Best Alternatives Poems | Poetry
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by Kiser, M. L.
A Veritable Cornucopia of Alternatives
by Hamner, Trey
by Hoffman, Terry
another one of God's Alternatives
by King, Marty
by Thajudeen, Muhammad Safa
by Gibson, Faye
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The Best Alternatives Poems
He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel. All so familiar, so ordinary. Just like every other day he mused. Nothing new. Nothing special.
Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him. But in reality, he was bored. It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation. Too many days. Too much disappointment. He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first. It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.
Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade. In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with. You know the type. Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog. Kids poking their fingers through the kennel screen or banging on it. Some even making barking sounds. He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.
Walter was very picky. Set in his ways after so many years. He had had it good for a long time. An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself. No tricks. No stunts. Just long naps and daily walks. A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner. He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom. Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together. And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.
But those days were gone now. First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back. The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly. The walks became less frequent. Walter did what he could. He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too. At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.
He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye. I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.” Walter could see the tears in his eyes. He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist. It was obvious there were no alternatives. And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner. But he was going to miss him. It was not going to be easy to adjust.
But adjust he did. He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs trot past his cage with light hearts and new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations. But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound. Everyone wanted the young ones. So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.
He heard them before the saw them. ”Honey” the voice said. ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.” Walters ears perked up a little. ”Do I know them” he thought. ”They seem to know me”. I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.
“It is him” the man said. ”Walter, how you doing boy? Do you remember me?”
And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him. He used to live right across the street. He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket. With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing. It was good to see an old friend.
“What do you say hon” the man said. ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”
Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement. ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”
The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter? Would you like to go home with us?”
Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more. A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew. What was there not to like.
Soon the woman returned and the gate opened. A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention. Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off. ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought. ”Good luck and goodbye”.
As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter. There is someone I am going to take you to see. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”
Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about. And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.
Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2013
now that Chavez is dead,
the american oil companies
chomping at the bit
begin to salivate & lick their lips,
with the foam
of potent country-gutting
for while he was alive,
Venezuela was one of the only
who resisted the empire’s attempts to
penetrate it & whore it out to the
highest capitalist bidder---
with Chavez dead,
not only will the oil soon be drained from
within the borders of beautiful
but so will die the social programs that Chavez
those that had been used to combat the
extreme poverty which exists in the country,
those that the governments before Chavez did nothing to
so goes Chavez,
so goes a bastion of anti-empire,
so goes a man who pushed Chomsky’s work at the
so goes a man who championed the bloc that
would resist the swallowing up of
Latin America by the
the vultures are hungry,
they are perched & ready---
rather than create green alternatives to the
reliance on oil,
they will suck every last drop &
make the world do their bidding,
creating a negative media firestorm
to shed hate upon a man who can no longer
just as they will the next who steps up to resist.
Copyright © andrew delapruch | Year Posted 2013
Oft times the path we choose in life
Be it the wide or straight and narrow.
We think we're traveling all alone
But God knows of the falling sparrow.
While on this path we oft succumb
To the world and it's sinister ways.
We meet those that we grow to love
In which we share our lonely days.
Together while enduring the valleys
We gaze toward the mountains tall.
Wondering if we'll reach the summit
And who will catch us when we fall?
Mayhap we think of some friendship
That due to path was neglected or wasted.
We do our utmost to reclaim the years
To restore that which once was tasted.
But life is a Smorgasbord of alternatives
So divergent path's, make life, you see.
I pray that if our paths never re-entwine
We've both chosen the one meant to be.
Dedicated to a special friend, Shirlene
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
He looks outside the window of the moving train,
Watching the dripping pattern,
Made by the drops of rain,
His mind far away from the present happenings.
His eyebrows twitch,
As he wonders how he is going to drop the news,
To his expectant wife,
And four little kids.
Retrenchment till further notice...
She sits at that bench in the middle of the park,
Staring into space,
The wind blows strands of misplaced hair into her face,
She tries weighing alternatives,
Their pros and cons,
Let the cat out of the bag,
And possibly end two lives,
Or simply get rid of the developing one,
And save her own...
Carefully and tactfully engraved,
On that wood stamp,
He swings on his chair,
Enjoying the dizziness that comes with it,
Because for a minute or two,
It takes his mind from all his worries and care,
But fantasy doesn't last long,
And he is back to reality.
His status and wealth,
Couldn't do much for him,
He wishes he could turn back time...
We are lost in our own jungle of worries,
Either that or this,
Where to get money, love, food, shelter,
What to tell him or her,
How to change our weight,
Complaining why things don't go our way,
Forgetting someone somewhere,
Wishes to be in our shoes,
Because their own situation,
Is way worse...
And from up above He looks,
The only thing in His mind...us,
Wondering why we couldn't simply trust,
At his feet our burdens lay,
Forget what others will say,
Ask for His help...control,
And in His presence choose to stay,
He could do anything for us,
We just have to ask...
There is no other way...
Copyright © Wataka Damah | Year Posted 2013
When options are presented
And I have to make a choice,
The more I see, the less that my
Opinion I can voice.
For choosing A or B or C
Sets limits I’ll accept.
When there are more alternatives,
My certainty gets swept.
The smaller the selection,
That much quicker I’ll decide,
A rule of thumb that in all walks
Of life can be applied.
Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2016
Never Give Up
Hang on; The Lord will give you strength in any act of your pursuit
Keep trusting God; He will lead you in every step of the journey
Don’t live by other people’s time tables; live by Gods Time Table.
You may lose paradise, but gain heaven when you rise up and repent
Don’t underestimate your ability to pick yourself up and keep going.
Let go of your disappointments, mistakes and failures
Never give up on your missions and visions.
Never give up praying, The Lord will answer you in His beautiful timing.
The Lord will prepare you for the great success which will comes unexpectedly.
Your dreams are planted deep within your heart by Life itself.
Don't be discouraged by people who tease you out of your dreams
Overcome any struggle with courage, motivation and hope
Your dreams were given to you for a reason by THE CREATOR.
It is easy to give up in life than to keep trying. Always choose the latter
Try again; you have millions of alternatives
Get rid of that negative and defeated attitude.
Always stayed focused on your goals and hang on the wings of hope and success
Be consistent in your efforts, success is not obtained overnight
Push through every difficulty and negativity to achieve the goals
To achieve the impossible, you must attempt the absurd
Never settle for less than what you imagined possible for yourself.
Be determined to be determined
The victory over our inner self is a daily struggle
Resist every negative criticism and persist to make it happen
Go forward and conquer any mountain on your path
Quitters and waiters have a varied beginning, but a similar ending
Just underneath your breaking point lies your true strength
Don’t stop where you fall; rise up and do it again!”
Your downfall is a preparation for your up-rise
Without adversity and trials we may never know what we are capable of.
Mistakes help to sharpen your next steps.
Focus on the precious moments and gracious future.
Never give up, pursue your passion
Successful people never quit –upgrade your mindset and keep focus
Stay strong, stay positive, and never give up.
Only the weak use "I can't" as an excuse to give up
Copyright © Yuhi Musinga | Year Posted 2015
Listen to poem:
These trivial pursuits
The day looms long,
Largely unused, unplanned,
Inertly I idle,
Mind meandering meaninglessly,
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
This is my dedication
I am legend, so just push the start
I will save your family, so just call me Noah's ark
A pause on time as they show gratitude to the craftsmanship
1970 they created me, randomly introduced companionship
I transported the elite, by the way I still do
Range Rover was the name they gave me, so I said I do
It's been 44 years, V-6 or V-8, it maintains the same philosophy
I personify admiration; we read while it's in motion your Autobiography
Oh I forgot, HSE and Supercharged are other alternatives to what you can call me
Each with its legendary design and trim, okay enough about me
I send this invitation to honour me by occupying the rear seats
Yes, the Executive-class individual rear seating, those seats
Offering grand motoring while you show off your wealth
Those who pursue me grasp my worth
My capabilities engraved and stamped off-road
I reign supreme as they make way for me on the road
Take a bet; you can't go wrong with the horse power I possess
6 or 8 speed with pedal shifters, I ask you to regress
Allow me to grace your eardrums with the Meridian sound system
View what lacks around you with a surround camera system
I represent the fourth generation but my history remains intact
I had a conversation with my sister earlier, Evoque, she's compact
We agreed that we are timeless, absolutely classical
Should we pass on, our images are imprinted, just absolutely magical
Copyright © Phumlani Mthethwa | Year Posted 2014
Listen to poem:
Galactic soup, the Lord wished for,
one day when he felt empty, bored;
some nutrients to give him more
alternatives to be explored.
With hydrogen and helium,
he then stirred in some oxygen;
mixed carbon next then added some
strong iron, neon, nitrogen.
He took a taste, and still not done;
the flavor needed silicon,
some sulphur and magnesium...
enough, for now, to work upon.
His soup was done and it was grand;
created by his expertise,
a perfect flavor, strong not bland.
And so the Lord felt quite at peace.
But he had stewed a giant bowl
and way too much for him to hold.
To share it was his brand new goal
and so he managed something bold.
He flung his prized galactic soup
into the void in which he lay;
and with big bang, eternal swoop
the Universe was born that day.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Word Play - Galactic
Sponsor: IrOnic ZiNk
Contest: Word Play Images, Dense & Pithy
Sponsor: John Anderson
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Foolish youthful emotion rides waves
divorced from tempered reason,
a swirling vortex craves
hot passion for a summer season . . .
Spent fires prelude life’s bitter mosaic
by lies to self first born, prosaic,
shards of broken resolutions pieced in patchwork mirrors
where glittering alternatives reflect and pierce like arrows.
Release me from regret and self-doubt;
let the childlike spirit arise and shout.
© September 15, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015
This is a Solo 12 Verse Junicho Renga:
Darkness slowly fades
The crisp air of the morning
Daylight Savings Time
A few plum blossoms remain
After many days of rain
The fields of sown grain
A gift from heaven and earth
In the setting sun
After all the work is done
The harvest festival dance
A child's furtive glance
From underneath the table
He should be in bed
"I have decided instead
To look for another job."
She grabs the doorknob
But quickly changes her mind
And decides to stay
It seems there are many ways
Alternatives are not clear
The fresh snow adheres
To the kitchen window panes
While drying dishes
His mind wanders, he wishes
That their life was more secure
No one knows for sure
What tomorrow has in store --
Sounds of a warm night
The room, drenched in moonlight,
Windows open to the wind
Copyright © Jim Wilson | Year Posted 2009
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2016
There are moments when troubles enter our life’s
And we can do nothing to avoid them
But the one's we can
They look convoluted unless we demystify
But we think they are byzantine
As we think the mysteries in them can never be find
Nothing is insuperable
So let us not always be cantankerous about the conditions in life
Because life has greater things to offer
That when the time comes, we ourselves will even wonder
To my fellow youth that are upcoming
Persistence is a great substitute for talent
So never be abated by the constant failure that come your way
But focus on how to drive your sorrows and worries away
For it is this situation that makes we go intoxicated to be incapacitated
But let feisty be our portion
To help us deprecate failure
And continue to grapple for success
But if only the poor will hear me
The height by great men reached and kept were not attain in sudden flight
But while their companions slept, they were toiling upwards in the night
Our incipient are never the same
So never think you are ineffectual to be rich
But for now be content with the tiddly wages you gain
To help you forget about your penury state
And to keep you away from your posthaste gains
Yet, continue to prove your mettle to your society
Because I strongly believe that will surely make you mighty
To the magnates and moguls
Continue the hard work to bolster your earns
But when you begin to experience a nosedive and your riches seems floundering
Know that success can just be a flare
And can make you find yourself in a situation that is not dear
Just focus on how to flourish
And never attribute your fall to the acts of witches
And the handicapped I preach
Encourage and believe in yourself
Love yourself and never doubt who you are
Even though the rejection and neglection are horrendous
But I wish you consider them as motivation
To ginger you to be illustrious
Just to change the notion we have about you since creation
However, ignore your debilities and capitalize on your opportunities
To my lovely couples I tell
No condition is permanent
So when your situation begin to go worse, never be demented with worries
But be impervious to several misadventures and see them as ephemeral
During this hard times, never think of quitting
But let your combat be tranquil
So that nobody will ever know your problem
But I surely believe
I everything will be okay in the end, if it's not okay, then its not the end
And the barren I advice
Do not sit still, start moving now
In the beginning, you may not go in the direction you want
But as long you are moving, you are creating alternatives and possibilities
Never go ballistic when society bait you
But look down upon the zillion criticisms
Never be nostalgic sake of your condition or situation
But go only for the happiness offered by nature
And dream that, there are children coming your way for you to nurture
Never let your hope forlorn and forget about your purgatory experience
For it is the gritty that will surely make a difference
If you always attach positive
Emotions to the things you want
And never attach negative
Emotions to the things you don't
Then that which you desire most
Will invariably come your way
Because the greatest act of faith some day
Is to simply get up and face another day
Copyright © Crespo the poet | Year Posted 2015
In high school, he was ridiculed,
for his stance on alcohol,drugs and sex.
He was mocked of his bold decision,
He was pressured to try drugs,sex,
smoking and alcohol.
He was forced to do many things contrary,
to school regulations.
But he took precautions into consideration,
and being exceedingly tactful against pressure.
Having goals about what he wanted to do with his life,
and working towards achieving those goals.
His manner of life at school was to treasure himself first,
to respect his body, and not to harm himself__
He had one body which he treated with respect,
He did not waste his time on unnecessary things;
a short term solution to ruin his life.
He had alternatives from doing bad things
that will bring him down.
He was busy___still socialise,of course,in health ways:
such as sports,community ,and church projects.
Volunteer work provided him more incentives,
to gain personal enrichment from serving others.
Nobody prevailed to force him to do something,
he did not like to do,
He took a bold stand which was important,
and earned him respect.
Copyright © chipepo lwele | Year Posted 2012
His hand reached out to mine, open,
Holding it, I smiled, our eyes danced with understanding,
Form and blush outlined his expectations,
But I could see that there may be fear inside.
Mary restated their predicament,
That the child was born out with the marriage bond,
And that people were swaying to the opposite side,
And course dialogue, laughter and spitting were norm.
So I asked the two for their thoughts and predictions,
About the child, if he perhaps could be like, special?
And they specified that he would cure, heal and exorcise,
And also promised that they’d talk to him about the poor.
Could this baby be the messiah?
I pondered and hoped in their certainty;
Was this the predicted son of god?
He would be free from aggressive victimisation,
If we could just name him as god's son.
So I suggested to his parents,
That if the wise men came with a quest,
To accept the name Jesus Christ,
And certify the census, no less.
Freedom for some is in lying,
When there’s no possible alternatives,
But I believe Joseph never lied,
In the population census of Bethlehem,
That just so happened to pass by.
The baby hadn’t been named,
Only the parents last name was changed,
Made credible for interaction,
For currency and ware to be exchanged.
The child would have been suppressed by all,
Assumed to be dirty and unclean,
Not for chat or dialogue,
And certainly not for work in a trade of his call,
Or for work in any trade for that matter.
Nothing would ever have been done,
The poor would never have been healed,
Or not so quickly for sure in history;
The government would not have been rifled,
And Christ would not have come.
Treating the poor for health problems,
Would have come through government legislation,
A long time after Christ,
In an austere, aloof manner.
People to people relationships,
Would not have been respected,
If care had been awarded top-down,
By bureaucrats and officials:
As supervisors of the protected.
Society at that time was narrow minded,
Stuck in traditional religion;
There were outcasts, sinners, infectious people,
And assumptions were remedial and red:
There were no special people,
No exceptions to the rule,
Only one place for the messiah confided.
One baby matters to me,
A life should be saved at any cost and risk,
Because the abilities you show when young,
Shouldn’t be muffled or labeled regressive,
But nurtured in acceptance and love.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
About Bill Posters and Bill Greenwell
Words not to use in poems
In 1993, I (Bill Greenwell) went on a three-day workshop with the poet Peter Sansom, who co-edits The North, and runs the Smith/Doorstop imprint. He’s also the author of Writing Poems, Bloodaxe’s perennial seller. And a nicer guy you couldn’t hope to meet. My aim at the time was to unclog the effect of years of writing parody, to find out if I had a voice of my own after years of impersonation. I’m still not sure.
Peter had one golden rule (it’s mentioned in Writing Poems, too): do not under any circumstances use the word shard. This might strike you as very peculiar. But if you were to start to teach poetry-writing, you would know exactly what he meant. There is something about the word shard that fatally attracts every other would-be poet, each of whom, quite innocently and separately, comes across it, and thinks ‘that’s a good word, a very good word. I’ll have that,’ rather in the manner of Burglar Bill. Of course, the entire group of writers (he must be sick of this) immediately wrote shard poems to twit him. But he was right. There are some words which turn up so often in the work of aspiring poets that an anti-preservation order should be slapped on them.
Here are a few more. They may seem irrational, but I promise you, they occur to people with an almost desperate frequency, and the result is an accidental smack of the hackneyed.
Seeps, seep, seeped: Don’t know why, but some variation of seep seems fatally to recur, usually to do with light, i.e. in a metaphorical, synaesthetic way. ‘Light seeped in through the window.’ Don’t do it.
Crimson: Much-beloved version of ‘red’, especially to do with dawn, but unfortunately also beloved of both Victorian poets and heavy metal lyricists. Avoid like the plague.
Translucent: looks good, but it’s actually quite a confusing word, since it seems often to be used to mean both ‘clear’ and also ‘as if through frosted glass’, i.e. not very clear. Usually used to make light seem posh. (Ditto pellucid.)
Myriad: poety word for ‘lots’, with a terrible whiff of archaism.
Languid, languour: these ones are marginal cases, but they always send me back to poems written between 1870 and 1920. They aren’t exactly archaic, but there are plenty of contemporary alternatives.
Evil: whether a noun or an adjective, this is just too heavy an abstraction for a contemporary poem – in fact, most abstract nouns are suspect (hatred; time – especially if capitalised; passion; and so on).
Curlicue: I was caught using this by a friend, who said that she was always seeing it in poems, and I think she’s right.
Soul, mind: usually soul is used to indicate deep feeling, and is redundant because of it. I think you have to be very good to get away with it. Mind usually pops up to indicate inner feeling or emotion, in which case it too is redundant. Just think of the hopeless Michel Legrand lyric ‘The Windmills Of Your Mind’ – a text-book example of how not to construct metaphors.
Woe, sorrow: abstract nouns for feeling very unhappy, but never heard in colloquial language (quite a good test) these days.
Pent: maybe as in pent-up, but otherwise, a relic of reading Wordsworth.
Hence, thence, whence: any word which makes you think that the nearby verb should end in -est, as in Whence comest thou?, is best given a wide berth. Too biblical.
Yesteryear, yonder: if used, you are probably writing poesy.
Then: obviously permissible, but in nine times out of ten, implied by the order of the words, and their sense.
I have more bugbears, but that’s all for the moment. Feel free to suggest others, and forgive me if you find them in what I write (or rather, don’t. I need to be ticked off).
Found this to berry very interesting. Jim Horn
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016
Don't ______ with me.
'Cause all I'm interested in is _______'n you.
Stop askin' questions, ____. Your eyes are like limpid moons in everclear, baby. What's your favorite color?
Ummm... will get back to you on that, but my favorite phrase is get the _____outa here.
Thanks for the inspiration :D
*Oh, and please note. This is NOT a good example of the form "Parallelismus Membrorum". I just felt that was the best of the available alternatives to describe it.
Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2011
A Happy Cancer
By: Noel N. Villarosa
Sadness invades a glowing life
Agitation of what comes next after the fact
The beginning of all ends in cancer’s strife
Life to death, we fear of the day to be exact
But there are chances to replace the peril
To yield oneself to the power of God’s glory
We live each day to the fate of going until
Hiatus for some time and serve the hospice as another journey
A chance to mingle with relatives and friends
And share happy moments to tide over hardship
A chance to smile and express the beauty at its ends
And show a positive outlook to thwart the phantom of death
A chance to join the crusade to search for the cure
To talk and comfort other cancer patients
Bring back juvenile act to escape discomposure
And live with someone by your side to listen
Don’t wait but give the fight to survive
There is treatment by enduring chemotherapy
Or take the chance of trying other alternatives
Rather than living in the shadow of sympathy
Travel to places to meet your pleasure
Explore and challenge oneself to a new horizon
That will give you space for new treasure
To prove your will that you can still join the marathon
Be inspired by the testimony of others
That there’s a chance to alter gloomy to glory
And if by heart, they live to stay another year
Let them be called not survivors, but cancer conquerors
In their smile, we can see the triumph by winning each day
A happy cancer
Written and posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site: 24 November 2009
Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2010
I grew up with rural Michigan white red-neck evangelical root systems.
These did not always feed my multicultural self/other liberation of the GLBTQ subclimatic root system
for regeneratively healthy instincts,
yet I learned to survive within this fundamentalist-alien-straight Christian White anthro-culturally supremacist climate of heterosexuality
not understood as a fully regenerative multiculturally organic sexuality,
most certainly inclusive of GLBTQ,
among full-octave color rainbows of exegetically trusted truth
with beautiful ecopolitical dynamics.
My staunchly farmerish fundamentalist-nutritionist Christian parents
would no more know what to do with a Donald Trump as a Presidential Republican National Party Candidate
to become a White Male Republican Christian Preferably-Rural Fundamentalist EcoPolitical President of the United States,
running against incumbent General Dwight Eisenhower,
however I think he probably would not even have been an appropriate topic for polite, much less nutritional
as integratively-spiritually appropriate for healthy developmental conversation.
Despite these agrarian Republican root-systemic memories
during my ecopolitically developing GLBTQ adolescence,
not a lot of people have asked
what I have seen and heard and smelled
within the approximately 200 years of tension
between a Republican/Elitist-WinLose NatureSpirit EcoPolitical Conservatism,
hoping to win for ego's embodied nature
even if they must thereby lose our multiculturing spiritual-experiential Salvation,
thereby a dark anger/fear mark against WinWin regenerative ecological health.
Today, I see this continuing Republican tendency
to distance economic and political elites
from our more humble,
yet somehow not too fearful-angry,
maybe touched by paranoia,
especially about the natural supremacy of heterosexually ecopolitical parents,
refusing to see possibilities for multiculturally ecological parenting as more optimally spiritually-nutritionally rooted in Jesus' Creation Story TimeLine.
By unremarkably co-arising dipolar contrariness,
the currently prevailing Democratic national through local nutrition strategy
of looking for opportunities of and for multicultural trust-building,
to permaculturally broaden a shared ecopolitical ecology of health
becoming together ego/eco bicameral-binary empowering
in a more dynamic healthy kind of GLBTQ thru Z kind of way.
While the historically unthinkable Republican Nominated Choice
labeled Donald Trump,
represents a remarkably not-Christian fundamentalist conundrum of a non-choice,
his own sense of supremacist entitlement
to interpret and prophecy fools of self-condemning hypocrisy
carries some resonance
for those premillennial die-hard evangelical White Republicans
where ecopolitical faith
is rooted in becoming stronger
than those who disagree with us,
while Hillary Clinton's embodiment of Democrat
cultivates co-empathic trust
among constituencies feeling disconnected from multicultural promise
of healthy democratic inclusion of diversity
as an intrinsically therapeutic positive
for ecological climate-healthywealthy outcomes,
than the more anthro-elitist monoculturing ecopolitics,
LeftBrain way too Male TestosteroneThymine Dominant elitism
of Old School Rural White 1950s Michigan Republicanism.
Today's Republican has upstaged Fundamentalism
with more excessively climatic Rabid Paranoid Terrorist
WinLose-politically and economically preferred proclivities,
but not quite a full-blown climate LoseLose death-wish rabidity
searching out invisible Climate Win prospects for regenerative health,
while nakedly investing in
further dissonant discomforting cognitive-affective suboptimally degenerative suffering multiculturally rainbow-rooted DNA/RNA ribonucleic systems.
Donald Trump was chosen over other nutritional-enspiriting alternatives,
chosen to lead through condemning those unlike him
as false prophets of hypocrisy and cunning
toward unhealthy liberating multicultural power-sharing intents,
sometimes vengefully judgmental
of us lesser non-elites,
now both evangelical White non-elite would-be farmers and feminists
on around the growing rainbow of multiculturing margins,
on through the cystosine-nurturing more LeftRight ecobalanced half of the U.S. adult nature relations,
and just as oxymoronic to be an Evangelical Christian Republican
as it is to be a Transgender Republican.
For Jesus of Nazareth, the poor and marginalized,
homeless and hungry,
and especially their children,
were more sympathetic comrades than Monoculturing Elitist Pharisees
they were sadusees, too, like us right now,
having been robbed of our parents' Republican Supremacist paranoid-competitive belonging,
nurturing ecopolitical as ecological longing,
no longer deep learning paranoia
for interior and exterior ecopathologies of YHWHGod's unkind impersonal
lack of omnipotent love,
our unresolved theological problem of evil NonRepublican NonChristians,
and why similar rainy outdoor wedding crappy days
fall on fully invested Republican Christians,
who never quite fully believe in the power of a personally-invested God the Good Father
in exactly the same unreflected way
from that nightmare's dream on through death's dualdark portal.
What happens now that our Republican EmpireBuilder
has become seen with too-naked vulnerability
to collectively hide our own egocentric predative paranoia from ourselves,
fear and anger about radically full-speciating inclusion
of ecopolitical Democrats,
regenerating empowerment's healthier climates of pronoia liberation?
Perhaps positive psychology
as therapeutic ecopolitical judgment
on behalf of mutual help
rather than continuing to seek power
through mutually condemning judgments,
competitive WinLose ecopolitical choices,
reborn faith in higher WinWin power
optimizing Earth as Tribal Home,
no longer anawim of our own optimally organic Body of Christ potential.
truly investing in Christ's physical/mental health.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
salt and sugar
pull the trigger
high blood pressure diabetes
fight wars without any treaties
good food is much too sweet
causing some a defeat
alternatives are there
so keep yourself aware
think healthy and pure
fins and wings for sure
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016
Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice
There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws
Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
Then all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?
Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution
In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
Copyright © Joshua Adam | Year Posted 2010
Written: by Tom Wright
The more alternatives
Life affords you,
The greater your opportunity
To mess it up.
While some may feast on life
Leaving not a remnant,
Others will face death
With plates scarcely touched.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2015
Even if you see the world upside down
We all have different ways to see the world
Meeting people of all kinds, from different cultures
Have a common focus, and keeping your attention
Fantasy and play are good in many ways
Why not, a snowman up and down
Exploring alternatives, expanding the perspectives
Believe in the best of everybody,
we belong to each other
Being different means you are unique
Do not pass by,
go back and make a brand new start
Just a little smile,
may have the ability to change a human day
Do you see the star far over there?
It is the Bethlehem Star or the Christmas Star
A shining beauty full of secrets
No matter where you are, we can look at it together
You, the snowman and me
One day the snowman will melt,
but the star will always remain
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017
My doctor says I’m overweight,
I’m in the orange band,
To make it to the yellow zone
I’ll need a helping hand.
So he’s cancelled Sunday breakfast
And sworn me off scotch eggs,
He’s drained my car of petrol
Chuckling ‘Learn to use your legs!’
But I don’t really buy it.
There’s alternatives to diet.
I used to have a ponytail,
So first I had that chopped.
I filed off my fingernails -
They didn’t do a lot.
I syphoned every orifice,
That’s ears and nostrils too,
Then shaved all up and down the stairs
And blocked my pores with glue.
I bought myself a leotard
All webbed and made of feather
And leaf-thin flip-flops filled with air
(I’m hoping for good weather).
So the morning of the retest came,
I wandered down the road
And got savaged by a pit bull,
Who chewed off all my toes.
And thanks to that good fortune,
When I stepped on the machine,
The doctor said ‘I’ve got good news!
You’re one gram in the green.’
Copyright © Alex Frankel | Year Posted 2014
and small obstructions
Hinder progress for a bit,
But the vast store of alternatives
Make their presence known.
also have been stationed within
All their myriad forms
in their garments fine,
Find openings to seep through
into my contemporary
Sphere of knowledge.
Copyright © Wm Paul | Year Posted 2016