Recipe No. 6 – How To Become A Cult Leader.

Step One: Have an idea. A good one. One that will sell itself.

Step Two: Prey on minds that believe they need what you’re selling. Usually, in some form or another, the sell is about a particular lifestyle or image. They will begin to follow you, oh great leader.

Step Three: Keep your followers on their toes. Make sure they are so brainwashed and bathed in fear that it will take a great leap in life to stop following you. Ever.

Step Four: When minds start to wake up to whatever they’ve believed, make sure you have enough money to keep your cult going. Discredit non-believers at every turn. Be so fearful and powerless- errr, I mean fearED and powerFUL that you don’t have to appear to be grasping at straws to maintain “order.”

CONGRATULATIONS! 👏 YOU HAVE BECOME A CULT LEADER.* 😱

*A cult can be seen as such depending on perspective. Scientology? Consult the dictionary definition. An economy based on consumerism? You decide.

Recipe No. 4 – How To Get Through a Power Outage in the Middle of a Summer Day.

Step One: Get naked. The A/C won’t be working for a while, so it is best to take precautions.

Step Two: Eat food before it spoils. Start with the freezer – ice cream or popsicles are first in this crisis.

Step Three: Divvy up your time with your most-charged devices. Save your cell phone for last – you never know when you might need to phone a friend (or answer a call) for that tricky Who Wants To Be A Millionaire question.

Step Four: Still no power? Take a nap and pray 🙏 that your devices will be re-charged again in the convenience of your own home rather than at some random Starbucks outside of the zone of affected power-outage customers.

CONGRATULATIONS! 👏 YOU MADE IT THROUGH A 1ST WORLD CRISIS. 😱

*Inspired by yet another no A/C situation at my job today. Almost the 3rd power outage of some kind at my job/home this summer. I stand by this recipe. It is utterly complaint-proof. 

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty-Three + Day Twenty-Four.

I didn’t tell you I untangled myself
From the tango with the red leash.
I didn’t tell you I was running
From the zip line and its breeze.
I didn’t tell you I met Adam
From the alley, on the eve
Of a midsummer midnight in mountain land…
I didn’t tell you I never lost sleep.

I didn’t tell you because I did what was right
In my heart, not my mind,
It showed me
I didn’t tell you it displayed
A go-big-or-go-home sign for you
I didn’t tell you
Because you’re more scared and scarred than me.

I didn’t tell you how unbelievable you are
I didn’t tell you, never said
That I was mostly detached
Knowing where you were at
And I didn’t tell you
How much it killed me.

I didn’t tell you I was your mother
I didn’t tell you that I died
I didn’t tell you about this painful loss-
Reborn from the Middle Ages, my son
I didn’t tell you just how you were my pride.

I lied-
I lied by omission.
You did the same for me
I didn’t tell you this thing…

I didn’t tell you I loved you
From the moment we first met
I didn’t tell you because I’m not crazy.

I can see, and sense, and feel you…
That doesn’t go away with time…

I didn’t tell you – you never asked me.

Image by Marlena McGuigan, “Cutting Cords”
Copyright © 2016 Maieutic•Arts. All rights reserved.

This weekend was something. I figured I would post another old poem, called All Unspoken, with a new picture + a new meaning of nails in my tires. Two of them, both old tires, both the back tires. Still good. Still have a light at my core. And, so do my tires – despite the damage attempted. We are approaching a New Moon 🌙  yay!

July 15th + July 16th, 2017.

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty.

I am your leftovers.
I am what you consumed
I am what you threw out
I am your ideal convenience
Your added sugar
Your cheap labor
Your nutty and granola
Wild Child.

I am your leftovers.
I am your quick and easy snatch
I am your powdered doughnut
I am your fresh fruit smoothie
Your parts
Your whole
Your mountain and pile of
Scape Goat Crisps.

I am your leftovers.
I am your creation of trash
I am out of sight
I am out of mind
Your shadow in slavery
Your illusion of progress
You packaged my perfection
And I am called a deal.

I am your leftovers.
Keep feeding me
And I will keep feeding you.

The moon is still waning, and I am probably still whining. It’s late, and I had some wine, at least. I am re-posting poems (this one was called Package Deal) that I feel to post for the moment in this series (from my “personal” blog). Felt consumed by Mother Earth’s pain from our consumerism today – more than usual. Hopefully something upbeat tomorrow…!

July 12th, 2017.