A great review for When Heaven Strikes
walking on shattered glass
all that remained of my life..
I stood in the midst of my turmoil
storms had come
and all around me chaos
reigned in fragments
of my sanctuary
I stood there
hands shoved in my pockets
afraid to take another step
for fear of cutting my feet
all that I was and would be
had exploded into unrecognizable
I didn’t know what to do
I cried for a bit, called out for help
but no answer came
and as the wind swept the curtains
inside the hollowed out home
I’d never felt so lonely
I dried my eyes with my sleeve
cold from the wind and the rain
I found a red tape recorder
I’d been given for Christmas
laying at my feet
kneeling down I cleared a spot
until I had a place to sit
then, with recorder in my lap
I recounted the wolf like
screaming of the wind
and pounding of fists
of thunder and rain
there alone and in the dark
I told my story
Over and over
adding detail to some
removing names from others
but each time telling the truth
I fell asleep at some point
My head resting on my right arm
the left clutching the recorder
i curled up inside myself
with my truth pressed against my heart
When the dawn woke me
and voices calling out my name
jolted me from a fitful night
filled with nightmare images and ghosts
who’d leaned in to whisper
in my ears
stories children shouldn’t hear
but ones this one knew by heart
I yelled out for God
When I was swept up
I’d realized in horror
that my recorder had been handed
and someone had pressed play
in silence of those who’d come
I heard an old man
telling my nine truths back to me
It was motionless in the ruins
No one moved
I couldn’t even hear myself breathe
The world should hear this
The one who held me whispered softly
when the tape ended
I turned to my head to look my husband in the eyes
Where do you think the storm came from?
He gathered me to him
and in silent reverie
walked me out into the morning sun
(Photo Alex Martinez)
In the secret space of knowing,
in that space where truth resides,
I found a sun lit portal,
not visible to mankind’s naked eye,
The key in my pocket was found to unlock it,
and as I twisted the copper colored solution, the tumbler resounded hard, and hollow,
The fog of Halcyon dreams o’re took me,
and rocked me gently upon the face of its deep waters.
A Jeff Key and F.E. One Time Poetic Exclusive 🙂
I will never discuss banal things.
I like conversations about ideas. I want to talk about sex. I want to hear your thoughts about space travel and colonies on the ocean floor. I want to hear your thoughts on God. Philosophy. Religion. I won’t accept your Atheism, Christianity, or Wiccan ness unless you tell me why.
I want to know why.
I don’t accept things because we throw pretty and modern words to the masses and because it’s repeated over and over again. Tenacity is not truth. Mendacity is just a pretty word for lie.
Concerning your sexuality, I want to know your experiences. I want to hear from you about when you found out you were straight, gay, trans.
I want to hear your truth between the words you speak. I want to feel your emotion wrapped up in the nuances of your speech.
I have spent too many years with people who promoted their ‘truth’ so absolutely that I am suspicious of others? Or, maybe that’s not the right word. Inquisitive? I don’t know.
When I left the Fundi Baptist church – I left the philosophy due to its shallowness. It’s inconsistencies. It’s inability to contribute anything meaningful to the world. It lacked ethics. It lacked aesthetics. And it half lied and it half told the truth. And that truth was manipulated for control’s sake. They were out making converts twice as fit for hell as they were in accordance to their own holy text.
The Atheist makes a point that if you need the threat of eternal damnation to do the right thing, you don’t lack religion, you lack morals. And they’re right.
But even those with religion, the saved of the saved, have the fear of the ‘Big Sky Daddy’ and STILL lack a conscience. We see that played out over and over and over again through not only history but modern political thought. Ayn Rand was a shit person who had an irresponsible philosophy that our current speaker of the house shares. Donald Trump is another great example of utter garbage in our world today backed up by American Protestantism. Like the German Church, they’ve thrown their hat in with someone who could be a kind of Anti-Christ should he gain control. And on the flip side of that, Trigger warnings at the University level and even in book production today is utter bullshit. Truth is not often pretty. Sometimes it’s downright nasty. And you shouldn’t be protected from those things because people who went through them, weren’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the hammer blow when I see something in regards to child abuse or systemic racism. Because I often know where it’s rooted. And it’s rooted in the idea that a person ‘owns’ another.
And these things are not in an attempt to make me sound smart. There are smarter men and women than me by light years. And I don’t want to talk about these things to intimidate people. I’m not trying to prove anything. I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing.
But I’ve spent years trying to figure myself out. Trying to figure out what the truth is in regards to who I am. Because the more I know about you, the more I find out about me. And these things lead me out of a word of certainty. Statements made with exclamation marks.
An uncertain person will never kill a gay person, will never blow up a Mosque, will never call a woman seeking an abortion a whore, will never subject someone to the auspices of a book translated by a King with an authoritarian ideology, will never once hold a slave, or castigate someone for finding their own truth and living freely in it. And uncertain people make shitty terrorists.
At the end of the day, I know very few things. But I do know that I love my husband and I love my friends. Anything else is anyone’s guess. And the willingness to live in such a nebulous gray place requires intensity, I guess. And it requires the understanding that the more I learn, the less I know. Aristotle said the beginning of wisdom is the understanding that I know nothing.
But it also requires being brave. And you can’t be gay in this world and be a coward. It’s impossible.
Welcome to the FIRST annual Halloween Radio Broadcast from the staff and crew of the WROTE Podcast!
We have 10 spine-chilling tales for you to enjoy in this special homage to classic radio storytelling with a decidedly queer slant on Halloween classic genres:
1) Lost Soul – FE Feeley Jr
2) New One – Albert Nothlit
3) Waiting for Morning – Angel Martinez
4) Excerpt from Paper Doll – Joe Cosentino
5) Destined to Repeat – Keelan Ellis
6) Gargoyle – J Scott Coatsworth
7) Extreme – Jayne Lockwood
8) Excerpt from forthcoming “Quarrel of Sparrows” – SA “Baz” Collins
9) Excerpt from A Demon Inside – Rick R. Reed
10) Excerpt from Werewolves of Brooklyn – Brad Vance
NEARLY TWO HOURS of spooky tales and malevolent glee to be had by these brilliant and engaging authors. Enjoy – IF YOU DARE!