Polyamory: what do I mean when I say I am Poly?

I am pleased and en-heartened by the Supreme Court ruling making two person marriage of adults regardless of gender legal in all 50 states. Since the Stonewall Riots of 1969 the LGBT community has been working hard on changing the attitudes of the 'Straight' community. They are to be congratulated on a fight fought well and a battle won (while acknowledging the war is not yet won).

Thinking about this made me realize that the Polyamorous community, though starting to be noticed by the media, is still largely in the shadows. We also face legal restrictions, and I am not just talking about the illegality of marrying more than one person at a time. In some states, functional bigamy is illegal and can be prosecuted by the state or used as a pretext for the loss of custody of children. Housing restrictions limiting the number of unrelated adults living together are common. Restrictions on who can see a person in the Emergency Room are common.

In addition to legal issues it is not uncommon for Poly people to find themselves disowned by their families, fired from their jobs (on morality clauses), slut-shamed, or even beaten due to their relational orientation. (reference: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-polyamorists-next-door/201401/the-five-most-common-legal-issues-facing-polyamorists)

Watching the LGBT community deal with similar issues made me realize that the first step to solving these issues is coming out and being proud of who I am. I have not been exactly closeted, many of my friends, neighbors, and family already know that I am Polyamorous. For those that don't, this is my coming out. I first admitted it to myself about 23 years ago and, with a few abortive attempts at monogamy in the interim, I have lived a Poly lifestyle ever since.

What do I mean when I say I am Poly? I mean two things 1) my heart is not capable of being exclusive in romantic attachment or attraction. Nor am I given to jealousy when a partner is attracted to or involved with another lover. 2) I choose to live a life of ethical non-monogamy. I am up-front with potential partners about my relational orientation. I do not promise exclusivity and then cheat. I do not play emotional games. I will say what I want and accept the answer I am given. I will not manipulate or coerce a partner or potential partner into a circumstance they resisted. I commit to communicate and process my feelings and those of my partners. I commit to respect not only my partners' feelings but also those of their partners, children, family, and other loved ones.

I have seen some marvelous monogamous relationships. My parents were married for 63 years and clearly loved each other as much at the end as they had at the beginning. Most of my siblings have been married for many decades in what I observe to be matrimonial bliss. I am not criticizing monogamy at all, though I find some attitudes and behaviors common to monogamous relationships to be hurtful and diminishing to those involved in such relationships. There are other monogamous relationships that appear to avoid those pitfalls.

I realize that I may offend some by my candor. You have the right to be offended if you so choose. I don't choose to give any weight to your offense in my life decisions.

I welcome thoughtful comments. I will delete hateful responses.

Streams of Thought - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

In the 1990s, when I wrote this, I spent a lot of time walking beside the American River in Sacramento. I believe I wrote this one in Winter when the river was near flood stage and I was walking in the American River Parkway near Sac State (CSU Sacramento). Open water has always had a special place in my heart.

This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose

Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

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Streams of Thought

Rolling, roiling, onward flowing

Strength embodied, fluid knowing

Liquid, muddy, ever growing

Seaward river bound

Water wetter restless fettered

Levee channeled, never bettered

Troubled, calm, or sunlight glittered

Rolling past my soul

Flooding, sudden, stark destruction

Bringing life to death’s induction

Leaving muck with deadly suction

River god gone mad

Burbling, singing, green life bringing

Sparkles flashing, sunbeams flinging

Laughing, gushing, smooth stones cleaning

Mothers’ living veins

Rivers bring such mixed emotions

Flowing onward to their oceans

Life and Death and merchants quotients

Still, I love them all

WyrMist - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

One morning in the late fall I was driving on Highway 50 from Folsom to Sacramento in my daily commute. Between Hazel and Sunrise I saw a bank of fog against the cliffs on the North bank of the American River (it is much more built out there now, I doubt if I could have seen it today). I pulled over to the shoulder and wrote this poem. I have always been fond of it.

I welcome your comments and your shares!

This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose

Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

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Wyrmist

A great gray snake

Lies along the river

Obscuring from my vision

All the cliffs upon its bank

Mysterious and smoky,

It crawls along the wetness

This Patrick-banished reptile

Windblown, cold and dank

In dampness is its spawning ground

Womb of icy coolness

Sprung from mystery vapors

With its scales of dewdrops fine

No army can withstand it

This monster mist so ghostly

Enveloping the conquered

In another space and time

The Wandering Gael - A Poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

Ireland, which I have seen only in my dreams and in the photos and videos I have found, holds a special place in my heart. My grasp of Irish Gaelic is minimal and finding the time to really study and learn it has been a plan for my leisure hours (whenever I can find them) for many decades. This poem expresses some of my love for my Gaelic heritage, both in the lands from which we sprung and in the lands to which we fled. There may be some unfamiliar names mentioned here, especially in the first stanza. If you are of Gaelic blood it is worth googling those names to learn more about where you came from.


This poem, and many others can be found in my collection 'Poetry's Purpose'.

Printed copies can be purchased at Lulu.com

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

The Kindle version can be purchased on Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

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The Wandering Gael

Fodla and Mil, Alba and Éireann

Mother and father and wombs of our brood

Boru and Medb, the Bruce and Dear Amergin

Siblings before us who founded our mood

Stepfather England, in violent cruel fosterage

Robbed us of birthright in croft, plain, and vale

And thus we were thrust upon Gaia’s cold mercy

The Celt without country, the Wandering Gael

No village around us, no tribe to uphold us

No poet, nor druid, nor chieftain held sway

T’was only the priest and the Presbyter preacher

To give out the sacraments and show us the way

In dark cities teeming with Europe’s cheap discards

In coal mines and rail lines through wild frontiers

In hill country farming with dirt-scratching labor

We eked out survival, or succumbed to our fears

We spread and we prospered despite of the hatred

Shoveled upon us by ignorant folk

We laughed and we drank, we labored and quarreled

Some even grew rich to finish the joke

We made ourselves homes, where the land made us welcome

In countries Down Under, and the lands of the West

In Boston, Chicago, and South Carolina

In Sydney, Seattle, and where I love best

The shining land looking out o’er the Pacific

The mountains, the valleys, the deserts, the lakes

With celluloid dreams, and silicone thinking

With fires and floods and dreaded earthquakes

My home, California, the true land of promise

With sunshine forever and thick Tule Fog

With shiny snow peaks and hot sandy beaches

I think me this Gael has found Tír na nÓg

I hear the land speaking, as oft as I listen

I hear the nine waves in our father’s travail

Under these mountains a treasure trove glistens

Of wisdom and beauty in this home for the Gael

I am the salmon in long rivers running

I am the cougar perched high on a stone

I am the Sierra and the desert sun shining

I am the redwood growing tall in my home

Magic - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose

Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

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I wrote this poem in Stockton in 2002 or 2003 while walking through the grounds of the old State Mental Hospital (already being converted into a college campus by then). I originally published it as a greeting card.

Magic

Do I believe in magic?

That’s really hard to say

Do I believe in the power of love

To chase the blues away?

Do I believe in summer days

And passions born of Spring?

In hope sprung from Depressions pit?

In joys that Sorrow brings?

Do I believe in magic?

I can’t deny it’s there.

I’ve seen the triumph of the heart

When wounded with despair.

I’ve seen a child grow loving

In a household filled with war

And seen a city filled with hope

Where towers stood no more.

Do I believe in magic?

Yes, I suppose I do,

Watching as the world grows old

And turns to something new;

The cycle of the seasons

The turning of the wheel

Birth and Life and Death go round

In magic that is real

My Church - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

I wrote this poem at a campground in Big Sur, California. It speaks volumes about my relationship to God and God's creation.

This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose

Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

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My Church

The pillars of my cathedral
Are living redwood frees
I substitute for stain-ed glass
The earth and sky and sea

The sermon of the hummingbird
And lesson of the seal
Teach my heart the living truth
In scripture that is real

My church is in the great outdoors
And deep within my heart
I need no sermon from a book
When I can hear a lark

The Birth of Conchobar MacNessa - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

Notes on pronunciation: Cathbad is pronounced KA fuh

This is one of a number of poems drawn from the Cattle Raid of Cooley, which stands in Irish Mythology in a similar place to the Iliad and the Odyssey in Greek Mythology.

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Once Cathbad the Druid went walking about

On a lovely, bright midsummer’s day

When he passed by good Nes with her ladies about

Enjoying the sun’s gentle rays

She said, “My good Druid, a question I’ve got,

If you’ve time for a bit of chat.”

“As always, my Queen, all my wisdom is yours.”

So he found him a seat and he sat.

“This hour at hand”, asked the Queen from her couch,

“Just how is it best to be spent?”

The Druid looked ‘round for the omens at hand

Then quickly his wisdom he lent.

“For begetting a King on a Queen,” he did say,

“Is this hour most fitly employed.”

You could see by the look on her face that this thought

Was one that the Queen did enjoy.

“Are you certain this hour and no other will do?”

Nes queried the Druid again.

“The boy you conceive in this short span of time

will forever be known in this land.”

She looked down the road, then out ‘cross the field,

Then over at Emain’s strong walls.

“It seems you’re the only man here to be found.

Would you come with me into my hall?”

He did and they did and a boy was conceived

And Cathbad was known as his ‘Da.

Three years and three months he grew in her womb,

The boy, Conchobar MacNessa.

The lad, he went off to live with his dad

‘Til he reached nigh on seven years old.

Then he found himself king of Ulster the Fair

Through a plan that his mother made bold

Now Fergus MacRóich was king at the time

And Nes surely captured his eye.

Pretty and proud and a lass of high birth,

This girl was not coy nor shy.

Agreeable, she, to a match with the king

But she had her own price for the deal.

She wanted her son to be king for a year

That her son’s honor price would be real.

“I want my son’s sons to be sons of a king.”

And the people thought this sounded fair,

“Ah, Fergus, you’ll still be the real king now

And you’ll get it all back in a year.”

So married they were and the boy he was crowned

And he ruled with his ma at his back.

He’d steal from one to give to another

‘Til gifts from him none of them lacked.

When the year, it was up, then Fergus MacRóich

Was ready to take back his crown.

The people bespoke, “Let’s think about this.”

Which caused cousin Fergus to frown.

The people decided what Fergus had sold

Should stay truly sold to the lad

That Fergus so quickly relented his crown

Was a thing, for a king, that t’was bad.

So Conchobar then became truly the king

And beloved of all of the land.

Ulster had never a king they loved so

And life, for him, it was grand.

There’s many a tale and story can be told

About Conchobar MacNessa the king

And truly spoke Cathbad, for still to this day

Bards, of him, loudly do sing.

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This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose

Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

Fear and Hope - a poem by Liam UiCearbhaill

Fear, like a shadow
Was over my soul
Perched like a vulture
Un-live, like a ghoul

Nameless and faceless
‘Twas felt but unseen
Present in waking
Still there in my dreams

It stalked my progress
As predators will
It tainted my joy
My pain did it fill

It drove me to leave
The faith of my youth
And then disavow
My quest for the truth

It cost me my wife
And robbed me of joy
Sent me back reeling
From romantic ploys

But hope, like a weed
Was planted beside
Sprung up, unlooked for
Its grin open wide

Hopes, wending their way
Like worms to my core
Disturbed the darkness
My fears thirsted for

I fought them, those hopes
With tooth and with nail
Resisting their lure
Defending my jail

To hope that’s the lot
Of other folks lives
To reach for their dreams
To find brighter skies

Yet, fight as I might
The hope would not go
The dark, it was pierced
The flame, it did grow

The struggle went on
‘Tween dark and the light
It took all my strength
Containing the fight

It threatened my mind
It wounded my soul
I functioned each day
But hardly was whole

And step by slow step
I climb from the mire
The dark is still close
Though fought by the fire

I still feel its tug
That comforting fear
The cold terror felt,
Familiar and near

But know I too well
The cost of that path
A road without joy
A place without laugh

So seek I instead
That nebulous hope
Carefully climbing
That slippery slope

I know not the goal
That waits at the peak
I know not the shape
Of treasure I seek

Know only behind
Is pain and is fear
Where loneliness creeps
And darkness is near

Perhaps I will fail
Mayhaps I will fall
The chance is my hope
Is no hope at all

Still, I will go on
And see what is there
‘Has to be better
Than pits of despair

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This poem, and many others can be found in my collection 'Poetry's Purpose'.

Printed copies can be purchased at Lulu.com

www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill

The Kindle version can be purchased on Amazon.com

www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78

The opposite of privitazation

From the foundation of our country we have supported the idea of the government providing a means to communicate between our citizens and residents, namely the US Postal Service. It has done a marvelous job but is now under assault from the radical followers of Ayn Rand who object to anything getting money that is not private. They want to privatize schools, prisons, roads, water, the military (think Blackwater) and mail delivery.
At the same time we have a growing digital divide between urban and rural areas due to huge differences in Broadband access. There has been a lot of talk and a small amount of action toward bridging this gap.
I suggest that the Federal Government task the US Postal Service with establishing and providing nationwide Broadband access as an extension of their mandate to provide mail service to all residents of our country.
I think this needs a lot of fleshing out, but the concept itself is sound.