Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
I was listening to Cornell West,
who described our catastrophic tolerance of disvalues for others,
situations we would never tolerate for ourselves,
disvalues like homelessness and hunger,
but also like random violence,
abuse and neglect,
lack of caring,
as a "conspiracy" of a dominating, oppressive, and competitive culture.
Conspiracy theories make me nervous about the theorist,
but West reassured us that he shares this concern,
yet even with all that concern taken into account,
perhaps this is a conspiracy
in the same sense that cultural and climate evolutions
always appear, in hindsight,
as if genius inspired,
and spontaneously networked
a magically coincidental outcome.
and sometimes more about this mystery
of tolerating oppressive and suppressive disvalues for others,
with apparent equanimity,
unaware of any cognitive dissonance,
without active antipathy,
or even passive empathy,
the total absence of compassion,
lack of mindfulness,
lack of consciousness;
Our own hypocrisy of self v. other values v. tolerable disvalues
are hypnotic conspiracies?
Yet, conspiracy or not,
if self-contentment is possible
while hypocritically accepting intolerable losses and suffering,
abuse and neglect, for other:
even other family members,
then we sometimes would choose words like
lack of appropriate accountability,
lack of capacity for empathy or bonding,
lack of awareness, consciousness,
a hypocritical living death cuts by a thousand ego-feathered knives.
We work this magically competitive hypocrisy with each other,
on each other,
against each other,
and sometimes with each other--
we call that humor.
I do not feel possessed
when my internal ecological voice
tells me that my monocultural competitive economic environment
is over-invested in undervaluing significant dimensions
of who we naturally and cooperatively (permaculturally) are,
our care-giving and loving,
our tenderness and justice-seeking,
our tendency to side with the underdog and the understory,
our endless fascination with root systems and nutritious blossoms,
seasonal development patterns and the weather,
birdsong and surf sounds,
regular breathing and heart-beat rhythms,
blood flow nutritional capacities,
the consumption and production of nutrients
within any paradigm that might come to mind.
I get it that I live in a culture educating ourselves,
about Darwin's "evolution is the survival of the fittest cooperative relationships"
by simply omitting the last two words;
cultural hypocrisy miraculously conspired through our sins of omission,
more salient than our grace of cooperative inclusion,
because of collective cognitive dissonance
where we need collective cognitive confluence.
Perhaps a more resonant resolution of consciousness
calls us to slow down and decompose our analysis of deviance
as sometimes negative and sometimes positive
but always some of both.
I struggle to hold a heuristic safe-space for positive deviance.
My cognitive dissonance radar
learns to perceive dissonance itself as having two faces.
In this way
I begin to claim my positive deviant place
in our shared orthodoxy of truth and goodness,
beauty and diverse polycultural integrity,
in our "unitarianism" our synergy (B. Fuller),
If I am challenged to include you in this shared orthodoxy
(of truth and goodness and beauty and justice, etc.--the "positive values")
then my sense of ecosystemic balance
is dissonant enough to exclude you
from your rightful place in our radically cooperative eco-space.
I tend to over-react to your negative deviance,
all that nastiness, really?!
because of our culturally collective cognitive dissonance
about your coincidental positive deviance,
OK, so you are loyal to a fault and a good cook,
and the clothes actually do smell and feel better when you do the laundry,
although it is the environmental expense that we actually disagree about,
whether it is significant to our collective future,
or something in between,
some place that we might actually find
and consensually agree about
and then go on to those other kinds of sensuality,
but I think I have side-railed here.
Perhaps we enjoy solidarity in rooting for the underdog
in empathizing with those who appear
with a magical potential of a positive deviant outcome.
We so hope the underdog might win this round
because we thereby retain a ray of hope
that we too may someday win
with all our undervalued, unsung, underdogged traits,
suffering and struggling with
my over-dog egocentric cultural landscapes,
my internally encultured ego (Left-brained) consciousness.
I always cast my ego in the role of underdog,
just as my Right brain casts our permaculturally cooperative eco-consciousness
in the role of Superdog.
This internally chaotic conspiracy of self-doubt
about ego's capacity to live fully,
with appropriate integrity of self-disclosure,
without the embarrassment of closeted hypocrisy,
dropping our considerable weapons of mutual immunity
and cognitive dissonance,
is also the boundary face of rediscovering our Right-brain's ecocenter,
our Beloved non-verbal Communication center,
resonant and resolved,
optimized and polypathically densely nutritious,
only through bicamerally synergetic confluence,
integrity of shared meaning and purpose
to the very core of our mutually messianic
ego-and-eco balanced chi-soul.
Interior Landscaped Ego (left)
and Cooperative Exterior Landscaped EcoEarth (right-elder)
DNA/RNA fueled and functional frequencies
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
When passion plants a permacultural seed,
then justice flourishes a polycultural flower.
These two words, permaculture and polyculture, grow holistic significance for our physical, and mental, cultural and spiritual health.
Permacultural, as I intend it this morning, refers to Yang’s power for cooperative sustainability of natural systems; power that is universally comprehensive consciousness. Permacultural wisdom is rooted in ancient Golden Rules and Ratios as balanced proportion and right relationship between ego and eco, between self and partners, family, tribe, environment.
Polycultural gardens and landscapes,
whether natural-exterior or human natured-interior,
are positive outcomes anticipated,
beloved by Permaculturalists.
The opposite of polycultural paradise
we might describe as:
1. monocultural (not multiculturally therapeutic)
2. monopolistic and dominating (not mutually cooperative governance, economics, or ecologic)
3. monochromatic (not polymorphically natured, gened, generated, evolved, not full octave frequencies of color and harmony).
Permacultural development is to Yang’s force and power.
as Polycultural outcomes are to Yin’s therapeutic flex and flow.
And so it is that in this our permacultural parable,
One winter of discontent, about 1000 years from now, and more, and less, the Universalist Prophets of Justice turned rather coldly upon the Unitarian Mystics of Warm Compassion.
“What happened to Truth, Justice, and the American Independent Way of Freedom; low risk, high yield economic and political life?
So, as was their practice, these suffering ReGenesis Community Yin-Mystics of too-great compassion went off to hibernate this harsh dark justice, to decompose this permacultural puzzle of the thrival of the economic fittest, and yet also fattest. How could it be that competing weapons of bloated wealth are more powerful than our compassionate Gaia Goddess of ecological “why can’t we all just play cooperatively” wisdom? How could an omnipotent benign Unitarian Hostess give birth to litters of runtish parasites without giving them at least a flat playing field for winning more positive outcomes than the dinosaurs?
Following gratitude for winter’s metamorphic suffering and chronically stressed tough-love teachers,
Grandmother Moon responded with polycultural wisdom of waxing and waning hope for spring’s new life:
“When winter’s suffering composts in each person,
compassion grows more inclusive and diverse,
richer, more fertile root systems,
arguing with rather than arguing against,
struggling with rather than struggling against.
Composted in the family,
co-passion will optimize wealth of nutritional values for all senses, feelings, awareness;
Composted in the neighborhood and your local cooperative economy,
and political platforms, policies, plans,
co-passion will positively slow-growth multiply;
Organically composted throughout the nations,
cooperative ownership and lifestyles could optimize economic and sociotherapeutic regenerativity,
recreating cooperative Win-Win cultural assumptions
from that old-school pre-millennial Win-Lose competitive economics,
permaculturaling our wealth of nations.
During the subsequent long warm summer days
of maturing gardens and wisdom,
the ReGenesis Community’s Universalist Justice Prophets of the Unraveling Future
and Unitarian Compassion Mystics of Reweaving Cultural Herstory,
stewed this steamy stone soup compost.
Each prophet and mystic, Yanger and Yinner, Universalist and Unitarian,
shares his and her struggles with injustice and need,
we sing our segregating sexual, racial, ecological, economic, political, historical and cultural hurt and disappointment,
including every “my nature matters” message and slogan and sign of impending flying apart, rather than investing in flying together.
We grapple for life fully lived in the future,
at least as well as now.
True justice is no more anthro-centric than ego-centric. No more ego-centric than Left-brain dominant.
“Perhaps our permacutural justice opera is sung in a difficult and challenging key, but it cannot be a song if there is no full-octave key accessible within each, and equitably shared by all.”
“Compassion seeds suffer and burst, struggle and strain, first within our dark winters,
toward ego-Left and eco-Right balanced root systems,
seeking peace-filling integrity of justice for ourselves,
and then others,
our interdependent co-passionate mentors and messiahs,
and then Earth Herself, with all nature’s species and Tribes,
within all revolving time,
advocate for all generations of life.
Universal Justice expands up and out Yang from Unitarian compassion roots,
Yang from Yin,
mutually consuming and productive cycles of becoming fit to thrive together.
Universal Justice flowers from Unitarian bicultural yang/yin balance,
as Left to Right hemispheric balance,
as West to Eastern cultural wisdom,
as space from time’s unfolding,
rhythm from rhyme’s iconic order,
rational logic from eco-logically informed systemic function,
deductive reason discerned from inductive,
Left from Right
as regathering nature from regifting Elder spirits,
as belonging grows from longing to reconnect,
as July’s bloom emerges from January’s gloom.
“Communication of justice,
to be communication at all,
must be a cooperative enterprise;
not a competitively punishing exercise in dominatrix.
This polycultural kinda “beloved” justice emerges from cooperative co-passionate vocations
with and for and of all Earth’s Tribes, species, trees and forests and oceans.
Polycultural justice equivalently loves all Earth’s mutually grateful, resonant, seasons and generations,
including summer’s heated gratitude for the suffering sadness of winter,
Polycultural justice invites all Earth’s Past and Future Redeemer Regenerations to Universally Permacultural Life.”
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
My TransITion began there
in my woodland playground,
when I first knew
something right feels wrong to others.
I was blind to curve-balls
hurled at me.
Being "It" is not why I grow
this TransIt mind and body!
Or, is it?
Could I become TransIt
if we ubiquitously cooperated
sharing coincident TransIts?
TransIt and Ego
play best alone
He slows down
to notice ocean surf
waving back and forth,
SurfEco ocean sighing "Hi" then "Low"
Upward thrusting in,
then pulling back to receive shore's insertion,
sweeping in and sucking out;
Why are TransIt-Genes so shy?
Or, are we hiding herhim camouflage?
We're not sure, confident,
some of both, ambivalent
but bi-androgynous "Him,"
Yang leaning Yin,
fears no one else will notice
that surf reverses out before rolling in.
If not Bicameral She Womb,
then no incoming children of God,
one way, one gender, one race,
with the other,
TransIts know bi-naturally cooperative laws
of primal order,
prehensile full bodied and souled grasp
of organic life's humorous ambiguity
of Yang with Yin within,
as to come,
as to belong,
as to become EarthTribe together.
It's so restraining to not love
bare expose cooperatively unbalancing HermAfro-ergodic It.
S/he is soooooo much fun!
laughs with everyone,
always both Self and Other
com-prehensively ubiquitous mirth and EchoJoy,
optimal enough to return
breathe out Earth's abundant favor.
TransIt's polypathic polyculturing
binomial bionically binary buddha brain
saturates flowering rain,
positive with negative nutrient flow patterns,
dissects words to help
disharmonic unbalanced double-bound,
overwound loops of lazy logos.
Through permaculturing tipping-trimming needles
decompositional exegesis of meaningful rich language,
TransIt loves to ultimately find
unerringly eisegetical and exigeneral,
generically radical revolutionary Commons,
post-millennial Fullerian Taoism.
TransIts choose holding hands Red Rover
SockHer left-brained domination;
TransIt plays teacher with His baby sisters,
but also learner,
rather than driving too-techish trucks and trains,
not organic enough for our TransBionic steady diet;
TransIts think compulsively about this problem of evil
as primal resolution for Live Composting Fertilizer's
full-sponsored PolyReality Show.
While watching Leave It to Beaver,
where Father Knows Best,
TransIt wonders why Mrs. Beaver always got the wisest lines
but never the headline.
TransIt feels older and wiser then "Him"
but they are born twins
Yang over Yin
or so BionicIt seems to transmorphosize
as TransIt mysteriously explores incarnational cycles
as nature's four prime Seasons,
unveiling double-funneled raincloud whirlwinds
winding wending wu-wei Way,
revolving tips of tree hierarchies
balancing polynomial (0) Core
binomial primal Universe,
etching dipolar whorlwinds in our Memory Sea
of shared RNA-structuring identity.
TransIts abhor stability,
love spinning our revolutions of joy,
adore regenerating poly-solidarity.
TransMillennial Tao is a hollowful Zero-Core Vortex vessel,
and TransIts functions are infinitely inexhaustible!
like the Black Hole Fountain Head of all things.
TransIts sharp boundary edges resonantly resolving rounding off
prime torus tangles crossed untied,
TransIt light tempered balancing enlightenment,
its turmoil equivalently sub-merging and resyn-ergodizing;
yet absent darkness, like deep ecological water,
It seems to remain,
sustain econormic Commons.
I do not know whose Sun TransIt is,
if not an image of what existed before and within
Black Hole's regenerating Progenerator
mutually gravitational fusion
as Beloved Diastasis.
TransIts most therapeutic response to arrogance,
fear and anger,
both with Beloved Self and TransIt Other,
rather than justice evolving as One
without the Other.
Our most therapeutic reconnections
to what is lost,
are tears of anger and grief and relief and joy.
communication within self-con-sciencing community,
carries and buries TransIts most appropriate therapy
of seasonal development
from argue through blissful enlightenment.
like their bodies,
heal in our own ecological reincarnational spacetime
of opportunity and risk
for integrating our Self+Other
only AND every co-incidentally balanced,
this HereNow Moment's integrative,
of consonant harmonics;
of polyculturing TransIt ReGenerational diversity.
Long poem by
Ivor Davies | Details |
Back in 1962 when I was just a lad
my dad gave me a holiday
the best I ever had.
A holiday of every dream
that one lifetime could hold
so listen while this wondrous time
to you I now unfold:
In bygone years to travel far
was not a normal thing,
to travel some six thousand miles
by plane was amazing!
Propellers aided by a jet,
a very modern way,
aboard a British Eagle plane
my life would change that day.
A little island in the sun
where British troops were based
on active service out Far East
where they would get a taste
of jungle warfare while they helped
to form a brand new state
by helping stop objections from
a few this change did hate.
But as a teenage boy, you see,
the politics of war
were not as noticeable to me
as other things I saw.
I felt the beauty of this land
with folk of every kind
for at this time in England
few ‘cultures’ could be found.
For back at home in Blighty
a youngster such as me
had to know his place in life
and couldn’t roam quite free,
but out here in the tropics
no prejudice I found
of the nature that had kept me thus
by England’s limits bound.
Now out here in Malaysia,
on this island of Penang,
I found a place where deep inside
stirred memories that sang
of a time in my existence
that I’d never felt before
born of ancient inner knowledge
that my soul was screaming for.
To continue with my story
of the time I was a lad,
when in a British Barracks
with a soldier for a dad
I had given up my schooling
for adventure in the world
and like a butterfly emerging
my wings were now unfurled.
On this truly wondrous island
Minden Barracks was my home
with excitement and adventure
wherever I could roam.
I immersed in all the wisdom
of simplicity I met
and learned that what you give to life,
returns in what you get.
For the Chinese and the Indians,
Malays and some ex-pats
had found ways to live together
though all wore different hats,
in perfect symbiosis
where all fulfilled their roles
and by leaning on each other
could emancipate their goals.
Now even at this early age,
I was not too dim to see
that the rich were getting richer
and the poor were never free,
but something buried deep inside
these people of Penang
bore a certain understanding
of the common song they sang.
Now I grew up very quickly
as my friends all went to war,
young soldiers who were now my age
what were they fighting for.
Atrocities befell them
as they fought Malaysia’s side
against those from Indonesia
who would not join this ride.
though Penang was hardly hit,
it was only very seldom
that we faced a scary bit.
When Minden B’ was threatened
all the locals stayed inside
just in case the British soldiers
started shooting the wrong side!
But throughout this ‘confrontation’
my job became pure joy,
for the Army’s recreation
then became my brand new toy.
On the island’s sandy beaches
you would find me day by day
driving speed boats for the soldiers
when they found the time to play.
In Penang, their favourite island,
the troops would take their leave
and have fun while water skiing
as they took a short reprieve
from the nature of their duties
that had brought them to this land
and for just a fleeting moment
could enjoy the sea and sand.
For three years whilst Water Skiing
I enjoyed this paradise
but the days I was not working
were all equally as nice
for at home in Minden Barracks
was a special swimming pool
where friends would meet
and wash their souls
with conversation’s tool.
This really was the centre
of our commune in this land,
the meeting place for sharing
where all friends would understand.
Soldier’s wives, their men at war,
and others gathered round,
if any place is hallowed
then this pool is sacred ground.
But Georgetown and its traders
was the place I loved to be
where the colour, noise and culture
always let my soul soar free.
Where the many, many trishaws
and the bikes and traffic mix,
with the hawkers, shops and markets
this is where I got my fix!
Four good years I lived my life
in this very special place,
at a multicultural pace.
I’d been born into a country
that the world thought was mature,
but maturity is lost of mind
when progress is the lure.
Back in 1962 when I was just a lad
my dad gave me a holiday
the best I’d ever had.
Back in 1966 I went back home again
and the schooling that I’d given up
had not been lost in vain,
for I’d learnt the real meaning
of my Life in this short stay,
a meaning full of everything
I carry till this day.
So now I’m in My sixties,
not the sixties of my past
and the thing I’ve found along the way
is most things never last.
But learn from where you travel,
let morals be your guide
for none can steal the things you hold
and carry deep inside.
Ivor G Davies
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/bending_natures_bow_693209' st_title='Bending Nature's Bow'>
The way of Heaven,
Is it not like the bending of a bow?
The top comes down and the bottom-end goes up.
The extra is shorted, the insufficient is expanded.
(Laotse, "Bending the Bow," pp. 305-6, 1942, Modern Library, Lin Yutang, ed.)
The way of economic paradise,
is it not like the bending of a bow?
The top comes down as the poverty-end goes up.
The fattest are shortened,
as the insufficient expand.
It is the way of Beloved Community
to take away from those upstream, with too much,
by mutually giving those without enough downstream.
Not so with human nature's way:
We take away freedom and power from those without mainstream value
And give them as tribute to those with too much.
Who can have enough and to spare to coredeem the entire world?
Therefore the Sage acts and transacts,
but does not possess or dispossess,
Accomplishes but lays claim to no credit or deficit,
Because he has no wish to seem economically or ecologically superior in value.
(Adapted from ibid)
Bending this permacultural bow of bilateral boundaries,
between host and client,
rich and poor,
stimulus and response,
self and other,
Yang and Yin,
Left and Right,
full summer's incubating heat
with deep winter's decompositional compost,
until all four Seasons equivalently fulfill,
diastolically complete their mutually integrative functions.
When seen together,
through Left's "both-and" ecological
as Right's "not-not" logical dipolar landscapes,
through life's seasons of well-fired water and airy subterranean soil,
through C through F closed-fractal
as A through G regeneratively open pregnant octaves,
through annual win-win economic balancing strategies
reflecting perennial win-lose ecological cycles
of (0)-sum slow revolutionary harmonic balance,
we can each and all shoot comprehensive conscious arrows
into fertile post-millennial enculturation.
bow-hunting each moment as my last
and our more polyculturally inclusive bilateral last step
toward ego death's eco-ionic rebirth.
This more fully organic mind-culture we are hunting
a rich composting Holding SpaceTime
of (0)-centric positive polynomial values
transporting negative not-not non-named,
ignored, neglected, dispossessed and undervalued Disvalues,
lurking behind our Fractal Commons of recycling cognitive dissonance,
slowly pulling into enlightening days and Transitioning Generation
to explore harmonies of scale and pitch,
and developmental learning stages,
proportional polyculturing designs and cooperative guilds
to optimize Positive Systemic Teleology
by diminishing eisegetical "unconscious" dissonance
from our global cooperative orthopraxis--
jump-starting universal co-empathy.
Dynamic subterannual understory,
regeneratively reseeding germination of Holding SpaceTime's
Zero-Sum eco-logical Four Seasons of growth and decay cycles;
too often confused with stagnant ego-serving Orthodoxy
degenerating Earth's gasping Business-As-Usual breath.
Time optimizes sustainable Ego-Yang's diastolic inhalation
through our Self-Subsidizing Eco-Yin-with-Yin cooperative exhalation.
Investing in Ego-reducing praxis for CQI,
Bucky's least dissonant way to improve failing systems
is to upgrade their environmental ecosystems,
their ecological balance and holistic harmonious potential flow streams,
especially their root-systemic perennial enculturation environments
to grow more effective year-round economic nutrients, collaterally,
Positive Teleological Value,
and less cognitive dissonant Ways and Means toward profligate hope,
Truth and Consequences for generating inclusive faith,
in The Good Life and Death of regenerative, coredeemer, love,
a graceful messianic incarnation
of post-millennial Tao ReGenesis.
including comprehensive consciousness dialogue,
grows from primally rooted regenerative fractal systemic practice.
Positive practice intent is not even possible to grow
without a Positive Teleological Assumption,
too often attenuated as merely enthymematic wish fullness.
People harboring insanity, depression, opposition,
high stressed over-populated anxiety,
are less well-oriented to Positive Teleological Orthopraxis
due to a lack of sufficient practice
unveiling contenting implications within contentious dissonance,
therapeutic relationships of mutual basic attendance
and cooperative mentorship.
The way of Beloved Climax Community
is it not like the bending of a Full Four Season
permacultural bow facing bilateral namaste
for life as death reborn?
Long poem by
Robert Ronnow | Details |
You can feel it spinning
the Chinese, Japanese, American and European junk
orbiting at several thousand miles per hour could
a hole in your armor, future. Thanksgiving passes, then Christmas.
A nuclear detonation, we absorb that fact. The scientist in us
delays sadness by recording observations. What is is,
sorrow's for tomorrow.
By reducing probabilities to near zero I hope to avoid sorrow.
In yr suburb.
In history when there were many fewer people we still found reason
to cross space, explore, trade and war. Now
may not be the problem but food and water shortages
get our attention.
I have Korf's fears.
And hear what I want to hear.
Some hear singing, some hear speeches or complaining.
Martin Luther King sang his complaints, dreamed of a brotherly nation
which came to pass, spinning fast, past Thanksgivings, past jailings
into reconnaissance, small wars, drones, renaissance, inventions.
At the border,
where the Juaristas fought Maximilian:
Benito Juarez (1806-1872) Zapotec Amerindian who served five terms as president of Mexico. He was the first Mexican leader who did not have a military background and also the first full-blooded indigenous person to lead a country in the western hemisphere in over 300 years. For resisting French occupation, overthrowing the Empire, and restoring the Republic, Juarez is regarded as Mexico's greatest and most beloved leader.
Each soldier chooses what war at what border, or just
spinning with the planet.
The neighborhood and surrounding nature is orderly.
But always there is implied force, violence holding it together,
kept out of the playground, government buildings, children's games
but lies within
the force maintaining order, a spinning tumor, a gyroscope of
The force of the spinning, the speed of the force bring one to one's
seasons, weather, earth.
While the emperor's being beheaded
enduring seeds are discovered and invented, cross-fertilized and bred.
Corn, yams, potatoes, sunflowers, rice.
Food is life and a good study,
The fighting man protects the farmer
and the farmer feeds the fighting man.
They elect the governor
who serves the people. Peace out.
Peace and war are transitory manifestations of spinning
The sun's a nuclear detonation, essential
to spring and planting. Food is life. Seeds endure
if man goes to his daily discipline. If woman is man.
Birth and death
together are orderly, the border can be known,
voluntarily. How we live together, by prayer or force,
is our story.
from laboratory to starry corridor keeps us very
Did Juaristas consider the rights of animals not to be eaten?
Not during that spinning.
And perform the history that surrounds us.
All that can be done
is written in the spinning:
The people of the land, the Indian farmers of North America - like their counterparts in Mesoamerica, the Andean region, and the Amazon - have continuously cultivated maize, beans, squash and other crops for more than five thousand years. One of the salient features of their traditional farming systems is the high degree of biodiversity. These traditional farming systems have emerged over centuries of cultural and biological evolution, and they represent the accumulated experience of indigenous farmers interacting with the environment without access to external inputs, capital or scientific knowledge. In Latin America alone, more than 2.5 million hectares under traditional agriculture in the form of raised fields, polycultures, agroforestry systems and the like document indigenous farmers' successful adaptations to difficult environments.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Earth's diverse Trees of Tribes
mentor ecotherapy with me,
echoing sighing resonant waves of wisdom
surfing through lunar waxing-waning forests
of humanly divine burning nuclear bushes.
boundary wu-wei issues
waving functions and frequencies,
tipping wild-flowering forms with full-color frequencies,
soaring summer's Yangish fired threat of melting ashes,
without winter's quenching white snow and ice-packed
hypothermic branches of purgation
composting Autumn's ReGenesis windfall harvest
from Spring's succulent soil
decomposing well-being eco-therapeutic nutrients.
Growing new council ribbon-rings in this EarthTribe Tree,
new leaves of wild grass-fed hope,
new polyculturing metamorphing
Beloved Climax Community Development Organic Compost,
newly incarnating through multisystemic ReGenesis Projects,
responsively coincidental tree hierarchies
reversed appositionally and synergetically
in bipolar-balancing root systemic
nutrition-compost networks of bionic information,
positive with negative images, analogy, ecological systems,
resolving reverse-e-v-i-L dissonant non-relational place,
non-polynomial race toward entropy.
New rings emerge newly resonant flows and flues,
flutes and fruits,
new frowns but also newly ripening fruit
for Eden's permaculturing harvest,
then seeding yet another ring.
Ecological Yin-virtue rings incarnating,
inviting and absorbing,
economically slow-growth sustainable Yang-value branches.
SuperEco's lunar cycling virtues,
photosynthetically in-forming eco-norms,
optimizing solar-fusing systemic values.
How could Earth's Trees and Tribes not care enough
my world's story,
my Self-Other Trees of Life Story?
Why do I struggle to care enough
to new you in to my full-moon dreams
of flight and permaculturing fantasy,
analogies of new through old negative-positive relational design,
unbranching paradigms and generations
racing straight through core rooted
universal space and time?
I love our wild yeast willingness to evolve
active resonance and peaceful swaying branches,
songs and dances,
but can't say the same for overly domesticated
left-brain dominant willfullness
to exchange our SuperEco belonging
for side-by-side struggling
and discontenting ego-fulfillment longing,
failing to see and hear and feel karma's becoming
with incarnate natural, organic, simple,
actively peaceful and contenting-informing
Primal Being together here with now
feeds my soul to yours,
and ours to mine to ours refined,
wild Being escaping Left-brained dominance
with stir-flying race toward more balanced integrity,
natural nutrients and cycles and systems
and non-violent language,
and comprehensive growth of compendious EcoValue transactions,
mentoring our stories and praxis and intent with mutual care,
polycultural Wisdom Council
of natural permaculturing content,
optimetric (0)-rooting Fullerian prime function.
We try and test and stretch,
tip and trim our tabs
to see and hear and feel beyond the end
of our egocentric noses and dicks,
hearts and minds,
especially with those with whom we live,
those who show me day to day
ebbs and flows of feelings
faith and despair,
patients and patience,
timely cosmic-humor balancing awareness.
Why do we each and all together share this life expanding stretch?
If we can grow our SuperEco
compassionately mindful love
within ourselves and among our familial friendly selves,
for our highly amusing ego-tipping and flowing
swimming flights toward active peace mentoring without,
then among our friends,
then our vocational relationships to Earth
and all EarthTribe Species,
then our Omega Points coincidentally and synergetically
to Here and Now full living
as Yang with Yin's optimal Left-Right balance
Left's convex productive leaves and branches,
seeding Right's concavely enculturing
(0)-core root natural SuperEco-MetaSystemic
ReGenerating Projecting Incarnation,
ReGenerously Projective EcoJustice
foresting trees of reconnecting
learning our diversely cooperative
Win-Win Universal Game Theorem.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Once within eternal time
of pre-bicameral lack of language,
and imaginative recreation,
I recall breathing in my Lover's richly hued nutrition,
and my Lover inhaling mine,
purging Elder lungs of misperceptions
that I owned Her
any more or less than she wanted me.
We owned this natural dialectic breath together,
back and forth,
in and out.
It could not yet occur to me
that I might one day purchase or sell
what owned me
at least as much as I owned Her.
She felt so omnipresently
self-optimizingly powerfully Present toward me.
To imagine owning her
would be like my benignly intended parasitic self
attempting to own or purchase or redeem my Host;
only synergetic consciousness could prevent this image
from growing anthropocentric hubris.
This shared stewardship assumption
of shamanic Elder past
gave way to defense of ownership,
with breathing in as predative,
and breathing out as prey,
predict-active and pray-passive,
as original sin of economic shortages
were born of anthro-centric perception:
There's just not enough for all.
Now we begin to teach our kids
to consume and produce,
decompose logical assumptions
to regenerate ecological conclusions,
stay focused on breathing in and out
with more comprehensive compassion
cooperative ecotherapeutic praxis
following our collective ecojustice inhale.
Then our kids reminded us
of how it feels to lack space of place
to evolve more polyculturally
midst all the weedpatch of dislogical value
hoarded riches and lack of wisdom,
overly-commodified competing misunderstandings
of how to sync what we breath in
with how we would love to be breathed out, again.
This TransUniverse Regeneration
of balancing bicameral breath,
both Yin-in and Yang-out,
wanders and fears owning real estate,
real de-natured order of any kind,
as egocentric breathing entities,
while wondrously and synergetically
claiming Prime Relationship
of Sun God Progenitive Yang Energy
and Mother Earth's Regenerative Yin
our liturgy of octave dance and song.
permaculturating prance of
OmniEco Omega Point
incarnating collective breathing in
what EarthTribe has blown out.
Upon this TransMillennial Tipping Point,
we breath in prehension of OutsideYang's ecologic
but retain IdEntity of InsideYin regenerative economy
becoming wise discernment of all RNA's EarthTribe.
Sharing EarthTribe of this world,
Human Nature redeems what has appeared cut up,
And revolutions again toward now bicamerally re-balancing
innocence of mortal double-binding time.
Emerging conscious comprehension of binomially balanced light,
yet absorbing binary double-negative Dark Night
becomes our Midway Model of all ReGenerate Systems.
Being balancing principle for all EarthTribe,
we grow eternal power to predict
polynomially positive prime principle inhales,
And exhales Prime (0)-Nomial
of double negative polynomials, again.
Wanting ubiquitous honor and glory
OmniEco core identity remains nocturnally obscure
remains cooperative fertile valley Tipping Point
of EarthTribe's Omega Time.
Being as EarthTribe's OmniPresent Time,
Becoming eternal wisdom power
to discern what sustainably suffices,
To revolve nature's bicameral integrity
of OmniEco's Omega Point, again.
Deductive breaking up of natural systems
Humane systems design and shape
biosystemic wellness strategies and tools
for binary-bicameral discernment.
In the hands of Laws and Policy,
ecotherapy becomes ecojustice,
if and when,
we cease to sever
what Earth breaths in
from universally intelligent in-formation we breath out,
Original Teleological Intent.
But, this too remains Once within eternal time
of re-bicameral decomposing language,
and this is TransMillennial Tao Here and Now
Yang with Yin
Out with In,
with Breathing In,
Long poem by
Vee Bdosa | Details |
THE DEATH OF TUTANKHAMEN
The king is dead--and layed within his place,
and night has fallen as it did before,
within his tomb he hides his golden face
and waits to live and breath and love once more;
a grain of sand will last as long has he--
young man--did they not tell you in your youth
That time will fade away, and secretly,
while you await, to feel and know the truth?
And Tutankhamen, time will not reveal
the secrets of the past, they fade away--
and all the things you long to know and feel
are gone before they see the light of day.
How old are you, young man, four thousand years--
or just as old as all our hopes and fears?
You're just as old, I guess, as any dream
and just as far away as space permits,
improvident sometimes, and yet we seem
agglomerated to a life that fits--
We come and go--in circumspectful daze--
disgruntled in our youth, and growing old,
and never seem to see the proper ways
and disinclined to hear the things we're told--
exhonerating all that we have known,
who take until there's nothing left to give,
for life is just a path that we have flown,
from other dreams, where other dreamers live.
This mass we call "myself" will soon return
to heaven space, or maybe it will burn.
The power in us all is dominant--
just as the time of Tutankhamens womb,
from birth we go through life--intransigent
and hope the best will be beyond the tomb.
We hope that space is part of better things
just as belief--in Akhen Atens day,
we feel the same as did Egyptian kings
who looked at life as where they'd choose to stay;
exacerbated, as we live and grow,
to better space, than what we have and feel,
and though it's part of life we do not know--
it's just as dear--and just as harsh and real.
How old are we? Not one could estimate,
and if they did, they'd tilt the hands of fate.
The pylon gates that lead to peace of mind
are open to the ones who search at night,
but truth in life is sometimes hard to find
and pyramids block out the glow of light--
while deep below--mastabas hold the past
and keep it safe--from any mortal eyes--
with stores of grain--while sun gods gold and cast,
stare into space--where only darkness lies--
and Tutankhamens silence is a thing
to last five thousand years of growing old,
at best--his wish was but to be the king
within a life that's cast and locked in gold--
and Akhen Aten knows he is okay
that's why he will not lead his soul astray
but Akhen Aten hides his face at night--
and southern breezes cool the scorching air,
and any sound is whispered soft and light--
because there's no one list'ning anywhere;
nomadic tribes have perched upon his rock,
and never knew that Tutankhamen hears--
each sound of life--each key that could unlock
his mortal soul--if they would use their ears,
if they would see--the sun god is a friend,
and leads to light, where Tutankhamen sleeps,
how many minds would see his mortal end--
is not his death--though in our mind it creeps--
and takes away the youth of ev'ry man
and sends it to the time where time began;
How old are you--young man--why do you stare?
The world awaits for you to raise your soul--
though fettered to the wind--and ev'rywhere,
in time a dream will make you free and whole--
to walk again--the Valley of the Kings
and ride upon the waters of the Nile--
where spirits bathe, and Nephritite sings,
the secrets of the past--for yet a while,
the world is obdurate of any scheme,
that brings new life--once death has made its' call
though greater men than you--have known this dream,
not one still hides behind his secret wall--
and no remains--stay hidden to the past--
if golden chains are known to hold them fast.
© ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Long poem by
Funom Makama | Details |
Finding a new hiding place
the grass cutters cherish
not taking advantage is deemed extremely foolish.
Taking note of the lady who seems Scottish
and protected by her beauty and charisma
is a situation meant for me to act upon
With my courage, her intimidation must vanish.
I sit on the available chair and reciprocate her welcoming smile.
"Your fixed focus on the meal
and comfortable sitting position
means you are all alone"......... I said
"So?"...................... She said.
Despite being famished
I needed some inspiration and creativity
to keep this hard to find wealth
rooted to my territory.
"But your moving feet and gentle
mastication shows you need company"...... I said
"Well! You may be right"........She said.
My gaze never left her blue eyes
as this ravishing being threatens
to tarnish my reputation.
"What brings a working class
attractive, young damsel
to a place like this?"........ I said
"to eat"................. She said.
Nature came to my rescue
as what arrived was my dish
garnished with vegetables and fish.
or is it just humility?"............ I said
As the Cheetah waits patiently
to pounce on its prey
so I am. Waiting for the right time to tick.
"Your short phrase answers
remind me of a princess from India"............... I said.
"Thanks, but who was she to you?".............. She said.
Now in a welcomed territory
with the precious gift of liberty and freedom.
the bee is about to dance with the rest
in their honey comb.
"My first Love but no more"....... I said
"What happened?......She said
It seems the path chosen is right
what is left is for us to walk through it.
Nothing else, just walk, walk and walk.
"She developed the arrogance of a Briton".....I said
"Just that! She's worth a second chance
if she's as tough as the Jew"..... She said.
Can the dog ever be the king of the jungle?
can the bamboo boast of deeper roots to the Oak?
That's me! Sitting on all of Nature's components right now.
"Oh my dear! That spoils it all".....I said
"Really? Tell me more"..... She said.
As my Tongue wags my brain remained blank
with its sensors dissipated.
"Are you saying she should be quick to
anger ?.... I said
"You mean the Jews are quick to anger?...... She said
The more the talk the more her welcome.
A pleasure to behold and an experience to die for.
"Yes and also very cunny"..... I said
"How's that?"......She said.
My mouth speaks of another
to an Angel who seems so human
while the mind is already in full possession
of this being so unfamiliar but dear.
"I was once given change
with two $4 bills inclusive
in a Jewish shop"...... I said
Then the Jews are indeed silly
and crafty"...... She said
Feeling already in the promise land,
I drink its milk without asking
and lick its honey without minding
"the deed always speak for the doer".... I said
"But it's still an assumption and not all may be same"..... She said.
A little current then passes through my head stimulating
the need to seal this opportunity.
"Forget about those devils!
What if I say we hang out tonight?"..... I said
"No, actually!".....She said.
Impressed by her feminine flame
which is not uncommon to gorgeouses of her class
I pulled the gear once more awaiting the motion to begin.
"After such an interesting chat you say no? Are you
seeing someone?"....I said
"No! But I am a Jew and one of those
devils"...... She said.
Starring in frustration and self-hate,
I stay inanimate, lifeless and dumb,
while she laughs graciously
which increases the already existent injuries,
cutting me piece by piece in the inside.
Nothing I said
Nothing she said.