flahute

Every once in awhile, you just feel like telling people to … thankfully, I haven’t had one of THOSE days in a while, but I’m still diggin’ the song, what … 15 years later?

CATHERINE WHEEL – EAT MY DUST (YOU INSENSITIVE FUCK)

I think I have the best of me
Inside my head
No one else competes with me
I think I’m great
Got spirit tucked away inside

Eat my dust you insensitive fuck
Eat my dust you insensitive fuck
Eat my dust

NEVER GIVE ALL THE HEART

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that’s lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.

O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

  — William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939), Irish poet and dramatist.

LOVE’S SECRET

Never seek to tell thy love,
   Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

Soon after she was gone from me,
   A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
   He took her with a sigh.

  — William Blake (1757 – 1827), English poet, painter, and printmaker.

THE KISS

She pressed her lips to mind.
        —a typo

How many years I must have yearned
for someone’s lips against mind.
Pheromones, newly born, were floating
between us. There was hardly any air.

She kissed me again, reaching that place
that sends messages to toes and fingertips,
then all the way to something like home.
Some music was playing on its own.

Nothing like a woman who knows
to kiss the right thing at the right time,
then kisses the things she’s missed.
How had I ever settled for less?

I was thinking this is intelligence,
this is the wisest tongue
since the Oracle got into a Greek’s ear,
speaking sense. It’s the Good,

defining itself. I was out of my mind.
She was in. We married as soon as we could.

  — Stephen Dunn (b. 1939), American poet.

SEPTEMBER

I miss the tilt and racket of your face,
the collapsing factories of your anger,
the shoreline wearing your boas of foam—
the steel mirror of your silence,
your glass contingencies, in the night’s hold.
I miss the morning’s coverlet of cloud,
one gull flying east over the moving distances
while closer in
the same boulder is kissed again and again.
As the blacksmith plunges the bruised steel into the tub,
erasing the heat of his industry,
I have cooled my brow
with the ice of your disdain—
I have held your cold hand in the rain.

  — James Armstrong, American poet & professor

I’m speechless … the Church doesn’t have to recognize gay marriages if they don’t want to, but to have security guards assault a gay couple for a quick peck on the cheek on the thoroughfare through the property?

I’ve kissed a woman to whom I am not married inside the Temple ground gates, in the Tabernacle, and in the Conference Center, in sight of the greeters and tour guides. No one said a word. This is not about public displays of affection, but about harassment of gay and lesbian people.

Gay couple cuffed, cited after kiss near LDS temple – Salt Lake Tribune

A gay couple says they were detained by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints security guards after one man kissed another on the cheek Thursday on Main Street Plaza.”

They targeted us,” said Matt Aune, 28. “We werent doing anything inappropriate or illegal, or anything most people would consider inappropriate for any other couple.”

Both Aune and his partner, Derek Jones, were cited by Salt Lake City police for trespassing on the plaza, located at 50 East North Temple, according to Sgt. Robin Snyder.”

If a person is asked to leave private property for whatever reason and refuses to do so, that is technically trespassing,” she said. The property was transferred from Salt Lake City to the church in 2003, and it is a popular thoroughfare.

The Police Department on Friday denied a Salt Lake Tribune request for a full police report on the incident, citing Utah laws giving them five business days to respond to records requests.

Aune said the incident started when he and Jones were walking back to his Salt Lake City home from a Twilight Concert Series show at the Gallivan Center. The couple live just blocks away from the plaza in the Marmalade district of the Capitol Hill neighborhood.

The pair crossed the plaza holding hands, Aune said. About 20 feet from the edge of the plaza, Aune said he stopped, put his arm around Jones and kissed him on the cheek.

Several security guards then arrived and asked the pair to leave, saying that public displays of affection are not allowed on the church property, Aune and Jones said. The pair protested, saying they often see other couples holding hands, kissing or celebrating their marriages, said Jones.

“We were kind of standing up for ourselves,” Jones said. “It was obviously because we were gay.”

After about five minutes, the guards then put Jones on the ground and handcuffed him, he said. Aune said he was also cuffed roughly, and suffered bruises and a swollen wrist. Aune and Jones said they told their side of the story to police when officers arrived.

Police arrived about 10:30 p.m., spoke with two security guards and issued the citations, Snyder said.

Aune said he and his boyfriend were told by the guards they were banned from all church property for six months.

Main Street Plaza, located next to the Salt Lake City LDS Temple, was transferred from city ownership to church property in the late 1990s. To end years of litigation over a public easement, which would allow protests on the plaza, the church gave the city property for a west-side community center. Aune said he was one of those who protested the transfer at the time.

“They claimed in 2003 this would never happen, they were never going to arrest anyone,” he said.

The Tribune has requested comment from the LDS Church, but as of 4:45 p.m. Friday had not yet received an anticipated statement on the issue.

And people wonder why I think the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is fucked up … members of the Church, as individuals, I have no problems with. The institution itself? Major problems … they are just as oppressive as any other organized religious institution, if not more so.

Jesus preached love, people … he didn’t preach hate.

I think it’s time for everyone, gay and straight alike, to head for Main Street Plaza and start making out on the grounds.

ELEGY V

In summer’s heat, and mid-time of the day,
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay;
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,
Or night being past, and yet not day begun.
Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown,
Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.
I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small,
Yet strived she to be covered there withal.
And striving thus, as one that would be cast,
Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see!
How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me!
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I,
How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh!
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,
I clinged her naked body, down she fell:
Judge you the rest; being tired she bade me kiss;
Jove send me more such afternoons as this!

  — Publius Ovidius Naso (43 BC – 17 AD), Roman poet also known as Ovid.
  — Translation by Christopher Marlowe (1564 – 1593), English poet and dramatist.

BLUE OR GREEN

We don’t belong to each other.
            We belong together.
                                                                    Some poems
belong together to prove the intentionality of subatomic particles.
                                    
Some poems eat with scissors.
                                                     Some poems are like kissing a
porcupine.
                   God, by the way, is disappointed in some of your recent
choices.
               Some poems swoop.
                                                   When she said my eyes were
definitely blue, I said, How can you see that in the dark?
              How can
you not? she said, and that was like some poems.
                                                                                  Some poems are
blinded three times.
                                   Some poems go like death before dishonor.
                                                                      
Some poems go like the time she brought cherries to the movies;
later a heedless picnic in her bed.
                 Never revered I crumbs so
highly.
            Some poems have perfect posture, as if hanging by
filaments from the sky.
                                        Those poems walk like dancers,
noiselessly.
                      All poems are love poems.  
                                                                   Some poems are better off
dead.
           Right now I want something I don’t believe in.

  — James Galvin (b. 1951)