Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

The Queen in Exile She waits on her throne For an audience with cardinals. She will not speak human Words, Nor will they bow to her. Instead, she will watch From behind a window, And wait. With flicking tongue she Will anoint her subjects’ hands. With a swish of her tail, she Treads the floors of her palace. She is Gloriana, in a way. No less a queen than Victoria, or Elizabeth I and II. She is the purring version of Catherine Parr, And just as faithful as Queen Mary. She is both lioness—her Own royal standard— And pet. She is the Queen, Clad in the finest fur. She issues proclamations As meows, which The peasants cannot understand. It is her own Queen’s English; Like Latin to a layperson. She sleeps in sunshine. She wakes at dusk. Her kingdom is of the night. While she battles invading Wind-up mice, she is protector, And sovereign. When She partakes of catnip It is her teatime. She is...

It's been ages since I've written poetry. I've always preferred to write prose, though I feel that as a writer one should be able to write almost anything. I take great inspiration from poetry, and see it as an influence on my writing style. In these days of analytical writing (of which I am a part of) I feel that we analytical writers can learn a lot from poetry.  As John Lennon once sang, "Turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream."  That's a lesson we can all learn.  Allow your mind to drift, and read some verse.  Over the next few entries I'll post some verses I've composed. He's one that I did recently as practice.  A Prayer for A Rose A prayer for a rose, A rose of white. A prayer to guide us Through the night. A rose of virtue, A rose so fair. A rose beyond compare. A prayer for a rose, A rose of red. A prayer to guide us To thy bed. A rose of peace. A rose of love. A rose that runs T...

Meditations on a Timeless Muse My friend Megan had made me a promise a few years back. She's said, “If Loreena McKennitt comes back to Pittsburgh, we'll go see her.” That promise was fulfilled on November fifth, Guy Fawkes Day! We didn't blow anything up, but we did have a wonderful time. Incidentally, our American election was on that Tuesday...less said about that, the better. I've been a fan of Ms. McKennitt since I was a teenager. My first exposure to her music was from the documentary No Journey's End —in which she was depicted on tour, while writing her then current album The Mask and Mirror (1994, pictured above). That same album was to become my first Loreena McKennitt album. I played it so many times, almost in marathons back in the 90's. I memorized the entire thing. I'd play it back-to-back with The Visit and The Book of Secrets . I even read along with the lyric books. This concert, as part of the Troubadour ...

A Post 11/9 World (Yes, you read that right) A few months ago I gave up my seat on the bus, so that a young Muslim couple could sit next to each other. The man thanked me profusely. He smiled, and was incredibly grateful. I didn't think much of it at first, seeing as how this was just courtesy on my part. I'd given up my seat to elderly people, women, men, and couples before. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It wasn't until this morning that the gravity of that gesture came to me. His wife wore a hijab, and he also wore traditional clothing. Both of them were African-American as well. I might be reading too deeply into this, but it's possible that few people had been that courteous to them. I see that same man almost every day downtown—where he sells handmade soaps and essential oils from a street vendor's cart. I don't know how well he does, but I hope it's enough for both he and his wife to survive. Believe me, I...

The Phantom of the Living Room I've never seen a ghost. I also don't believe that they exist. While I believe in the human soul, I don't think it manifests itself in repetitive reenactments of one's death. Though we have such stories from various cultures, that doesn't make ghosts any more real. They are real to the believer, and unreal to the non-believer. Believing is seeing. My mother and I once rented the first floor of a house built in 1922. Much of the building was updated, as it had been split into apartments in modern times. We had a large living room/kitchen, dining room, master bedroom, and a basement with washer and dryer. We also had a small backyard, where my mother kept a garden. It's fairly typical of old houses in the Pittsburgh area that were built after WWI, and before WWII. I liked the old charm of the house, though it had largely renovated. Still, I had a sense of what it looked like back in its heyday. There was a small, non...

Sexism 101 Suffragettes Annie Kennedy and Christabel Pankhurst   Feminism: the concept that women and men are socially, economically, politically, intellectually, and spiritually equal. Economics hasn't quite gotten there yet, but there's still hope. As for the other elements of classical feminism...society has come a long way. It still needs to strive though. So, why does sexism bother me? The answer to that is simple. It devalues women. Well, that's it then. End of essay. Wait, there's more! Not only does it devalue women, but it also causes men to devalue themselves as well. You see, women, contrary to popular belief, do not come from Venus. They are human, just like men. Sure their bodies are different, and they have the tendency to smell better than men, but that's another story. The point is that women and men both come from Earth. We're both from the same species, and we need to treat each other as suc...

Draper's Mourning for Icarus  Part of me is embarrassed by how I've felt in the past two months. Every insecurity I have has come to the surface. My greatest fear is that I'll drive people away with them. They are my imperfections that usually have caused relationships to end. Though, truth be told, the people who couldn't accept that I'm not perfect aren't the sort of people I should have been around anyway. Part of me is reminded of what Samuel Beckett once wrote, "I suffer, but cannot remain silent." Another part of me wishes I'd just kept my mouth shut, and stayed calm. Like I should have known better by this stage in life. It wasn't just my mother's death, but everything else that has followed it. The uncertainty has caused me to shift from my usual, rational self, to being somewhat irrational. I don't want people to see that side of me, ever. Sometimes I can't help it. I think I've experienced so much ...