bairnsidhe: (Default)

Attila the Hungry sits on a throne of bowls

Each one a trophy of his offered meals

Noodles and rice dumplings and eggs and tofu

With beef and pork and chicken and shrimp

Topped with squash and sprouts and bamboo shoots


Attila the Hungry leads his Ravenous Hoard

To battle with hunger and starvation

All around the world, wherever bellies rumble

The Ravenous Hoard raises money for food

Even in their own hometowns where we’d like

To think there is no hunger or starvation


The Ravenous Hoard will work at gardens,

Farming up crops of produce for Attila

And proudly bringing home the spoils of war

Their Plowshares have been beaten into swords

To fight off riders on black horses and their scales


The Ravenous Hoard follows Attila the Hungry

Because he feeds them lots of tasty food

But also because he leads the way forward

To when nobody goes hungry ever again.

bairnsidhe: (Default)

We are not the center of the great wheel of life.


We are not the hub

Around which the vast system-wheel turns

We are the spokes

Which give it the shape to function


We are not special or unique or God’s Elect


We are not the gem

In the center of the crown jewels of Eternity

We are the links

That underpin them with strength.


We are not alone in the universe in life or sapience.


We do not stand on

Eden’s lonely island, the sole heir

We do not hold our

Solitude as divinity granted by an absent deity


We reach out our hearts

Knowing we will find brothers and sisters

Hoping they will find us

Building bridges and drawing plans

For the day we discover,

Lessening our ponderous inertia

Singing into the stars

By the arcane forms of some deep

Copernican revelation

We are instead the soul aire.


54 and 16

Monday, August 28th, 2017 04:06 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
It's been 54 years since a man had a dream
On the steps of a temple to freedom
It's been 54 years since he called out for equality
And 49 years since they shot him.

It's been 16 days since a girl paid attention
Outraged and saddened at it
It's been 16 days since she protested hatred
Just 16 days since she was hit

People keep moving the end of the race
People keep dying for taking a stand
People keep killing just to save face
And the red of our blood stains the land

Remember now, it's been 54 years
Since 1963
Since a man and a dream and a speech
About one day being free

Remember now, when they say that it's done
Lost to the past oh so far.
It's been just 16 days since a girl who believed
For her belief was killed by a car.

bairnsidhe: (Default)
Warriors may ride on a Path of Vengeance
Paladins may ride on a Path of Divinity
Bards may ride on a Path of Chance
But I ride on the Path of Totality

A dark shadow is crossing the earth
A specter has hidden the sun
The dragons have eaten the light
Apophis is finally come

Warriors may ride on a Path of Vengeance
Paladins may ride on a Path of Divinity
Bards may ride on a Path of Chance
But I ride on the Path of Totality

A loud ringing sound breaks the sky
A fight is yet again won
The light will burn back all darkness
At the strike of a drum

Warriors may ride on a Path of Vengeance
Paladins may ride on a Path of Divinity
Bards may ride on a Path of Chance
But I ride on the Path of Totality

Hope springs eternal in human hearts
A power invested in fun
Ra is reborn as each day's new promise
Is more than our sum

Warriors may ride on a Path of Vengeance
Paladins may ride on a Path of Divinity
Bards may ride on a Path of Chance
But I ride on the Path of Totality
bairnsidhe: (Default)
For the "Wearing Pajamas all day" square of Cotton Candy Bingo.

//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\
It is Sans-Pants-o-Clock!

Ring out the bells and throw confetti,

For the accursed leg-traps are banished

To the hamper to wait for trial-by-washer.

 

The hour has come,

On this day of fries, to escape from our duty,

Our suits and our ties and our shoes that pinch.

The weekend is comfort made time manifest.

 

Now we don our lazy apparel,

Our summer-weight flannels and jersey knits

Held comfortably low on our slouching hips

By elastic and draw-strings cinched softly.

 

Bring out oversize tee shirts,

And bright fuzzy socks that cushion your feet

In warm fluffy down of a rainbow riot of colors

Because in Sans-Pants-o-Clock anything goes.

 

None shall be shamed

Nor do shame to others for choosing a sleep shirt

Or a Superman onesie complete with fluttering cape

Or even a nightgown, red, slinky, silky… with LACE!

For it is Sans-Pants-o-Clock and we’re relaxing today.

bairnsidhe: (Default)
For the "Poetry" square of my Cotton Candy Bingo Card.

//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\

Do not write me poems about myself
Untouchable, unknowable Goddess
Don't place me on the pedestal-shelf,
Cold and untouched and loveless.
Instead...
Instead, I'd like you to show me,
Wrap me in the laughter of a lover,
Tell me things I don't yet know,
Caress me gentle and tender.
It's in the touchable love you show
Me that you see my heart.

Oh, I laugh at how you name me
You laugh at how I laugh, my eyes tipped up.
Others have said like twin crescent moons,
But you call them croissants, buttery and sweet.
You open my heart with octopi pendants
And blow soft fire into my soul's forge,
Always safe and caring for the rough edges
You know I have, scars of battles past.

You do not write me poems.
You give me the pen instead.

Changing Unchanging

Wednesday, August 9th, 2017 09:06 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
 This was purchased by [personal profile] chanter_greenie from my Queer Writing June '17.

//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\

Words change.

Words change their meaning.

What Awful once meant was Full of Awe

Inspiring and amazing and wondrous.


Words change.


Languages change.

Common slang becomes uncommon and esoteric

And what once meant one thing can now mean something

Beyond any scope of what was intended by the first lips

To speak that word or phrase.


Words change.

Languages change.


Cultures change.

What was common but inconvenient can be

Repainted as vile and sinful and wrong, demonized.

What once was hated and feared and rejected out of hand

Can be accepted by a later people, welcomed home

With open arms and flying colors declaring love.


Words change.

Languages change.

Cultures change.


People don’t.


People are bright fires of candles and the wrath of a storm

They are the beauty of flowers blooming in a glass house

Or hiding, ready to burst out in a moment’s warmth, for now

Surrounded by freezing snow and killing winds shrieking.

People must be watched like flame and respected like storms.

Because if you do not listen when they cry out for warmth

You will kill that fragile bloom.


So words change,

And languages change,

And cultures change.

And people cry out the names they want to be called


Fights don’t change.

And every false-hearted ally of a long war

Joining at that last moment to receive the laurels and not the scars

To bear the red of ribbons not of blood,

Will use the argument of words and languages and cultures shifting

To claim their prizes over our dead

And we; the buried flowers of snow, howl like wind and burn like flame.

We will be called what we will.

We will take the names we find fitting to our statures and our souls.

We will do this whether or not

You decide we deserve it and we will always fight back against your attempt

To keep our reclaimed arrows

For the quivers of those who cruelly shot us down with them in the first place.

And our cry will echo the same


That is not a slur it is my name!


Hairpins

Saturday, August 5th, 2017 07:19 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
 This is from my month of Queer Writing that is just not resolving into a physical zine well.  All the people who were already promised a physical copy will get one, free of charge, and in the meantime, I'm putting all the remaining works up for purchase.  There will be a landing page for buying them soon.  Thank you for your patience.

//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\

Drop a hair pin,

Pick one up,

Say it quiet,

Don’t push your luck.


Wear the pansies,

And the purple ties.

Signal quiet

Beneath the lies.


The closet door

Is like a shield

On the social

Battlefield.


Growing low,

Hiding hearts,

Snow melts

And spring starts.


Loud and proud

Can wait for then,

Until it’s safe

Find your kin


In color codes and inside jokes

Hairpins for the queerer folks.

bairnsidhe: (Default)
The Existential Catumpillar
Outside my school,
Smokes lollipops and
Eats candy buttons,
And big thoughts,
He asks us
Deep fun questions
As we pass

"How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck were given the basic respect due a living being?"

Sometimes, we
Will try to answer
And we're usually
Completely wrong,
But he wants us
To try anyway.

"Is it nobler to be, or not to be, or to be a busy little bee, or to be-bop?"

Sometimes, we
Laugh at the
Silly Catumpillar.
He says
That's okay.
Laughter is good.

"What is the sound of a tree falling in the forest if no-one can hear the bears shitting?"

Sometimes, we
Learn the things
The teachers can't
Teach us, and
we didn't know
we didn't know.

"Imagine if gender were a strict binary, only two options, no other choices or chance to change your mind."

"But it is," says one boy.

"Good job on that imagination," says the Catumpillar.

We all know
The Catumpillar
And we all know
That he is wise and good.
We need him
For comfort and joy

"What would you do, if you couldn't fail and you couldn't succeed, and mediocrity was socially acceptable?"

Sitting,
His legs folded
Cris-cross
Applesauce
Two spoons in a bowl.
His butt firmly resting
A yard and five inches
Off the ground.

At night, I hum
And know he hears
My answers to his
Ice-Cream Koans

"Do woodchucks actually want to chuck wood?  I mean, have we ever asked them?"

"It is noblest  to put the bop in the bop shoo bop shoo bop.  Then someone's baby can fall in love with them."

"I'd assume it's the same as the sound of one idiot shutting up, since I've never heard either."

I don't always
Have answers
For the Catumpillar.
I think that's okay

Too.
bairnsidhe: (Default)
We humans are ever a frail and failing lot.
Now stumbling over our past, and hiding error
From those we seek to please, our shame lit hot
The chance we flub our fame is shining terror

I seek to ever my failings defeat in time
To master the ancient work of bard and pen
With truth to speak to power of meter and rhyme
I set my mind to task, to page I bend

And should to fix the opportunity arrive
In joy I edit, to perfection I then do strive!

Pan-- 2nd Draft

Monday, June 26th, 2017 05:34 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)

This is an edited version of this poem. Much thanks to [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith for the con-crit that improved it!

//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\




Pan is for Panic


When nobody knows

How to pin you down

And so they trip over

Themselves instead.


Pan is for Pantheon


The long long list of

Virtues and vices

Deified into orderly lists

Of things you might want


Given human forms

Shapely and graceful

Male and female

And those that defy name.


Pan is for Pandemonium


Chaos’s favored child

The heart and soul of a storm

Riotous rout, a tumultuous

Outpouring of songs


Everywhere and all at once

Things they overlooked are

Now growing strong and

They are outnumbered


Reaching for answers

The cowed majority

Demonize and scorn

The open heart of you


Pan is for Pan


The great goat-horned god

Wildling of wild woods

Companion of nymph and satyr

Sexual being unbound


By restriction of rule of law

A rustic ruler of his own

Nature and nurture.

Battle blooded with gods


Child of trickster Hermes,

Fearsome to small minds

His greatest trick echoes

Across the sea at Paxi


Pan has never yet died,

He lives in the hearts of

His many soul-kin, lovers

Who seek where they find.


Pan is for All


Pan--1st Draft

Thursday, June 22nd, 2017 02:59 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
 

Pan is for Panic

 

When nobody knows

How to pin you down

And so they trip over

Themselves instead.

 

Pan is for Pantheon

 

The long long list of

Virtues and vices

Deified into orderly lists

Of people you might want.

 

Pan is for Pandemic

 

Everywhere and all at once

Things they overlook are

Now growing strong and

They are outnumbered.

 

Pan is for Pandemonium

 

Chaos’s favored child

The heart and soul of a storm

Riotous rout, a tumultuous

Outpouring of songs

 

Pan is for Pan

 

The great goat-horned god

Wildling of wild woods

Companion of nymph and satyr

Sexual being unbound

 

By restriction of rule of law

A rustic ruler of his own

Nature and nurture.

Battle blooded with gods

 

Child of trickster Hermes,

Fearsome to small minds

His greatest trick echoes

Across the sea at Paxi

 

Pan has never yet died,

He lives in the hearts of

His many soul-kin, lovers

Who seek where they find.

 

Pan is for All


Somedays

Wednesday, June 21st, 2017 03:42 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
 

Some days are lace

Ribbons and bows

Sugar and spice

And everything nice

 

Some days are for the girl.

 

Some days are leather

Denim and flannel

Snips and snails

And puppy-dog tails

 

Some days are for the boy.

 

Some days are for swirling
Cotton skirts o
ver soft leggings

Because they are also for forts

And crawling through bushes

 

Some days are for both.

 

It’s a special kind of freedom

It’s a special kind of cage

That the ever-shifting winds

Blow in who the child is today

 

Some days are for the fight

 

Against all the demands of
Steady e
arth-bound folk

Who don’t see why the wild

Wanders free in some spirits

 

Every day is for the soul.

 

Shifting as the flickering flame

And as steady and noble

As the ebb and flow of tides

The other element’s children

Every day is for hope.

Hope that someday
Our children's children
May be as they are
And someday be free,

 

To have their days too.


Asexy Honey

Monday, June 5th, 2017 08:58 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)

Asexy Honey hold me tight

Asexy Honey love me right

Cuddle me until the dawn

Hold my hand all night long

 

Asexy Honey… love me the way you do.

 

Asexy Honey kiss my fingertips

Asexy Honey curve those asexy lips

Smile like I’m the moon and stars

Give me that asexy love of ours

 

Asexy Honey… love me the way you do.

 

Asexy Honey ask me ‘bout my day

Asexy Honey take my fears away

For you my heart is an open book

Open it up and take a good look

 

Asexy Honey… love me the way you do.

 

Asexy Honey split your dessert

Asexy Honey my ice cream flirt

Learn all my favorite flavors

It’s life so we’re gonna savor

 

Love the way we do… my asexual honey and me.


Family

Sunday, May 28th, 2017 11:35 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
Family is...

Uncles in the kitchen heat
Toss salad, roast meat
In the oven bake the buns
Laughing at all the puns


Family is...

Aunties in the living room
Knitting needles, ribbon loom
Each of us obeys our muse
Talking of the daily news

Family is...

Cousins on the back porch
Bottle rocket, roman torch
Things that pop, sparkle, or glow
Preparing for the family show

Family is a lot of things
Feelings, promises, and rings
Humor and sharing,
Sympathy and caring,
Love that opens like a bud....

But least of all is Family blood.

Haikus for a Rainy Day

Saturday, May 27th, 2017 11:47 am
bairnsidhe: (Default)
Raindrops fall lazily
Painting in hazy watercolors
Memory of life


City lights become then
In the veil of falling rain
A thousand fireflies

Mystery of old
The myths we told our children
Seem real enough now
bairnsidhe: (Default)
You messed with the wrong witch

Some soapy water isn’t gonna do the trick

You murdered and you stole and you lied

You thought you could tear me down, Wiz you tried

Put me through torment, fear and pain

Guess that a scarecrow’s not the only one without a brain

I’ve got a secret I really think you oughta know because

I’m not the only witch in OZ

Yeah, you messed with the wrong witch

Tried to off me with an innocent

But she knows now that all your words are lies

Sure as she’s seen monkeys fly

I told her my side of the story, but a little less gory

And you should never hurt a Friend of Dorothy

We’ve got a secret we want to share with the man behind the curtain

We are stronger together that’s certain

Pretty sure you messed with the wrong witch

And now things are gonna switch

Get in your balloon, I have a twister waiting for you

Dorothy’s staying on the ground, she knows what to do

Go back home write a book where I’m Wicked to the core

Try to forget what here in Oz you’ll be remembered for

Got a message for when you land in Kansas with a crazy story

Never mess with a Friend of Dorothy

Break The Chain

Wednesday, May 24th, 2017 10:52 am
bairnsidhe: (Default)
I'm gonna break the chain
Free my body and my brain

I'm gonna rail and rant and rage
Tell the world I'm outta my cage

I'm gonna break the chain
Escape the fear and the pain

I'm gonna howl like the North Wind
My freedom is mine to defend

I'm gonna break the chain

No more holding back, or playing safe
No more smiling past rules that chafe

I'm gonna break the chain
Wash it away like falling rain

Now I'm free and I can see why
We break free, we try, or we die

I'm gonna break the chains!

Bad Girl Blues

Tuesday, May 23rd, 2017 03:03 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
Slinking into the room
Heads turn to stare
Before they look away
Knowing only fools do what angels don't dare.

Sliding up to the bar
Ordering a drink
Nobody offers to buy
I pay my way and they know what I'd think.

It's a lonely life
Being the hard one
The Fatale is recalled
Long after the Femme has been forgotten.

I'm not drawn bad,
I just am that way.
The Dame, the Queen
The Bombshell and I'm here to stay.

The New Hypatia

Thursday, May 18th, 2017 11:47 pm
bairnsidhe: (Default)
It is easy to say "We have not learned."
It is easy to point to Ignorance
Portrayed as Faith,
Opinion held equal with Fact,
And say "See Alexandria still burn."

It is easy to rail and blame.
It is easy to call out human frailty,
And the weakness of our memory,
Our repeated mistakes,
And say "This is all the same."

But be not disingenuous of mind.
Do not fall for simplistic Despair
Masked as Wisdom,
Or you do what you despise
In the doubting of our kind.

Hypatia did not die in vain!
Her spirit rose like a phoenix
On the wings of words
Her life had been devoted to,
Lighting the dark with flame

Even now, our libraries burn
With the thousand life-bright soul-fires
Of each moment, each movement.
Nestling knowledge in heaven's fire,
Hidden archives await their turn

So say not that we have not grown.
Say not that human hearts will fail
To the madness of illiterate fools.
For we have always guarded,
And guided, and learned, and known.

I say "Let the new Hypatia prove!
Let her stride forth on the digital field,
And wield a staff-lever of memory.
Give her a fulcrum and a place to stand...


For she has a world to move."

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