Long poem by
Ed Ebbs | Details |
This is a draft, my computer is being weird, so I put this here...
There was a time as a chid to survive the streets of Los Angeles without bruises, cuts and possibly your life, you had to size up those approaching by carefully watching each and every move they made; are you a target.
When a goup of older kids were approaching, I remember watching to see if they would take notice of me as I cross over the other side of the street. Sigh, if they crossed over to the other side matching my movements. I'm in trouble. I remember feeling their penetrating eyes and everything inside of me was screaming. Remembering there was a storm sewer at the corner of the street I just passed a few moments ago, and without hesitation I ran for my life. Sliding into the street corner between the sidewalk above and the street below…a few more pounds and I would have been stuck. This storm sewer basin is a large concrete box with a large concrete pipe in the corner that goes somewhere. The gang members are all around outside of preventing any escape swinging their chains, sticks and blades. They're acting like a pack of dogs yelping and hollering as their prey is trapped in a corner. They are working on the manhole cover above with a crowbar which would give them access to me below. Fear is now getting the best of me so without much thought I quickly entered the large drain pipe and went deeper into a abyss. This drain pipe connects to a tunnel large enough for a car to pass through.
They must have opened that manhole because I hear their voices, they’re following me so I decide to run down the tunnel into the darkness so they would not see me and then stop to listen. I hear no footsteps, but I ran so far I cannot see a thing, there is no light, just nothingness. I start to walk and I bump into a wall. I can’t go back the way I came because the fate that would await me going that direction, but there is nothingness is all around me so I am not sure what direction that would be. I remember running down the left side of the tunnel before stopping to listen. When I start to walk again and I run into a wall, so that must be the right side, I think? I decide to continue, and being right handed I'm more comfortable on the left side so I turn and walk towards the left side to have something to touch. It seems like an eternity until I finally reach a wall. This wall will become my security from the nothingness...I can’t see my hands or feet, or even hear a sound. There is no frame of reference, only the wall and the solid ground under my feet. Thank God this was a time before those vampire movies or Freddy Krueger; I have only the Alfred Hichcook movies to pull fears from. Continuing through this nothingness a beam of light begins to appear from above. It’s amazing how much light is coming from this little tiny whole in that manhole cover—it lights up the whole area. I stand there amazed and I take a deep breath in this light, it has been a long journey to this point. Standing there I notice a ladder leading up to a possible escape. Listening carefully before pushing up on the cover, I push and push...I'm not strong enough. Many of the manhole covers are spot welded by the public works department to prevent an open manhole in the middle of a street. I climb down from the ladder and pause for a few moments in the light absorbing what I could before continuing on; this tunnel must lead somewhere, right? Another beam of light, another welded manhole cover. The fear of the gang has long past, my only thoughts now are those of being lost and I am starting to feel hopeless. I remember a verse I was taught about falling down, the faithful fall down seven times, but they get up again..at least that is how I remember it. They're words from a Sunday school teacher. I was terrible at remembering scriptures to get those stickers, but I remember what the verses meant. The nothingness continues as I walk, and it has been a long time since the last little beam of light and I have found the meaning of hopelessness. The floor below is beginning to get damp, ick, what am I walking in? I can’t see a thing still and I'm too afraid to stop touching the wall or even to stoop down--the wall is my security. My mind is pretty numb right now, my only thoughts are dragging my hand on the wall wall and walking. The dampness becomes wet, and from wet to splashing. A moment almost overcomes me fear, I pause to sense if the water is moving; am I going the wrong way and about to get swallowed up by a wall of water. The water seems to be static and the nothingness yields no sounds, so I continue. Finally, salvation from a beam of light shining from above reveals little fish in the water below. I'm headed to the ocean, I'm sure, confidence starts to be renewed. The movie Jaws was years away so there are no fears. The nothingness continues until again there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The wall is no longer my security, I follow the light. The water is at my knees as I continue towards the light. I can smell the ocean and feel a breeze. I can see the ocean and the sand. Sigh, there is a bar screen blocking my exit—I'm feeling defeated, their is no way I can every go back. Looking closely at this bar screen in the way of my freedom, one corner has been pulled away, it’s bent outward under the high tide. There are no other choices really, so I take a deep breath and down I go. My shirt snags on something as I start to reach around to the other side and pull. I struggle, my shirt tears and I am free. Freedom never felt so good. I look around at the beach, it’s rather windy, only a few people walking here and there, but it’s sunny! I turn in a circle to get my bearings, it’s sure great to be alive and free. Months later they’re welding bars over these points of escape. I am heavier now, and I would not fit anyway, but I ponder about my escape, what about others. I feel sad for them..
Long poem by
Vic Pister | Details |
When my life has finally left me and my last breath has been shed
And the silver cord is broken and my bodies firmly dead
I shall hover near the body, download the scenes of this past life
Noting all minutest details rolling backwards past my eyes
I’ll store these scenes ‘til later when I can take the time to learn
What the lessons have to teach me and help me to discern
How I treated other people, made them happy, made them sad
Examine all my actions, both the good and the bad
Three days later I’ll lose interest as my focus moves away
From the world that I just left behind, there is no need to stay
For a lifetime in the life of man to God is just a day
And my soul as God on the wheel of life must move along its way
I’ll take the download with me as I move into first heaven
It’s the first stage in the afterlife, in number there are seven
Here I’ll see and feel the good things that to others I have brought
And revel in the feelings of the kindness that I wrought
I will store these in my seed atom so in future lives I’ll know
They’re the things that I must multiply for my souls’ conscience to grow
For the conscience is the souls’ voice that guides you day by day
That still small voice that warns you in what you do and say
When that’s done my view will shift then to the things that I did bad
To the hurt I did to people that left them feeling sad
I will feel their pain intensely, ten times worse when in this field
For I’ll be purely spirit now with no flesh for a shield
These painful lessons will imprint upon my seed atom as well
In some religions we are told our soul’s in everlasting hell
In the stages of the afterlife, this is your punishment in heaven
This is the third and the most painful of the total seven
The Grim Reaper now has visited with his scythe so I will know
Through natures Law of Consequence I will reap what I did sow
He has shown me all my misdeeds and caused me many tears
And this purgatorial experience may last for twenty years
When my suffering soul recovers and the pain has died away
And I’ve incorporated the lessons to never act this way
In future lives I’ll be a better man from these lessons I have learned
One step closer to perfection that my growing soul has earned
Now I can sleep, Oh peaceful sleep, a state of heavenly rest
I’ll dream the dreams I love in life, of things I love the best
All desires that my soul has yearned, not a thing I can’t create
In the Great Silence of the spirit world to help me concentrate
The colors are much brighter, the scent of flowers more sublime
The senses are much sharper, there is no sense of time
I will see all other people as pure souls just like me
And I’ll know we’re all evolving to the bliss of eternity
I will hear the mystic music of the planets as they pass
Like a thousand singing angels, heavenly peace has come at last
Every planet sings its own song, we’ve grown deaf to this below
But in this super consciousness we’re in the eternal flow
I’ll be with my friends and family and others whom I love
The ones who left before me and currently live above
There they wait with arms wide open and rejoice when I arrive
In the fourth stage where I now live, it’s utter joy to be alive
I’ve incorporated my lessons, I now recall my goal
And my mind begins to focus on further growth of my soul
I must make further preparations and my vision starts to clear
I feel I must keep moving forward for all my works done here
I now have gone through five and six, there is just one more
In years it’s been from birth to birth one hundred forty four
The time has come to move along and leave this place called heaven
Prepare for life in the physical world, I move to number seven
My soul has gathered the material, I now know what I must do
To make some more improvements in the places I need to
I must take another body, I must live another life
To grow and liquidate more karma though it means more pain and strife
I build an archetype of the body that in future I will form
When embodiment is offered, and I can be reborn
I will see the opportunities and be able to discern
The ideal embodiment for me when the right egg meets the sperm
I will hover near the fetus, influencing where I can
And I’ll have the power to make it be a woman or a man
I will help to build the body to suit the lessons I must learn
To overcome more issues so more advancement I can earn
When baby takes its first breath and my soul is taken in
With the imprint of my seed atoms that it has brought within
Now the babys’ atoms resonate to my seeds vibration rate
Making it the perfect body for my soul to habituate
The new body will be my new home, I will live a life anew
Gain experience, learn more lessons, through the things that I will do
I’ll apply the added knowledge that I learned in this past life
More evolved than in the last one, and cause me less pain and strife
This will happen just as often as required by the soul
As it pushes ever onward, pushing ever t’ward its goal
Of complete re-integration back from whence it came
To the universal soul of life no matter what its name
Nature is not personal, it does not seek revenge
If we mess it up we have the chance to do it all again
We arrived here by this process, nothing’s changed it’s still the same
But our souls have evolved immensely since we stepped into the game
We started out as fallen angels with no experience on this plane
We’ve grown to this by coming back again and again
Though we cannot remember for each conscious mind has died
The feelings in the soul remained in our subconscious mind
And so this is the story of the cycle of the soul
As it struggles through evolution on its way toward the goal
It’s this way for all unfailing, from natures law there’s no relief
All living things go through it, no matter their belief
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
What I have for you today is not so much about re-treading an outdated fuel-based system--
little bit like reshuffling the chairs to fix the decay
of a segregated Country Club.
No, this is addressed to economic policy re-tirers.
Keep the tire and the chairs,
but let's get the tread of our personal and public economies into EcoTherapeutic shape.
Economic policy administrators are everybody,
but some of us have more responsibility for larger populations and larger wealth deposits than oneself,
and one's household,
and one's own capacity to invest one's own funds
Based on my own miserable failure in these areas,
my best advise for public policy administrators is to do just the opposite of what I have done.
do not invest your capital or equity in storage silos
where your value will not have a chance to help fertilize local development--
and it doesn't get more local than a little Family Care,
up to the point when Family Care becomes beyond what we can all do with and for others.
Because, for instance, that would be breaking the Golden Rule.
"Do to others as to self" implies do not do with others--
of any species, during any time, or era, or generation--
what they have not done with you.
And, this Golden Rule is economic gold standard.
I am here to tell you that this (0)-Sum Cooperative Value Network is optimally balanced
for inclusive prosperity and equity.
Economic Zeroism derives from Buckminster Fuller's fairly famous "Trimtab Conjecture."
Fuller lived as a Unitarian--
investing 100% in more than his fair share of Universal Intelligence.
But, he wrote like a systematic Taoist:
Trim Tab (wu wei) optimized economic flow is deeply nutritious, resonant, resilient--
and our competitive cultural and corporate alternative is toxic backwash.
Cash on hand is a Trimtab opportunity for risk,
for investing in our shared Universally Intelligent Abundance.
Investing in mindful and grateful cooperation with colleagues
(but not authorities or "experts"--
these were blasphemy to Fuller's sense of intellectual integrity),
people who intend a community that feels like home--
nurturing, and caring, and cooperative,
where adults play nice,
and all the kids are graceful--
and not so blind.
The relationship between humans and their places
is the story line of historical-cultural development.
This cultural teleological view of history might, post-Bucky,
bear the label ectosymbiotic evolution,
a "positive" evolutionary trend
(think "Positive Psychology" and "progress").
Basically, regenerative theory is a torus-formative Hilbert Space,
filled with a positive teleological conjecture about our reason for being
as a species.
Combining Julian Jaynes' endosymbiotic evolutionary theory
of how the bicameral LeftDominant-RightIntuitive hemispheres developed
the capacity for self-consciousness and awareness of "not-self" as Other,
with Fuller's binomial metric information development,
and Gregori Perelman's (et. al.) (0)-soul Universal Group Theorem,
I find merit in the conjecture that:
most equitably and peacefully inclusive,
reason for investing
in the hypothesis that we are all in Earth gratefully and mindfully together, defines,refines, and minimizes
any crusty segregating cultural remnants to the contrary.
So, look around, fellow Bridge-Builders,
philanthropists for the future of everything,
what seems to be thriving, growing, resilient,
here for the long-term?
Perhaps the urgency of our Transition Generation's position becomes clear
when we suddenly realize that human biosystems,
as we know and love them,
are an endangered species.
Thich Nhat Hanh says of Buddhism,
"knowledge is regarded as an obstacle to understanding,
like a block of ice that obstructs water from flowing....
water can flow, it can penetrate anything." (pp. 48-9, Being Peace, 1987). Considering the possibility that any somewhat sane and mature adult
knows enough to perform more sustainably,
as we plan our economies and investments,
what is it that we fail to understand?
If our economic, ecological, and social pathologies
are a misunderstanding of information
already profoundly and democratically accessible,
what is at the root of our anomalous cultural consciousness?
Our internal nutrients and economies flow with richest understanding
when this balance is achieved between left and right,
exterior and interior,
ecological polycultures and economic value,
Universal Intelligence and Polanyi's Personal Knowledge,
cooperation and active hope of contributing,
teaching, helping, mentoring, facilitating;
between desire and gift,
mindfulness and gratitude,
justice and actively nurturing peace,
Yang and Yin.
Invest in cooperative vocations,
and learning plans.
Avoid competitive, survival-limited teleological assumptions,
and corporate structures.
Create cultural and ecological and economic music
and dancing in revolving circles with those investments;
not marching in competitive,
self-commodifying lose-lose squares.
Cultural and economic EcoTherapy derive from consciousness
of the Laws of Thermodynamics, of course,
but, the Prime Root Law of Thermodynamics
is the Law of Eternal Moment Thermodynamic Balance;
what goes out,
must come back in,
and out again,
regenerating frequencies of oscillating formed information (P)
and reverse-functional Yin (NP) exformation,
reiteratively bowing to torus-graced "Namaste."
Long poem by
Brian Johnston | Details |
(A both serious and fanciful encounter with God)
1. There are so many questions that I have for God,
Oh my love, don't you feel the same way?
While it's true that we may just have met in this poem
You must know that I care what you say.
Like who made the Creator and then who made Him?
To infinity this clearly goes.
But a 'whole universe' that 'exists on its own? '
It's orgasmic! And that curls my toes.
It seems possible God could create this strange thing
Which some atheists call 'the big bang, '
Which puts God the creator at source once again
'Self-creation' becomes boomerang.
In the end science usually makes simple right
And in this case that doesn't seem odd
For it's clear that although God explains 'the big bang, '
'The big bang' just can't explain God.
2. Now some people think that for the Church to survive
That the Bible must 'un-airant' be
Though that leaves many liberals gasping for air
And I certainly mean to include me.
Didn't Christ turn established Church square on its head
And accuse experts of speaking trash
Their self-aggrandizements the flailings of the dead,
Their pronouncements the value of ash?
So where in the Bible does it claim to be true
That each man's take on it is Gospel?
The foolishness of this thought clearly would make the
Deity of mere men possible.
And Christ spoke in parables, while I am on it,
While they may contain truth, are they true?
Shifting sand's the ground literalists stand on,
I don't want God's Church built there, do you?
3. I suspect overall that our God is too small
Modeled after folks tied down with chain,
A God that's too small is really no God at all
And our saying we know Him just vain.
Today's Kingdom of Grace has become one of fear
As we try to trap God with His Word,
Surely our doing battle with Father or Son
Trying to save ourselves is absurd.
So what does it mean to believe in Christ Jesus?
And how can I be cleansed in Christ's flame
I think it is clear you should be different from Satan
And he certainly knows Jesus' name.
In fact one could divine Satan knows Christ is real
A fact Satan will take to his grave.
But Satan's not willing to walk in Christ's footsteps
And that's whom God chooses to save.
4. Surely there's nothing wrong with our questioning God
For God commands us, 'Forbid them not, '
'Suffer the little children to come unto me .'
Does that sound like God's wrath is our lot?
It is true of course, we know that God gets angry
But His essence still always is Grace.
It is not who you are, it is just what you do
That can make Him get into your face.
With Karen Armstrong now alive on the scene
It is clear that God's heart is still showing
When she says 'Doubt is not the opposite of faith...
Certainty is! ' A huge debt to God I am owing.
For certainty is certainly not my standard
And sometimes that does give me pause.
But the Grace that I feel in God's presence
Is what brings me to peace with His laws.
5. So now that we've managed to clear up some big stuff
Let's tackle some things that are fuzzy
Like Jesus would frequently call God his 'father'
But God could not have a thing, does He?
I'm sure that some ladies will not be too happy
To hear that God's not one of their clan
Remember the Bible says God's church is His bride,
Not much room there for doubt He's a man.
'But if that's really true He's not me, more like you,
No way could that ever be called fair.
Thanks a lot! Doesn't seem much like heaven to me
Woman still dragged around by their hair. '
'Hold on now, wait a bit: Please! let's not have a fit
Seems like men have a right to feel blue!
Even though we are all getting married to God
Recall men are to be His bride too! '
6. If science and traditional faith disagree
Then it's clear that there is something wrong
One could ignore it but both come from God
So take care if the science is strong.
Intelligent scholars of Biblical truth say
Creation is six thousand years past
But science proves this wrong over 4 billion years
In one universally huge blast.
The Bible was written two thousand years ago
For folks who knew little of science.
When you speak to a child, you know he's not adult,
And you use what we call common sense,
Not hard to accept that the Bible is dated,
Don't stew over it for heaven's sake.
This isn't a sign that our God would mislead us,
He who died for you is not a fake.
7. And now for an odd bit, just where does Science fit
With God's gift of Grace for the many?
'Seek, you shall find, knock and it be opened to you: '
As good a definition as any.
'Every good and perfect gift comes from the father.'
I am grateful to God for His Word.
And you devil's children who call God's gift evil,
For repentance I offer a bird.
Our God's revelation to man is ongoing,
With faithfulness through all the ages
The only requirement of mankind it would seem
Is willingness to turn the pages.
Not just pages of Bible but pages of stars
Which are surely God's heart written large.
Let us follow Him to where new worlds conquer fear
And our service to LOVE so discharge.
Whew! This poem is another one of those 'where did that come from' poems. I want to let go of it, YET IT KEEPS ON GROWING LIKE THE 'THE BLOB! '
So don't be surprised if I offer new stanzas.
Think I feel something else clearly perking.
I'm taking requests to so if you have a pet peeve
Just forward on to me, don't be shirking.
Love in advance,
PS: Thank you God
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time
to where she began to feel alone,
If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of clean washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.
You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughters,
I mean dolls.
Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance
is what Republicans have about Democrats.
If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about our intrinsic dignity,
immaculate integrity as a permacultured orthodox tradition,
intrinsic to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,
including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their wealth of health and extravagant disregard
for uncommodified values,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
of religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.
So, please stop leaving the bathroom
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
optimized economic growth.
Then complain when we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
our Democratic family value parents
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were of some dysfunctionally alien species
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four corners of truth,
and without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis,
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
than telling your oppositional daughter Dr. Seuss's The Lorax,
interpreting each voice as your own Lorax,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and cultural finish line,
alone in your Permaculture Designed polycultural Loraxed paradise.
When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumptions are not ecologically,
or even permaculturally,
sound, rational, integrated,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.
You can't win a P=NP,
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.
With this perhaps un-Christian,
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic political culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
and wealthy fat-cat residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of polycultural difference,
poverty and the commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,
Her capacity to regenerate fertile seeds,
turning away from sin as insanity,
to now prophecy the sins of wealth,
and competing, dissonant tipping points
monopolistic competing economic uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all nations,
including its more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of our EcoTribe,
multisystemic and polycultural Climax Community,
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)
So, yes, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic logos.
Horseshoes don't fit elephants.
Now, where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that floor.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Relationships are like farming,
if you don't plant the seed,
you'll have no crop to harvest.
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
Gambling is like farming,
if you don't play the game,
you'll have no winnings.
Economics is like farming,
if you don't play the mutual cooperative game,
you'll have no competitive winnings.
Ecologic is like farming,
if we don't play the mutual mentoring Climax Community game,
we'll have no long-term sustainable,
much less optimized systemic,
Stay aware and purposeful in your search,
for happiness is truly in the searching.
Stay awake and purposeful in our research,
ecological economies are true within this polycultural searching.
Stay awake and mindful of polypathic meaning
in your Regenerative Permaculture Designed Research,
for happiness, confluence, equity, truth, Prime Relationship Balanced Teleology
are truly within this self-optimizing SuperEco searching.
How do we sleep while part of us is gone?
Frogs and night birds,
bats and insects cry out for company
filling raucous warm luscious breeze
carrying chicken soup songs of love
not yet won,
love wanted and needed with primal longing
to belong back together
for our first really great time.
How do we sleep
while part of us is gone?
Night flight resolves revolving chatter,
fractal spinning spiral-echoes
haunting iconic timeless teachings
from potential future Right-brain memory
confluent, confident islands of prophetic sanity
boundary inspiring polycultures,
multi-open systems of optimal communication.
How do we sleep
in this racket of absent SuperEgo
missing evil hope of flight tonight?
God as the Doomed and Dooming Ground of All Being,
under Whom we hide from shamed non-redeeming character,
We thought we were economically neutral
on Goddess Moving Train of Earth,
oblivious to Her climatic millennial warnings
to ease up on the fire power,
take a break,
let's cool down,
enjoy some slower peace and more mindfully inclusive justice.
Remaining neutral in our farming cooperative relationships,
admittedly a slower moving train,
and yet it helps to confluently comprehend we are spinning
with Common balancing thermodynamic balance,
and how fast is too fast, too Yangish,
and how slow is too slow, too Yinnish,
and when we might slow down to rebalance Yang with Yin,
and how much we might slow down
emerges permaculturally predicated
as [+Yang = (-)(-)Yin] = [+PolyNomial 0-sum equivalent to (-)Not-PolyBiNomial-4-Prime Spacetime Dimensionally Balancing Vortex] Open Natural Systemic
or +1/(-)0 = space/time binary Closed MetaSystem fractal-holonic-octaved reverse-hierarchical balance,
to sustain our permacultured rich teleological neutrality on Gaia's regenerative train.
How do we wake
when part of Us is gone?
How do we awaken
our search for polycultural economic justice standards
for researching well-being sustenance,
self-optimizing regeneration with SuperEco Mindfulness Intent?
Planting regenerative seeds,
to grow redemptive pay-it-forward gift economies,
winnowing metasystemic research to optimize repurposing meaningful purpose,
EarthTribe's ecological self-redemption future day
covering love, peace, happiness, contentment, justice, information, confluence roots
with threats, opportunities, strengths, weaknesses systemically balanced compost,
learning faith and hope in suffering dissonance as cooperative redemption,
the Permaculturalist Economic Tao:
sleep and wake and absorb others, as you would have them be you NOW
we re-emerge our SuperEcoTribe's cultural therapeutic,
Natural systems are to spiritual systemic comprehension,
as Physics is to Metaphysical Universe (B. Fuller's definition),
as Yang is to Yin,
as Polynomial Information is to Double-Bound Negative Polynomial Information Balancing Trends.
Polypathic and multisystemic relationships are like therapeutic organic farming,
if you don't plant fractal-holonic DNA/RNA-encrypted seeds,
you'll not have an Optimized PermaCultural crop to harvest.
Ain't nobody here 'ceptin us Chickens
and somehow we all land in this soupy mess together.
Let's start lickin' each other's wounds.
Long poem by
Scribbler Of Verses | Details |
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
Long poem by
Sara Ajemyan | Details |
A beautifully refined and elegant solution calmly waits in the background of a nature that is serene, nurturing and wise. A self-serving rule book is not passed around, let alone created out of this quiet philosophy. I say quiet, but on the contrary the effects of such knowledge leave one screaming for joy. In no way, am I pushing these ideas on you, but I am confirming certain states that come out of these practices. Instead of a strive towards a man-created notion of power, one can truly dissect and come to a profound understanding and acceptance of their inner power. This power is vastly different than the mainstream definition of today. Unlike questionable religions that define power through the manipulation of sensory, the creative forces that work behind this philosophy enjoy allowing people to come to their own realizations through support and encouragement. This form may sound too passive or even too good for reality, but that is the irony. The “reality” of what we perceive on a pure level is not real. What the senses perceive are the layering of the awake unconscious. This may be a strange statement, but at a closer look, it is not hard to come to terms with. This layering of reality is secondary to our essential being. When one cannot pass through the gritty film that we call life, one can get swept in the notion that this world as we know it contains all of the secrets and importance of our existence. This idea could not be further from the truth.
The sanctuary in which direct questions can easily be answered is within one’s heart. This is no mystery, however the mere connection that one makes when envisioning this concept is self-created and blocked by the mind. The memory of trusting life through the advice of the heart has long been erased by the numbing lifestyles of today. A routine that consists of a lacking in communication, respect, patience, and curiosity defines our lives. Unseen, the masses choose certain jobs to elevate their status in life. They choose certain partners to fulfill their materialistic expectations. They choose to avoid any acts of kindness, out of fear of being exposed as vulnerable. They choose to avoid asking questions, out of fear of learning something useful. Laziness can be viewed as the ultimate evil and enemy. It is the slithering snake that creeps within the majority, slowing us down from reaching any kind of progress. One may ask, “Why strive at all?” The question is less about striving and more about discovering the enthusiasm to initiate that which internally carries the treasures of the purest reality. The sacrifice here is not your friends, family or your lover. The risks of today are not to be taken lightly, for it is the refusal of the heart, the essence, the tracing of one’s true reality. The loss that we all face daily is evident in the manner and consequence of the world. Anger, wars, poverty, greed, have consumed our entire existence. Sadly, these tragic consequences have become such a strong fixture in our culture that we are indeed blind and immune to them. Therefore this catastrophic loss cannot be fixed and cleaned up from the outside world, but can only be rejuvenated internally. The personal transformation has to take place within all of us who are seeking better living conditions, and who are tired of suffering. There is one thing that must be addressed--the state of unconsciousness and a lack of self realization is the root of suffering. It is not a mere physical consequence that surrounds us. It is the very thing that continues to forget that joy exists permanently in the world. The feeling of loneliness, isolation, misunderstanding, and confusion, are only part of that temporary lens that is delicately yet firmly held by those unaware of their own power, creativity, potential, and capacity.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Let's imagine that you are,
like Buckminster Fuller,
karmically absorbed with Unitarian genes,
were there such a thing,
which of course there are not,
but perhaps something like an evolving Unitarian Universalist post-millennial teleology.
Basically, some shared sense of responsibility for,
and humility about,
our currently unraveling long-term thrival prospects,
as a globally interdependent and parasitic species.
OK, so here we are,
imagining our universe as a closed set linear life.
no ego identity evolving into some SuperEco awareness
morphine against the suffering of human mortality.
Well, maybe reincarnation and SuperEco Gaia,
but that would be an open dynamic system,
essentially negentropic and synergetic.
In either case, whether open or closed,
dynamically exchanging values within interdependent relationships,
but actually, if this is a realistic natural physical system,
then it must become diastatic in each NOW moment,
which would interdependently incarnate our universal spacetime
with equivalent "moment" values of linear,
confluence and dissonance,
because as every Unitarian knows
time flows forward and out toward our Western horizon of imagination's future,
or time flows backward, implicating back in reverse of time's solar sun,
toward Eastern horizon of memory's permaculturally historic past,
sometimes dissonantly revolutionary
and sometimes more confluently evolutionary.
Time is Prime Fractal's Linear Progenitor,
as Space is Time's informational umbilical string,
folding and unfolding in plasmatic tri-equivalently balanced space,
where c-cubed Yang-convex is born of +/(-)(-)0-sum neural,
and neur-ionically balanced,
present-NOW's Eternal Prime Relationship Moment,
which is not yet future's 50% response, or effective image,
and not yet past's 50% stimuli, or causal memory,
each double-bound outside our incarnating karmic events
unfolding in our sometimes richly confluent,
sometimes sterile and bleakly dissonant,
this (0) Core Bicameral Soul
located in the heart of each NOW,
suffering and dissonance aversive,
contentment and confluence Positive EcoTherapeutic
and Multisystemic Eco-Logical Psychology.
Here, following our Unitarian and Universal string theory,
our Left-deductive hemispheres share an Ego-Centric Teleological Original Intent,
we find our meaning through our id-entity,
through Right-inductive hemispheres,
free of language yet ruled and ordered by icons,
balance, harmony, symmetry, beauty, goodness, truth, wisdom,
SuperEco's dia-balancing Herculean blind-Samson Boddhisatva Warrior figuring
out what it might mean to become an interdependently speciated pupil,
a coincidentally conjoined Third Eye
comprehending purpose for reiteratively learning with Left-deductive
how to resolve our less than Golden Ratioed hot mess.
Unitarians reverse strings of unweaving Easter seasons
back toward our Black Hole cocoon of concave (-)Yin,
then float softly back with +Yang confidence
across Earth Day's red sky morning,
ergodically gravitating toward synergetic emergence,
polyculturing implicate orders for what was
and could be again,
but is not NOW,
and thus dawn's increasingly impatient red warning.
Synergy is to energy,
as binary information is to binomial regenerative revolution,
or double-bound appositional feedback-reiteration,
as tri-valent space is to dipolar linear time,
as Yang is to Yin,
as Positive is to Double-Negative,
meeting in this Unitarian Universalist NOW
Eternal Earth Day's Post-Millennial PermaCulturing Moment.
Long poem by
Suzette Richards | Details |
in the beginning,
first being and creator:
the shape shifting Cagn.
foolish or man of wisdom;
either helpful or tiresome.
In the shadow of a crag, overlooking the tarn, Coti gave birth to Cagn’s first creation, the eland. While she bathed in the crystal clear water, Cagn whisked the eland away and hid it – to be fed by him on wild honey. This is where the two brothers, Cogaz and Gewi, found the object of their father’s love and devotion and killed it. Cagn was distraught and ordered Coti to mix the blood of the eland with the fat of its heart in a cauldron over a fire. Cagn sprinkled this potion on the barren desert soil and a herd of eland sprang from it; which became the symbol of fertility to his clan and all people that followed.
tracking the eland,
young boy hunts with tribesmen -
running it to ground.
arrows dipped in poison;
hunter's knife slits eland’s throat.
alone in her hut
at her first menstruation:
the Eland Bull Dance –
the women become the cow;
men mimic the eland bull
Poetry form: tanka prose (not listed here on PS)
The San Religion consists of the spiritual world and the material world. The modern Bushmen of the Kalahari believe in two gods: one who lives in the east and one from the west. Like the southern Bushmen, they believe in spirits of the dead, but not as part of ancestor worship. The spirits are only vaguely identified and are thought to bring sickness and death.
Cagn (also known as /Kaggen) is the supreme god of the Bushmen of southern Africa. He is the first being and the creator of the world. He is a trickster god who can shape shift, most often into the praying mantis.
The bushmen believe that Cagn’s favourite animal is the eland, which is the most spiritual animal in the religion. The eland appears in some of the rituals: boys' first kill, girls' puberty, marriage, and the trance dance.
• A boy is taught how to track an eland and how to kill it. The boy will be considered an adult once he kills a big antelope, mainly the eland. The eland then gets skinned, and a broth is made with the fat and the collar bone.
• The ritual for the girls' puberty starts when they get their first menstruation in which she becomes isolated in her hut. The women in the tribe do what is called an Eland Bull Dance, by which they imitate the eland cows’ behaviour when mating; while the the men act as an eland bull. This ritual is to keep the girl beautiful and peaceful and also free from hunger and thirst.
• In a marriage ritual, the man gives the fat of the elands' heart to the woman's parents. Then the woman is anointed with the fat.
• In the trance dance, the shaman tries to possess eland potency because the eland is considered to be the most potent of all.
The shaman: When an eland is killed, they believe that there is a link that opens up between the cosmos. When this happens, the shaman dances and reaches a trance to enter the spirit world. Once in a trance, they are able to heal people and protect them from sickness, protect people from evil spirits, control weather, see the future, ensure good hunting, and basically look out for the well being of their group or tribe.