Light ning. Dash ing.
Street walker.
Fleur de lys.
English rose.

Lady. Lady.
What a path you chose.

I thought of you as stardust.
As God breathed life into my bones.
All those years ago at zero.

Have I been all people yet?
All nations.
All colours.
And genders.
And all religions.

Every breath in every one.
Every woven and unwoven thread.
Every time.
Every pulse.

It all counts.
Fingers to thumbs.

I thought of you as stardust today.
I thought of you
As I think of you
Every day.
Like stardust.

Pacific (Part2)

It’s grey and moody and sultry. It’s deceptively calm. I walk in feeling like a super model giraffe like creature. Pacific, what is your lesson for me today? I feel an undercurrent back pull, like a lovers firm grip on my lower leg.

‘I want you. I want you. Come with me. Come.’

Nervously, I obey the murky ocean and I trust, even when I can not see the creatures of the deep, even when I am unsure and unknowing of the nature of the next wave.

Ocean meditation.  I move my body to the sound of the vibration of the next wave. In the Pacific ocean that is all I can do. A form of reverence. A deeper trust of that which I can not control.

It feels like a lullaby. Like the rocking of a cot as I am held by the back pull and propelled by the forthcoming and relentless waves.

I ask her if I may leave? Playfully she lets me go, knowing fully the swell of her surf, the impossible of making her tame and the the power of her own seduction.

You can never leave. You have only one taste. The taste of the Pacific Ocean.

Zero Gravity Cat

I feel the swell of my uterus and the surrounding ache in my pussy. That millenia old ache of women who need the sting of his prick, as an awakening and a deep primal pulsing reminder of God.

God in human form. The feel of his cock. The veined tree trunk, like bone pushing in, in, in, all the way into my vaginal wall so I can wrap him and convulse. This is the place where I return to innocence, to Orgasm.

I would attribute his cock as being the external component I needed to experience those dark, luscious, forbidden spasms and yes, it is true without him fully engorged and demanding and relentless the experience would not be as holy.

It takes two.

And what I negated in the whole sexual exchange was my orgasm. My Orgasm. My shuddering, I’ll take you down, earth tremor Orgasm. I had God in me all along and nobody, nobody knew to tell me!

In me.

All along.

And so when his hard throbbing cock digs into me, I know he digs for his God too, I have his, he has mine and in the tunnel of my vagina we find where God resides.



This fucking heat.
Heat to fuck in.

Heat in his sun.


Too bright to think.

That’s kinda why I ran out of the room

‘You don’t have to think.’

And a look of dominion in his eye.

I will be the judge of that, a thought of mine quipped, as he reached in the corner of his eye
For a whip, or a crop as

I jumped a few stairs.

I would have jumped from the Empire State.
The Golden Gate.

Met my fate.

Does flogging a dead horse wake it up?
I wondered.
Feeling the dom’s intention
Might do it.

It would take a huge poker to melt a frozen lake.

Research shows that

The best reserection.


All of your attention.

Rays from your sun.

Penetrating the glade.

Warm her soil.

Water and time shall take care of the rest.

Hum Hum

Breaking sound barriers.




Smelting in the farenheit heat

Left it all behind in

Dust on the street.

Sound barriers and

Energy carriers.

I feel everything.

An over tight drum

Hum hummmmmmm

Hum hummmmmmm


I throw myself into the Pacific Ocean waves. I decide quite consciously that this is the only force of nature that is strong enough right now to absorb my rage. Like a fool I take on the surf, believing initially I have a fighting chance. My body is tense and stiff. My breathing shallow. I wade in knowing full well the power of the water will take me and break the tumescence.

That is what I provoke it to do.

A wave rises. I stumble. My legs clumsy to find their balance. Control. Control. I have fucking control.

Another wave rises and I am knocked about a bit more. The ocean takes the weight and responsibility off my legs and I float gracelessly on my belly in the sand.

I get up. Pull the swimming costume out of my ass. Go back for more.

Punish me!

Make me realise my insignificance. I bob up and down cleverly on the unbroken surf.
Ha! I can do this!

I am stronger than the ocean.

A wave rises, gathers height and momentum. My body feels awkard. There is not enough marine time for me to prepare.

The wave is upon me. Crash! My body breaks under the weight of the force of the water and I am rendered powerless and the ocean wave takes me under, takes me with and then….

There is a rushing, crashing silence.

And surrender happens in the flailing of my body and the inhaling of salt water on the white curly waves.

And that feels like we both got something valuable.

Something priceless.

Something worthy.

Coyote Ugly

I had an unshakeable knowledge of what was right. Being British lends itself to that, being righteously right about everything, even stuff, or especially stuff going on with the internal affairs of other countries and cultures.

I want to talk about The Spirit or in other words, The Beast. The indominatble Spirit we are all born with and then have kicked, purged, manipulated, beaten, socialised and educated out of us.

The beast in your core. The beast that has you prowling the streets, (but mostly the internet), for an expression, an ejaculation, of yourself, into somone else, so they will absorb you and feel you and get you and recognise that predatory look in your eyes and you will come together spent from the kill and your beast can rest inside the limbs of another beast temporarily, until it is time to rise and prowl and kill again.

White European Imperialists, forcibly and brutally destroyed the beast, the spirit of so many native peoples, in so many different lands. They witnessed human behaviours aka human Spirit as savage, primitive and proceeded to supress, oppress, and kill the Spirit of those who were not like them.

This is in today’s terminology is an unmitigated fuck up of human rights.

I have Northern European heritage. Our national British Spirit or Beast is one of internal self control, void of emotion and sensory severence. The indomitable British Spirit seeks to control, dominate and erase.

We fucked up all of the cultures we colonised. Tamed their Spirit. Broke their national identities. Imposed our self righteousness upon them, severed their connection with their Spirit, the very Spirit that fed them, not because we knew better but because we could not abide not having the Beast of the native people’s. We had to crush their Spirit in war and rape and domination, because what we did not have for ourselves, we could not allow in others.

LA July 2014

I feel such discomfort in my body. I interupt her, I have the solution, I understand it from all angles and want to get this meeting done.

OK, I was rude, in the most English way possible, I interupted her.


The Bronx, New York City, 1970’s

She tells me her story.

She was beaten on a daily basis, at the mercy of the adults in her household. Mother, father, step father, all of them beating up her Spirit. Beating up her Beast.
Dominating, destroying the very life force they put into her at conception. Threatening her life. The life they made. Copulating, conceiving, birthing and then systematically killing that very Spirit they brought to life.

Life can make no sense here, especially to a child. She defied them all by staying alive. Her Spirit Lived despite their best efforts at destroying her, killing her.

I do not know how it is to have my life endangered in this way over years of time. I do not know what it is to be threatened this way.

She said she would sing and dance during the beatings. She said, she would say, mamma are you done yet? Mamma do you feel better after that?

I only know that her indominatble Spirit does not know how to acquiesce, or be tamed.


Racism is a powerful trigger word most everywhere in the world, but nowhere quite so neon as in the United States. In Britain, we have addressed these issues on a government policy top down level, but it still exists and I do not profess to know the answer. In many ways we have tamed the Beast of racism without having allowed true connection of peoples’ Spirit to flourish.

Disconnection from each other’s Spirit creates racism, sexism, and most other kinds of isms. Any form of human degradation or desecration can only be done in separation. Once we allow another Spirit to live and our Spirit connects to theirs and because of their life we too can live, then their is only connection.


Israel, June 2014

The racial hatred explodes in Gaza again.

Teenage boys, separated by the words Jew and Muslim killed in racially motivated attacks.

Politically motivated attacks.

Rocket fire to reinforce separation of Spirit.

This world is Ugly.

Tel Aviv, July 2014

Our friend Leah arrives home to LA eventually, via Rome and Copenhagen after dodging rocket fire in Tel Aviv.


And here in the desert cities of the Western United States Coyote’s roam and prowl. Depicted as wild dangerous animals.


There is no more dangerous an animal than he or she separated and disconnected from their Beast.


Jamaica Circa 1500 AD.

I am a native America from the Caribbean. I am a tribe elder, male, I wear a full spectacular red and white feathered head dress. I hold an axe and I dance. A dance of war. Protecting my species from another tribe’s disconnection. I witness the genocide of my people, the contorted sick faces of the dead are etched on my memory.


LA July 2014

I am a visitor in the land of Columbus.

Still no culpability has been declared.

Still no apologies and restitution.

Still no connection through Spirit.

Still separation and the killing of Beasts.


The meeting develops into a full blown argument. No not even an argument. A totally un-British, very ugly screaming match. My body feels shaken like a pre- earthquake tremor, I feel stretched like in some medieval torture equipment and my insides are hot molten lava and arid desert simultaneously.

This is my Beast.

This is her Beast.

I do everything within my power to control my Beast.

She lets hers loose and her shifting tectonic plates tremor into mine.

I walk away from the table. More than terrified at the sensations in my body.

I lie down in the relative cool of the unairconditioned room and then she comes the Wolf Coyote comes and shape shifts her body into mine.

Prairie Wolf.

My animal. My beast.


Later I get up. Approach her. I apologise for interupting her in the meeting.

My white imperialist Beast killer was in charge. Or thought she was. I say I was afraid of that violent communication. I say I was frightened.


The next day. I am on my knees. Howling at the injustice of the world. Howling at the shaken belief system. Howling with the birthing pains of my Coyote.

And I apologise for unwittingly trying to kill her Beast.

I apologise for the separation of her Spirit from mine.

I apologise for the genocide of the First Peoples.

I apologise for all the greed of the white man and the White European Colonists.

I never want to be separate from Your Spirit ever again.



“Coyote’s are in our neighbourhood.

Coyote’s are very dangerous wild animals.

They kill dogs and cats and small mammals.

Several killings have occurred in this area.”


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