'Ms Zili is much pleased'

The point of any of this is to remind each other that we are not alone. That this life is not a protracted suicide. There is one for each of us who is our twin. There is a great mirror seen from space known as the waters. Wherein we bathe, we sail, we drown and behold its glistening mosaic shards of moonlight or sunbeam capriciously dancing upon its veneer. A gracious and sometimes furious reflection to her brother, the sky and his alternating vapors of crystal and liquefied coal, anointing with solar flares and pricked with distant puddles of forgotten light. The geometry of the stars opposes not the the clear light and broad brush stroke of the sun. Together it culminates in a ballet of equilibrium of which Libra would be proud. Rendering itself in my wine glass upon this sacred midnight and across the tapestry of oceans I had the blessing to swim.
This is a poem of adoration to one of my patrons, the Voudon lwa Ezili Freda. She basically equates to Venus or Aphrodite and rules over arts, beauty and love. She as well as Obatala; Papa Legba; Archangel Michael; Asaliah, an angel whose name I love and council I cherish; my source of wisdom, the Buddha; my savior, Jesus Christ, the eight million Gods of man and innumerable rays of divine light help me to realize the unfolding miracle of life. When I first wrote is poem, I sent it to two priestesses for their consideration. Of all their kind words of response, my favorites were 'Ms Zili is much pleased'.
Lizzie’s River

To swim in Lizzie’s river
is to lap like waves
at the shore
Kisses tender
upon her royal lips
Shades, hues and refractions
on her surface are vapid
compared to her depths
Caressing her hips
naked below mine
her water flows to the ocean
My heart erupts
with the swiftness
of her currents
laughing away
the fears of my world
she sweeps me
into her folds
Great mother ocean
is in her heart
We spill upon the land
like lovers reunited
anointing the earth
with nectar and seed
When I swim in Lizzie’s river
the mirror of her flesh
reflects bright clouds
divine rays
and my humble God given place
among them
From the channels
to the shallows
swimming in Lizzie’s river
brings bells silver and gold
flights of angels
soft trumpets beneath my skin
throbbing in her warmth
compassion and love
Her arms carry me
beneath the surface
revealing puddles of light
left behind
by previous lovers
of whom we share
breath that surrounds her
whispering come away
live as her love
in this ancient land
She feeds me wine and fruit
from her supple breast
I in my nudity
decline all else
but to suck the juice
of her love
into my soul
through the pores of my flesh
til I be full
as full will be
Yet I hunger still
to swim in Lizzie’s river
caress her banks
ride her rapids
challenging all
to love her as much as I do
With no explanation
or cause for alarm
I decide to die
in a suffocated scream
so that I may be reborn
cry, breathe, crawl, walk
relearn me
all over again
to feel
the great desire
like never before
like a virgin
in innocence to explore
discover and decide
to plunge into her depths
and swim in Lizzie’s river
again falling in love
like the last time
after blessed time and time again
until finally
I feel Lizzie swimming in me
Making me pregnant
swelling until I scream
being turned inside out
to reveal the life
until now unknown
I change my direction
to smile upon
what we have created
and turn this charm
loose upon the surface
of the waters
watching its’ journey flow
beneath the stars
to merge into the ocean
to be a drop
in the pool
where we dip our hands
to wash the face of God.

Thank you for reading.
With all my love always,
Max　

Before I launch into the preamble and subsequent poetry, I must say something. My recent writings have greatly angered someone. Of everyone it would be my honor to piss the fuck off, this person is not one of them. Not even slightly at all. It's someone for whom I wish all the best life has to offer. Regardless of who is to blame, irresponsible, over reacting or whatever ugliness can be extracted, I hope this storm soon passes and we can please be friends, or at least, not enemies.

This will probably be the last blog I post that has to do with sexuality. The point will have been  been made. I either need to move on or shut the fuck up.  

It starts like this...

The old joke about bisexuality is that you double your chances for a date on Saturday night. The sad part is that it seems we are twice as much a target for intolerance and hatred.
I have been told by members of the gay community that I need to come to the conclusion that I'm gay. I'm not. That I'm a hypocrite and in denial.  I'm not. 

That I'm not being true to the 'family'. Whose family are we talking about and why am I suddenly adopted? 

I have been told by members of the straight community that it's us goddamn bisexuals who are responsible for the spread of AIDS from those heathen ass fucking queers into the pristine vaginas of God fearing maidens. 

According to some, we are the downfall of civilization. 

Even after nearly 24 years of monogamy, to some, I am still to be counted among Satan's henchmen. 

For me at least, bisexuality is not a choice. it is who I am and was born to be. I used this predisposition to make double and triple damn sure that when I settled down, it would be with the love of my life.

Genitals be damned, I prayed for real eternal love. 

My detractors are as of now,left with bigotry, hatred and derision. Call me whatever names you wish. Curse me as you see fit. But guess who wakes up next to the answer to their prayers and who flails about, looking to find the pieces of their soul in a fog of ignorance?

Thus ends the preamble

This blog feels rough around the edges. Much like me at this moment. The poem that follows, I've never found the right place for it. It's rough around the edges too. Probably that's why I love it so much. It goes like this...

Tonight I heard
a song of remembrance
once new
when we first met
and I knew I loved you

It spoke of old times
and loves long gone
I was convinced
it was about you and I
how great and eternal our love
then like things
to my mind
it went away
and the only love
I had known
vanished like all else
that ever told me
I should continue to live
leaving me
in familiar desperation
alone with my demons

The orgy I knew
all too well
would resume
once you
as did all lights
fade and recede
from my undeserving life
and I would write
stupid poetry
commemorating the loss
of your life
from mine

Two decades have passed
since I would scream
in my car driving home
blinded by heat
and my young mans anger
quenched only by you
with the moon in your hair
breezes dancing about your face
the porch light romance
leading me ultimately
to your bed

where we played
while I prayed

we give life
to our children

We endure
no matter what
for me always
to rise casting eyes
upon your face
never far from the grace
you have bestowed
upon me
is my memory

For as old
as we may grow
there is no hand
I could hold
for eternity
but yours
for as much
as you pulled me
from the brink of death
do I hope I
have done
a fraction as much
for you
then I will have achieved
a particle of the eternity
you have gained
saving me away
from myself
the deep pit

and the strained levitation
that had been planned
since before my inception
I would fall
like all my sad ancestors
before me

I was never permitted
their luxury to fail and die
with a weak promise of potential
never realized but excused
because a sensitive artisan
in the midst of a cruel world
cannot survive and by default
must die miserably

FUCK THAT

I WILL NOT DIE

because I know love
and how it feels and smells
when it saves your life
even when you have since
cast it out the damn door

In spite of it all
love is speaking
even 

if we’re not listening
I will continue
until we remember
until we remember
I will pray

for us all
until we remember.

Again, thank you so much for reading,

it means more to me than I can tell you

All my love always,

Max

On the Beach in Ancient Greece

My only regret is that I had my first sexual experience at entirely too young of an age. Unable to grasp the gravity of intimacy, too innocent realize we were losing our innocence. All I knew was that we had the place to ourselves for the next few hours and if we didn't act upon what had been simmering, there would be an explosion, leaving in its wake a lifetime of asking the unsolvable questions 'why didn't we? ....what were we scared of?.... what if I could go back and do it over again?' I would rather regret something I have done than something I haven't and I could frankly give a fuck less how others judge me. Then there are some things of which I have no regret and the only response I have to any criticism, rebuking, ignorant judgmental conclusions start with 'Fuck' and end with 'You' and contain precious little else in between. My first time was with a dear friend that continued on for the following couple of years, someone I still correspond with to this day. Someone who I have never kept a secret and who will never fade into the cacophony of anonymous trysts lost somewhere in the drug induced haze of my misspent youth. I believe that when someone in whatever capacity holds a cherished place in my heart, I will, in no uncertain terms, make sure they know how much they mean to me and how sacred their stanzas and parables are that adorn the verses of my life. I will also upon occasion, when the stars and clouds offer the perfect acoustics, climb to the rooftops and sing about it.

On the Beach in Ancient Greece

I laid my head

upon his stomach

in innocence

his sweat swelling

in my mouth

I felt him laugh

and stroke my hair

while I drank

that which

I never imagined

I would crave

Penetrating him

with a gasp

lasting only seconds

but enduring to this day

I spilled a thousand lives

upon his skin

in a single second

He was a boy then

and I a babe

fiercely anointing each other

with the friction of youth

Hard at the thought

of his body

and mine intertwined

two boys

kissing the mysteries

never as long as I wished

but always amazed

at how he endured me

shuttering and surrendering

in a shower of joy

excusing myself for impatience

ashamed of my exuberance

apologizing for my need to explode

We were such taboo

laughing at myself

smiling upon his beauty

ageless and timeless

as the vision of him 

pressed upon my hungry body

inflicting lovely pain

then caressing me softly

speaking in sweet tones

of silent waves

washing over me

on the beach

in ancient Greece

where we met

those lifetimes ago

Warriors in the battle

for the love

we were always in

carved in marble

for the ages

engorged and entwined

for all eternity

baptizing his beauty

with my sighs

and frozen convulsions

waiting endlessly

for time to melt

the stone to wash away

and my love

to return

As always, thank you for reading. It is appreciated more than you will ever know.

All my love,

Max

The Athiest Prayed

For as deeply as I hated my father, I never lost sight of how fiercely I loved him. He could be the wittiest, most intelligent and charming gentleman one could ever wish to spend the hours with. He had an old school style of manners and conversation that has sadly become a lost art in this increasingly snarky, bitter and indifferent society. This world of ours was not his and he would be shattered at what we are, insensitive empty urns, I pray we are not becoming. For all of his faults, prejudices and transgressions, for all of his hatred and racism, for his insults and abuse, I could never bear to see him watching the world today and know that underneath his strained veneer, all of his heart would be forever broken. The wounds he spent his life trying to hide, trying to justify, trying to drown in vodka would be ripped open with no hope of regeneration and closure. For this reason, I am grateful, both for he and I, that he is dead. For as far apart as we grew as souls, as poisoned as we became as father and son, he was and will always be my first hero. Where he is now, he will never fall off his horse, lose grip of his sword and his armor will shine forever free of chinks.

The Atheist Prayed

The night my father prayed

please keep my son

out of the military

he wept

on the edge of his bed

please the atheist prayed

keep my son

out of the army

please to thin air

he prayed

keep my son

from the torture

from the

I have become.

Whosoever desires his company

in acts of genocide

should be damned

he prayed

from the trench

he left fifty years hence

but never left behind

until the day he died.

The mud

ensnared his feet

the gangrene

upon him crept

the pox

infiltrated

the savior

he dismissed

All alone he prayed

from within

his blanket of alcohol

for those who tread

the path of the warrior

in place of blind cowards

who rattle sabers

then run away

who pledge allegiance

then desert

who love the war

and discard the warriors

be damned he prayed

Under his wings

is where it ends

What we have constructed

is where it begins

We create our own destiny

When our children

walk away from our headstones

will they recall

what we created

and destroyed

why?

for who?

and what

we have left behind.

Good night, Dad

your war is done.

Sweet peace

in your dreams.

Until next time and always

All my love,

Max