Long poem by
John Mudge | Details |
I met with some bankers in fine textured suits.
I struck a deal quick. (I had such a knack.)
I offered rare cacti and tropical fruits –
a cure-all for things that ail your back.
I served 'em a dish of oysters and clams
flavored with herbs from high remote lands
accompanied by slices of seaweed-cured hams
served on a bed of tri-colored sands.
I once struck a deal with some Wall Street investors.
I short sold 'em stocks that didn't exist!
But they got me back (those sly empty-nesters)
by making fake deals I couldn't resist.
All of my days got dreadfully busy.
Held hour-long meetings in 10 minutes flat!
Made my staff tired bewildered and dizzy.
But business is business, and that was just that.
I can't quite say what we did at each meeting.
We talked and debated. We yelled. We screamed.
We'd discuss in soft voices (those moments were fleeting)
but when we agreed I'd smile, even beamed.
We dreamed of grand things and plans we would make.
We had a huge goal: we'd conquer the market!
(Of course we had kids. This was for their sake.)
Put your ear right up close. I'll whisper our target.
What we make is no secret. Our dream is the thing.
Our stuff the world uses. It can't do without.
Our competitors fear (while secretly hoping)
we'll become a cartel and buy them all out!
So here's what we make (a simple thing really).
You use it at dinner, at breakfast and lunch,
when it's hot and it's steamy or cold and it's chilly.
Donuts to dollars you must have a hunch.
It can fix anything, an all-purpose tool.
It will open a can, pull the cork from a bottle,
even fix all your plumbing (now isn't that cool?).
Under the hood it'll fix your car's throttle.
I know that you're anxious. I know you can't wait.
I'm making the point. Sit still and don't fidget!
Now no more pondering and staying up late:
We make what you use: a gadget and widget!
Making millions and billions takes plenty of people
so our company grew, got huge and kept growing.
A company needs growth. A church needs a steeple.
You see how it works? We just kept on going.
We hired by hundreds and thousands and more.
We worked 'em like slaves, paid dimes even less.
They threatened to strike, even steal the store
but we had the power! We could hardly care less.
We'd fire 'em in masses, by hundreds and dozens.
We gave them no notice, we paid them no pension.
We fired them all, brothers sisters and cousins.
We paid off the media so they'd give us no mention.
But shedding the people only solved half the puzzle.
We had to make gadgets. Work had to get done.
Just how could we do it? We put hands on our muzzle.
No output, no profit. So how could we run?
At midnight one day I awoke with a start.
My plan was so clear, so cool and so cunning!
We'd go overseas! Boy oh boy was I smart.
I finally knew how we'd keep right on running.
We worked day and night 'til after sunset.
We all worked nonstop. We even skipped meals.
We outsourced our stuff. Then I flew a jet
to scour the globe for even more deals.
Gov'nments, no scruples – such were fair game.
Why, you might ask, do business with these?
The answer is simple: except for the name
they've two things in common: the gov'ment wants fees
which makes labor cheap (it costs odds and ends).
The less I pay out the more left for me!
It works like a scale: when my side descends
their side goes up. It's logic you see.
My scheme soon paid off. We spanned the whole globe.
We owned our competitors by tens and by scores.
To find where we weren't you'd dig and you'd probe.
Gadgets and widgets in millions of stores!
A few weeks of this about did me in.
I crawled to my bed and slept a deep sleep.
I dreamed a strange dream of goodness and sin.
And I chatted with God about what I could keep.
He said in the end it was all up to me
but my state of affairs just didn't look good.
Pearly Gates entry he couldn't quite see.
Suddenly in front of St. Peter I stood.
We discussed and we bargained, tried to see eye to eye.
Well most of that's true. He discussed and I bargained.
(I knew I would lose but I still had to try.
I thought that maybe he could just be out-jargoned!)
But this wasn't happening. It was only a dream!
I still felt uneasy. It seemed to mean change.
Dreams being dreams things aren't what they seem.
Abandon my business? I couldn't. Too strange.
St. Peter spoke more. He had some suggestions.
“Do something useful. Help orphans and widows.
People have needs. Look around. Ask some questions.
And ask your friend Sid. I know that he knows.
And oh by the way, those countries you mention?
At least say you're sorry. It surely can't hurt.
Don't make a big show. Avoid causing tension.
Just say it with meaning. Try not to be curt.”
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, then blinked a bit more.
I stretched and remembered I had to call Sid!
Now what was his number? I had it before.
Just have to remember where I had it hid.
I looked in my book. No Sid in there.
It was then that I wondered: did I even know Sid?
Did I sleep? Am I up? I'll pull out a hair.
Ouch! I'm awake! Gosh I never did!
I recalled Pearly Gates and remembered my dream
and trying to bargain with good ole St. Pete.
(That stayed in my head (strange it may seem).
We'd discussed and debated. St. Pete's hard to beat!)
I'll allow he's a point. I won't pick a nit.
I've been mostly right (just a little bit wrong).
Ok, ok maybe more than a bit.
I'll set things to rights. We will get along.
I promise I'll do what I possibly could
But he's asking a lot. (It's starting to sting.)
I really don't want to but know that I should.
Mumbling and grumbling I'll do the right thing.
(He did all he promised, or so we are told.
He did what he said. He even did more!
He valued his friendships more highly than gold.
His laughter showed that kindness went right through his core.
Copyright © John Mudge | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Verlena S. Walker | Details |
A wonderful world it is contemplated Jake as he planted his seed to grow his beanstalk. He knew that this beanstalk would nourish many so he watched it grow. One day he awoke and the beanstalk was clearing the sky and he decided to climb it. Singing merrily to himself: “Oh, what wonderful day to play with your evolution. I planted this stalk of beans and it's growing beyond my conception. So I shall climb it to discover has it evolved another wonderful world beyond .” Jake was foremost a positive thinker. He began to climb singing "evolution conception a world beyond - evolution conceives a world afar."
DAY ONE OF JAKE’S ADVENTURE
Jake climbed the beanstalk that day. He discovered that there was life formed beyond but he was afraid to adventure further and promised himself that he would build the courage to go the step afar. He knew that he had to be well prepared for his adventure, so on his descent down the stalk he began to develop his plan for his journey to continue. As always, Jake began to sing: “ Mmmm… The adventure I am about to partake could be quite dangerous; however, I must completely discover that place. I know that it may be my very last visit – the next – but I am going back to conquer it and that’s that .” Jake begins to instill belief in self.
Jack’s Next Adventure
As Jack planned he would make two weapons and use them if needed. He would take some food with him for his sustenance and a change of clothes for his comfort. He must travel lightly. He cannot be overloaded. This was an adventure to discover the beyond and then return home. He would set some landmarks as he journey within this other world to ensure that he could return to his beanstalk, therefore, assuring his returning home and thus, hopefully safely.
Day ten, after the discovery of this world beyond, Jake began to climb his beanstalk once again. Now know that this City that Jack was from had many beanstalks. Did Jack think he was only one with this discovery? Everyone had to plant their own individual beanstalk. Was Jack’s the only one with a world beyond or did he share this with others?
Secrets were known to be kept in City of the Bean People forever.
Well now Jack had arrived into this other world beyond via his beanstalk. It was a flora place and no one was stirring about. He walked and walked and walked until he came to a cellulosic world. Amidst these cell walls of plants and algae was a cave-like house. He heard loud snoring. He felt to see had he lost his weapons. He had not. Jake entered the house. At first he saw feet then legs. These legs were very long but finally he arrived at the knee caps about 6 minutes later. He knew then that this was a big, big person. He became afraid, but he tiptoed on. He discovered the Giant. He was not about to wake him. Jake decided it was time to end this adventure for now and return home.
It took Jack about 1 day to complete his journey home. Nevertheless, he knew he would be back to meet this big person. He had to so that he could discover this world beyond forever. Meaning, he desired the world beyond to be part of his constructed life; therefore, he knew he would fulfill his desire.
JOURNEY TO MEET BIG PERSON
Jake did not remove his landmarks on his journey home from his last adventure that took him into the world beyond. He would travel via these landmarks so that he knew how to get back to the Giant’s home.
Two weeks later Jake went on his third adventure. His plan was to meet this Big Person and become friends with him if this was possible. He knew his life could be endangered because he was a small man, but he had to find out if this Giant could be his friend. So Jake went on his merriment way singing: “ This will be quite an adventure. The third trip to what I will call Giantvillism. It’s quite a beautiful place to me, as I see life forming and then there’s this Big Person. Giant he will be call, quite scary after all; however, very much worth the adventure and a connection to his world .” Jake stopped singing and walked quietly, continuing on his journey, as he completed climbing his beanstalk.
As Jake continued on his journey to Giant’s home, he constantly discovered new knowledge about Giantvillism. Everything was cellulosic. But he notices that some of these cellulosic things may be able to take human life form. However, it seemed that they needed triggering. An evolutionary world he had discovered with biological means and after he met Giant and if they became friends, he would find this world’s trigger point because it was necessary and should be develop and this is the premise he would live by and also influence Giant to do the same through his instruction, if needed. Hopefully, Giant may know how to do this himself but needed a motivator. Jake knew well that he was that and more. Jake perceived himself as quite powerful.
Halfway to Giant’s home Jake felt aspiration and became aspirated and as usually, began to sing while breathing out. He continued his singing merrily and almost ran into Giant who was outside his home. Jake found himself no more than twenty feet away from Giant when he saw his legs in a standing position. Jake did a double-take and hid behind an object he did not have a name for but if he described it, it would be to him a big fossil plant or maybe an artifact of this world. Giant began to move and it seems as if he was humming. However, Jake decided he was singing in his native language, which words sounded like those of a hummingbird. Jake needed a plan of approach and while he was thinking, he fell asleep behind the big fossil plant.
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |
FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE
She grabbed his voice
Though conference din
Sought to win his gaze--
But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.
But oh, that face....
Would not be gone....
of passion's eyes--
Fate teased in him
Brash Upward Plans--
Of course, his heart must be attached--
Her stubborn mind
holds fast to dreams,
bows to Fate--
but loathe to schemes....
In sultry dreams
The night is theirs
Palm to Palm--
All answered Prayers.
Besieged by bliss--
of moonlit kiss
she Owns his Face
sweet charmed caressing
that leaves no trace
but silent blessing
Over a shoulder
behind a pole
he saw a face
that grabbed his soul
wild hair so red
his heart caught fire
hands of grace
could capture choirs
Laugh of bells
tolled 'cross the hall
just as he moved
he had a call--
stepped out in search of quiet space,
cut short his call
yet lost her face--
She was gone...
a f_cking awful
He's lost his chance,
in town One Night.
Her essence brands,
Flays bare his heart--
But business swirls
tho' hard to place
She is a tune he can't erase
the Dreamers tryst
shake clouds above
She nuzzles love
and slips o-er him
in Passion's Glove.
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Verlena S. Walker | Details |
Religious gatherings happen on Thursday as well in Bean’s Cathedral. The Scribes would read from The Doctrine of Crop and Harvest and the Bean people who attended would be blessed for a greater existence in which this would prepare them to covenant in Bean Town on Thursday night. Their partying was very diverse. They did not drink liquor but had many things to drink and a lot of food to eat. Those that did not attend would be attending to last minute business in which the Scribes understood and blessed them with The Smoke of Missing Hope during Bean’s Cathedral Religious Gathering. Once this was done all was well in City of the Bean People and Bean Town tinkled.
Jake’s Return to Giantvillism
Now Jake was quite ready to return to Giantvillism, however, he wanted to be prepared for whatever. So on the day of his departure, which was three months from the last; he gathered has weapons and added a flask of merriment. This he would give to Giant as a gift. As always, Jake begin to sing: “ I am going to give Giant a gift. A flask of merriment and he will enjoy this. Therefore, I’m on my way to Giantvillism and maybe Giant and I will travel beyond into his cellulosic world !”
Jake began to climb his beanstalk, which took three hours to the top. Once he finally made it to solid ground, Jake began to walk. He knew his way well now because of the eleven times he had visit Giant and this was the twelfth. Jake felt at ease and please with being here in which he knew that Giant awaited his return and that Giant knew he was coming [this day].
As Jake travel on to Giant’s cave, he discovered that some of the cellulosic life forms had evolved. He saw a little man building a house and stop to converse, however, the little man, did not seem to hear a word spoken so Jake tapped him on the shoulder and both the little man and the house he was constructing vanished. Jake walked on until he came upon a woman with four children and she spoke to Jake. “Hello, Jake! So, you return today.” Jake was overwhelmed. She knew his name, but he did not know hers. Jake responded: “What is your name my lady? I do not know yours, however, you do know mine.” “My name is Melody. I am a gypsy. Therefore, I know things that Bean People do not.” Jake became fascinated and asked: “How do you know that I am a Bean person?” Melody answered and said: “Well gypsies have insight into others’ lives or life lines and Jake with you, it is your height, which is the factor. I must go now with my four and maybe I will see you again to tell you some more.” Jake smiled and bid her farewell and not a goodbye.
“About five miles”, Jake thought “and I will be at Giant’s house.” Humming and then he begin to sing because he knew this would make time leave much sooner. This is the melody Jake song. “,My life is that of an ordinary man. I stand 5”6” and have such small hands. But if I need to be as big as I can be, I have another half of pint in me. My wife truly loves me and soon, yes I do believe, she be traveling with me to Gianvillism and we will make love in this cellulosic world as we did in Bean Town as teenagers. Oh, her name is Nefa!”
Finally, arriving at Giant’s cave house; however, Giant was not at home in which Jake knew he would wait because he was there to stay for at least five days, which his wife Nefa knew he would be gone for that long but no longer than fourteen days or two weeks. Jake fell asleep and was awakened by Giant’s return home. Giant knew he was there and came into his home with a loud bellow: “Hello Jake, glad of your return. I have a pleasant surprise for you. Some of the cellulosic life forms have evolved in Giantvillism and with me is my cousin Maddy.” Jake jumped from his mat and states: “I discovered this on my journey to see you, Giant. First, I met a little man building a house. I tried to talk to him, but he did not hear me and when I touched him on his shoulder he and his house disappeared. Next, I met a gypsy named Melody who knew me immediately by name and by my people. However, I knew nothing about her. We talked and then she had to leave. So, Giant I am not that surprised but I would like to know why do you call Maddy your cousin?” Giant responded: “Well, Jake you see I am from a cellulosic life form as well and Maddy evolved the same way I did. Being from a cellulosic life form one do not evolve as brothers or sisters; only cousins. Therefore, our family history in Giantvillism is based on the foundation of how we evolve. Maddy is the second of my evolutionary life form.”
Giant, Maddy, and Jake begin to get to know each other. It seems that all the difficulty Jake was afraid of in getting to know Giant three months ago had been banished when the cellulosic life form evolved while Jake was away. Jake was learning about Giant’s life through him telling Maddy about what it meant to be from the cell of the Big People. It seems that this cell came in many heights because Maddy was not a giant. He was about 6”1”. Jake would say that women would think he was considerably handsome. Giant also said that The Cell of the Big People would evolve many more cousins within the next five years as adults in order for them to procreate and start families. Jake then spoke and told both that this is what happen in his world as well. Giant went on to say that many more life forms were in Giantvillism and their cells had the same capabilities and authorities. With all said, Jake thought: “Hmmm, every world becomes different but then they are all quite the same.”
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
John Mudge | Details |
One day not long past our economy faltered
And wouldn’t improve if our course were unaltered.
'Cause we buy stuff at Wal-Mart (where things are dirt cheap)
'Cause they buy from China (treats workers like sheep
(So farmers left farms and moved to the city.
And hoped for life better (no luck, such a pity) )).
They went right to work (but folks who had power
got 'em to work for six bits an hour).
To make matters worse our credit froze up.
Couldn't spend - couldn't borrow - couldn't buy a tin cup.
You think this is bad? It's downhill from there.
Institutions cried "uncle" - said cupboards were bare.
Couldn't borrow, couldn't lend, no business as usual.
So they opened their books to wide-eyed perusal.
Our Treasury Secretary called Congress to action.
Said money was needed to unfreeze this impaction.
So they gave loads of money to our secretary mighty
Who they said was quite stern and not the least flighty.
He'd disburse the funds wisely with skill and great cunning.
He'd soon save us all with our economy running
Full tilt dead ahead. We'd all have great jobs.
Or funds to build business. No more wailing. No sobs.
But he hadn’t a plan, no clue what to do.is
Gasp! I’m shocked! I’m surprised! Weren’t you?
"The problem's bad assets. I know what to do.
Throw billions to the wind to buy them from you!
It's a crisis, a panic, no time to lose!
So give me 300 billion dollars to use!"
Congress quick cut a check - didn’t ask any questions.
Full speed ahead - damn the objections!
Then five minutes later, he said. "Sorry, my bad.
Sky's ok after all. Billions gone. So sad."
Next thing you know ’nother check's in the mail.
Now they thought lenders were too big to fail
So they gave them our billions and tried to act manly:
While sheepishly mincingly bailing out Morgan Stanley!
Money still wasn’t flowing so they tried a new tack.
Gave money to banks they needn’t pay back!
And what of the money they’d gotten for free?
They’d loan me the money they’d gotten from me!
The banks got a downpour but oh life is fickle.
While they bathe in money – for me? Not a trickle.
Then came execs who'd wrecked A-I-G
They wept and they pleaded and cried, "Please save meeee!"
Fannie Mae queued up next just before Freddie Mac
Who lent money to people who couldn't pay back.
Congress gasped (so we'd notice) and then cried "Enough!"
To make it look good they called Lehman a bluff:
Sacrificially beheaded poor Lehman Brothers.
They gave them no money (unlike all the others)
But kept spending funds like water that's runny
With glee and abandon, disposition so sunny.
Through Fingers of Congress funds flowed like warm honey.
'Round town it got spent like Monopoly money.
"A billion here and a billion there and soon it's real money!"
I laughed once before but now it's not funny.
I’m sure I would spend it way better then you.
A deaf ear I'd turn to pleas of "me too".
I can't hear the cries the wails the shouts
The So Helpless pleadinghim beseeching handouts
And we're still on the hook for money by tons,
A stack past the moon if you use only ones!
How much do we owe? Lean close and I'll tell you.
It’s the biggest darn number that ever befell you.
It's 3.5x10 to the twelf –
A number so huge I can't count it myself.
So I worked with my neighbors and friends that I knew.
We'd just about finished when it quivered and grew.
We bravely pressed on but got worried because
It grew to a monster ten times what it was.
It far, far exceeds all the debt on my house.
Makes my debt seem much smaller than a flea on a mouse.
So here's what I owe, scientifically noted.
(No interest – it's merely the loan the bank floated)
It's 1.2x10 to the fifth.
If you say it's a trifle I'll really be miffed!
To me it's a fortune, a mountain, a gob.
It's enormous, it's huge – a train-wreck-size glob.
But to you with your trillions it barely rates mention
A blip even smaller than my crummy old pension.
I'll make a comparison to give some perspective.
Divide smaller by bigger – a percent’s the objective.
The quotient is less than the least you might fine us:
Just 3.4x10 to the eighth minus!
That's 3.4 millionths expressed as percent
If you lost that amount would you care where it went?
If it fell from the table it wouldn't be missed.
Only know it was gone if you looked at your list.
Compared to the bailout and financial-type terror
My mortgage amounts to a small rounding error.
The amount is so small, a grain you can't see.
How much could hurt if it came back to me?
But accountants all say it would just cause inflation.
They say if I had it I could harm our whole nation!
Imagine that. Me! Oh the power I've got!
So just you tell me: should I use it? Or not?
The problems roll on and Congress still spends.
Ford, G-MAC, and Chrysler - the list never ends.
I want to flee far away when I consider this bailout.
Catch the next boat, settle in, and just sail out.
I’d find me a country where companies are smarter
And don't need my help like a belt needs a garter.
Whoops, I forgot. It spans the whole world.
It catches each breeze like a sail unfurled.
So I fret and I grimace - it’s now up to trillions.
How long can it be ’til they’re spending quadrillions?!
Copyright © John Mudge | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
John Mudge | Details |
Written in summer of 1976.
I used to eat my lunch with groups
of businessmen from Campbell Soups.
We drank a drink at lunch each day
Of Coca-Cola mixed with hay
And talked of pending corporate plans
And willow-haired orangutans.
I spent a lot of time this way
At doing things that were not play.
But while I was away at work
My wife went just a bit berserk.
So I gave my wife a giant tome
To keep her company at home.
I simply, clearly just was not –
That is to say – at home a lot.
Though fun we had when I was there
Tossing cookies in the air
Or watching Dodgers playing Sox
On multi-colored faceless clocks.
We did these things so much, you see
Because we were so rich were we.
I made my money selling stuff
Like plastic prunes and candied snuff.
I planted seeds from seedless grapes
And sold the sprouts as seafood crepes.
I sold some coffee in a cup
And leased a fork to drink it up.
I sold a man a pair of lamps
with perforated ceiling clamps.
I bought exotic types of booze
And sold it all to polish shoes.
I grew some trees from stale eggs
Which fruited beer in gallon kegs.
I bought a candle and some wax.
I spun them into purple flax
Then wrote it off as income tax
And stole my lawyer's Cracker Jacks!
I plucked the feathers from a fish
And sold the rest as lic-or-ish.
I sold them all in Topenish
To a man named Cavendish.
He ate it with a real flair,
A certain regal, haughty air.
I made bold plans to tyrannize
A northern Spanish enterprise
In grapefruit-palms and dates and figs
And maladjusted corkscrew pigs.
(Alas it failed, sad say,
But I got them anyway.)
And when I died, I died in style
Laughing smugly all the while
They put my coffin in its crypt
And read some Damoclean script.
I went away at last to see
The Gates of Heaven welcome me.
St. Pete was there, beside the Gate.
He said I was a little late.
I bowed my head, apologized,
Wondered if he realized
The angels were all out on strike;
I couldn't drive; I had to hike.
Then a soul ran right past me
As though he simply couldn't see.
Then another did the same
And thousands more - a horde - they came!
They pushed me rudely to the side.
St. Peter told me I had lied.
Well, okay, I hadn't hiked.
I thought that slow, and so I biked.
As from his Book of Rules He read,
“Tsk tsk-tsk tsk-tsk tsk, Pete said.
So PICKED up I my bags and left
For that damnéd lower cleft.
I stomped away then turned and paused.
How much fuss had my fib caused?
A pardon'd come if I'd just wait.
Saint Pete smiled then shut the gate.
A bus rolled up marked Hell this Way.
I climbed aboard. I tried to pay.
"There's no charge as you can tell.
Outbound's free. You pay in Hell.
This bus is special 'cause it can float.
Retracts its wheels, becomes a boat."
The bus was old with not much power.
It bumped along for 'bout an hour
Til a bang and then a thunk
And even worse a loud kerplunk.
The driver left to check the bus.
He returned, explained the fuss.
"We're almost at the River Styx.
The bus is broke and I can't fix
The things I found. It's just too tough.
I checked 'em all. I've had enough.
The left-hand gizmo's really stuck.
The Dudkin Ring has gone amok.
I checked the wuffler. It's ok.
The ring-nut seized I'm sad to say.
A tire's come right off its rim.
The bus won't start. We'll have to swim."
Then the bus just disappeared
And things for me got really weird
God appeared with old St. Pete.
"We've a problem. We've got to meet."
St. Peter said, "It's quite unique.
It's your records. We took a peek
at our polls, all done by Gallup.
Found your number. It's not up.
It takes us two to set things right.
I brought God to use his might."
God said, "I've never sent souls back.
I did some research. Found a hack.
Turns out this problem's easily fixed.
Just stand still. My potion's mixed."
A wink a nod a look my way
and God undid the whole last day.
They shook my hand and bade farewell,
said I wouldn't Go to Hell.
They faded slowly from my sight
and dimmed their glow to black as night.
I reappeared, surprised my wife,
told her let's get on with life.
My death was just a clerical error.
They sent me back. It's only fairer.
We smooched and hugged, went out to eat.
Had pickled oysters fused with meat.
We ordered crêpes with grated pear
and lit 'em up to add some flair.
Then I pondered what to do.
I quick thought up a thing or two.
I'd profit from financial schemes
using cash inversion themes.
I'd buy a cat and teach it tricks
to wow the guests at trader Vic's.
I'd give them all tatami mats
and waterproof electric hats.
I paused a moment. I could see
My brand-new stuff was vintage me!
I mused a while: what to do?
I mused some more and then I knew.
I'm only happy being me.
My plan was simple as can be.
I'll carry on with selling stuff
like plastic prunes and candied snuff!
Copyright © John Mudge | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Dear National Science Foundation--Economics Department:
here's what I want to learn,
if you will.
Why do we have a Financial Sector,
Business and Industry Sector,
Health Care Sector,
Food and Nutrition Sector,
Services Industry Sector,
and a Political Sector,
an Economic Sector,
Science and Technology Sector,
and then we have this "Non-Profit Sector"?
What's up with that?
What is this sector for?
All we know from its label;
these folks do not plan to develop profit,
much less optimize regenerative health.
After all, what else could "profit" mean?
you would think,
with everything else going on,
all this climatic change
and failure of self-governance systems,
we would call this Non-Profit Sector
our EcoTherapeutic CoOperative Sector,
or just the Coop Network, for short,
as opposed to their dipolar
Business As Usual Competitive Sector.
I can see why we didn't land on that label
or at least I have a hypothesis
that this NonProfit language
is an artifact of PreMillennial LeftBrain
a passive-aggressive cultural choice
emerging from an Industrial Culture
mistakenly invested in a model of positive evolution
that emphasizes time's regenerative thrival value
for Win-Lose struggling against cooperative
the historical evidence supporting positive evolution
as therapeutically struggling with others
by inviting reiterative Win-Win
as is iconic of RNA, and DNA's thermodynamically
and co-gravitationally co-arising design.
This seasonal-fractal regenerative evolutionary process
toward polyculturally optimizing ecosystems,
slow-growing endosymbiotic mutuality of freedoms from
with freedoms to,
seems to be more along the lines of what Darwin took away
from how to see
this world wide web of organic information.
Namaste, for considering our PermaCulturally Intended proposal
Warmly (but hopefully not too awfully warmly),
"We are not FOR profit"
this label says.
Five words that could not possibly be true
or at least not fully informative.
Are we not all for profit of something,
if only ourselves, our own health?
Let's agree, perhaps,
or so I propose anyway,
and anytime, of course,
that this proposal for those who would serve
and care for others
might become our mutually co-arising regeneration
as a humane species evolving bicameral mindbody
learning to balance and harmonize
our Interior and Exterior Landscapes
with management skills more PermaCulturally
more timelessly-co-operatively enlightened
by this intrinsic value of healthy living
for wealthy dying.
Resting nesting into Time's folding/balancing cooperative embrace,
Earth's world wide (0)-soul bicameral-ionic
of temporally co-gravitational function.
Whatever our footprint in time,
as a global culture of evolving humane natural ecosystems,
materializes as therapeutic "profit"
can be measured by its
CQI of health and mutually therapeutic care and service outcomes,
negative correlational (dipolar) trend evolution/devolution
of Business As Usual,
as if you could rightfully assume
we have a shortage of time
to complete our self/other-optimizing vocation,
when, in truth,
our regenerative purpose enjoys
and celebrates each Advent Solstice
this co-gravitational divine/human leisure
of (0)-soul timeless Prime Relationship,
Folds and Unfolds
of InFormating/ExFormulating Time
as BiCameral (0)-soul TaoSpace.
In other words,
by changing "NonProfit" to
"EcoTherapeutic ReGenerative Optimization",
with (0)-soul bicameral cooperative network assumptions,
time's ecoconsciousness implies,
ReGenerative Trending Transition
from climatic PreMillennial
on this threshold of
Beloved Climax Community InFormating Networks
as External Landscape
as In/External BiCameral Landscape,
(0)-soul P-Yang=N(NP) YinYin as WinWin Theorem.
WinWin Right hemisphere Present
more or less should co-equal LoseLose Left deductive
Business As Usual polysuicidal pathology.
So hoping we might choose to invest in this proposal
for optimizing globally regenerative health
in our political
and all ReGenerative Cooperative EcoSystems
and disinvest in labels like "NonProfit".
Not for Profit!
My grandmother Moon couldn't have come up with that one.
Too much SunGod worship probably,
all us pre-climatic Yangers shouting down
permaculturally cooperative networks
and interdependently organic families.
Back in the good ol' daze of timeless manna
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Verlena S. Walker | Details |
JAKE’S PLAN OF APPROACH
Once Jack awoke, he began to plan his approach. As he was doing this, he noticed many things about the environment that surrounded him. He paid close attention because these things would help him plan his approach more accurately to Giant’s being. This was home so therefore, it must affect him in some way somehow. The algae changed colors. The cells breathe and the air sometimes hyperventilated when it was required by the cellulosic life forming in Giantvillism. Thus, Giant could be startled and Jake could get his attention by talking to him this time until he knew it was appropriate to meet. That is when one did not fear the other. Jake expressed himself as the in-depth intellectual.
Giant appeared and Jake said in his native language: “Hello Big Person. I have given you a name– Giant.” Giant looked startled. However, Giant said in his native language, which for whatever reason Jake understood: “Are you here on a visit? Are you cellulosic as well or something else?” Jake sense that someone or something else had visited here before so he asked: “Do you have many visitors?” Giant responded normally: “Yes, of the cellulosic kind but I feel you are different because you chose to hide.” Jake said: “We must get to know each other first and be comfortable with the knowledge that I am not like here before I come out of hiding. Giant, as I call you, I will know when that is appropriate or when it is time for us to meet in person. I will be back and we will get to know each other more. However, this time we must not because I sense your apprehension and you sense mine. Courage will be both our stance and maybe the vibes will tell us that the next time. Do you agree?” Giant says: “Yes go!” Jack found that Giant may be visually stronger than him but was not going to use that ability to seek him out this time. He asked himself why and left quietly.
These meetings took place for several weeks when Giant stated: “Hello Jack and I do thank you for telling me your name. You may go but on your next visit we will meet in person. You know I am visually better than you and maybe once I seek you out, the next time you are in my village, I will tell you more! Bye for now and I’ll await your next visit. I will know when you arrive.” Jake said: “Thanks, and I will ponder over this for a moment before my return. Bye for now!” Jack leaves well pleased and [the] Giant sneeze, smiles and leave walking in the opposite direction of Jack as if by pure coincidence. Nevertheless, Jake did not sense this.
City of the Bean People
The City of the Bean People is quite a beautiful place. It is such a pleasant environment that no one mocks it in any way. The Bean People create landmarks that are individualized and part of each individual’s mind in which others cannot define. Jake has his own personal beanstalk as everyone does, therefore, this is how this is done.
As a life formed, The Bean People remain little girls and boys even as adults in which age is just a number and mortal life is that of an immortal. The tallest male in the city is about 5 “7” and the shortest male is about 4 “9,” however, this is the majority of the time. Jake was one of the rare ones. He stood at 5 “6 ½” tall. The tallest female in the city was 5 “5” and the shortest female was 4 “7”. Nefa, Jake’s wife, stood at 4 “9” in which many of the females in City of the Bean People possessed the same height. Thus, one would know that Jake married because he loved Nefa as he did his own life. This is told because more than often in City of the Bean People marriage was chosen based on height and everyone want to be mated just right.
Physical fitness was not an issue. Because this City was individually bean stalked, everyone climbed and walked. Obesity was not seen. More or less, in City of the Bean People, they were fine specimens of human beings. Body tight and muscles in place, City of the Bean People was ahead of nations in exercise, healthcare, and life span with a low mortality rate. Morals and principality were practice though The Doctrine of Crop and Harvest. Each male and female had to adapt to this doctrine in their own way and integrate it into the family once they became adults and mated in which marriage was mandated. The Bean People religion was denominational in which they called themselves Prosperus because they have lived their lives in abundance and prosperity since their creation and/or cellulosic existence - never being ill or poor always maintaining their subsistence.
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Dennis East | Details |
¬¬Well, my father was a printer and arranged that I was too.
And then rescued me to join him when decided he was through.
They were big footsteps to follow, as I'd got myself a wife
But he filled me up with confidence, enough to last for life.
We grew our business slowly, knowing work would soon appear
Spending hours on the road each day, we talked our way through fear.
And twice a week we shared a van and drove to London town,
With samples to a chemist’s lab – as our contract duty bound.
In return for this commitment, we delivered ton on ton
of tablets round the country - and saw our haulage days begun.
Oh, that journey was so dear to us - it gave us chance to plan,
Plus to mend the world and air our dreams like only family can.
For the year before I joined him, Dad had made this trip alone
To a seedy lab in Whitechapel - three floors above a dome.
And the first time that he took me to this lonely, dingy street
He introduced me to a chap you wouldn't normally meet.
A large and limping refuse man - complete with cart and broom,
Who came trundling up to greet us, like we couldn't come too soon.
He said, "Allo Bryn is this your boy? He looks just like you said.
Mum's made enough for three of us - I hope he likes brown bread."
Then he climbed inside and filled the cab to shelter from the rain.
and he shook my hand with numbing grip - saying "Billy is me name.
Your old man's really good to me, he's the only one what cares,
As most folk hardly knows I'm here, aside from those what stares..."
“We meets up here two times a week, and have our little chats,
An he tells me bout his boxing and I tells him bout me cats.
On Thursdays I brings crusty rolls on Tuesday's he brings cake,
Just me Mum, she likes her baking and she's chuffed I've got a mate.”
Now as our loads they got bigger, Dad spent more time in his lorry.
Leaving me to do the samples, and new business my first quarry.
You see, we needed more deliveries to make it worth the trip,
So I knocked on doors and rung some bells and tried to get a grip.
It was then we had a piece of luck, as a company up the road
Had seen our vans and thought it right to try us with a load.
So they filled me up from front to back, with drops in London town,
and it took an age to plan the route and find my way around.
But on Tuesday's and on Thursday's I still did the sample drop
But found little time for Billy, but occasionally I'd stop.
He understood, he'd seen us full with boxes floor to ceiling,
And he wondered how we did it all from West Ham through to Ealing.
And then at last that fateful day, to London without Dad.
I was loaded full of cameras with the samples in the cab.
I'd parked up in our usual spot, but hadn't seen our mate,
So I grabbed the pills and climbed the stairs for fear of being late.
Then just as I’d got to the top, our alarm let out its cries
I looked down to see a nightmare taking place before my eyes.
There were both my van doors open wide and a car was backed up tight.
And there was movement and loud shouting from a God almighty fight.
I saw three masked men and Billy, who was keeping them at bay.
He'd laid two out with his shovel and a third had run away.
I quickly galloped down the stairs to see what I could do,
and found Billy trying to wake one, as the other one came to.
He’d bound them up with cable ties, no fear they’d run away
He said, “a lady’s rung the cop shop and the police were on their way.
It's just a shame your Dad ain’t here, he would have loved the scrap
And we might have got the third one, he was such a big old chap.”
Well the police got there in minutes and they quickly took control
And the crooks looked very sorry that they'd dug themselves a hole.
They just hadn’t planned for Billy who had heard the van’s alarm go
And had as much idea as we did – that old Bill was ex Commando.
I phoned my Dad first chance I could, once statements had been taken.
And old Billy was commended; he was pride of Brick Lane Station.
Boy, it really does come home to you, when you're victim of a crime,
That you never know what kind of friend - will step up to the line.
Copyright © Dennis East | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
evrod samuel | Details |
THE CITY AND THE STATE OF PLAY TODAY
No one worries about morals today
They follow the rules they create
So to them all is ok
Those on the outside looking in
Are the only ones feeling queasy
As avarice and selfishness triumphs
Good corporate citizens they claim to be
Industry awards abound on their walls
As thank you tokens from themselves
Yet society harbours a lot of ill-will
As it feels the often brute force of
And destroy mentality
Of people only wishing to make money
Any which way
While Using up all of society’s communal resources
The waters are forever bloody as they
Know no fraternity and would gladly
Cannibalize anyone with no influence
The ability to upend competitors
A cherished characteristic
In a bullish machismo drenched environment
Bullet proof psyches
Absorb and repel any pangs
Blocking any regulatory or chattering classes’
Attempt at nirvana and equality
They employ better paid lobbyist
So always have the upper hand
In influencing policy
The gravitational attraction of money
Towards another even bigger pot of money
Numbs any cautionary instinct
That would take a long term view
The thrill of instant riches
Overpowers common sense
And even decency
Fat cats they all wish to be
The slickness of glossy tongued lobbyist
Who spin wrongs till they become rights
Embolden oestrogen low males with no inbuilt brakes
To take risks that eventually cost them disgrace
They are champions of graft not of society
Loopholes in legislation
That were built in by too friendly politicians
Coupled with ambiguous suits and claims
Cause far reaching hardship when the good old days are long gone
The villains only muster some phantom national pride
When begging for a lighter sentence
Some are forgiven
Others fatally wounded by an unforgiving public
Lots of money can be made both legally and illegally
As one racket is closed another materialises instantly
The conveyor belt of dishonesty
Who is not David to the goliath that is money
The ethos is wealth
The acquisition and the maintaining of gains
Not often acquired through hard work
There is no limit of acceptable financial comfort
For the millionaire always wants to be a billionaire
And the mega rich super rich
Money must always be hidden from the taxman
Shareholders want tax free dividends
Investors want tax breaks for buying with other people’s money
Infrastructure and new runways must be built
But not from the pocket of those who wish it
With their hands outstretched
And always wanting more and more
From a government too eager to please
We have a tax system geared to the advantage of party donors
And non-domiciled moguls and tycoons
Who know no philanthropy unless it is tax efficient
Disadvantaging society by
Never paying their fair and moral share
The largess they reap so selfishly
They wish not to share
Wages are low
Taxes are nil
Only the investor wins as we pay his bills
Fast paced expansionist dogma
Is preached within city limits
Only the highest paid
The biggest company
The greatest profits
They are held up as ideals that all who
Wish to succeed must follow
Gunslingers they all appear to be
Rushing in to capitalize on the wanton success of their peers
The cloud of misery left behind
Is never seen for the look forward
Hindsight is never welcomed in this parasitic environment
The political will to weed out these reckless demons
Is lukewarm at best
The revolving door of government creating opportunities
For industry and industry gratefully accepting politicians post government
Ensures that self-interest is king
An economy built on flawed assumptions of wealth creation
Is one that must forever be in hyper-drive
Creating ever expanding demand and supply
That is as real as a thief’s conscience
When taking the rings off a dead persons fingers
Money must always be made for
There is no alternative
Wealth is good
Poverty to them is laziness
The city is not the heart and soul
Of the nation
It is but one player in a system skewed in its favour
We all must share in the wealth of this country
To ensure its longevity
Copyright © evrod samuel | Year Posted 2013