is Hope if not a looking toward the future and belief that some kind of good can come of it all.

i ache, and i wonder how i ever managed to forget to notice this ache. i tried to distract my self from the ache by cutting my self with all of the beauty in the world.

but all along there i was. just another human. so small.

no matter... don't mind... please don't notice. go on ahead. don't slow down when i lag behind. i just have to keep looking back...

one last time.