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
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.
Long poem by
curtis johnson | Details |
By Curtis Johnson
Please allow me to introduce myself. Though I am well known around the world, there may be a side of me that many have not seen or known. Many know me presently as well as in years gone by as one who is both kind and strong. Some of course even dislike me, and view me as an overbearing authoritarian wishing to impose my will upon the world. Some deem me a hypocrite, because I have demonstrated some inconsistencies through my tenure in this world. Anyway, there are times which everyone needs to express themselves and share their own take of themselves. Beyond that, I guess historians will just have to do the rest.
I was born on July 4, 1776, and I am 239 years of age. I am very young in comparison to many of my kind who are much older than me. However, few have been blessed to achieve and accomplish as much as I have in these years of growth and triumph. Through time and the good providence of Almighty God, I have grown much larger and there have been major changes for the better. Over time, there have been parts of me that did not want to change. This created such discord within me that nearly tore me apart. Through it all,
I have not only survived but have strived to become the strongest of them all. I have no need to boast, because I realize that I have come this far by the grace of God to whom I am grateful.
I and others of goodwill tried to build a world of peace and tranquility after the walls fell in Berlin, Germany. For a while it appeared that we were creating a brave new world, until the twin towers fell in New York City. It seems that we do have a new world that‘s vastly different from the other world prior to 2001: The prior world was Pre-911, and the present new world is Post 911.
I am still fighting terrorists and perhaps will be forevermore at war with them. There is no other in the world built like me. I am more that 300 million strong and still have a small but formidable military. In spite of the power I possess, it feels like I’m getting weaker. Moreover, I’m deeply concerned with my own war at home. I’m fighting bravely to hold on to my convictions and to live up to my responsibilities.
I am presently experiencing deep and penetrating changes. In fact I am changing so rapidly that I could be overwhelmed if I did not have a strong and lasting belief system. It seems there have always been times and seasons when I was pressed upon to make major changes. In most cases I believe that the changes made me better and wiser, but on the other hand I am allowing myself to change to the point where I am becoming
Unlike the true me. There is change that is virtuous and everyone wins, and yet there is also change that is destructive and everyone loses.
A generation ago, I became better as a result of being pressed upon to live out the true meaning of my existence. I was pressed to reexamine the core of my being and live up to the constitutional principles upon which I was born. Also, the biblical world view that I proclaimed was sorely tested and analyzed, resulting in my becoming even stronger.
In the last few decades it appears that I am being called upon again to change course and go the way of other nations, to become one with the world. These changes are not only political and social, but spread a huge tent that radically alters and revolutionizes both culture and religion. Therein lies a problem, because I was born to be different, and I am different.
I was born different with a completely different purpose. My purpose cannot be fully implemented and realized apart from my continued reliance upon the constitution of the United States and adherence to my biblical world view, which gave birth to me. I know that I am not perfect, and I also know that I am a miracle in progress. My name is the United States of America, and may God always bless and shed His grace upon me. Cj06132015
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
We have an enemy within called the ego
who prevents us from using our mind intelligently.
It hides deep within our heart
and emerges with regularity
to challenge and consume our will.
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
We have a challenger wrestling within called our Ego
emerging with regularity
to confront and distort our deeper will
for more sustainable eco-normal.
Not one of us believes in optimized incarnate power within
a State or Nation,
our Solar Systemic-Fueled Universe,
compatible with a total absence of any power among,
No faith in the power of love's intent,
without evidence of evolving-revolving peace-growing practice.
No omnipotent power of love,
without all EarthTribe's ecotherapeutic practice.
While Earth evolves an orbitting planet
composed of diverse tribal species,
rich octaved frequencies,
Earth is also one holistic cooperative,
which rises and falls with surfing
surfacing ecological tipping point balance,
of ego-centric Yang
with eco-flexic Yin's prime double-binary regenerate
double-negative binomial metric and logic equivalence.
Economics evolved from agrarian and survival instinct origins
when our original transactional intent was
to sustain breath and heart beat,
then memory of self as interdependently identified from and with Other,
to culturally understand Self as parasitic dwelling
within a sometimes benignly balanced,
cooperative RNA-encrypting Host,
coincidentally displayed by our DNA sensed ecosystems
of local residency, body, home, family, Tribe, species.
redeeming values were economic extensions
of eco-logical natural systemic development.
as What comes around, goes around,
as Golden Rules and Rational Ratios,
where half-root of 2 is always 1,
as half of 1 Ego is (0) soul eco-centric.
What are we becoming,
that commerce and markets and sustainable new economics
pause with unholy terror and awed stagnant, flat-line silence,
horrific wonder about our erratic change of climate's rhythms and patterns
as this TransMillennial Regeneration's internal ecotherapeutic climate
predicts scorchingly manic competition
with an understory of hypothermic silos of suicidal depression,
a too-polypathic absorption into dying self-identification?
What would we be
if we could justly recall
our permacultural economics of ecotherapy
applied both within our without synergetic landscape
and within our within (0) eco-centric love?
Warnings Against Interference
predict Teachings For Interdependence.
There are those who would conquer
everything and everyone,
their Win is our Lose,
And make of us what they conceive or desire.
They cannot ultimately succeed,
one cannot win a Win-Lose game,
unless there are at least two survivors willing to play.
For this Solar-Interdependent System
is God's own eco-normic eco-logical Vessel
It cannot be made whole by human nature's
stumbling about like elephants uprooting tender grass.
Those who commodify eco-value spoil it.
Those who hoard this nutritious well-being wealth lose it.
For: Some yangs go forward,
as some yins follow behind,
like surf surging in,
then backing out.
Some breathe out too hot,
so some breathe in too cold;
Some are too strong,
So some are wilting;
Some species have broken,
so all species may fall.
Hence Wisdom eschews human nature's
evolves aversive toward extravagant power over Earth, each Other,
avoids egocentric pride,
dissonant with ecocentric eco-normic comprehensive comprehension
of Nature's prime systemic wu wei principle
of tipping point balance toward optimized sustainability
of all life
wherever it can be polyculturally ReStated.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Speak gently when you offer criticism,
but don't be so soft as to sacrifice the truth.
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans)
Speak gently when you offer your truth,
when you confront violence and dissonance,
about your own egocentric merits and demerits,
but don't be so soft as to sacrifice your contented confluence,
your exegetical Orthodoxy.
Speak gently, wrestle with and not against,
when you confront dissonant overheated evils,
and remain just flexible enough to foregive
the absence of absolute truth in this HereNow moment,
about our ecocentric merits and demerits
and addiction to love and active peace
Gently root for underdog, understory, parasites
as active self-appointed Hosts sharing Earth's vast Tree of Life.
We each and all play parasite and Host economies,
hunters sometimes hunted,
lovers warm toward becoming Beloved,
hunted sometimes hunters,
fear hunts fear of hunger
thirsts for enough to recontent
polycultural simplicity, just-right enough
in balanced EcoJustice.
We each incarnate both cooperative ecologic
and competitive ego-normic.
We play our strategic games more sustainably
as we comprehend underdog parasites
are also benign Host potential,
both Yin and Yang
within a self-regenerative Tao Community
balancing EarthTribe Ways,
more joyfully greeting, meeting,
and getting through each day.
Hosting optimal regenerative spaces
for ecological cooperative economic choice making
is a wise, and strikingly shamanic, natural systemic vocation.
Eco-facilitation mentors normative logical orthopraxis
with optimizing continuously quality improving performance,
meeting design and Original Positive Teleological Intent.
EcoTherapy mentors slowing down our aspiring Ego heartbeats
while optimally filling our lungs and minds
with each Other,
rather than getting all Yanged up,
with a lot of shallow,
and talking without sufficient feeling,
as the sea through which we all fly together.
Weapons of Evil
as Teachers of Right-brained Good
Of all things, weapons are instruments of evil,
Therefore the polycultural person,
possessed of Tao's (0) Core Logos,
avoids violent tools of anger and enslavement and hate.
Polycultural Communities and Persons
favor scientific logos,
Yang mutually active peace
and care-giving protection within domestic life,
But, within undomesticated infractive occasions
favors Right-brained mythic Yin mutual accommodation,
nurturing non-violent intent and assumptions of equivalent response,
redemptive fore-giveness to meet Challenger half way,
as Other understands their needs at this time.
Predators are weapons of monocultures.
They are not the tools for polycultural sustainability.
When the use of predators cannot be helped,
The best policy is calm restraint,
minimal dissonant response frequencies and functions.
To fore-bare arms evolves proactive peacemaking.
To remain calm revolves maintainable contentment.
Even in victory, there is no boasting,
And who boasts of short-term Win-Lose outcomes
Is one who delights in violence,
unnecessarily lodges, enstates, restates
negative karmic dissonance.
Delight in EcoPathology
cannot achieve diastated EcoJustice power.
Intuited good, true, beauty favors Left-brain reception.
Dissonance, violence, evil favor Right-brain dissonant appositional feeling.
Our Ego stands on the Left's sensory input loop,
Our SuperEco stands in the Right's Elder Memory processor space.
That is to say, Elder Right celebrates Dying-Life Rites of Passage.
Speak gently Left toward Rites Passage
but don't be so Left-brained soft
that EcoJustice cannot find you,
and all EarthTribe
within each HereNow Beloved Community Event.