Thursday, November 26, 2009

sketch: snapshot

Found this free thought session while saving something else. The title of the file intreiged me.  Apparently, I never completed the thought before the deadline to post.  I like the repetition. I like where it lead me.  

Sunday Scribblings: For Richer or Poorer

For richer or poorer I am with me, my internal dialogue harks at me when I meditate on this weeks prompt.  I can’t help but to apply these lines to the wedding vows institutionalized in my culture.  Two people coming together and promising to bear the whips and scorns of time, and happiness’s interludes together.  I’m not sure if it’s because I am queer and by its virtue was born into a standard where these words aren’t supposed to come from my lips for another’s ears, unless I concede to lie on my wedding day.  If I promise this to a man, then I can say them, but if I promised them to a man I would be lying.  I cannot change this.  I don’t know how.

For richer or poorer I am with, my internal dialogue

Sunday Scribblings: For Richer or Poorer

For richer or poorer I am with me, my internal dialogue caresses my thoughts with these words.

For richer or poorer I walk my path arm in arm with this self, sharing all my experiences – those good times and bad, in poverty and richness, with the flaws in being human and the growth from facing them.

My mind can’t help but to apply those words to the institutionalized wedding vows of my culture.  They are words to cascade from one’s lips to another’s ear, promising to bare the whips and scorns of time and happiness’s interludes together. Side by side, two ones promise to share the highs and lows of life’s experiences.  My heart always feels heavy when I read those words and in response my mind promises them to this self.

I’m not sure if its because I am queer and in my society I have been told that I cannot speak these lines to another that quakes me to reassure that I’ll

Sunday Scribblings: For Richer or Poorer

For richer or poorer, my internal dialogue squawks at me with a sneer while it twists the words in my head. 

For richer or poorer I am with me, it shouts to the corner of the brain trying to push back the weight in the words.




I can’t help but to apply these lines to the wedding vows institutionalized in my culture.  Two people coming together and promising to bear the whips and scorns of time, and happiness’s interludes together.  I’m not sure if it’s because I am queer and by its virtue was born into a standard where these words aren’t supposed to come from my lips for another’s ears, unless I concede to lie on my wedding day.  If I promise this to a man, then I can say them, but if I promised them to a man I would be lying.  I cannot change this.  I don’t know how.

For richer or poorer

For richer or poorer, you can’t stop us from loving one another. You can scribble rules on page, deny us visibility on legality’s page, refuse us taxes, disaffirm our right to sit by our lover’s hospital bed when sick or dying

By nature of denying me the option of legally committing to my lover, to love I must act with civil disobedience. 


The day held the warm arch of the summer sun as we watched two friends promise to commit their lives together.  It’s the standard story, two ones

They are words to cascade from one’s lips to another’s ear, promising to bare the whips and scorns of time and happiness’s interludes together. Side by side, two ones promise to share the highs and lows of life’s experiences. 


and then embark on that journey where two ones promise to share their lives together. 



 share words of committment.  Two friends, two lovers, embracing 

January 1, 2009~ g.g. roku

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