Tag Archives: Love

Be a Man (or Crying is for Sissies)

I read this article on Facebook about Nick Offerman’s response to the question of men crying, and it nearly brought me to tears. Why? Because it’s nice when a famous man who is often seen as a “man’s man” comes out and just throws a monkey wrench in machismo.

It got me to thinking about the things that move me to tears. There was the last scene in the original Independence Day. The thought of an advanced species coming all the way to earth in spaceships that were larger than most cities losing to humans who can barely avoid an accidental nuclear war stirred something in me that I couldn’t deny, and I had to shed those tears.

Continue reading Be a Man (or Crying is for Sissies)


An Open Letter to Atheists

Hey, its me, Josh.

I haven’t heard from you in a while. In fact, it has been so long, I get the impression you’re avoiding me.


I thought we were close. I thought we had an understanding. That was the whole reason I showed up: so I could understand. But you took my reaching out to you and slapped away my hand, and I just don’t understand why.

Why don’t you love me?


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Continue reading An Open Letter to Atheists

Tomi Lahren Auditions for Spot in Reality Series, “The Handmaid’s Tale”

So here’s a thing: Flip-flopper extraordinaire Tomi Lahren has chosen to take on the name “Ofdon” after auditioning to be the lead in Donald Trump’s new reality series, The Handmaid’s Tale. 

Continue reading Tomi Lahren Auditions for Spot in Reality Series, “The Handmaid’s Tale”


We disappear
into folds of skin informed
by fast food and
airbrushed glamour, our sin
the gluttony of survival.

We don’t survive, anymore; we live
hard and long, fellatiotic
music, the whispers of a mess
about our lips, our faces
concealed beneath our future children.


On Killing Religion

In a perfect world, I’d see the end of all religion.  Every last one of them.

We do not live in a perfect world, though, as evidenced by the presidency of Donald Trump, the backwards nature of the United States, and the continued popularity of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.  Quick aside on that last bit: I’m currently awaiting a Star Trek movie involving the Kardashians as this interstellar species bent on the destruction of the United Federation of Planets.  The nerds among you will see where I’m going with this…

As I was saying, we do not live in a perfect world.  Continue reading On Killing Religion

A Welcome Message to You, the People

It dawned on me that I ought to introduce myself, and maybe explain a few things about my blog.

First, hi!  Call me Ry.  It’s certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, let me get down to the nitty-gritty. Continue reading A Welcome Message to You, the People

From Light, the Tempestuous Revival 

Your color, banned, your lifestyle:

you transit the sun, your face
from light, the tempestuous revival

of awkward ceremony.
We praise the locking away

of a man’s tears and
the creative motives of our mothers

because fluidity speaks too loudly,
flows too strongly 

through our
emotions.  We are in denial, shaman

ashamed of technology, and we
the worst demons of our nature

for fear they are our reflections.


Daily Post Prompt: Banned – http://wp.me/p23sd-133l

The Bleak Stagnation of Row, Row, Rowing

– Demilked.com
– Demilked.com

Of course I would dream
of her, she and I
skimming over a facsimile
of paradise

reflecting that vast blue mask,
which hid from us
the supremacy
of our smallness.

Of course paradise was a lie.
It was always a lie:
Gehenna, Shit’s Creek,
the bleak stagnation

of row, row, rowing
just swiftly enough
to float at the edge
of our own personal hells.

We were triumphant
in our decay,
in our prejudice to meaning

as we kissed
one another
through the totality
of feeling nothing.



In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #135

The Pneumatic Nature of Laughter

Image by Forsaken Fotos
Image by Forsaken Fotos

Have you ever missed someone
who did not exist?

Have you ever considered the strings
from which stars are suspended

throughout the emptiness of your own being?
Have you ever wondered at the pneumatic

nature of laughter or traced the curvature
of a swan’s neck through the spaces between

a shuddering whimper
and that stone shattering the delirium

of your glass house? Have you ever
witnessed the rationing of an idea

so that the waves just beneath the lake’s surface
would not be moved to dance back into yesterday?

Have you ever dreamed of lavatating
in pools of too uniform tears

beneath that terrible forge
that touches the sky with its blue mockery?

Have you ever found yourself
denoted by your mask, that one

that denies the precision
of the cut that revealed the nakedness of your heart?


In response to MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Wordle #125.


The Apostate, Fall

Jasper Francis Cropsey (1823–1900)
Jasper Francis Cropsey (1823–1900)


Fall would follow summer,
a too affectionate and whimpering dog, through ages

of excited apostasy–the apostate, Fall–
and we would ooooh and aaaah

through the beauty of dying so slowly,
voyeurs to all manner of unashamed flora

exposing to us their seed-bare glory
as they heralded that true death (you know that

death that hurries over the backs
of scentless winds).

But summer, tired of being followed,
filed for a restraining order.