The Lot Of Us Are

queer

1. 1.

   strange; odd.

   "she had a queer feeling that they were being watched"

   synonyms:

   odd, strange, unusual, funny, peculiar, curious, bizarre, weird, uncanny, freakish, eerie, unnatural; More

There is a place, to wield your wand, but it isn't here. There is a way...if discretion's seal is on your lips, to engage in any deliciousness, you wish. There is a space, where a wizards will...is welcome to play, if you're not afraid...or fear to come.

You must start young to be taught the tongue...of the grammary. Even then, a peculiar place, to grow. Tis a strange strange one, who gently stand upon its plinth, to ask to...live in God's own land...for evermore.

There is a place, to be your self, so, be you light or no, where magic's as dear a dream, as if it were. There is a path, tween heart and mind of girl and boy, to wander along, where straight's the way...but, if you're queer...it's quite ok. The lot of us are.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Creation of Adam, Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel

What Can You Do?

What can you do, when a million people want to shift, and the earth does too...when your life depends on a bureaucrats lips say'n the right thing...when there's rain outside, come'n down in buckets and bags, and the winds howl'n harder than an old freight train...lost its brakes?

What can you do? What can you do, when the freeway's full, jammed and packed and side streets too...with souls, decided, the weatherman was right...way too late? What can you do, when the mountains you were fleeing to, are blocked both ways...or a dam's about to go, like the end of the world, behind your ass?

I don't rightly know, but I know this...I'd quit my shit, and get down on my knees ...and pray! 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Deming

I look in the grit grimed windows, of this town...like the jaundiced, yellowed eyes of age in its old men and women. Everything here, leans a ways, to east...to find its balance. Stop signs, candy red once, now...wind blasted white, and sand scored, cracks in the brittle pavement.

Brutal stares of battlement, aiming blame, at every stranger come to town...how dare you end up here, in our misery and frustration! All that ever was, of hard and hateful, had a reason, come to claim a deed of sand, come here...to watch their dreams, get scattered in the wind, and back bent, hold out, like a bitter tree root...buried in the dirt.

A wave of hand, like a smile, is anathema to this kind, and that too, tans, then burns...and turns to dust, where eyes, downcast...no longer hope to find a friend. Yet, I know a heart can smile, even in its death, a thing can find a way to grow. No scorn or curse upon its soul, can stop its love from reaching up and...touching sun.

So, there is renovation in the works here, scrabbling in this chicken scratch town. I hear a whisper of redemption, sound a little like rebirth...something come'n better, than...when K-Mart left...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Love, In All Its Forms

You may convey something I find agreement in, but I can only acknowledge, in my mind that thing...and smile on. It is especially so, of love...in all its forms.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Sometimes They Hiss

When I say, "I have been there and done that"...they know I have, and few challenge me on that, but they watch me stroll by, and they gnash and click their teeth. Sometimes, 'they hiss!'

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Salt For Savior

When I open my door, to religious people...they enter, politely. But, in short order, they begin to 'impose' and demand. They will 'hook' you into a visit, at their church.

They will trap you in your words, and if you are very adept, at your words, they will send prelates to your door. If you invite these in, you will never get rid of them, and they will 'wheedle' you, at your point, and surround you on all sides, until you are forced to rudeness, and demand of your own. "Leave!"

It is a trying experience, to negotiate with God's 'so called' people. So, for the most part, unless I am in the mood for an argument of enormous proportion, I leave off church...and salt my entry way.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

But Say Not Much

So, I wander and I nod and smile...if allowed, but say not much, for it is wiser, in silence, to speak your mind...than to stir the madding mob.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

I'm Your Buddy!

There is no religious persuasion, or political party, I have found, that will not 'know you' at election time, and come claiming to be your pal, your friend, your buddy...until they get you to the voting booth, after they do a 'mind wipe', and whitewash of events. 'So called' friendship at this time, in this world...is not for the faint of heart.


Written By Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

This Other Called Love

Love is not given by thee, but carried within thee, and given of itself. It is a spirit, alive in it's own body. It will come forth of its own nature, in its own time and trust.

We are but the conduit and host, for this other...called love. We cannot give, or 'not give'. We can only be, and be thankful, and accept what is given.

We are not here to impose or withdraw, but to experience...as a guileless child would, its environment, to be open and wondering, that the indwelling spirit, may pass freely among us. 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

And He Laughs

The extraction of every valuable thing, is taking place around our world. We see it. We care, as we cry for caring too little. We think ourselves, too few. Against this grasping beast, we see ourselves too small. But we are not. We are David, all...against a great mad brute.

His army's spread, around the world, by division, phalanx, legion, doth he rule...with tractors, trucks and tanks...pills and potions, for faux feelings, with terrible pacts and contracts, to tear the earth apart...and suck her soul! He squats, atop the pile...harbors in the gaiety and thrall of parody and excess, and he laughs.

Choose your stone well, your word, and aim true...for God will guide your arm, and show you what to do...in these times, when mere mention, cause a throne to fall. There is one 'head' in all. Ye 'little ones' will stand and bring it down. Ye little ones will see it roll...and all o' this be done.

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Like A Potter Wipes A Bowl

I watched a trailer for a movie called 'Torchbearer', starring Phil Robertson of 'Duck Dynasty'. I cannot stress enough, my feeling, that Christianity has strayed far from its mission in America. The entertainment industry, media of all kinds, and citizens of a, 'once' God fearing, God respecting land have digressed into a mire fit for pigs and perversion.

Rebellious youth and political proponents, now challenge a once sacred given, that 'in God we trust'. Even in the churches of the land, there is little solidarity, being that, long held certainties of moral direction, have been cast out, and desecrated even in the pews of sanctimony.

What this all means, is not that I'm a preacher, which I'm not...it means, that I am here to share a feeling I have, that if America does not re-engage with the sacred, the living god of creation, straighten it's moral compass, pull it's poopy pants up, and start acting like decent human beings...it can expect a butt kicking from the God, it claims is outdated and no longer living! I mean, 'a butt kicking', like only dad can do!

Our grace and blessing in this nation, has been rudely demanded, by every Inaugural, football game, and prayer breakfast now...for years. It started getting 'iffy' to ask for any of that, in the years following the white European declaration of 'Manifest Destiny'. Now, it's just bazaar and brazen, beyond belief...to ask at all. Mostly, it's rote, just meaningless old habits you don't believe in anyway. But things are going to start 'failing' if you don't start praying...hard, and pronto!

'God' is up to the edge of you! Haven't you noticed? Hmmm? It is time to get straight, with God Almighty! It is time to bend an ear and bend a knee toward God, or by God...he might 'break a knee'! But, it could get worse. A fierce and violent god from another land, wants in here...to build its churches, and institute its hateful laws, that stone your women, and chop off hands of thieves, and that god allows NO freedoms!

America, you are 'teetering' at the edge of a judgement...a judgement, you may still prevent. I recommend you start believing in something, more than nothing, but yourselves. All of your pious talk, and 'do gooding', will remain meaningless too, so long as this nation allows disrespect of its native peoples, it's truly homeless populations, and while dangerous drugs are regularly distributed to inner city ghetto's, by nefarious aims of many official agencies.

As long as little children, are enslaved and harmed, for sex and brutalized for money and power...your public piety means nothing. Rather than 'talk good', this nation will have to 'do good', truly...for a change! If this were a report card, dad would not approve. I'm sure 'mother' would side with you...but this isn't about 'mother'.

This is about a nation filled with 'liberal demands' and ambitions and agendas, unforgiving of the need, now for balance! It is time to respect 'The Father', that great creator spirit, that designed and made this world, and this land, and could just as soon...wipe her like a potter wipes a bowl! Oh, by the way...I don't know what kind of Christian, Phil Robertson is...but I dig the beard! 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, in Deming, New Mexico

Keyhole To Hell

Education is 'a keyhole to hell', when misused. Imagination, however...'can be a door to heaven'...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

In A Spirits Heart

An empty life is a simple life, as may be endured and understood. The accomplished man, walls him in, with his dreams...and nothing more. The rest is pure hysteria, for fear, and we delude ourselves, to what we are...a shallow drama playing, a distraction in a spirits heart...upon a shadowed wall.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Some Tilted Philosopher

We garnish ourselves with irrational behaviors, avoidance's of white elephants, klatch's of coffee's and snobbery's, imbued in gossips...at the shallow ends of pools. You never dive very deeply, into things, for there...at that deep end, are truths, fanged and mighty.

We stay just south of civil, where the social ivy grows its poison tendrils, and we choke on our aloof...even though, we don't want too, and may never know each other well.

You never make friends, but chums...easy to lose, in a bar somewhere, as you continue searching, for a depth...in any draught of brew, some 'tilted' philosopher...to fondle you, and find your balls again...to drunk to care.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

The Sorting

I hope we learn to love one another, but I never believed love was 'Valentines Day'. It is but a tinsel, covering the notion, that sex and chocolate, make up for what we are missing and have not given. It is a sad reminder of this 'flocked and empty waste' we call a holiday.

I do not understand the ethic of cheap chocolate, stuffed with high fructose, in a red box...and calling it 'love'. It is anything but that. In fact, it is 'ill intention', in a bow...to you, my poor and tawdry 'valentine'. It is simply, that I didn't have the time, or take the time...but here's a symbol of the way I 'really' feel.

Now, why don't we get along? I don't know, though every time I look at you...reminds me of our 'sticky' bond, and no clean 'get away'. We should see others more, but I know...you would rather lie...and pound down, this 'heart shaped grudge' from year to year...yummm!

I love this world, and the creatures in it. I cannot give you chocolate. I can only give time, and have invited you to share...whatever we can. But time is short, and you are burning...to be ended. May God sort you out.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Rarely To Bind

Any person, speaking to one, against another...is divisive, to argue in separation of one from another. I read many such arguments here...though rarely, to bind the sides together. Humanity, itself, must say NO to division, before the cut is ever made, or it is too late. If we truly can become one, of two...we can become a third thing, entirely...and stronger, by far than either one, preceding. 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

And Worlds Unknown

My friends are the earth, the fire, the water, the air and a great spirit, that made it, and break it, and made it whole again...for me, and thee.

I thank thee spirit, for all things made manifest to sight, to touch, to hearing, to breathing, to taste...and being, as it were, made from nothing!

Thou, unmanifest and mighty one...thy creatures are sublime, in flaw. I see that you gave latitude, to every thing! You inhabit the lonely spaces, caress the destitute...seeking no name or temple, to thyself.

Yet you are, and there you are apace, and quickly...when you come! There, within the great dark forest, round the campfire bright, thou spreadeth forth thy cloak of stars and worlds unknown...

to hold the children in your arms, that dream away the night...

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

In Those Days

I hope, we may remember, that when all the failures begin, of civilization's psychotropic madness...that, a re-setting of the natural balance will engage. I hope, we may forgive our god and resign our dependency...on devil's.

When the Earth regains herself, shaking off her predators...she will begin a recycling process, that, for once, in a long while...will not have mankind's imprint upon it.

In those days, and they are near, humanity will learn, that survival of a species is not based on convenience store algorithm's, nor on supply and demand, but on being given...and being taken.

Enjoy your 'mastery of the Earth', for the remainder of its run. It was a cruel show, unjustified in nature...that demeans a creature and sucks away its soul! 


Wfitten by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Every Life Taken

I believe God is in every animal, and every time we kill, that we may live...God forgives us, and that is why...we look in their eyes, and we see love...because love, lives in that animal.

Therefore, we should 'thank' the life we take, and take it not lightly, or carelessly, or needlessly. The life God gave us, is not a sport, to be hunted and bragged upon, and wasted.

Life is not to be turned into a slaughtering house, for wealth and convenience...a dainty, that we may consume and forget and consume again. Every life taken, was a slave to our desire.

It will taste of our unkindness, our uncaring...our unknowing, of its tears and fear. Next time you look in an animals eyes, see God there, like no one you've ever known...'human'.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Where Love Will Be Again

Think not so much, of now, and the fear of it...but of a far off future, of which you will be a part... a time of many rivers, clean oceans...great trees, sky's undreamed of, in our time...for fresh air and hope, of dreams to borne...and we'll be there. All nature will be new, unmade by hand of man...where love, again, will be a sweet thing...then, to show us how to teach and touch...

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Then I Will Dream

Although, I do fear death...I am not afraid to die, because, I know...God will remember me. Therefore, when the earth comes crashing down, I will bow, and perhaps...scream, but for a moment only...then, I will dream. 

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, new Mexico

The Apple of Despair

It comes close, doesn't it! It almost 'splits the arrow'...dead center, every time! Well, wouldst thou ask of 'Joe, the liberal', or 'William Tell', to shoot the apple, off your skull?

This is the test, of news, or views, or poetry of truth's...that really ring, that have the brass...to say it, as it is! Would'st thou agree? Contraire? Then, would'st thou last a second, in the light...to 'dis'? 

To host, the apple of despair?


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: William Tell, shooting an apple from his sons head, artist unknown, google

The Very Thought

I know, that I am a bumper crop of 'told you so's', and judgement's...but it's just that, I really talk, really share, really bare my soul...and reveal all, or way too much. Most people don't share, what they think. They reserve that and flutter up a 'bumper sticker', as an excuse to their thoughts...if they have any.

So, it's just bumper to bumper to bumper...like a traffic jam of 'canned' conundrums, of frightened fares, all stuck in traffic, that would never never never, open up their doors, to feed the bears! So, I walk a lot in traffic, because...none of it, and none of you, are really going anywhere.

I peer through your windows, and you freeze, or jeer, or shy back in fear, from 'this thing', that can speak his piece. I wont eat your arm off. Love is an ugly thing, to those accustomed to a fake, for it will touch you, if it can. It's a big and hairy beast, all smelly and close...you dare not let in! The very thought...Oh!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Yellowstone, 1969, hemmings

Down The Rabbit Hole

Good Morning! I get up, and go to 'social media', out of habit and interest. It gets to be (my mind tells me) my whole world...but it's not. My God! It's so small and 'small minded', and cruel to people...a place to lash out!

There are some nice people. They try to be kind and reasonable and balanced. I guess my problem is, I have many interests, and want to get involved in everyone else's. So, I step in, like a big doof and say my thoughts, and just get 'pasted' with hate, or complete ignorance and disdain.

I can take it, and dish it out...till the cows come home, but I don't really want to. It doesn't make me a better person. If the people in the world want to be small, and to remain small, and insular minded...why should I care?

Why should I care, if it turns out, the 'globalists', are the smallest of all...and most bias'd and closed minded? The irony of it, is too obvious, not to laugh. The red necks, rural's, hicks from the sticks, and hill billy's...make the 'city slickers' and 'starbuckians', look like throwbacks, and the 'populists' look like heroes.

No wonder, the death nell of 'the left'(which is the extreme right in costume), has been rung. I wont leave, because, I'm having too much fun on this card board game, called social media, and I would miss some friends.

Yes...even on 'this', you really can make some friends, and meet people in masks, and 'monitors' in drag, from alphabet agencies, and rabbits...and Alice. But, if you believe in this, to the exclusion of the real REAL world, you will end up, down 'the shit hole', not the rabbit hole. Amen!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: imgrum.net, google art

The Tattoo Shop

You must feel good about yourself, such beauty, and such grace...the compromise of any one, any time, any place, then change, as if you'd never been...underage, to somewhere else. 

No wonder everyone's so quiet...shitting bricks, to give away a thing. You aren't fine art, and every girl and boy's, the victim of a canvas...you can stretch, to etch your rot upon. You're no masterpiece, but, think you are. 

They were only wasted things, you threw away...when you were finished 'painting' them,with your corrupted fluids. Cast away's, to dollar stores...to tasteless 'pre-owned', hand me up's, for more than you'd pay a fashion store...a whole lot more, what sole's are worth these days. 

You must feel great about yourself, always 'moves' ahead of anyone...to figure out. No doubt, you're ever caught. You're an advanced creature, but no, you're not. You just think you are!

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Confronting The Adversary

I am not a 'Bible thumping' man, nor a 'scriptural quotist', but there is a war, in this world...and in our own houses, at a spiritual level, that invades our peace and sovereignty. It is especially difficult, if one love their own...and nothing can be said for it, or done...and no one told, for, who would believe...but God Almighty?

When your family are your adversaries, and are able to punish you in your own house, passively, with 'denial of service', denial of mention, denial of interest, fiendish prompts and cunning denials...then you know, whatever you are is more...that, your 'divine' is piercing a clutching spirit, in a war...goes on and on, that you are loved by God, and his Christ...having a life, forever, beyond this one!

I suspect there are many suffering, in a lost place, with no one to tell, and no one to ask. I assure you...you are not alone. I never knew what it meant to be 'a soldier of christ', until, I was drafted into this. What do you say, to that...that moves against you, in a subtle way?

I take walks and pray...go quiet, withdraw, sing, dance, create...and love the world more, if I can, for I am a lonely man. I cannot leave, my family pay...for what I am, that they are not, so I must stand, and take no weapon in my hand...but the love in my heart...to reason, with a damned thing. Argue not, for that is the surest way...to lose, to him.

This is, also, in our nation, our schools, our local and national governments, our churches, our fraternity's, and most trusted places. It is in our Houses of National Government, our Intelligence agencies...our world, its people and the leaders of it! THIS is what we face! This is what we blame each other for...one spirit, spiteful, bent on wrecking everything! Don't let it! Don't let it! Don't let it...in!

Matthew 10:36 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art:  google pic

Note: Watch the movie...'Fallen', starring Denzel Washington and John Goodman. Learn about the fallen angel, Azazel. Quite interesting...

Gurgle Gargle

The way there, really is...'down the toilet'!

Most of the News Wizards, and editorial magic...that spin, our fated realm into the shape it's in, have convinced me of one thing. The bright lights and dim bulbs of media, have all attended 'Hog Wash'! 


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Time To Ticking

In every place, you removed the earth, took its metals, plundered its jewels, raped its forest's, you set up your machinations, your powers for your own good...your devices of intervention, your blockages to breath and flow of God's creation...you set the time to ticking, to repay what you stole, from the life of the world. The balances blown, 'the rooster crow', and it all comes home...to roost.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Before The Aftermath

Thou hath taken to the streets, in madness and demand for spite...thinking thyself greater than heaven, that divine's but your invention. Now, thou hath, as hath demanded. What?! For, ye are nothing, but his grace of thought...yet, ye hath made him cry, behind ye barricade's of will...his tears pour forth, of that, far greater still, than ever be imagined...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Simply So

Save God, little is so powerful, as observation...or so dangerous, as ignorance...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Uno Pede

In the everlasting presence of he, ye will be penitent or reaped. Ye will nay rise, to venal'y proclaim your height, or will be shorter...by a foot!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Idle, Like A Wheel

The keepers of things, the balances...shades of grey, that never change, idle...like a wheel in a breath of breeze, turn today. Grace, is not as graceful as it was. Listen, to your tinkering 'whirligigs', your ill displacement's of the will of God, whisper..."something strange"...some tumult coming to your cause.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

A Damned Lot

Ye have made hay, with the family of a King. Ye have made harlots, of the daughter's of him...his son's, you turned, his little one's, ye made to say damned words, for which...your lot shall burn.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Party Of One

There is no gathering so great, as 'one'...with truth upon his tongue.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Et Infantes

This is your crib, to seethe and demand, to command...to be changed, to be lifted from your soil, and powdered bottom. This is your time to be fresh, and scream...for the tit of every good thing, while you wreck the world and spirit...it was given in!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Crying Caw

You see we now, and this is a time of danger, for you mean we harm, though we mean you none...we hold nothing in our hand, but truth on our tongue, and all the crow, gathered round in thorn...crying caw, upon the head...of he who bear the crown.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

None Of That, And A Chalk Board

I will sound like a fossil, cloned from the stone age...an old school icon, that nobody even dusts off anymore. But here it goes. We don't need liberal arts and sciences in education, beneath college level. We don't need liberal teachers, telling our kids, they are entitled to 'act out', carry on 'an attitude', 'flaunt authority', and persist in casting out the old, without even knowing, what they are casting out.

What we do need in Public Schools, are rules for the students, that wont confuse them, and rules for the teachers...who wish to remain teaching. We need 'Reading, Writing, Arithmetic...and a chalk board. Beside that, we need to hire some damn good experienced teachers, that care, to give a child 'that spark of learning', some old school teachers...not these new school 'wastes of time', turning our children's minds and morals to pulp!

School, for our youngsters, need not be 'a social experiment'. The experiment has failed. Enough damage has been done to our children! So called 'entitlements', and 'entitlement attitudes' have ruined generations of, otherwise, fine capable students, and turned them into the willing pawns of the state. Team spirit has its place, but 'independent thought', is the sovereignty of a child's mind. They need to know, they have a right to be who they are, for their own good.

Schools receive billions of dollars, in Federal grants. The classroom halls are paved in gold, but the emphasis of interest by the faculties, involve attendance for dollars. We don't need the 'entitlement' of a fancy looking school, where the actual academic levels of the student body, are propped up by illegitimate paper work...to suck of the Federal dollar trough. It would be wiser, to my mind, to use that money to lure 'great teachers' to small places, like the small town my kids and family live near.

The city's, for many social reasons...are in danger of failure, while that, which might re-energize America's greatness...the 'rural population', languishes in the country side...waiting for a break. But out here, we tend toward 'conservatism', making do, and that is what determined 'our choice' for President, this election round. The liberals howl about it, and whine, and beat their fists, and 'act out, in the very way they were taught to, by their liberal teachers, and liberal arts. Take a good look people...see what it brought about?

We need to 'get back to basics'. We need to educate our kids in practical terms, things that will help them in 'real life', not fantasy life, skills to use in the house, on the farm and in everyday terms...for the long run. We can't ALL be 'Chiefs'. Most of us will just be indian's! That's a good thing. Quit teaching our kids, 'they have to be something, or they're nothing'. There wont be a lot of jobs in the job market, if they keep building robots, to do those jobs, so quit lying to the kids, and setting them up for a failed future.

Get real, people! Do you care about the kids...at all? Is that anywhere near, a primary interest...in your mind, or is it 'self preservation' and personal infatuation, rather more? I think...the latter!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico