31 October 2011

Incantation Vibration

Incantation Vibration
29 October 2011
Hello handsome, the hand motion beckoned.
The glint in his eye indicated his thought.
He was much friendlier than I reckoned,
Much closer intimacy was sought.
Exchanging energies thru word and touch,
Sending signals of whispered encouragement,
Hoping the stimulation wasn’t too much,
Implying consent by humming contentment,
Raising energies by stroking the magic wand,
Stirring the sex cauldron ‘round and ‘round,
Creating a strong man-to-man bond
Letting a complex connection be found.
Touching skin to skin, from hip to lip
Looking into his eyes and seeing his soul,
Nipple stimulation was part of the trip
To the magical moment of orgasm whole.
Then lingering and surrendering to the feeling
That is uplifting and spiritually satisfying
Holding each other gently for healing.
This shrine’s ministration is sanctifying.

29 October 2011

Baby’s ABC’s

Inspired by my nephew's baby, Monson.

Baby’s ABC’s
28 October 2011
A is for applesauce that’s easy to eat.
B is for beans which for Monson’s a treat.
C is for car which he’ll drive before he’s thirty.
D is for diaper that gets changed when it’s dirty.
E is for ear to hear everything.
F is for fork to give food a fling.
G is for grandmas of which he has two
H is for house with a roof and windows, too.
I is for ice that comes out of the fridge.
J is for joke to release tension a smidge.
K is for key to unlock the house’s front door.
L is for love that can’t be bought at the store.
M is for Mommy, center of and my life’s anchor.
N is for nurse, her job, for which we thank her.
O is for oven where she does her baking.
P is for potato fries that she likes making.
Q is for quilts to snuggle under.
R is for roses that fill us with wonder.
S is for shoes, easiest to lose of all clothes.
T is for toes that Monson uses to pick his nose.
U is for umbrella to keep dry in the rain.
V is for video to watch and entertain.
W is for work where Daddy has spoken.
X is for x-rays when bones are broken.
Y is for yogurt which when frozen, you lick.
Z is for zipper to change clothes real quick.

28 October 2011

News Snooze

Here's another non-sensical poem.

News Snooze
28 October 2011
He was a sort of ripsnorter
Stationed at police headquarters
An on-the-spot, at-the-scenes,
Real-deal TV news reporter
Disclosing athletic supporters
Are lost in washing machines.

26 October 2011

Wedding Redding

Every day I try to devote a couple of hours to poetry. My latest efforts have been going thru my rhyming dictionaries (yes, Virginia, there are books with lists of words that rhyme) and finding words that either have no rhyme or have limited rhymes with only one or two other words. I understand that English has over a million words in it. It's like English never met a word it didn't like. In spite of that some common words don't have rhymes: angst, budget, emblem, orange, silver. In any endeavor it helps to know the possibilities and limitations. This is a just-for-fun poem.

Wedding Redding
26 October 2011
In a marriage, who wears the pants?
What makes life more glorious?
According to my maiden aunts
The husband needs to be uxorious.
They only listen to their sycophants
For which they’re notorious.

24 October 2011

Hard-Won Dry Run

When I went to the Affirmation conference for gay and lesbian Mormons in September, one of the speakers was Joanna Brooks at the Kirtland Temple. Yesterday as I was driving home from dinner at my nephew's, I was surprised to hear her being interviewed on NPR. Today there was a new post from her blog. Someone had written in asking about going back to church after a period of inactivity. This poem is a response to her blog.

Hard-Won Dry Run
24 October 2011
Here’s a plan for your first time going back.
Pick a chapel where two or three wards meet.
This maximizes chaos and minimizes flack.
You simply go into the foyer and have a seat.
There you can watch the toddlers running,
The Primary girls sharing stories and gossip,
The young men bettering each other’s cunning
And parents doing their best to worship.
When you’ve had enough, as you please
Get up and leave. No harm, no foul.
Most chapels are built with entries
On both sides in the back. When you prowl, 
And people are filing in, you join the tide 
To collect a program. Then continue 
Across the chapel and out the other side.
The flyer will have information about the who
And what of ward events. You now know
About potlucks and campouts, activities
That let you mingle on your status quo
Without violating your own proclivities.
This poem was made by a guy
Who hasn’t attended in years,
Is once-burned, twice-shy
And understands your fears.

22 October 2011


In an earlier post, I commented that each day has its own flavor. Today's flavor is walnut. To clear space in the freezer I took out some walnuts that had been in there for a couple of years. The walnuts came from a tree in my twin's backyard. When he first moved into that house, we could leapfrog over a broken branch in the grass. Now it's a tree twice as tall as the house and drops walnuts each autumn. Anyway, a couple of years ago I harvested some walnuts. The walnuts with hulls I just put in the garage. The walnuts without hulls I put in the freezer. Yes, Virginia, walnuts have hulls and shells. They're doubly protected. When I got around to them, the nuts in the garage had withered and were worthless. The nuts in the freezer were still good when I shelled them today. Today's imponderable: "If the walnuts have never been cracked open, how does the mold get inside?"
Today I also posted a video on YouTube talking about walnuts and brain function: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_huqszlUlzs

21 October 2011

Published Online

One of my poems got published online: http://bestnewpoems.com/whos-values/#.TqECqBzthZc

20 October 2011

Three Events

Just before I fall asleep, I review what I want to do the next day, what I think my schedule will be. Some time ago I realized that each day has it's own flavor. Today proved that the future is unpredictable.
Early on men came with machines and jackhammered out the sidewalk half-way across my driveway. The backstory is a previous owner (I've been in this house for six years) planted a ficus tree in the parkway. That's what the city calls the space between the sidewalk and the gutter. Anyway, the ficus tree was starting to raise the concrete of the sidewalk creating a tripping hazard. Also it was big enough to block a speed limit sign creating a traffic hazard. And it was growing into the power line creating an electrical hazard. A couple of months ago, I went out one day and the tree was gone; cut down by the city. They spray painted colored arrows on the sidewalk. Bruce put a notice on the fridge yesterday so I had parked on the cul-de-sac side of the house and was able to get out and about. 
Bruce collects Pulsar watches. The were the first digital watches sold to the public. As with any product, some breakdown and don't work any more. Bruce had been exchanging emails with a guy from Germany about the electronic modules inside the watches. Today that dude from Germany came by the house with his girlfriend. They were here for quite a while and wanting to be hospitable, I went out and picked up rolled tacos for lunch. Bruce trotted out the best watches of his collection including one with Florentine engraving and the "crown jewels" by Grima.
The third surprise of the day was the arrival of my book order. I now have copies of both of my poetry books. If anyone one wants an autographed copy, just send me $12. They're also available online: Uncle Al's Rhymes for Our Times and Uncle Al's Perverse, Gay and Kink Verse.

18 October 2011

New Doctor

The doctor I had been seeing in Point Loma told me that he was being transfered. I don't care for the nurse in that office. For me she comes across as loud and pushy. In July I had boil on the bottom of my foot and went to Urgent Care on Vandever. The doctor I saw there was gay but didn't have much personality. Today I went thinking that if the new doctor had the usual bedside manner, I would just as soon see the gay doctor with the closer office. The nurse took my vital signs then ushered me into the exam room. When she spoke about the new doctor, she smiled, really big. Finally the new doctor came in and immediately I could tell she had something they don't teach in medical school, a personality. So instead of using Donald Trump's line, "You're fired," I got to say, "You're a keeper."

17 October 2011

Sweat, Blood and Testosterone

Yesterday Bruce and I rented a U-Haul truck to move Terry's stuff from storage in LA to storage in San Diego. The backstory is Terry an artery to his stomach rupture back in May and went to the emergency room. Half of his stomach died for lack of nutrition so it was removed. But gangrene had set in and the toxins from the gangrene disrupted the functioning of his kidneys and liver. Finally Terry died the first week of September.
While Terry was in the hospital, Bruce collected money from Terry's friends to pay the rent. But you can't keep that up very long so we moved Terry's things into storage. Paying for a storage unit was cheaper than paying rent.
Of course moving furniture and boxes is a quick way to work up a sweat. There were a couple of hunky guys helping a woman move her china closet. Maybe my next poem will be about sweat, blood and testosterone. The wheel on the dolly broke, the china closet tipped and broke the glass. One of the hunks cut his hand on the glass. Bruce said, "If they had spent as much money on their educations as they spent on their tattoos, they would have MBAs."

16 October 2011

Self-Improvement Epiphany

Yesterday morning I talked with my life coach, Pamela Madsen. We talked about blogging and like topics. That evening I did a guided meditation asking "Who or what am I?" As I was eating dinner my subconscious surfaced with the idea that if I became really successful as a poet, I would become one of THEM. That stuck me as odd, considering that I've been an out gay man into BDSM for several years. Us and THOSE PEOPLE were initially undefined. As I thought about it, I realized my subconscious didn't want me to become one of the tabloid celebrities.  I  reminded my subconscious that I don't drink or do drugs. I also told the subconscious that although I had seen compromising photos of myself from Dore Alley, it had not impacted my career. I'm a long shot from having the paparazzi chase after me.
Previously, I has gotten a set of DVDs about making money on the internet. I had followed the first couple of steps then stopped. I think my subconscious had undermined my determination and efforts to make money. Have you ever had a similar experience?

14 October 2011

Who’s Values?

Who’s Values?
14 Sept 2011
The bottoms of my feet are wet
From gaps between the planks
And I have no safety net
Midway between the banks.
The risk makes me shiver,
Uncertainty bites my heals,
I’m floating down life’s river
On a raft of my own ideals.
From being headstrong
To the point of scrappiness,
I hope to find my own song
And foresee some happiness.

08 October 2011

Vilification Vexation and Visitation Vindication

I worked on this poem and the next one "Gay Fetes in the Streets" during the same week. I'm not happy with this poem, but as I stare at it I don't get inspiration to change anything. For me "Gay Fetes" has bounce which this one doesn't.

Vilification Vexation and Visitation Vindication
19 Sept 2011
In January 1985, I was excommunicated 
From the Salt Lake City based church.
I had gotten divorced and relocated
To Monticello, back in my parents’ perch. 
In spite of what the disciplinary court stated, 
I still attended church with my family.  
That year the Manti Temple was renovated
And used for the endowment liturgy. 
I interviewed with the bishop and was given 
A recommend to attend the rededication fest. 
To get to Manti, for six hours we had driven,
Meaning we had to put on our Sunday best
Early in the morning, adding to the trip’s griefs,
Grateful to be in cars, not pulling handcarts. 
We were waiting with our white handkerchiefs
For the Hallelujah Shout and hope in our hearts
For a choice spiritual feast validating our beliefs.
While queued up, awaiting permission to enter 
A member of the Stake Presidency came down the line
Greeting members, happened upon this dissenter
And took away the prized recommend of mine.
Oh, the disappointment of expectations negated.
How was I supposed to feel? What to do?
There was no appeal by the powers delegated,
So I just walked around the venue.
Skip ahead to September 2011,
We went from Cleveland by bus 
To Kirtland’s little bit of heaven.
At the visitor’s center we got to discuss
And were escorted by tour guides
Over to the Newell K. Whitney shop of retail. 
Downstairs, we saw the store’s insides 
With barrels, baskets and account’s detail.
Also, the bartering section for trading wares. 
Then thru a door and up the narrow stairs, 
Was the parlor with table and chairs.
I placed my palm flat on the table 
And felt a strong surge of emotion, 
Not happy or sad, just strong, I was unable
To identify what for me was a crying potion. 
Next was School of the Prophets vestibule
With benches to sit on while being instructed, 
Then, finally the bedrooms with a spinning mule.
After the store, we were conducted
Thru the Whitney house, Johnson hotel, sawmill
And ashery where potash was produced. 
Then we followed the sidewalk uphill 
Past the temple and got introduced
To the other visitor’s center overseen
By the Community of Christ church.
John Hamer presented a historical slide scene,
By narrating the slides with original research,
He followed the history of Mormon leadership, 
Revelations and temple purposes; explaining 
Splinters and offshoots within the Mormon grip. 
Then we walked over to the sacred building. 
The green door was held open for us to enter.
All were admitted. We climbed the stairs to
The upper assembly hall. After the presenter, 
We were ushered up more stairs and thru 
The attic school rooms, then back down to the hall. 
Finally we were allowed to sit in the lower auditorium. 
We were told, here during the dedication that all
Had seen, beheld its abundant spiritual emporium.
The people thought of themselves as saints
And sanctified the temple by their sacrifices
Truly the Lord’s House for worship without restraints.
This hall had signs of current religious devices. 
I looked around at the Affirmation attesters
Then tears flowed when I thought of praying 
Together with them in the temple of my ancestors.
I was touched to the core, that’s all I’m saying.

Gay Fetes in the Streets

Gay Fetes in the Streets
26 Sept 2011
When we were teenagers growing up, 
We never had a chance to feel each other up
Experience crushes, flirting, nor love treats. 
We were denied meaningful cozying up. 
So now we have sex in the bars and streets.
Society told us we had gone astray, 
To suppress our feelings and go away 
Quietly into the night without bleats. 
Now that we have found men who play
We have sex in the baths and the streets.
We have survived the condemnation 
Of being called an abomination 
And alienation from church meets. 
With self-esteem getting elevation
From sex in the bushes and streets.
Although we sat thru many sermons in our lives 
About how husbands should treat their wives, 
We never heard a word about gay couple retreats. 
So we made our own rules about sex drives
And actions on the beaches and in the streets.
We have survived feeling suicidal. 
With AIDS, death has not been idle. 
Living each day is gravy and meats
Or more icing on the cake. To feel the idyll
We have sex on our backs and in the streets. 
It’s not like we need self-control reform. 
We controlled ourselves enough to conform, 
Get married and that made us robots on repeat. 
We acknowledge it may stir up a storm
To have sex in bay windows on the street.
The gay assimilationists don’t recognize 
That we’ve always been and in any size 
Always will be different in our fetes. 
Passion to fight for their rights does arise
From sex in beds and in the streets.