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Prose Poetry Political Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Political

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

L'Italia del Nonno - Drunken Pen Contest

It's addsurd! Who's going to veliebe his lies? Who's going to bote for him? Plutocracy in these times? To besmear American reputation?... with just a cl-ass... exercising its power by birtue of its wealth...and the legislators...aligators... those who considered themselves... the best...to receive... hiccup!...from lobbies. Or is it Oligarchy? ... or Aristocracy? It's one of those "cracy." Or is it this glass of wine? The old Lady from Arizona had endorsed him. Ha! He must not ve bery happy with it. Wrinkles of xenophobia... legalized discrimimination. Excuses, lies, and negligence... Somebody has to pay for the vroken dishes...in doggy perceptions without style... knocking at the door of their prejudice... trespassing upon their addsurd generalizations ... satisfying their own prommmiscuous imagination...they tend to destroy the ebbidence ... coloring just coloring, coloring, coloring. Pickpocketing their errant misconceppttions... their exiled spiritualility... their mind in poverty...guilty of  larceny, of stupididity, of biolence...On the other hand, an extended hand at traffic lights trying to get what they could ...some change...coins...rusted coins which were never thrown into a fountain... no need of wishes. Trevi fountain and Anita, Marcello, Federico...La Dolce Vita. L'Italia del nonno. Another inmigrant but in another country... Argentina, where foreigners went to work the land and were accepted with open arms. L'Italia del nonno. I need to go to visit his streets, his old towns, his Mediterranean sea, his Sicily... Rome and the Trevi Fountain...Anita, she reminds me of another woman... I thought I had forgotten her and her plunging necklines...sophistitication, style, glamor...lip balm, lip boosters, lip conditioner, lip gloss, lip liner, lip plumper, lip primer. Arden's Red Door never considered  the gag reflex for a pearl necklace. That's elegant; I should use that line. She should use the makeup remober at the morning vefore she wake up to sleep. Sleeping veauty: a porcelain...gorgeous outside - empty inside. Was it Arden or Rubinstein? or Lauder? "Pleasure"...her perfume still lingers... memories from a vuried past. She used to call me but I let her go. She knows how to cuckook. I miss her Cannelloni and Lasagna.L'Italia del nonno... The land that he had to leabe...Nero, Caligula, Machiavelli, Dante's Inferno,The Borgias, Mussolini. Hiccup!... Who's going to bote for him? Re-election never sounded so good...

Copyright © Usual Suspect | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

It Is Not Preposterous!

It is not preposterous to think
people are motivated by sin,
A taste of the flesh
will make folks do wrong,
Just so they can toot their 
own horns,

It is not preposterous to assume,
that for a piece of a human being,
pests would stoop very low
to stealing a family's heirloom,

It is not preposterous to know,
we are living in a world that
is ignorant and shallow,
the hollowness that exists in
human kind,
will be the trait that leaves
the despicable behind.

Copyright © Margeret Bailey | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Serving One's Country

Serving one's country used to be a task done
with loyalty and pride,
but, the truth sets in after the perilous ride,
Veterans are let down by the promises made,
After the adrenaline subsides, 
They are left hanging in the shade,
without aid,
homes, families 
and incomes,

Abandoned without hope,
thinking that they are only
as good as their last battle,
shifted around like unwanted cattle,

How can America prosper with
these uncomfortabilities on their hands?
Veterans and their families deserve
a life that's becoming of the sacrifices
they made,
They deserve to feel pride and a sense of 
satisfaction, long after the battle and 
recuperation.....


Copyright © Margeret Bailey | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely

Benefit for all is converted for the use of a few their pockets are included in national budgets and their wants, top the country's priority list. Even the Cock's raw corn is highly coveted by the Cat. An old plantain tree, preventing its suckers from growing or a father, who frustrates the welfare of his family is exactly the hell, created by these money and power mongers The political system is all about a game of cards. A particular clique fixes their huge pipes as the fatherland shrinks under no mercy. Leaders they call themselves, yet they invest on the hunger of their people profit in the poverty of the land and trade on all forms of artificial instability. Acquisition of a generation's sustainability turns out to be a hobby as they still fight for the crumbs with the weak and go for the meat, no matter how hot the soup is disregarding those who cooked it. The same citizens who once lined up to give their confidence which has now become a fatal sacrifice are gradually reaching the wall. So know ye this! A hungry man is one that is angry and when millions of angry men unite nothing can stop their quest. A people once treated less than animals will hunt like vengeful kings taking what is rightly theirs marking a restoration, stained with blood. Blood, far from innocence and purity!
Dedicated to African leaders, especially Nigeria!

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If our Price is Right

"At the beginning of the twenty-first century,
for the luckiest
[high-risk and opportunity for eco-consciousness]
people who have ever been born,
it seems that our passionate pursuit of individuation
has reached its [EgoLeft dominant] apex."

"We have discovered that we are [also] part of a vast,
complex,
multidimensional
[polynomial, polycultural, polypathic, polymorphic, polysymbiotic]
fourteen-billion-year process
that is evolving right now, 
as ourselves
[AND Other AND Earth
as WinWinWin eco-cooperative poli-economic
love-therapeutic systemic resolution]."

"And our ability to recognize this vast [healthy/pathological] trajectory
that lies behind us
and that still lives within us
allows us to appreciate
the tremendous significance of the [great transitional] moment
we are [evolving] in."

The awakening of this evolutionary
[ecoconscious bilateral-dipolar systemic comprehension]
shatters the postmodern predicament.
And it is up to those of us who recognize this liberating context--
the luckiest [bicameral balancing] people in the world--
to make ourselves available
to the [coarising] energy and [co]intelligence that has,
over tens of thousands of years,
patiently cultivated our human capacity
for higher [and deeper] consciousness
and [self/other interdependent Left/Right eco-dominant] cognition,
so that it [regenerative healthy love]
can take the next step,
through us and as us."

Andrew Cohen, "Evolutionary Enlightenment, pp. 83-84, 2011, SelectBooks

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Are You

In the Work That Reconnects,
we have a dialogue exercise
in which Person A asks Person B
"Who are you?"
several times over a few minutes,
as it feels right to reprime this exploratory pump;
then person B does the same for person A.

The person hosting, facilitating, enabling
this reiterative question's redundant possibilities
is merely an echo-present listener,
noticing diversity within these multiple evolving responses,
without judging good, bad, ugly, or even indifferent,
quietly hearing rhythms of longing for love
between the crippling cracks of anger and fear,
compelling and compiling self with other hatred,
pathology.

The question,
Do all these diverse self-descriptions truly fit
this same love v. anger-fear polyculturing-multisystemic elephant?
does not usually arise.
Rather,
we accept all these scrabbling voices
and hats
and feelings
and ideas
and beliefs
co-occurring within one bilateral
positive-health v. negative-pathology mindbody ecosystem,
seeking diastatic fullness
richness,
poly-empathic
polymorphic communication,
design, development, co-empathic investment,
and cooperative-integrative implementation outcomes,
at the end of this elephant's rhetorical day,
if not sooner.

Why is this not always the case
when we ask our friends and families,
our public sector leaders 
and financial sector investors,
"Who do you hope we are becoming?"

What loves are we preparing to invest in 
and which past angers and future fears to divest of?

What indicators can I give
that I already invest in cooperatively regenerate health
agendas,
platforms,
designs and intentions,
co-mentoring therapeutic diapraxis
of which I preach so positively to others?

I know you support restoring regenerative health to our soil
and preserving clean water,
as I do.
So does it bother you,
as it does me,
that we still contaminate our water with poo and pee
instead of investing in nutrition-starved soil,
where both could be positive resources 
countering past neglect and abuse,
rather than doubly-negative pathology?

We say we support cooperatively vibrant and healthy local economies
and empowering political vitality,
so does it bother you,
as it does me,
to so often hear "either-or" deductive reductivism
and wonder why not first cooperatively consider "both-and?"

I appreciate what you just said
and I wonder if adding X might make your idea
even better.
Do you agree,
or maybe you see concerns for yourself and others
new to me,
of which we might learn together?

Could a cooperative election or social change campaign
begin with compiling interdependent hopes and wishes
and loves of Who Are You?
thereby more smoothly avoiding stuckness-traps
of fear and anger and dissonant pathological constipative outcomes.

Could investing both-and cooperative communication norms
better lead toward co-investing in healthy wealth,
politically strong-embraced policies,
procedural and dialogical transparency,
polyculturally inclusive design and development and discernment
of poli-eco-logical therapy
v. multi-morphic pathology;
co-arise local through global health outcome networks,
diastatic eco-normativity,
embracing each and every sacred Person A and B response
to Who are we?

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Here is a story about myself

My mind went on a trip one sunny day
In that trance I was president
Papa was proud of me
Mama felt pleased too
“You are a natural leader” said my neighbor
“I knew you would make it, it’s not a fluke” commented another
Frenemies surfaced in haste


My face was on TV
I was a president on the move 
Ain’t nobody stood in my way
I travelled far and wide
My term was short
I had to make an impact
Etch my name in the hall of fame
History had to have my name

Time is a march and the powerful are drummers
He who drums loudest leads the song
His life is lavish and his abode magnificent
Look who is drumming
Would they be drumming if I weren’t president?
Are they friends or foes?
Only time will tell
Then there was a reality check.
The chimera was over

I am just who I am
The same old nobody

Copyright © John Pen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If Time is Money

Does your money derive from health-regenerative investments?

Well, what could that mean?

Do you make your money, honey, 
with both light and dark co-arising memory
of midway love and peace intent,
avoiding anger-fear monoculturally competitive
dominant-power relationships,
and struggles against others,
against Earth,
choosing to struggle with cognitive-affective
chronic neural-temporal dissonance,
indicators of imbalance issues,
and opportunities for more polyculturally nutritious
sensory-neural-nutritional
regeneratively-integrally-intended 
ecosystemic polyculturing health-trend outcomes?

Is that your elevator speech, or Pledge of Allegiance to ReGenerative Health?

I thought it was a question that assumed
you don't like elevator pitches 
for more money being removed from your pocket,
whether asking or being asked,
don't matter,
bad timing to invest in one elevator ride.

Try it again,
what is this regenerative health investment
you think we both have in mind and body?

Is your time and money invested
in this cooperative stream of Earth's regenerate evolution,
co-arising revolution of transition crisis times
as ecoconscious bilateral,
and, by the way, 
therefore evolving-emergent as bicameral-neural,
light of logos fractal-ecologic?

I most certainly hope not!!!
That sounds much too grand for EgoMe.

But, your most active stage of hope,
the one more important than all those that could possibly follow,
is now,
this moment,
is always the permaculturist's nutritional Zero-Centric Zone of Ego/Eco
regenerative development and focus.

Before you in each relationship and transaction,
political and economic,
two primal principles of cooperative economic investment,
possibly of interest to philanthropic,
and religious,
and large-scale public economic/political health-culture research investors,
but most certainly of interest to EgoYou.

Such a sweeping scale of regenerativity.
Are you sure you can deliver such rich fertility
with my money?
Where are your outcomes of such vast healthy wealth?

You need not search this mindbody proposal
to see if I am community invested,
if time and life are money-valued commodities,
my money and health and regenerative potential
for sale or rent,
in exchange for what quality of money,
what source of health investment
absorbing dualdark angry-past pathology?

This proposal comes to you
through deep-nested communities
of co-cultural time as light investment.

What are your layers of cooperative political
and economic investment,
where lie these mutually-subsidiary networks?

My communities are interdependent communicators,
co-empathic autonomic
rich paradigmatic intent and permacultural practice.

Are your health outcomes of potential interest
only to our human tribe,
or is there a cooperative DNA/RNA synergy 
demonstrated in your proposal design,
budget,
and/or installation-investment plan?

Which cooperative investment communities appear
as higher risk potential divestors
due to internal monoculturally-dominant
political and economic assumptions? 

How do you propose to avoid Business As Usual 
anthrocentric-normative trends?

Who do you propose will hope and plan to do business with you,
and how,
through mutual barter, and/or cooperation?
And who intends to continue doing business competitively,
without you? And why?

Who do you hope and plan to invest in
and not invest in,
to achieve healthy helpful outcomes,
and what and how,
whether barter, competition, or cooperative absorption
into our Help As Health Bank?

Your proposal outcomes,
for each moment and day and year,
like your own embryonic Ego life,
should demonstrate early investors,
how you will optimize  polyculturally inclusive outcomes
of equitable harmony,
especially if you are not beginning
with a clearly articulated 
and balanced 
health-regenerative theory
root-systemic base
to compost rich fertile health-enculturation.

I will consider your proposals
each and every moment of each day and night
of mutual ecoconsciousness,
asking where does this proposal fit best 
within our cooperative health-as-help portfolio
with other potential investments at this time,
and/or
to consider in light of prior 
and still ongoing 
cooperative-healthguild investments,
and their comparative health v. pathology outcomes
for future regeneration
of Earth's polyculturing Time.

Please be sure any investment opportunities
explicitly measure future polycultural sensory-health 
against current comparatively monocultural,
over-competitive economic and political status-quo risks,
not only within your Nature-Investment Program Outcomes
but also how nutritional results
will be winnowed and seed-selected,
decomposed to enrich
your own future regenerative Interior Landscape,
your health lives of love
with your original and ongoing cooperators,
yourselves in aligning/maligning relation with others.

Perfect, all here and accounted for.
So, how are you investing and divesting
as our
"Cooperative Help As Health Bank"
ecological economic and political health
permacultural proposal
within your own time as money investment portfolio?








Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Son

I have a son
with more than his share of heart
and mindbody intelligence,
to comprehend vastness of Earth’s evolving history
and future demise,
to comprehend full emptiness of universes within
and without
co-arising nondual universes,
enough intelligence to become haunted
by our deep dualist dark insignificance
as a species,
and far less value even than this de-commodification
of AnthroCentric Futures,
his own autonomous Ego value so inconsequential
he doubts his worthiness of food he eats
of water he drinks
of air he breathes,
much less worthy of employment
or any developing sense of vocation,
purpose
meaning midst his human comedic environment
at its best a good musical comedy cooperative network.

This, he can more or less actually find
on-line,
but not so much within his own family,
much less school.
Well, maybe there were a few exceptions
to the individual student competing against all other students rule,
everyone playing an absurd Win-Lose game,
with loser death the inevitable outcome for each and all.

In the meantime,
should we choose to fiddle while Earth prepares to burn
why not orchestrate WinWin cooperatives
deep learning strategies,
more fun
more opportunity to improve interactive communication
and co-deductive dialectic analysis,
to live empirical-cooperative method
in an active healthy 
open communicative
mutual Win economic and political kind of Taoist way.

But, of course,
Taoism, in his expansive view,
hides in a Pandora box labeled “EXEGENESIS of RELIGION”
which is about a spirituality cat half dead
and unfortunately half alive,
as if spirit is any other than dynamic nature,
as if yin were other than absent reverse inside 
yang’s revolving time;
spirituality implying he walks through a divinely inspired comedy
with few speaking parts and no solos allowed,
which he knows could not be true
unless divine inspiration
is no more or less
than human natural regenerative DNA programming function,
developing form,
informational ergodic prime patterns and rhythms,
synergy,
integrative predestination of speciated form
revolving through Earth’s interdependent spaciated orbits of time.

To what end
could we possibly become
for one who is humanist musical comedy cooperative-preferred,
competition-averse,
with polyculturally inclined interests of rich dense fertile healthy sharing
this hour,
this game,
this day,
but without actively articulating hope for any self support,
thrival nutrients for his body;
not just his mind.

Surprising to me
how my lovely son quickly learned to see
spiritual as natural nonduality,
but has yet to recover his embryonic mind
as body co-arising transparency,
much less divine as humane musical comedic unity.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

MOTHER TONGUE

We had a steel-coiled fence 
that kept us apart;  kept in purity,
spoke out in purity.

We played Barbies in a tree that
bordered each side, not knowing
it had a
zone.

Our Barbie world was created; 
dresses hung on branches
little mirrors for wee doll hands;
leaves assigned our closets.

I gibbered and you jabbered, and
the worst thing happened, I learnt
English, but what happened to your
French?

Language traveled through the holes
of our steel-coiled fence.

Copyright © Gisele Vincent-Page | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Patience

PATIENCE

We hear that patience is a virtue 
Is this true, or simply virtual reality 
When leaders are teaching our youth; 
do as I say, not as I do 
Regression to a version of the American 
truth

Impatience is becoming intolerance 
But to be patient is viewed as ignorance 
In a blind world conforming to violence 
Very few see need for benevolence

Many view crime as way of life 
Government fuels fires, causing strife 
Committing true crime with their lack of 
pride 
Our country torn by those who lied

Promoting bigotry and distaste for the 
unknown
 But these days color and homosexuality 
are lactose free 
Intolerant of equality, it’s a problem, 
clearly 
Love is love, embrace the hate 
Hold it tightly until it sees the light

Peace pushed just beyond our reach 
We realize that “hope and change” was 
just a speech 
Wars raging through the land we call 
home 
In God we trust, not this powerful regime

Speak out now with virtuous impatience 
Change is change no matter how small 
the feat
Restore hope with unfaltering acceptance 
and grace 
Serve what you stand for, no time left to 
waste

Copyright © Gabrielle Charisse | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!

Copyright © amy epiphany tunks | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Loving Defiance

Punishing for revenge,
could this occur to natural systems
without capacity to imagine alternative futures?

Punishing others for their defiant behavior,
actions and words stronger than merely ignorant
bolder than merely angry with each other, and ourselves,
but how much more
to accurately measure fair consequences
for words of anger
compared to more aggressive, too often violent,
defiance?

If I had never been a victim of another's vengeance,
bullying,
violence of word and deed,
intent and practice to exercise power of revenge
against a defiant world,
including me,
however unwittingly, impersonally, 
would all defiance in my life
calm down into more generic anger
about fear of living as dying alone,
haunting dreams of chronic claustrophobic stress?

Perhaps my defiance was merely being who I really am,
but it didn't look right through your vengeance lens of opportunity
v. risk.
A safer mark becomes another punished victim
growing increasingly defiant and/or depressed.

Repressive chronic stress
echoing post-partum critical stress disorder,
and fear of Ego's demise
predicting total loss of sensory consciousness,
loss of love co-arising Time and Life,
CoPresent TransParent Consciousness,
Communicant of InFormating Memory Strains.

If no defiant anger,
then no punishing revenge.
If no revengeful lack of mercy,
then no fear-filled anger,
opening each moment's life
to love's new-old possibilities.

An empire of nations and tribes,
and sometimes mobs and klans,
invested in competing my anger against your fear.
Evil intent and competitive will have suboptimized Live 
by divesting of truly symbiotic evolution,
settling for lack-of-love anger management,
yet faithing nondual co-arising healthy regeneration trends
for all Earth's Tribes,
but only worshiped as NotNot HumanNatural EcoSystemic Universal Timeless Power and Integrative Function
by HumanNatural EcoSystems,
perversely enough.

An empirically deductive-dominant historical culture
falls defiantly apart,
angry and afraid,
to open unoccupied space for empathic nondual love,
peacefully interdependent governance,
mutually subsidiary co-mentoring ego/eco balance therapists
advocating contentment of cooperative ecosystems
over contention of competitive  political-economic systems,
designing and developing merciful justice 
as active pay-it-forward peace.

PreMillennial Tyranny of angry frightening gods and destiny
fading before Great Transition Bodhisattva Warriors
finding good humor in mutual co-existing on Earth as Host,
serving nutritious composting manna,
to all permacultural role-models
aspiring toward polycultural outcomes,
BiCameral Occupier-Parasites 
filled with nuclear-neural folding and unfolding regeneratively-timed virus,
benign merger messages of deductive/inductive-empathic balance,
like breathing in and out,
to produce healthier and safer outcomes than revenge,
followed by more defiance, etc.

Revenge breeds defiance
as forgiveness and zero-interest investments
breed co-arising love/live and nutritional prosperity.

Forgiving defiance,
whether personal or political,
whether economic or environmental,
predicts optimal revenge
of loving anger and fear
as they co-mentor our selves,
our cells,
our memory of time,
both day and night bicameral.



Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Next

The height of science and the width of commerce in my dwelling place they merge with the ambassadors of understanding giving me their pledge. Capturing the seat of the wise and sitting over it, covering its edge as I wear the garment of knowledge. So what's next? My hands are filled with gold My pockets, heavy with silver these make me the Diamond myths and the greatest team player to financial strength. I've been owned and followed and my shadow, replaced with good health as I'm possessed and romanced by wealth. So what's next? Occurrences and happenings, I'm the doer Planting the seed of what's to happen next, like a sower with all authorities and rulership placed lower is the extent of my unbelievable power. so what's next? Acquiring all possible knowledge accumulating unbelievable possessions and becoming the greatest principality the world has ever known without positively touching a life and making a soul smile is going through a clothing store naked and coming out naked with everything in the world just strings. So what's next? DEATH! Leaving behind all the attachments as they drop in command of hades vanity upon vanity; all is vanity.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gerrymandering

Those spoken words that can't be taken back come back as incendiary 
attacks.  How many rough relationships must one go through before one 
finds smooth?  Is it me or you? Don't be fooled. We are the key ingredient 
that our kids feed on. Do they grow strong or limp along?  
Is there life out there? Is there hurt after mistakes?  
Is the Lord's day really all that great? What about the other days of the 
week?  The world continues spinning,  this concept of us is 
revolutionary.  Together we find balance in give and 
take, the reorientation of space so that the stars you look upon don't crumble 
and fall. Heaven is two feet from the ground.  A morning fog we walk through 
daily.  Good quickly dissipates and we're left wondering how heaven drifted so 
far away. What happened to Sunday?  How did the Sabbath move from 
Saturday?  How did we become disenchanted?  Separate but equal,  so 
political our lies are believable.  Can I count on your vote?  Sure (not really). 
Stop gerrymandering.  What's mine is ours. Erase the lines that divide. 
Come close to close.  Let me peer through you, stir that ocean inside of you. 
Let our problems fade in the distance like a pier five miles away.  
Rise above crosses and steeples above the morning mist that evaporates 
when the sun first kisses it. Let me hold you in my heaven till noon, 
lay with you in evening, give you that resurrective feeling at the first stroke of 
midnight.  Your dark knight with whispers of goodnight, choir preaching, have 
you heard a good word? Even after all that we see reaches oblivion,  
I got you. Going to ride it out until the waves become smooth. 
If still waters run deep, sit down so I can quench my thirst in your 
baptismal pool. Dive into your postrapedic positions and serenade you with 
what is coming next. Rain falling on violet painted window sills on the inside it 
sounds like a lullaby. We've mastered this concept so hard to come by. We 
can't do drive-bys,  can't duck and hide. Us and we go together the way 
summer follows spring. What you take away, give it back new. Be my 
solstice,  a day that separates and joins seasons. My soul sister,  soul mate 
and soul date: expiration of forever and a day. Together you and I with 
mountains to climb,  storms to soar beyond, and a heaven to get into, 
mornings to walk through.  No more gerrymandering.  A hope you can believe 
in. I am T.S. Lewis and I approve this blessing. Let's make it smooth.

Copyright © TS Lewis | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Why

"Universe to each must be
All that is, including me.
Environment in turn must be
All that is, excepting me."
       Buckminster Fuller

Evolving Universe to each must become
All integrity that is, including me.
Regenerative Environment in turn must become
All that co-arises, excepting Ego Memory.

"Synergy
means behavior of whole systems
unpredicted by the behavior of their parts
taken separately."
     Fuller

ReGenerativity means healthy nutritional potential
of whole Earth-in-nested-Heaven
co-emergent systems
unpredicted by time's dynamic dimensional behavior
of bilaterality
deductively reductively taken separately.

Spiritual ReGenesis means healthy behavior
of whole natural ecosystems
unpredicted by the dynamics of Ego Memory alone
reductively reiterated separately from BiCameral EcoConsciousness.

History of Nature's Synergetic Enculturation Design and Development
includes PermaCultural ReGeneration of nature-spirit nondual landscapes,
includes prime-relational-time 
healthy unfolding of humane-as-sacred bicameral nature-spirit
as nondual sensory-cognitive-neural reception
and resonant articulation
of nutritional-integral landscapes,
gestalts,
soul soils and transactional skins
morphing endosymbiosis
balancing Earth-time's ectosymbiotic reculturing health agenda.
.

History of RNA to DNA fractal equivalence,
dynamic dialectical design
developed dipolar eco/ego-holonic self-reiterative consciousness
of Yang as light bright diastatic potential
coterminous coincidental co-arising co-gravitating
Yin's dualdark neutral (0) PlaceHolder-Centric
ballast of harmonic DNA-octave folding and unfolding
refolding and prefolding bilateral flow of Time
regenerating healthy organic ecosystemic spatial articulation
through correlations surfing back and forth multi-reiterative,
revolving day as notnot night's primal root systemic
ReGenesis.

RNA fractals are to PolyNomial SpaceTime resonance
as natural ecosystems are to bicameral temporal-neural resolution,
integral-unitarian syntax-exegesis of co-gravitating bilateral Time,
karmic grace of nutritional systemic balance,
and more dissonant self-correcting imbalance.

Religion is regenerate polypathic egolove/ecohealth polyculturation,
not a great transitional competition 
between grace spirit tradition and evil disrelational and fickle nature,
unless economies of cooperative relationship achieving health as wealth are severed
by distorted ecologies of competitive Win-Lose evolution,
unless polities of positive healthy light-following spirituality
and happiness
and mutual gratitude
are reduced to mere competitive economics
of double-negative LoseLose runaway
reiterative, but eventually degenerative,
ecosystemic feedback loops of deadly despair.

Time, progenitor of natural spaces,
places,
plants and interior psychological landscapes of human nature,
evolves co-gravitationally bilateral,
revolving spirals of light Yang
co-terminously dipolar
with Yin dualdark shadow flowing eco-thermodynamic ballast,
dual-binding negative boundaries of dialectical formation
articulating Alpha BigBang
as (0)Mega Diastatic Prevolution,
emergent harmonic becoming
of Beloved Communicating Community,
ubiquitously accessible to deductive/inductive human nature,
follow the light
of Earth's revolving nurture,
as noon enlightens midnight memory.

Bicameral ego-awareness 
merges holonic integrity 
of Earth's Yanglight-Yindualdark 
revolving in Time's BiLateral Way,
co-arising nondual eco-consciousness
of full life as bicamerally balanced mindbody light,
full death as absence of light's elational-dynamic diastatic presence.

Yet, where lies this perfect vacuum of dualdark synaptic?

RightMindBody Eco-Environment conversations in regenetic turn must be
all that is present-tense 
polyculturating nature-spirit nonduality,
in absence of LeftMindBody EgoPast/Future LanguagedMe.

Why bicameral dialectical what
follows Earth-time's light
stretching to regenerate dipolar notnot binomial equi-valent why
of time's bilateral revolution abundantly unfolding,
predicting when polynomial spacetime 
resonates and dissonates diastatic polypathic eternal resolutions
Great PostMillennial CoOperative EarthNetwork Revolution,
brought through peer-to-peer permacultural RNA/DNA ecotherapeutic solidarity
and ecological economics of healthy values
as (0)-centric norms of time's regenerate unfolding-refolding light.



Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nelson Mandela

He was a great poem
A warrior for the freedom of the oppressed 
A work of art
His charismatic aura luring both man and woman
He was loved by millions
Not only for his sacrifice but for his forgiving character
When he walked
The flowers admired and wave
The leaves quivered
The doves of peace release, flew up above
A man as great as he will never again be
He was peace poetry 
A work of art
Still the greatest example of what democracy should be
Freedom was his soul
A seed of which he planted in millions of hearts 
His name Nelson Mandela is a universal echo
No more will there be another like him 
He was the great poetry of our time

Copyright © Shining Bright | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What is truth?

The question posed by a politician to Jesus after his arrest
It was Pontius Pilate Governor of Judea from A.D. 26-36.
To this day the answer still eludes politicians 

The politician and the diplomat
Two different tools used to make ugly truths palatable
And beautiful truths unrecognizable 

Politicians and diplomats never say No
Their Yes means maybe and their Maybe means No

Copyright © Monty Newman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dummying Up

Dummying Up
              by Odin Roark

Once mannequins rocked.
Utilitarian heroes propped up
Behind steering wheels,
Windows,
Doors,
Even beside display animals.
Such were the iron-hearted
Of atomic testing ground history.

Today, Saks 5th Ave windows
With their sophisticated still-life-reality,
Serve the well-to-do shoppers,
The not so well-to-do looky-loos,
And of course, the anything-will-do bag ladies.

In Washington there resides flesh and blood versions,
Animatronic wonders,
Their brain circuitry void of action voltage,
Their suits, ties, tans
Makeup, coifs and dresses
Never askew.

Yet…

These elected reps continue more immobile
Than their lauded ancestry,
Those once sacrificial creations of purpose,
Now but a desert’s dwindling radio active dust.

Yes…

Dummying up has come a long way
To its glorification as our US Congress,
Where nonsense requires one dummy-up opener
So “I’ll see that and raise your wealthy-class
Pandering with five more tax cuts.”
At which point, they break for another fund raising junket.

Unfortunately…

The game will pick up where it left off on their return,
A mannequin mentality becoming more and more inflexible.

Copyright © Odin Roark | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

FACE TO FACE

I face you, you face me
This is a phase of reality
Practically death is eternity
Hope you got this constantly


That the truth reveals truth and lies are demonized
Visualize the truths and open all eyes
‘Cause the fact we have to face impacts all minds
But the price we had to cost more than our lives
As we cram knowledge in skulls in hope they'll turn wise
But lies for the wise are unspoken truths utilized
The streets are hard as our neighbors close their blinds
Life is war: you and I are landmines
As diseases of love making kill husbands and wives
The books were right, we are living in hard times
As the wealthy stay wealthy but the poor economize
The intelligent stay healthy but the ignorant are otherwise
Further, from the truth than they realize
That life is a trance we are all hypnotized
In this rat race of human disgrace
Changing the whole place
To pace the chase of the facts, we have to face
That life is a test we just have to ace
And learn after death that we are face to face


I face you, you face me
This is a phase of reality
Practically death is eternity
Hope you got this constantly


These fat cats with stomachs for tires must retire
As our leader’s facing their own desires
While these liars fuel the wrong nation’s fire
Let’s rehire admirals we admire
This nation uses compassion for fame and fashion
Good ideals come in rations
Where doubt is brought slavery is bought
Now we face feelings tagged by price
As the impression of the recession slightly rise
The value of a gesture isn’t a just reward
'Cause a simple smile, no one can afford
As this warning is future’s comedy
The tragedy of this parody is now someone else’s misery
As some live reverse to evil
To rock-the-vil on the society not civil
Chasing illusions only to catch nil
Facing fact from fictional thrill
In this rat race of human disgrace
Changing the whole place
To pace the chase of the facts, we have to face
That life is a test we just have to ace
And learn after death that we are face to face

Copyright © siza sibiya | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fooling us All

Dumbing us down
no wonder we don't know
unaware for so long
feeding 
on what's been eating us

"but the bait tastes so good!"
we say
drooling diabetes down lazy lips
entranced
by high definition devices
all the world's shiny entices

and then there's addictions
the medications 
vibrations
frequencies 
they're fingering Mother Earth's atmosphere to
seducing mankind 
with the silence of her screams
raping our nurturer
as we remain oblivious

these elite thugs
conducting violence above the law
fooling us all

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

SONG OF DEMOCRACY

Democracy In Nigeria
It’s been ages you passed into deep slumber
Or rather you were long dead, democracy
You have striven to rise but fall many times
Your limbs were over-powered by some political demons
You have been crushed in the dust by some powerful beasts
The people with green skinned body, white spirit and green soul
Are eager to see you come alive again and take your full course
Take control to the fullness you place in their leadership
They know the time has come and now is the hour
They cry, they sing, they shout, they talk, they pray, they hope and believe
Equally important, they are ready to work, support, and vote
To see the emergence of a new democratic Nigeria
The reality, evidential rebirth of democracy in a new Nigeria

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

O! America Reverse

My opinions are changed, 
My heart lacks fervour, 
For you lunched the war, 
Purposeless, 
To liberate who are already free,
To enrich who are already rich, 
To make the fierce, more ferocious.

When will the time intrude you,
Make you see the brilliant aspect of the affair,
And humanity will sing the song of peace?
When will you peep into your inner-self 
To see the reflected image of you own?
When will you obey the divine commands
And make out them that God forbids pollution
Smog and fumes of turmoil wrapping His fair Earth?

 Now open your eyes
The shores are red; 
The lands are coated with blood,
The skulls are scattered like stones, 
For the sake of oil or the reserves of gold,
Be aware a single drop of   human blood 
Possesses more worth than all treasures
That the earth contains. 

Now stop killing; enough, enough, 
You neither surrender, nor do deprive others
Of the rights which the divine commands allow,
Go through the lanes with moderate bearing. 

Live like a benefactor among the nations, 
Share with them your victuals,
Stock of knowledge and skills,
And snatch them not of their own.
Return fathers to the orphans,
Husbands to the widows,
Brothers to the waiting damsels, 
And sons to the aged mothers,
If not then compensate them all,
For the broken hearts, shattered dreams.
 
Hatred against you thrives, 
Magma against you grows,
Let the volcano sleep, 
Beneath the layers deep, 
And only once apply,
The strategy of the weapon of love 
Discarding the old devices of uranium. 

The amount you spent on the arsenal 
Would have been enough to feed the world 
Though ten times bigger; 
If you had ruled the hearts,  
The world might have been a different place
Of love, peace and harmony. 

Through force your aims will never be gained,
So amend the ways and stroll on the route 
That enhances you in respect and esteem;
Review and revise the modes of actions,
 Follow not the path that leads the world
To the chaos, and on the point of no return,
For there will be a dark dungeon of curse,
O! America, for the sake of humanity reverse.  

Copyright © Muhammad Shanazar | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Distant Warrior

I get this wondrous chill as night falls
in mountains or desert sand
and I find myself dreaming about
home, my fondest memory
from this far away land.

I miss the special lady who 
stole my heart, my thoughts
and all there is of me;
and I deeply cherish 
our final moments together.

I think about the children 
I left behind, how I miss them 
and pray they’re  fine -
and it’s hard Lord,
it’s so very hard.

It’s times like this that I wonder
why I volunteered and I
get this knot in my stomach -
then I cringe and find myself 
trying to hold back tears.

Soon the battle will begin
when I’ll hear my own heartbeat
through the creepy sounds 
amidst treacherous mountain sides or
drifting sands and whirling winds.

It’s  time spent in worry,
fear, and some regret
as I encounter my fate
in the war so near
and I must admit, I’m scared.

This stench of war, 
the sight of it all,
it’s that awful image
of how I imagined hell
after Lucifer’s fall.

I wonder to myself,
“Does it have to be
that generations of people 
can’t seem to agree 
to the simple concept of peace?”

Soldiers don’t start wars
but they surely fight them,
making all manner of sacrifice
and I doubt that even once
did a soldier ever like them.”

Then I think of  “Old Glory”
and I’m filled with pride.
It’s a warm patriotic feeling
which overcomes me
from deep down inside.

I’m confused, scared
and battle weary.
I worry about those I love
as I cling to my faith  
and pray to God above.

I’m a distant warrior,
an American fighting man;
not an aspiring hero,
but just a simple soldier 
trying to do the best that I can.

Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Organized Chaos

over 20 yrs of planning
using the very terrorists created 
to divide and conquer
try to fool the world
forget not that God is above you
organized chaos
not all are led by their noses
third world order
pretentious heroism
send more troops
tanks and armour
finish what was started
in poland where zionism was born
place puppets at heads of nations
while controlling the strings
divide then conquer
the real terrorists
it's a matter of time 
then peace will reign
while you send innocence too martyrdom 
you come closer too your end
Syria will rise
Middle East will rise
Palestine will be free
Africa will unite
the world will see clearly
the truth of who is the iron fist 
the very heroes 
the creators of organized chaos

Copyright © Shining Bright | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Economic Development

Economic development is the precondition of higher living standard
Therefore we should focus on economic development at first

We know infrastructural development is a must
For economic development of any country
So the government should go for it in the first place
And if necessary they should go for partnership with private entrepreneurs

Now it’s an open market economy
If we want to take off to the sky of prosperity
We need to utilize our own resources including manpower

We need to figure out our competitive advantages
Because it’s not a hard task for us in the information era

Now-a-days tourism is a lucrative sector for any government
Because we are living in the time of globalization

Protectionism is now a history
That’s why
The role of commercial banks and other financial institutions
Is more pivotal than ever

They should provide loan to the industrialists
In such a manner and style
So that the latter can import cutting-edge tech
In order to survive in the fierce competition of open market

Copyright © Asif Andalib | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Almost Remorse

The slowest clocks bind the official wound,
An azimuth of the flesh, trust, first contact,
She blinks but no face appears, 
Does every mistake ask for such an ordinary end?  A seed cannot forget.
Cold, weeping statue of lifetimes, suckle her prayer in the erupting bed.
Fallen beside the tear of the flower blight, lips against the penetrator,
Learn to forgive the righteous terrors for an idle comfort.
What numbing freedom presses the soft lump pulse?
Tongues rally to expose the ghost of private remorse,
Who conceals the dignities of a suction thigh grave.

			--2009

Copyright © W.P. VanDam | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You be the judge

  You are not seeing everyone with the same eye,how do you want to hide it?
 You call every body who criticizes this apartheid regime,Neo-Nazist,and any one who curses prophet Muhammad,open-minded.

Copyright © bahram sediqi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Survived Janjaweed Part 1

I was a girl of only 5 years when I looked across the desert and saw a cloud of smoke covering the skies off in the distance.  I remember being afraid that my grandmother might be hurt because she lived there with my Uncle Sofarlo, his wife and my cousins.         
     It was during the season of the drought, so the sky was bright blue everywhere except above Grandma’s Village.  I thought that the blazing sun had sparked a flame in one of the huts.  All I could do was hope that Grandma was okay.
     A few days later, one of my cousins, Lekelo, stormed into our hut and collapsed on the ground.  He said that Uncle Sofarlo was a little way behind and was bringing grandmother in a cart.  
     I never saw Lekelo so thin.  His face looked like leather stretched over a skull.  His skin was scorched and terror shown through the tiny slits of his sunken eyes.  They were almost swollen shut.  His tears had made mini-gullies through the ashes that stuck to his charred face.
     He fell to the floor of our hut and Mom ran over to put a blanket under him.  My oldest sister drew a bucket of water and brought some leaves to wash and soothe his wounds.  Everyone was running around trying to help him revive, but it did not look good.
     Of course I was terrified.  I might have been only five, but I knew that something awful must have happened.  He kept muttering the same thing over and over, “Janjaweed, Janjaweed, Janjaweed” until finally, he spoke no more.  
     Dad frantically sounded the drum.

Copyright 10-13-2014

I chose Dafarian Genocide.
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: GENOCIDE: SPEAK FOR THE LOST... the FORM IS POETIC PROSE  Sponsor	Cyndi MacMillan

BE SURE TO READ THE CONCLUSION IN PART 2.

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Funny Little Evolution Game

In my game of life
I play sometimes against,
and sometimes with,
Time as Other player

Playing against
seems to have bad odds of feeling like a winner,
while playing with time
feels lie we both win,
at least some Time,
especially if we simultaneously stretch
our love for gaming.

In my Evolution Game,
playing with and against Time as Other,
my rules emerge natural laws of healthy,
and pathology,
trends and order and political balance,
witnessed by elder spirit voices,
iconic memories of past Games
with diastatic/static 
diastolic/purgative
evolving rules of vocational recreation with co-passion play.

Nutrient rules flowing through my veins
and out through rivers of arteries of positive/negative trees
deep fertile cuts and folds,
articulating primal neural streams with suboptimizing substreams,
swelling mainframe-economy with eco-reiterating-nested synaptic revolutions
and co-ebbing aptic mutual win-sufficiency contentment,
more sustainable midway rest from playing against Other.

Now, in Time's anthro-game of evolving life
s/he plays sometimes against anger and fear memories,
and sometimes with love and peace future investment
with winwin outcome intent,
co-arising regeneratively healthy Anthro-Egos as Other players,
also running coincidental WinWin, WinLose, and LoseLose
strategic naturally emergent health functions and dis-easing pathology
with transitionally revolutionary co-incarnate bilateral form 
as postmillennial anthrocentric PlayNice frequencies of EarthTime.

In our love of eco-winning games
we play sometimes against cooperatively stretching regenesis,
and sometimes with Other natural loving life 
strategic nutrient-nurture optimization players,
whenever and wherever we can hunt and haunt them up,
make them up as iconic gods and goddesses,
as necessary to harvest win-winnowing together.

In this funny little evolution game,
it is wrong because impossible
to harvest winnings we have not regeneratively seeded,
as individual ego players
and as a potentially Earth-centric tribe of team players.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016