Sir Day Walker
Praise Koolaid

Frozen

     Posted on Tue ,28/08/2012 by Daywalker

There’s ice in the mirror

In the freeze

I stand solemn in my coat

…there’s a pepper caught

in my throat

My days are in park

My voice

My mind

Pillaged by a lark

u huh

There are rivers in my shoes

Sand in my eyes

My sublime

is disguised

I’ve a shovel made of straw

long like Rapunzel’s hair

digging through silk

for the ladder

That’s melting

from despair

u huh

So I let down my hair

In the mirror

A thousand words

I spoke

Forsaking my cloak

…and the frozen sky broke

Into the mirror

I stand solemn

In resolve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Swear

     Posted on Tue ,17/07/2012 by Daywalker

Now I lay you down to rest

And so I wear my Sunday best

I bury your time

in my head

And my memory

 Like you

is better off dead

On my life

I swear

you shall never again

 tread

 My childrens’ hopes

never again

 misled

 My familys glance

 never again filled

with dread

Forgetting when we wed

Forgetting where we bled

Forgetting who we met

Forgetting what we bet

Using you

as a last regret

When all the while

It was me…

~ the addict

 

 

~ 6-28-2022 ~ Hemp & the Donkey’s Code

     Posted on Thu ,28/06/2012 by Daywalker

Dear Journal,

I’m recalling one of my Grandpa’s invisible Podium Rants from a decade ago.

Why?  Because it’s 3am on the first day the Industrial Hemp Plant opens,

my high school journalist phase stares at me through the antiquated

tape recorder and tapes spread out in front of me, and…it’s Relative. 

He’s Relative. 

A little Satirical, but all the same I liked listening…and recording. 

There was a Donkey in this story,

this one about the high cost of medical supplies. 

Often he would lose me in a metaphorical Kaleidescope, but it was

conversations like this one that made me change their minds from

cotton to hemp…and change the Record.  

For now, I’ll just blow the dust off the pencil written cassette label and Play this one for Waldo.

 ~ Written on the Label

Side 1 –  12 minutes –

6/28/2012

“Grandpa’s Donkeys must be High on tylenol”

 *speaker crackle, tools being rustled thru, a train tracks n cracks thru
 the background n Grandpa is already mid conversation with
himself on the new healthcare bill passed that day*

“The ball is in place for the trial and error of an all inclusive health care, u huh.

I remember that one time, years ago…(…not at camp) …when I happened upon a coming-of-age moment in life that’s course included a trip to the ER for somethingorother and the brutality of seeing my very first ‘yer a grown-up now’ Medical Bill. If I were to duplicate the look that eventually settled upon face right then, it would surely resemble [a zombie]

this >>> ಠ_ಠ  <<< face. 

It was blinding to read, what with the clusterfuck of vague abbreviations and the ‘find waldo’s ass*teriK’ faded green print on the back of the pages and if you were lucky you’d actually pin the tail on the Code Donkey…and this was just one time that I did.  And here comes the eerie echoes…the part of this tale’s song that remains the same today. 

Included on the statement for 25 bucks was some fancy fedspeak description that basically translated to =

 ’…uh, yeah they gave me 2 tylenols and a teeny-weeny paper cup.  For water.  u huh.  To swallow them down with.’  

Little did I know…ಠ_ಠ …

The song was the same more than once after that. 

There was the 36 dollar band aid that one time. 

I shit U not. 

Sometimes they included a dance, a warm smile and an ‘…oops, we drew an extra vial’. 

You know, like that one time they accidentally charged me for a pregnancy test. 

 ಠ_ಠ . 

 Entertainment was always free, like the lady that sounded like Lily Tomlin on the phone explaining that it was ordered as a necessary to diagnos…blahblahblah. 

> the funny ha-ha part…? 

I went in because I had broke mah toe climbing thru a salvage bike jungle for parts. 

But I was stuck on how funny the connection she hadn’t yet realized she was trying so hard to sell was and the movie Beaches came to mind.  I remember Bette Midler using ‘she stubbed her toe’ in place of ‘she got pregnant’, then I realized I was still trying to pin the fucking tail on the Code Donkey only now there was logic in my head forming on their behalf which meant I might be a bit untethered and may or may not need one of those pills I saw on the commercial last week or something. 

On the other hand there’s the other commercial who promises if I take their pills, you know…should I want to be able to walk thru fields of daisy’s n shit without sneezing, then I could risk a fucking stroke or at the very least have reason to camp out in the potty for days and frankly my groovy friends…I’d rather sneeze.

The wheels on the bus go round and round. ∞

With Healthcare finally trying to Grow a Pair, I’ll drop the door with a metaphor

~ Remind Waldo that a Donkey’s Code should never be priced at Ten Fold.

Control the Medical Supply costs. 

Really, if they are so fucking high that you gotta charge like the shit is bubblegum in an airport and straight faced festering  justifications have become the casualty normative…then change the Record cuz we all know this tune by our broke-ass hearts.

Praise Koolaid*

*in moderation

(●̮̮̃•̃) /█\ .Π.”

The Julie

     Posted on Sun ,05/02/2012 by Daywalker

She traveled the winds of Chaos
Her luggage filled with Tranquility
Her Holster armed with Harmony
Content in her armor of masculinity
wrapped gently in her femininity
No one ever asked her why
She dropped pieces of her heart
Like bombs from the sky
She danced across Australia
To become one with shades of dahlia
She prayed upon the sacred grounds
Her visit to Mt Fuji…was profound
and the Children of Dakhla
stamped pure upon her heart
A continuum dreamer
A peaceful redeemer
A Hippy’s editor
We are grateful for her
We celebrate her
We embrace her

written in the spirit of groovy love for The Julie on her Birthday

…in Stride

     Posted on Wed ,10/08/2011 by Daywalker

When the river touched my feet
I shook my hands in defeat
When the flames touched my hands
They ribboned my bones
…exposing me again.
When the winds passed me by
they left behind the distant sounds
of a baby’s cry
When I finally opened my eyes
to see if a child had died
I was rewarded a medal
for taking it all
…in stride

9 words used:

flames, hands, medal, ribbon, knuckle, bone, baby, open, again

Once Upon A Butch’s Dreary…

     Posted on Sun ,31/07/2011 by Daywalker

~*~ Inspired by this snippet from Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’ ~*~

 

“Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping,

and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at

my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you’ -

here I opened wide the door; -

Darkness there, and nothing more.”

 

 

Long ago, in a not so far away land…there was talk of building.

 

Bridges, they said…let’s build bridges so that we may better understand who resides across the land.

 

Let not the waters be unfamiliar, let not the waters be so different…so peculiar.

 

Let not the Borders harness our Humanity, let’s cross them with agility.

 

A task that would deem necessary more than one Architectural bid.

 

A task that would deem necessary that our minds be open and even more…fluid.

 

Slowly the building began

 

There were gatherings of folks willing to lend a hand.

 

There were Butch folks, there were Trans folks…and yes, there were Femmes.

 

Soon there were tables and chairs filled with eagerness and goals

 

The various plates runeth over, still room for more…in the unmatched bowls.

 

A journey not yet taken, no one knew what the success would look like

 

So when one Bridge was complete, someone asked “…but what will happen to the Dyke?”

 

The Dyke will remain, someone said.

 

This is an addition…not a changing condition

 

Then one day…

 

Something tragic occured, a senseless beating for being Trans…how absurd.

 

A gathering commenced, support came across the Bridge

 

There was a commonality, to make equal rights a reality.

 

In the end, the word was spread.

 

No more senseless blood should be shed!

 

And they experienced what success was really about

 

..with assemblence from the Allies without a doubt.

 

Without the Bridge, who knows how it would have turned out.

 

Thanks and appreciation would ruled the atmosphere

 

Different folks dedicated to change, by lending a hand and an ear.

 

The strength of the Allies would bring any Foe to tears

 

But then…

 

On the Bridge there stood confusion

 

Trans folks were crossing over – enter Inclusion

 

Some Butches felt a sudden sense of intrusion

 

(are the borders still there, or is this an illusion)

The borders were still there, riddled with illusion

 

Why is this different from the year before?

 

You crossed the Bridge to help close a violent door

 

Embracing our differences ~ is this just folklore?

 

And today…

 

We’re crossing as Allies, nothing less and nothing more

 

Perhaps we have been stagnant for so long

 

Divided by Borders has left wide open sores

 

Are we blinded by fear that who we are is contagious

 

Doesn’t anyone like to share space anymore?

 

…I hear it’s quite courageous

 

Shall we just put our boxes back in place

 

Wrap ourselves with neat little bows of leather and lace

 

Do we not recognize the Bridge we just built?

 

Do we think if we all stand to one side…it will forever tilt?

 

What are we to do when our goals been realized

 

When the old ways and borders are suddenly capsized

 

Where the Genders remain the same, nothing is recatergorized

 

Is it possible we have arrived and just need to refamiliarize?

 

I implore you to hesitate no longer

 

Leave the napping for a time more somber

 

Hear the rapping, the tapping at your door

 

If you open it wide enough, you can see so much more

 

……like water under a troubled Bridge ~ let’s remain fluid in our Journeys~ DW ~

She said…

     Posted on Fri ,15/04/2011 by Daywalker

Would you step on a caterpillar, she asked

Would you kill the future memory of a child

who is fighting for their reason, and one day~

one day when the butterfly was to make its

permanent mark upon the little child

who would bear their first real smile upon the world

that will reflect back upon us through a photograph

…and the butterfly

…would you, she asked?

Would you step on a caterpillar?

How will you know if I do, I asked

She said

When the childs memory…is gone too soon

That’s the day your feet stop touching the ground

And the butterfly is no where to be found

9 words used: Butterfly Fighting Little Memory Life Mark Know Reason Soon

Empty Husk

     Posted on Sun ,20/02/2011 by Daywalker
Your stomach ripples from within
as you chew on the wings
of the last jar
of flies
~
On the silent shelf
that speaks volumes
and exudes the images
mirrored upon your face
~
As you swallow the denial
now caught up behind
the bluest of hues
in your eyes
~
…that fall down with you
and gaze upon the goodness
that sleeps beneath your shoes
~
Covered in the empty husk
of luxurious hindsight
~
Leaving emptiness
replacing your voice
~
That echoes and mourns
the walls of your mouth
that held your truths
~
…anchored now
for infinity
~
In the empty jar
that once embraced
the broken wings
of your lies
~
9 Words used:
Speak Chew Good Face Eye Mouth Silent Swallow Denial

Bull’s Eulogy

     Posted on Sat ,20/11/2010 by Daywalker
I could hear the gravel crunch beneath my feet as I walked through this small town. This small town that raised my Father from the time he was a child. The sound of the gravel turned to silence as I stood in front of the Chapel. Today I am to deliver a Eulogy, sadly it is for my Father. I continued up the old stone steps, inhaling the aroma of roses that covered the entrance way. People loved my Father, they knew him better than I ever did. But all these years later, I found out there was more to him than even they may have known. It was up to me to fill in the blanks of my Fathers character and how it was created. The clock smiled down upon me and struck noon, just like it has for over a hundred years now.
It was time.  I stood up and approached the crowded room of strangers, cleared my voice and began.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This Eulogy was found just after my Father passed away.

In his will, I was to retrieve a box from his desk drawer.

In that box…was a gold pocket watch.

Just underneath the box…was this letter.

It was a Eulogy he gave when his mentor passed on.
I feel there is great importance in sharing his words…with all of you.
Without further ado…I give to you the words of my Father”

The Eulogy of Bull

‘It’s so easy to get lost in this moment, so I thought I would begin from the
first time I met Bull. There was a small rustic town just on the other side of
Brewers Creek and sometimes Mom would send me there for this or that.
One morning I took a different way and ran into this small cobbler shop.
There was a man inside, he pretended not to notice me as I stood halfway
peeking in the doorway to see what he was doing. When I finally got the
nerve to walk in, I asked ‘Hey Mister…do you know what time it is…?’
He looked up at me and said ‘Boy…I fix broken watches. I never know what
time it is.’ It was that day that I learned just how interesting Bull was.
He had, as I learned through the years…many quirks. He always wore his
next repair on his right wrist while repairing whatever time piece was in
front of him. He said that when his wrist was empty then he had ran out of
work, it was time to fix shoes again. I never pretended to understand
everything about him or the things he would say, but I sure learned a lot
about time. Over the next few years I would stop by and visit with Bull.
He was the best story teller I had ever met. And he always claimed
not to know what time it was…ever.

The summer my Mom passed away from pneumonia, Bull became more
than just the guy I dropped in to visit…he became my close friend and mentor.
I would do my homework in his shop, then he would teach me his trades.
Every Thanksgiving he would order crab from some place in Alaska and
that’s what we ate in lieu of turkey. I think it was his quirkiness that drew
my attention at first, but soon his ways would become my ways too.

Many years had passed, and Bull’s time here on Earth was coming to a close.
I never told him this, but years ago I spotted a gold chain hidden beneath
his vest that disappeared into his front pants pocket. Well last week I found
out what that gold chain was. Bull called me to his bedside and pulled out
this pocket watch and told me if I never let it stop, then I too shall be a story
teller like him. There was an engraving on one side with his name, and he
told me that the engraving was to his Father…whose real name was Bill,
but the engraver made a mistake. On the other side was a detailed engraving
of a crab. Bull then told me something that answered many a question.

When he was born he was set afloat by his Mother, who apparently was
deemed insane…and he was found days later on the coast of Alaska. All that
was with him was a blanket and this watch. He was raised by the locals there
and when he was old enough, they gave him the deed to property obtained in
the fishing trade…and so he set sail on his own and landed here to begin a
shoe repair shop. Funny thing is, he never really repaired shoes, just watches.
When he was done telling me his story, he placed the watch into my hand
and closed his eyes. It was his last story. So I am here today to pay tribute
to Bull, and to tell his story. ‘

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was done reading, there was only the sound of silence.
Then I heard it…the tick tock of the watch coming from my vest pocket.

I pulled it out, stared at it for a moment or three and was suddenly taken by an overwhelming need to smile. I was never so proud of anything in my life. I gathered my last words to those who came to celebrate my Fathers life…

“My Father was indeed a story teller. Many of you were blessed with these stories for many years.”

I held up the pocket watch, shimmering in all it’s glory.
“My son, William…will one day hear the stories told to me by my Father, and he too shall become a story teller…and he too shall inherit the gift of time.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I left the Chapel, and headed back through town.
The tick tock of that pocket watch echoed everywhere I went.
A reminder from my Father to keep the stories of Bull…alive.
Once in a while, I swear I could hear the sounds of seagulls soaring over
the Ocean…coming from my vest pocket.

Calypso’s Melody

     Posted on Thu ,15/07/2010 by Daywalker

I’ve seen the other side of twilight

By the light of a candle in my eye

It was whimsical, it was dark

It echoed of lost souls

And broken wings

Of lonesome curiosity

Hardened were my tears of wax

Melting upon the break

Of another dawn

As I shivered in the sun

There on the horizon

The epoch arrived with a melody

And Calypso spoke softly

Her words danced

Profoundly in the air

Like silk in the wind

Followed by the echoes

Carried away by the steel breeze

That I followed

Now dancing

Back to the shadows

Of Twilight

It was dark