Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
They called their gang The ReVolutionaries,
my Father Sun and Mother Earth drew time with them,
but they often called themselves Yang and YinYin,
respectively and mutually respectfully
and privately and erotically,
not so much politically and economically
where Yang could not fit in for rabid competition
and YinYin would not float
a dipolar WinWin health-care priority boat.
Where was I in my Creation Geneology,
you did not get past much of a preliminary introduction,
Sugar Daddy Yang.
Father Sun and Mother Earth
got together co-gravitationally,
first creating a revolution
out of spacetime's dipolar co-arising
and revolving implied-fractal-seasoned syntax,
natural systemic order of healthy evolution,
as not-not pathologically dual-dark devolution,
probably too much Yin-recessive
in this Yang-dominant Creation Story.
Father Sun with Mother Earth
revolved their bilateral health potential.
Then, next time you know,
here you are,
bangin around with too-dominant Left-brained Yang,
slippin' in some wise ol' tough love,
stirrin' up your Owl with your Moose Medicine
for stronger regenerative issue tissues,
still struggling between SunPowerLens
informating regenerative health and therapy relationship
articulating as bicamerally climatic neural-temporal tissues,
or is it the other way?
all this time travel appositional and dialectical health language,
pointing toward your lovely
and always mindful
DiPolar EcoPresence as HereNow Time
in self-refining, reiteratively flowing,
spring of love's rich nutritional water and soil,
soul mating Heaven's firey warm photosynthetic
co-redemptively climaxing air
of sweeping surfing elating Time's Full Occupation,
living still within our TransParent Elders,
of which we each share equal DNA/RNA
regenerative-fractal Implicate-Concave Orders of rhythm and pattern and syntax,
folding and unfolding,
holonic-Holy Exegetical Syntax Scripture
composting time's revolutionary health
through TransParent CoOperating Golden Rule
of Prime (0)-soul/soil, ego/eco, Interior/Exterior,
Fractal PolyCultural Relationship.
That's nice, Daddy Yang,
having said all that,
I'm wondering if I might add
that as I most kindly remember,
there are two sides to every Creation Story,
one is Ego's Yang Exterior Universal view,
while EcoOther YinYin echoes
our Interior Landscape
nondual co-arising love for empathic capacity and nutritional experience,
co-elational syntax-voices of primal feeling and knowing
Yang/Yin is healthier as LoseSome BusinessAsUsual/Win some YinYin Tipping Point CoOperative Wisdom.
Yet even this wu wei PostMillennial TaoZen Bicameral Hybrid Story
is not the Fat Lady Death's Door final message you are fearing
within YinYin's WinWin EcoRevolutionary
0-soul Creation Story
of a bicamerally self-optimizing health and safety global network
with local cooperative poli-economic communication guilds,
nutrient 0-interest investment through implementation
polycultural local ecosystemic-balancing glory,
cooperating our WinWin Mutual PolyEnculturation Story.
namaste for your generous and kind-natured
to win dialogical Solitaire,
not only does Yang Ego
think therefore I Win,
but nondual co-arising of Right-time's sequence
syntaxed cards of Other
cooperatively win this balancing fractal 4 spacetimed
principle of steering co-gravitational positivity,
implied predelivery doctors and progenitors
of ReGenetic-Health Optimization Time,
most sacred Positive BiCameral Psychology
of more humane natural ecosystems,
RNA-iconic as ionic,
CoMessianic Cross with Tao-Time Universal
Black full-diastatic and dipolar synaptic
absorbs WhiteNoise Aptic EcoPresent TransParentcy,
and vice versa with reverse-temporal imaging ecoconscious
We are both GooeyRight
more truly balanced as positive/negative deviant equity seekers,
ecotherapeutic lovers of peace with ecojustice,
evolving an Ego/Eco Deductive/Inductive ConScience
of BiNomial (0)-Centric 4D spacetime
as our CoOperative Creation Story.
Group Theory's Zero-bilateral symmetrical
implied dipolar function as bilinear double-bound soul
could be RealTime expressed:
pregenitive full-4 revolutionary closure Byte-Fold Balance,
inside-double-negative with outside double-boundaried
principle of thermodynamic balancing dipolarity.
PolyNomial ++ evolves WinWin equivalent
to LoseLose (--) NotNot PolyNomial 4D
spacetime prime 0-centric
Origin Point of Language and Scripture
toward future's (0)Mega Point Bicameral Creation Story
as EcoPresent Now,
our timeless invitation into full healthy love,
life as co-empathic bicameral love-positive,
restrained only by its absence,
heading toward climatic long-term TransMillennial effects
of chronic stress,
overly competitive ecosystems
of all paradigmatic
and polymorphic varieties,
and crappy nightmare
death and dying dreams.
Yang space flows through YinYin Time's Light
as Time's syntaxed memory folds and unfolds,
refolds and prefolds revolutionary ecosystemic transitions,
Interior Landscaped LoveNow-EcoTherapySpace.
Was that my Fat Lady
Now you know I am just right for you;
you're the one getting too hefty
for your own internal and external balancing capacity.
Maybe I need more exercise.
Maybe you need to get off me,
and help me paddle...
Did I say "paddle"?
you mean to flow your Revolution Creation Story
right through PostMillennial cooperative enculturation.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Brian Johnston | Details |
- - Chapter 2: Adult Responsibility (With Some Breaks) - -
By ten years old, no weekends off,
Or Saturday cartoons,
Although I did have cash to spend,
I felt my life in ruins.
I dusted cars in my dad's store,
And cleaned its toilets too,
I fixed truck tires as I got old,
Not much I couldn't do.
A trip to two month summer camp,
I learned to shoot and sail,
At twelve years old, a pioneer,
Canoed explorer's trail.
Near tragedy on my return,
My sister paralyzed,
A late victim of polio,
My conscience brutalized.
Felt guilty leaving her alone,
While I frolicked and played,
Brotherly love had been displaced,
Her protection was waylaid.
The washers, dryers, I repaired,
And freezers with no chill,
Then televisions came along,
Tube testing my new skill.
Assembling new farm implements,
And posting parts on hand,
My driver's license opened doors,
‘Collected bills' firsthand.
On Sundays we would go to church,
To hear the preacher tell,
Because my dad was not with us,
His soul would burn in Hell.
Dad's Channelled Poem-
[‘It's bad news when a preacher comes.
They all want stuff for free.
I have to feed my children too,
I've problems they don't see.']
Three years of summer music camps,
In Junior High reborn,
I played piano in dance bands,
Took lessons on French Horn.
My French Horn teacher laughed out loud
When I walked through the door,
‘Your lips too thick, please stick out tongue, '
Now rolling on the floor!
‘To take your money is a crime, '
The German said to me,
‘You've no high notes, ' ‘I know' I said,
‘Mom loves French Horn you see.'
Most summers were our busy time,
We all worked hard till dusk,
My ‘tail rung through a ringer, ' (1) la, *
The time for ‘smart mouth' (2) brusque.
But then the job that I loved best,
Flat tractor tires in field,
A chance to meet a farmer's girl,
The country's charm revealed.
One summer worked a cattle herd,
Two thousand cows were planned,
By cutting, wind-rowing (3) the grass,
Soon haystacks dotted land.
Dakota winters could be fierce,
The temp forty below,
The stacks were shelter from the wind,
A shield from blinding snow.
We'd use a horse for round-up, la! *
My God that was a thrill,
Except for blisters on your ass,
Or when you took a spill.
I had not ridden horses much,
You're so far from the ground,
The horse not knowing you from spit, (4)
Disdain can be profound! '
There was no time for niceties,
And work to do, ‘C'MON! '
If horse and you somehow part ways,
No choice, you climb back on.
Our ranch was all on ‘Indian Res., ' (5)
By river loop enclosed,
In South Dakota's Lower Brule, (6)
A twelve year lease proposed.
Land acres more that twenty thou.
Covered by native grass,
A chance like this was very rare,
My father could not pass.
The river's edge a solid fence,
No barbed wire to maintain.
The nearest town two hours by road,
Our days were mostly work and sleep,
With meals our only break,
Except for weekend groc'ry trips,
No chance for love's heartache.
Till I discovered farmer's girl,
Who lived half way to town,
Contrived a way to go to church,
When Sunday's call came down.
The church's name not one I knew,
The people all seemed nice,
To escape Sunday's usual fare
Was worth most any price.
Played music we could sing,
The pastor beat foot-pedalled drum,
We made the rafters ring!
I told myself, ‘there's something strange,
The music's gone too long, '
Emotion peaking and yet I
Somehow did not belong.
With music's end the sermon broke,
The world's sure end was near,
Time now to sanctify all sin,
‘Repent now! God's word hear.'
For God's quite mad, this cannot stand,
No doubt that it is prov'n
Those rockets from Canaveral
Are shooting holes in Heav'n.
I was in shock, glued to my seat,
The flock their garments rent,
And I the last one in his seat,
No sin did I lament!
At last not knowing what to do,
I left and went outside,
And knew whatever happened now,
I hadn't found my bride.
August 20, 2014
* When I was in the American Peace Corps in Tanzania, East Africa we had a group of 7
surveying assistants that were always with us in the first year and that we became very
close to. Their conversation was always sprinkled with 'la' and I thought it was kind of
cute. Like they might say to me, 'Why don't we stop in this village for some food, la.'
They used this word kind of like I use the word ‘OK' in casual conversation. 'You've got
food in your teeth, la.' I really enjoyed this idiosyncratic affectation.
(1) 'tail rung through the ringer' - Early washing machines did not have a 'spin cycle.' So
to get the excess water out of your clothing you would ring out the water from each item
of clothing first before hanging it on a clothes line to dry completely in the sun. So the
phrase 'tail rung through the ringer' means that you are all out of energy, and very tired.
The energy has been squeezed out of you by your job like water rung out of newly
(2) 'smart mouth' Someone who likes to talk back to authorities, or who just complains all
(3) 'wind-rowing' - To rake newly cut grass into long rows called 'wind-rows' that could be
more easily picked up and bailed then by yet another machine.
(4) 'not knowing someone from spit' - To have no respect for the person at all.
(5) ‘Indian Res’ – Land that Indian’s were given official title to by the American
government in an attempt to placate and domesticate them.
(6) ‘Lower Brule’ – A huge tract of Indian Land contained in a large meander of the
Missouri River. Although the mouth of this loop is only one mile wide, to get from one side
of the meander by river is over 28 miles. Lower Brule is owned by the Cherokee Indian
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Stone Fox | Details |
"That also has a steep drop off the far side of Home Sweet Hell" said my soulless guide as he pointed in the direction of the nearby screams.
I could see what resembled silhouettes or smeared shadows of something being thrown or tossed off the side of the tallest tower in sight.
There were so many falling at once the blur of any kind of outline in this smokey medieval lighting was impossible and began to strain my eyes.
"They're throwing bodies over the edge, a necessary task for the good of our home." he continued as he watched me watching the horrific scene of what now was confirmed as bodies.
"They were rotting and now they will rot even faster engulfed in flames!" he exclaimed with a smirk. "It's quiet clever really, it serves two purposes as one form of torture while at the same time feeding the eternal damnation fires of hell. We recently have undergone new management so our productivity points have never been higher." He seemed to wear that smirk like a proud badge as he bragged about the last part. No doubt he was most likely the new management, possibly the one who would decide my fresh new hell.
He gave a new meaning to the expression "milky white" and had a paleness that was almost purple. Freakishly tall which wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't as thin as a runway model-and that was putting it politely. He was dressed in a crimson velvet suit like some dapper don vampire with the chilling accessory of sharp dead eyes. He exuded terror all around while stroking my anxiety in the most uncomfortable metaphorical rhythm.
With his you-know "devil may care" attitude he attempted to smooth out a newly noticed wrinkle in his crimson red velvet sports jacket.
"Even in Hell, one must always look their Sundays best or in the flames you go!" he giggled laughing at his own joke. I neither laughed or even reacted, instead I ignored him and continued to watch the screaming falls.
The worker bees or drones-or whatever you're supposed to mindless underlings from hell, were now headed for a v-shape among the only body that was not tossed from the tallest tower. Instead it was hanging off a wall like a common prized Picasso at the end of the biggest hall in Hell. Or so my tour guide informed me.
The brutish beasts were poking, stabbing, biting, pulling, cutting, slapping, and slashing the hanging form. "Go then and take her down" My Dracula impersonator whispered in my ear, making me jump at the stealthness it took him to invade my personal space. "Go on" he urged as he moved even more closer to me. "But-" he then said looking down the hallway "who is to say her sin is not greater than yours?" he asked while stroking his chin. "In fact" he continued, "Save her and see how quickly you will be the one to replace her. "
I found myself asking "is her sin greater than mine?" for she no longer even resembled a "she" and I couldn't hide my disgust this prisoner she's appearance.
My five star tour guide squealed "Why heavens yes!" unable to contain it's laugher. "She makes your sin look like childsplay! he continued to cackle while saying "I wouldn't go bragging about your list of dirty deeds that got you here they are not that flattering. Or noteworthy really. You're lucky if you amount to anything other than flame feeder on Hell's roster." He then very seriously added, "but if it was not for the Simple Sinners we would have no souls to keep most of our demons from going hungry. After all we only get fed once every hundred years when we are not topside."
I noticed the dead bodies recently just fallen into flames were starting to return slowly to our intimate greeting party. Most were empty handed or even handless, while all were naked but almost identical in the scorched rotted appearance, no sex could be identified.
"They will be joining us for the rest of our tour" Vampire Lestat informed me following my gaze. He started walking down the hall and I followed as close behind as I could while maintaining a safe distance from both sets of company.
Without looking at me, Red Velvet started saying, "most crazies dispose of bodies because that's what they consider normal. But here in Hell, we find keeping them is productive torture. You see staying in ones body after death is unnatural and therefor uncomfortable, almost painful. So you can see why it is useful to keep souls in their meat suits. We also make them do physical labor like any good slave when the torture has become boring and is no stimulating.
I was suddenly feeling woozy and felt confident I was just as pasty white as my velvet wearing guide. I couldn't shake the disgusting smell of flesh, blood, sex, urine, and pizza from nose. In a meek whisper I muttered "I don't like this.." My words were greeted with a smug "Join the club Sweetheart, no one likes it here but that's the point isn't it? Welcome to your doomed end, your Home Sweet Hell. "
Tears welled up in my eyes and before they could fall to my cheek my thin velvet guide slapped me with such a unbelievable force that I felt my skull vibrating. I was shocked at the guides brute strength for such a blow and considered the possibility maybe this was a vampire. I could feel my tears start to reform and was met with another blow. This time they came with a side order of screams that said, "NO POINT FOR TEARS NOW! YOU WEREN'T ACTING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH WHEN YOU SINNED TO GET HERE, SO YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ACT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH NOW THAT YOU ARE HERE."
I had no time to protest, to react, to do anything and even if I had he was right. I knew what I was doing. My guide started pushing me while still yelling "IT'S TIME YOU EMBRACE THAT YOU ARE IN THE PITT AND THERE IS NO MERCY! NOW ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK WITH YOU!"
He threw me in the closest room that was completely pitch black as he yelled "FRESH MEAT" that served as our farewell.
As he made his exit with his heard of bodies, his dead eyes were the last thing to see.
Copyright © Stone Fox | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Joe Flach | Details |
I was a seventeen year old senior in a coed, catholic high school. Our gym classes however were still all boys and all girls. My senior year we had gym every other day and music every other day in the same time slot. The music classes, therefore, were also all boys or all girls.
She was a twenty-eight year old nun in her first teaching assignment. She was in way over her head. She was about five-foot-four and weighed practically nothing. The nuns in our school no longer wore habits and I remember thinking it was a good thing because she would probably fly away like Sally Fields. If you don’t know what I mean by that then you are too young to be reading my story.
The music class was a mad house. She could not control a room of twenty some boys bound and determined to make her life hell. I mean, music class? Really?
We never did the homework assigned; never answered her questions seriously; never believed her threats at discipline; wouldn’t accept the demerits she tried to hand out; and basically goofed off for the hour that was supposed to be dedicated to learning about music.
For some reason, she seemed too proud or too green or too determined to go to the principal or another teacher for help; and, sensing that, we knew we could get away with our childish behavior and so we did.
One day, a handful of us “got in trouble” and she said she wanted to talk to us after class. I was the only one that actually stayed. She tried to lecture me on my bad behavior but I guess my smirk was evidence it was not sinking in. Then, she started to cry, and for the first time I saw her as a person.
“What am I doing,” she cried. "I can’t do this. I am trying; I am really trying, but I am not cut out for this. Why are you boys so mean and hateful?”
I stood up in front of her not knowing what to do or what to say. I felt like a real jerk. I was a real jerk.
Tears poured down her face, which I finally recognized as being a pretty face. She bowed her head and just sobbed. In my awkward seventeen year old manner, I slowly opened my arms and allowed her to lean into me. And I hugged her while she wept.
At seventeen, I was no ladies’ man, and this crying nun was the first woman I had ever held so close to me. I could feel her breasts pressed against me; the heat emitting from her body; and, the delicate nature of her womanly form in my arms. I knew then that I was destined to go straight to hell for the thoughts that were going through my head and the feelings I felt between my legs.
She pulled away and whispered, “I am so sorry, I should not have done that. You may go.”
I simply said, “You know, you are doing fine, you just have a class of a bunch of butt holes”, and walked out of the room. It was that night that she started coming to see me in my dreams. To hell I go, for sure.
I wish I could tell you I had the moxie and the influence to whip that class into shape, but I did not. The mad house continued with one less student joining in the fun. I tried my best to behave, answer her questions, pay attention and feign interest in the topic of the day – but I was just one in a sea of monsters. I stayed after class and after school a few times to talk with her, ask her how she was doing, and see if I could help in any way. She was actually starting to get the hang of things and was able to focus on the few classes that were willing to learn.
At the end of the school year, I was one of the few students who had not enrolled in a college for the coming year. Because I was one of the better students, it caused a little bit of a fuss and a number of teachers talked to me about the huge mistake I was making taking some time off before going to college. It seems they were all convinced that if I did not start into college in the fall, I was doomed to never go to college. I challenged them by saying what they were really worried about was their statistics of percentage of students who went on to further their education.
During the last day of classes, the music teacher asked me to stay after class. It appears, it was her turn to try to talk some sense into me.
“So, I hear you are not going to college,” she said.
“No, I’m going to college … some day, just not this fall.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Take some time off. Work. Nothing. I don’t know. Why is it so important to everyone? When the time is right, I’ll go to college.”
“They just care about you.”
“Bull loney,” I said, only it was another word.
She smiled at me. I had been dreaming about her now for six months. I changed the topic.
“Have you ever kissed a boy?”
She laughed, “You know, I grew up the same as every girl in this high school. I did have boyfriends.”
“Yeah, but have you ever kissed a boy,” I challenged.
“No. Not the way you mean.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?”
“No. Never,” she lied.
“If I told you I will register for college if you kiss me, will you?”
“No. I believe you when you say you just need some time off. I think that is a good idea.”
Then she walked up close to me and stopped a heartbeat away. Suddenly, she reached down between my legs, grabbed the crouch of my pants and said, “Just don’t let this thing get you in trouble.”
She abruptly turned and walked out of the classroom while I tried to catch my breath.
During the graduation ceremony I saw her sitting with the other teachers and shared a private smile with her while walking back to my seat after being handed my diploma. I would never see her again … outside of my dreams.
I often think about my high school music teacher and my ticket straight to hell. Unfortunately, I never heeded her advice. That body part of mine she grabbed ahold of for a fleeting second those many years ago, has gotten me in trouble time and time again.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
It's not so much
our cultural value conditioning
that presents a transitional communication problem
about changes of climate
within our Interior
in our Exterior
It's more about discontinuous,
norms enjoined throughout Earth's fully domesticated human race
toward humane evolution's progress,
whether this progress
be calculated one breath
one season at a time
or using a 5-year SWOT Team analysis,
norms and values discontinous because they raise eisegetical internal
and exegetical external eco-logical issues
about Anthro-hyper-critical fear
and existential anger,
no longer capable of hearing
Earth's more inductively functional ecotherapy messages.
We may feel deep under our skin
that the norm "respect all life"
means not only the aborted embryo
of future's hope for regenerating further life
in that human branch,
but it also means finding compassion for the ballistic asshole
terrorist on the other side
of Earth's eco-culture
raping and slaughtering our children
of all species,
natural elements in their normative habitats
of Earth's warm-wombed evolutionary development.
Perhaps more troubling
on a daily in-your-face basis
is our cultural discontinuity
about respecting all humane nature.
End of sentence for our Golden Rule.
Terrorists and abortionists and most certainly polar bears
need not apply for humane racing inclusion
by Rule of not-so-golden exclusion.
But, surely we could not mean this end
for our optimally confluent,
My co-arising advocacy for each ego-identity's inherent dignity,
co-arising reinvestment value,
begins and ends
with sane rational humane adults
acting like mature adults,
in my corner of this ecosystemic Universe?
What about my kids with cerebral palsy?
Why not the intrinsic value of a yellow butterfly
on a red apple on a breezy early-autumn New England day?
I don't disrespect deer tics or skunks,
why is it OK to disrespect a terrorist?
Is the reverse corollary of our Golden Rule
that it is OK to disrespect mere RNA-inspired creation,
we only choose to love this newer DNA school
of thoroughly domesticated politics
and commodified competitive economic
Win/Lose evolutionary elitism,
despite our humane capacity to comprehend
Earth's RNA-rooted cooperative economic and political intent
this Tree of Cooperative Life
feeding off Competitive MonoCultural Death,
as dipolar co-arising purpose,
and orthopraxis of synergetic love
as Win-Win ReGenerations for all Earth Tribes.
If we don't get that this Left-brain deductive blindness
earns us only our Right karma and grace
to try to live with climatic dismay,
struggling against our own discontinuous
and internally combusting/fusing/confusing
view of All Natural Life Matters
to a Health Optimizing Regeneratively Positive
Future ReGenerative Hope and Faith!
If we cannot stand in ecojustice solidarity
with all RNA's co-informing future ego-risks
for cooperatively optimizing Continuous Quality Improvement
Standards for POLYCULTURAL HEALTH OUTCOMES,
then we condemn ourselves to living with human species' consequences,
continuing this evolving pilgrimage
toward our own internal "cognitive dissonance" voices,
starting to squeal and screech
our unorthodox ways into our overly Left-brain dominantly
that ProGenitor God you worship
is RNA's regenerative spacetime 4-dimensional
of form with function!"
Dissing RNA's Life Tribal dignity and rights,
commonly held by all Earth's eco-spaces and places
is like dissing God
or dissing the importance
of this yet not fully born,
embryo of hope in our own future's biological life.
Embryonic biosystems cannot yet speak
with the same mature life-evolving language
as might an aging terrorist,
should one ever live that long,
living outside and beyond terror of death,
explaining why this monster
could not invest in his own positive regenerativity.
Might it be he simply did not evolve sufficient experience
of our Golden Rule applied to him,
gifting him as Me's reverse corollary suggests,
gifting Me as his Earth has love-therapized/endeadened-pathologized him,
as a sleep deprived ego-entity
surrounded by others of similar demised
incarnation for Earth's own purposes,
as our EcoSoul's Advent
of Healthy/Empty ReGenerativity.
is not a substitute for exegetical information
it is an eisegetical subset of deductively-confluent information
that is Right brain temporally inductive
as N(NP)/P = YinYin/Yang = Win-Win/Lose-Lose
regenerative balance and proportion and theory
and rhythm frequency
co-arising functional prime relationship
tiered binomially Right
When discontinuous enculturing NP functions
become more climatic,
evolve from chronic dissonance
toward revolutionary consonance
"Please, NOT more NP!" = N(NP) double-negative irrationality,
whether Interior economic
or Exterior political,
then we are Tipping
toward climatic transition
toward a new cooperative Business As Usual
emerging positive form and functions, healthy,
toward respect for all ReGenerative Life,
political and economic systems
and eco-logical LifeSystems,
co-arise Respect and Dignity for Death
of all Life already lost
to AnthroCentric Despair
about the only life that matters
in this embryonic Advent seed,
evolving Love without,
as Life within.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |
Yoga in Poem A Novel Approach Step 6
Brahmari Pranayama or Humming Bee Breath
IMP. NOTE: Temporarily I am stopping new episodes
of Yoga in Poem due to personal reasons and will try
to restart Yoga in Poem at a later date…
How to do Brahmari Humming Bee Pranayama
Sit in Sukhasana (Step 1) or in Padmasana in the morning hours, if you have achieved easiness to sit in Padmasana or else sit in Sukhasana. It is important that while performing Brahmari your stomach should be empty and bowls clear. Sit erect while practicing Brahmari in a neat and clean, quiet and calm place preferably an open place.
Raise your both arms and bring your all four fingers as a screen on your eyes. Now close your ears by the tips of your thumbs in such a way that your index fingers are touching your eyebrows and the middle finger the inner corner of your both eyes and other two fingers rests on the slopes of your nose and face joints gradually.
Take a deep breath and fill your lungs with the fresh air and then exhale slowly from both the nostrils while creating a humming sound. At the time of doing this do not open your ears and keep pressing it gently so that your humming sound gets more clear and it create vibrations in your mouth, throat, ears, eyes and even other parts of your body ( this stage would come when you practice this exercise regularly )
Try to creat the humming sound continuously as loud and clear as possible for you.
IN PRAISE OF BRAHMARI PRANAYAMA
We all know and accepts
The miracles of Sound
On everything which
We live, we love, and we work
We play and we laugh
With one or the other kind of sounds
We become harsh or soft
Even we weep and sometimes
We hate with some or the other kind of sounds only
These are all the effects of
Which make us
What we are and what
We become as a man or woman in life
Kind hatred or benevolent
A lover or a hater
A teacher or a Poet, a writer or an artist or a Musician
A leader or a preacher
A dictator or a Don.
When sound comes
From a serene source
It binds the hearts
And we began to love and adore
That sound and even that source
And keep it as a source of energy and joy.
But when it comes
A biased mind and selfish source and
Tries to destroy our peace
And began to dictate us
We feel fed-up
To bear that sound
And then we try
To get rid of that source or sound.
Brahmari or the humming Sound
Is one such elegant self-music
Which opens our heart and mind
With its vibrations
To fill life in those dead or sluggish
Nerves and spine
The Melody not only
In your voice but also in your heart and mind.
Restore your love and even your confidence
Bringing your beloved more close to you
And you to your beloved
Becomes a soft target of differences
Age effected unnoticed deeds and actions.
Brahmari gives you the boon of
Music and melody
Even when age has taken you
On the withering heights of life
You often find yourself standing alone
Looking for someone to
Restore your energy and mind.
The miracles of
Humming bee sounds
Brings an instant coolness
To your otherwise
Anguished mind and heart
Which began to enjoy
The colors and moods
Of Love and Life
A peaceful mind
Is the dwelling place of heavenly gestures
And even of God.
The regular practice of
Balances your hormonal secretions
Invigorating the thyroid gland
And thus increasing your metabolism.
Even Brahmari balances
Your blood sugar and helps
In our body and
It completely removes the causes which
Leads to the curse of human body
By giving you the joys and comforts of
Relaxation which ultimately
Soothes your Heart to pump more actively
The fresh flow of blood
To your nerves and mind
Thus making your pressures
To work happily
Without crossing the limits
Unless you have done some extreme wrongs.
It’s a boon for those
Who suffers from Diabetes and heart problems
And a real gift of God
For those who are in pregnancy
As its wonderful effects on
Human nervous system
Effects the pituitary gland
To balance the growth and control
Of hormones in our body
Thus the practice of this wonderful
Pave way for easy and trouble free
Child birth or delivery.
I often ponder
What a treasure of blessings
Yoga has given to the world and
In these simple and wonderful
To make every human being
More befitting and joyous
To enjoy the blessings of Nature
Thus elevating the human body to absorb
The Beams of the Light and Love of God.
Kanpur 4th Aug. 2013
Duration: Not more than 3 to 5 times in a day in the beginning. Maximum 10 to 12 times only in a day without any force beathing or straining yourself.
01. Never perform this Prayanama while you are lying down
02. If you are having any ear infection do not perform Brahmati till your ears get rid of all infections.
03. Do not hold your breath while doing Brahmari and Heart problem persons should do it under a trained instructor only.
04. Do not perform it when you are not empty stomach and try to perform it preferably in the morning/evening hours only.
05. If for any reasons you do not feel comfortable stop it and take few normal deep breaths
IMP. NOTE: Temporarily I am stopping new episodes of Yoga in Poem due to personal reasons and will try to restart
Yoga in Poem at a later date…
Brahmari Pranayama is a boon for human being
brought mainly in the lime light of the world
by Swami Ram Deoji about 20 years back.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Broken Wings | Details |
I want to tell you the story of my life. I was born in a barn at dawn. There were
eight of us but I was the only one with spots. I was a calico cat. Soon people came
to look at us and I was the first to be adopted. I came to live with an old lady in the
city. It was a heritage building made into apartments, it was warm and cozy. There
were many window ledges for me to look out and my old lady was very sweet. She
gave me a bowl of milk every single day and she gave me lots of treats. Soon I grew
into a very fat cat. The years passed quickly and we became best of friends. Talking
and watching television and going for naps. One day we went for our afternoon nap,
the day passed, the evening passed and the night passed. They found me beside
her. She had gone to heaven.
There was so much commotion that I ran away and went into the back of the
bedroom closet. I stayed there a long, long time until I was being dragged out by
my tail, I screeched and tried to scratch but I was put in a box. It was dark and I
was so afraid. Time went by, tick, tick. Then a girl was peaking into the box at me.
Hello pretty girl, she said. I heard people talking and they were telling her that if
they could not find a home for me that I would be put to sleep. Hold on I wanted
to say, I don't need any help sleeping. The girl had tears rolling down her cheeks.
She had a sweet way and lifted me out of the box. Oh my, she said, you are a big
girl. I was not a girl really, I was by this time an old cat, 14 years old in cat years.
We sat on the sofa and I was being petted gently, I liked that, so I purred. Then,
the girl said, I'll take her and that is when she became My Girl.
My Girl lived in the same heritage building and her apartment was just down
the hall. It was sunny and bright and had many windows also. I soon realized that
I was not the only cat here. I was introduced to Violet Patches, also a calico cat,
years older than me. And I was told that I had a new name, it was Pearl Smudges.
Don't laugh because it could have been Chocolate Peanut Butter Parfait! At first,
I did not like Violet Patches but in no time we were friends. She was a very feisty
cat, leaping and running all over the place. I was amazed how high she could jump.
I could not jump because I was fat.
At feeding time, a tablespoon of meat was put in my bowl and I gobbled it up.
In a moment it was gone. I gave My Girl the look, you know the look but she only
laughed. I went to check the bowl several times. Not until lunch, she said to me.
Then we played, oh it was lovely, there were balls and fuzzy mice and this dangling
thing that I loved. I knew I could hold onto it but it kept getting away. Violet
Patches kept stealing the toys and I wanted to chase her, but I was getting tired
So I went for a nap on the bed where My Girl had put a cozy blanket for me. I soon
fell asleep and I had dreams of the barn where I was born, I was kneading my
blanket and drooling. I looked around but I was alone. The sun was shining in
and I stayed there all day forgetting about food. Did I tell you I have no teeth.
We settled into a happy family and the years passed. I liked the summer when
My Girl would take us out in her small garden and we would sit in the sun. She had
two chairs in the beginning but had to go get another for herself. She let us sniff
the flowers and roll on her patch of green grass but she never took her eyes off us.
She always kept us safe, she even put up a fence so Violet Patches could not run out.
I would never run away, I was too happy to do that. We liked to sit on the window
ledges and watch the birds and squirrels, the trees, the rain and the world passing.
In the winter we tried to catch the snowflakes that hit the window. It was a nice
life. I loved My Girl and Violet Patches so much, but things changed.
Violet Patches got sick, real sick, she cried most of the time. My Girl was taking
her to the doctor all the time and each time came home with a new medicine to try.
Oh, how Violet Patches hated that medicine, she would run and hide. Often I wanted
to stop My Girl but did not know how. Then, one morning My Girl got the cat
carrier out, she put Violet Patches inside and left. When she came back the carrier
was empty and My Girl was weeping and weeping. I knew then that my friend was
gone. I wrapped myself in my blanket and stayed there for three days. I did not
eat or drink. I heard My Girl talking and she was saying that maybe she was going
to lose another cat. That day she came and sat on the bed beside me. She said,
Pearl Smudges I need to talk to you. You need to stop this, you need to come off
this bed and eat something, so come on, come on. She left the room. I thought
about that for a moment then decided that My Girl needed me.
It has been several weeks now since that sad day and we have settled into a
routine, we get up and have breakfast. I have discovered that I like tea. My Girl
caught me with my tongue in her cup so she now gives me a saucer of tea. I have
lost weight and eat good food but not junk. We play a lot with all my toys. When
My Girl leaves for work I go back to my blanket, the sun comes shining in and I roll
and roll, it is so lovely. Slowly, I am coming to terms with the loss of my cat friend
and I am determined to be the best cat in the world for My Girl who saved me from
being put to sleep, forever. I am not sure how much time I have left, myself, for I
am a very, very old girl.
April 16, 2015
Entered in, Million Dollar Poem Contest, sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
J. W. Earnings | Details |
I’m broke without your love to repair me…
My young heart breaks into two and you push on the brakes…
Three strikez…you’re owt…. Get lost….that is my only plea
Our lives were at stake and we were taking way tooooo many risks…for my cat’s 9 sakes
We were 1…whatever happened to that?
Who release the rat? Was that you, cat?
We are 2…what’s wrong with you?
Why did you lose your other shoe?
There it goes again…. ………
Let the pain I inflict upon you
Internalize for a second or two
You filled my cup half empty…
You ran me over by words of deception
Why did I fall in love so easily?
How come I fall victim to you?
Flames of uncertainty overwhelm my heart…
This is only the inception
Get up from the ground, you sheepish animal
Try your best to lift your head above the surface
Dead carcasses of negativity surround you now…
Your only hope is to grab the rope of hope,
But first let me grab it for you…
*we’re made as one…body….* said the voice in my head … …. …….. ……..
You need to rest on my shoulders for the meantime
Shocked out of the bloo…. Left without a clue
Don’t touch me…don’t lust over me…
I can see dirty secrets in your eyes of envious glee…
You knocked me out by your avalanching grace
Thought of you, drowning in the waters of woe…
You touched my heart in many ways…
You blew things into proportion…but it was “one of dose dayz”
You don’t even get the clues that I show you right in your face
I reveal to you my heart’s passion
You take over me…you haunt me…
I step forward and you step backward…
Breathe into me…let me borrow your eyes…
Let me view the world in your eyes…
I want to know something…
I’m curious of what lies behind your sea-whirling eyes
Love me…DO please me…
the abyss is kissing me…
HATE ME…don’t COMFORT ME…
the light is fading out…
i need u
i want u
s p a y s e d o w t a l l o v e d e h s u h h d d i n
mY LiFe IS fUlL oF errors…it ees a mezzzzzz
*IT’S TIIIIIME TO CLEAN UP YOUR ACT…………* said the voice in my head
I want to be feeling your heartbeat against my chest
I see the world beneath my feats…I’m above all…
Ill-um-i-nate me with syllabic pleajsher
My heart is skipping out on beats…I’m missing out and abandoned like an orphan, relying on a weeping widow…she bit me with denial…I was a flaw from the start….unfreeze this heart of mine…I’m as joyous as a swine, but as insidious as a serpent…but I’m feeeeeeeelin’ fiiiiiine…..ssssssssshhhh! Don’t tell nobody…d o n o t tell ahhhh sssssssssingle ssssssoul…don’t ma-a-a-ake a sound….you pushed me down to the ground s= s= embarrassed…I’m ready for anything right now…I’m lost, wearing an upside down frown and feel me…the pain that beats me and shreds me like paper….useless paper…I’m shattering like glass…after the kid’s ball hits through it…he’s in awe and he runs away…he hides the evidence of his foolish throwing skillz – this price is blooming bigger like a rose in the paws of the beast…you ssssspiral out of shhhhhight…I waited for you…alone….but I’m not on my own……….I’m not made as one – I’m two again…you inflict pain upon my tortured, tear-jerking soul…your veins become serpentine
To my own…we share each other’s blood
You WILL feel my pain, bud
the pressure of your gravity pulled me down callously
Distracts scar me…in a lightyear moment
Caught in a sugar-coated bliss of a dream
GrAzE iN YOUR OWN MAZE
There’s No Medication To Heal This Hart-ake…
I ake…I crave cake…I bake in the oven…feelin’ like a flake…
GIMMEEEEE A CHANCE…
GIMMEEEEE A TRY
I stand strong…brain damaged by your words of calculus-complicated definitions
I fell harder…dig in my mind…
((((( . ))))) push me in the margins why don’t you? I’m that dot in the middle of the brackets
I want something more than what life gives me right now
I fought…I fought
But, I’m not satisfied…
I’m loathed by many…
Maybe that’s what I feel like at times – LOATHED BY ALL
I’m unique…I’m an angry guy…
I wish I wouldn’t act like a fly…
I’m entitled to your love…
I can’t fly away like a happy-go-lucky dove
Death ove you stix to me like a leach in my mind…………
I need not man’s wizzdumb…no, not right now….
I need God’s KINGDOM and wisdom
God’s Kingdom + His wisdom = peace on Earth
It’s not dat complicated…
Do me a favor and indulge yourselves in the delicacies of sin
Listen listen listen not to the lies…listen listen listen to the heart that beats from deep within
My heart is sinking……
Patience is the key to living life to the fullest
Acceptance is the key to freedom … just try your best to pass this diff-eh-colt test
I deserve you and your gifts
Envying your talents…that’s juzz bramazing…
: ( sad to the core,
but I don’t want to sadden you anymore
This revealed my crazyyyy side…
This darkness submitted to me and said its vows like a mesmerizing, yet spellbindingly evil bride…
I’m under your shpell……..
Change your mind….
Tear me apart and crawl inside of my cranium of titaniumb bliss….
Hardening by the minute…I crawl back into my comfort shell
Bring me to life and undo these lies in my head….
I’ve overheard you saying: “It’s hard for me to figure you out”
Dreams of demented, dangerous desire enrapture me…
Don’t choke me with your polluted nature of twisted reverie
Have you changed your mind about me?
How do I look in the eyes of the thief?
Suck it up…I put my shoes on and I cut off the laces…I know – I’m doing this for stupid reasons, but I’m still the boy that’s bold
Thhhose laces remind me of you and I, separated forever in reality…cruel departure embraced us…we were the clouds, growing cold…
Your hugs don’t feel the same anymore, you see?
Here’s a heart/|\kerchief to wipe away your grief… … …
Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Reshad Yahyaie | Details |
Once there was a girl with a tough personality. She was considered to be a friendly and talkative. She was extremely tough regardless of love and crashes. She had wishes and dreams but was never sure when it’s gone come true. She was hard working always to satisfy her family and be a great daughter. She was tough about love but at the same time she knew a special and incomparable person will come to her life, who will be very different than others. When and where she will meet him, she never thought about it because she believed that we shouldn’t look for love, the reason was that love comes itself. However let’s see how and where she finds that special person.
One night after working so hard of her project she was bored.
“Oh God I am so bored let’s see if my friends are online I will talk to them but at the same time gone download a song” she got online but unfortunately non of her friends were online so she thought to herself why don’t I make a new friend she requested a random boy who she never knew before. After a week passed and that boy accepted her request but they never got the chance to talk to each other.
“Oh this boy looks so cute but why can’t I talk to him” although she wasn’t trusting any boys but her heart would tell her that this boy seems to be a good boy. So she used to leave an offline massages for him in order to contact each other and be friends. One day they both were online so their conversation started.
Boy… how are u and how did u added me
Girl… I’m fine thanks well I was bored last week so I randomly added u.
They started questioning each other and she asked him have you got a brother or a sister he answered I have 5 sister but no bro. She reply but I have 2 sis and no brother. The time of Salah came and she had to pray and she asked if she can leave the conversation and pray but he was surprised that she prays. After she did her prayers she asked him why were you surprised when I said its time for me to pray? He reply afghans who live in foreigner most of them are not religious.
Weeks passed and one day she was so excited.
Girl… You know what
Girl… I have a new baby sister
They kept contacting each other even though he had exams on that time but he would still take out some time for her. At the same time he would study for exams.
Few month later they became best friends and one day he told her that he like her but she didn’t understand what does he mean by like. She called her best friend and told her he told her that he likes her but she doesn’t know why he said this because he loves her or just a simple like.
Hey dude … he told me he likes me but I don’t know what he means by that.
My Friend… ha ha stupid liking is the first step of love I think he loves u.
She also liked him but she needed time to know him more. He was so innocent and respectful boy she had ever meet. They became so closer and their friendship turned to love after a passing of time. She didn’t know much about his family and background but however she loved him and thought he is a right person for her life partner.
For every relationship to became stronger and trust worthy it needs time. Relationships are like building a house. Some relationship ends fast because it was build quick and the foundation was not strong enough but some relationships last forever the reason is that the foundation which that relationship was build was strong. The foundation of every relationship is trust, promises, honesty, truthfulness, modesty, respect and most important thing is a true love. Be the kind of person you would like to be with. Some people come into our lives, make footprints on our hearts and we are never the same. People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.
She always wanted someone who is respectful and modest towards girls. Someone who is honest but she never saw any boy with those qualities in him, she only saw those qualities in him. Even though she faced so much hardships, impenetrability and tests in life however she knew that when Allah tests you, it is never to destroy you, it’s to teach us something in life that we do not know. When he removes something in your possession it is only to empty your hands, for an even greater gift. She learned so much from those test and tried hard to become better Muslim.
Now they know each other and they love each other a lot. She has a full trust on him more than herself. Even though they sometimes have argument for some Issues but their love is strong enough and they are a smart people to find the solutions. No matter what we face and how we act towards it but it shouldn’t affect a person’s trust and love in relationship because it’s so hard to make one and takes a second to destroy it. This was a good story. It’s sad that it takes a long time for people to understand values and life. We as people are so consumed with our own lifestyles and duties we have made for ourselves.
I miss him more then he could ever know, I often ask Allah why did he have to go? I fell in love and he means so much to me, if he could look into my heart then he could see. I found something so special and it is for real, being without my love is so hard to deal. I'll be here waiting until I can be with you again, because not only are you the love of my life you are also my friend.
I just want to tell you,
I think of you every moment of the day.
And how much I love you,
Words could never even say....
I just want to tell you,
I love you with all my heart.
I wish for us to be together,
Never shall we be apart.
Copyright © Reshad Yahyaie | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |
PASSION OF CONVENTION
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