Racism, Violence, Sexism, Exclusion, Fear

Trauma symptoms were crippling this week; I think I’ve lost three
or four days.

Trump and the Trump/Putin attempt to re-institutionalize blatant
racism and homophobia in the United States is driving me crazy.

A brutal history of cruelty and hate has marched into the present
and demanded control of our lives.

A young woman is dead because our President incites violence.

White Supremacists will kill our democracy to preserve a heritage
of spilling innocent blood.

I am living proof of the life long damage bigots inflict on the children
of the people they target.

You can do something now to stop the abuse of a child:

Say no to racism!

Say no to fascism!

RefuseFascism.org

 

Seven things I wish people knew about mental illness found on Pinterest
Seven things I wish people knew about mental illness – found on Pinterest.

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Felique Dupré in the Haunted World: By the Statue of the Unknown Bodybuilder

Midnight in the underworld, fireflies twinkle.

Hades scratches himself and remarks on the rain, “Wet, ain’t it?”

The hot Sun settles over Jamaica Plains as the F Train find its
way to The Village.

Persephone claps her hands to her forehead and remarks to the old
woman in the seat across from hers: Oh, the unbearable lightness of
being!”

Replies the old woman, “I’m sorry, these are my bad ears.”

“They look fine to me.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

Persephone points through the screen at the writer: “Tell him to don’t.”

“Oh he never doesn’t!” proclaims the old woman. When do you reach Hell?”

“As soon as I relinquish this train.”

“That could be any time.”

“That could be as we speak.”

“But it won’t be you know,” the old woman points through the screen at the writer. “He hates mixing action with dialogue.”

The train slows as it nears the mouth of Hell and stops.

Persephone disembarks; a cat darts between the wheels of a cart and she recognizes the familiar landmarks of her youth:

The Statue of the Unknown Bodybuilder heroically crushing a mound of
squirming women beneath his feet; the 7Eleven where she stops to buy
Hades a fine cigar.

Public Domain Photo of the Statue of Civic Virtue which Stood at the Union TurnPike station in Queens until it was removed in 2015
The Statue of the Unknown Bodybuilder

How the old devil loves his cigars!

“White Owl.” she says.

“Oui.” replies the clerk.

And it is done.

(C) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Statue of the Unknown Body Builder based on a public domain photo of the Statue of Civic Virtue which stood in Queens at Union Turnpike Station until
2015.

Fusion

You have no

business

No right to

Tell me how to feel.

I do what I must:

I wake up

and pull

the Sky

down.

I plant

my feet

in the best

tradition.

Here, where the

mattress is soft

and damp;

we are bound

by wire and anger:

we are one again.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved

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He Said, He Said

He called like he usually did, his voice sexy and deep, not hysterical, which
he can sometimes get when something’s on his mind, something I have to
ferret out , burying my muzzle in the shit of his psyche.

He said we couldn’t have dinner, that he was broke and, ‘some people have
to work,’ implying something about my life.

He said that I was fine, but, ‘a little too much’ and wondered if I wouldn’t
be happier with someone more complex, more my ‘speed.’

And I said no! No! Simplicity is my goal, what can I be?  What would you
like me to be?

“Nothing.” he said, and hung up.

He Said, He Said

Excerpt from a poetry reading with Harold Norse, 1986.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1986-2017 All Rights Reserved