Sir Day Walker

The Julie

Daywalker — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 22:20:58 +0000

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

Daywalker — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 04:38:22 +0000

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…

Daywalker — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 17:56:53 +0000

~*~ 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…

Daywalker — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 01:29:26 +0000

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

Daywalker — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 21:17:01 +0000

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

Daywalker — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 19:46:48 +0000

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

Daywalker — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 06:55:56 +0000

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

…just adding another Quote by Me:

Daywalker — Fri, 28 May 2010 02:41:56 +0000

“May the grin of innocence be forever a shameful scar to this man,

for when it comes time to stand before he falls…there shall be no

ground for which he may stand that will not know… and he will fall below.”

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

Background on these words that I wrote today~

The Justice system has dealt a good soul a bad hand this week.

A man will walk free after assaulting a friend in a parking lot, turned her world upside down.

And now the scales of Justice have tipped from right to wrong, leaving the raw emotions of a victim to heal within herself…it’s just fucking astounding how a Hate Crime can be Plea bargained down to something that compares to a traffic ticket.

Keep the Groovy Faith Teddye!

A Video Project

Daywalker — Sun, 02 May 2010 18:35:00 +0000

I put this together, collaborating a Party Ben Remix of Star Guitar along with pictures from the Butch Voices (www.butchvoices.com) Photo Project…and this is how it came out:

…in a Bottle

Daywalker — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 20:04:14 +0000

You fascinate me
Frustrate me
Punish me
Heal me
Age me
Make me crazy
You freeze me
You forget me
Pass me by
like you’ve never met me
You diminish me
Complete me
Haunt me
Consume me
Waste me away, yet
You are nothing without me
I love you
I hate you, yet
I will soon miss you
I cannot save you
I cannot forget you
I cannot have more of you
Your name is Time, and yet
You were never really all mine.