Best Desecrating Poems
By the early years of that ancient decade, the 70's,
I'd tired of my obstreperous tomboyish games:
kickball with the neighbor kids, sledding in the winter,
desecrating the peacefulness of our street's grave yard
with our bike races, tag, and hide-n-seek.
And I tired too of the pastimes of my season preferred:
chasing siblings with a hose, giggling and gleeful,
swimming at Weed Park,
and my perpetual swinging through those long, sweet sunshiny days
longed for during classes in my school.
Old friends grew up.
Boredom anon crept upon the remnant of my childhood.
At times - through infancy and beyond -
I'd been beset by a feeling of loss
over something not yet sought.
It was something kin to loneliness, but no. . .not that.
More a sense of gloom - a sorrowing for what?
I still don't really know.
Despite the days of inexplicable forlornness,
I grew more and more cavalier
throughout the days that came
between those odd forlorn days
because my old timidity, in fact, had waned. . .
Another face, fairer, appeared.
It waxed and glowed - assured -
until those “days - in- between”
had finally surpassed the melancholy ones.
I learned to stifle monotony and squelch the blues.
I became a "doer" of too many things to name
as I went gliding through with the Gibbous moon.
Soon enough, a fullness had arrived.
And now it must disseminate.
In the years to come, I'll be wondering this. . .
Will the shining face I show the world wane too,
and will my youth's strange darkness re-emerge,
eclipsing what light remains as I drift,
having come full-cycle,
into my final
crescent phase?
5/21/14
Submitted 3/30/16 to PD's Any Poem # 38 Poetry Contest
If there is life on Mars they won't want us.
That's because we're so corrupt.
Even mice on Mars would have more sense
than we on Earth who are so dense.
If they see us coming, they'll get their guns.
Blast us to pieces, have their fun.
No planet would accept we silly fools.
After decimating, desecrating, leaving pools
of blood and bodies on our wasted land.
Earth's survival did not go to plan.
Move over Mars, we're wading in,
to pillage, plunder and commit sin
against all living things that breathe.
That may support us, if you please.
So dumb and dimwitted earthlings be
They eat you whole, just for their tea.
Put up a STOP sign, warn them well.
Then empty all your nuclear shells.
If there's life on Mars, they won't want to die.
So, so long earthlings...adieu...goodbye.
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
My wife.
I watch them as they tear her limb from limb
Gnawing on her arms and legs, now stiff, but still
They try. Their mouths trickling blood. Rabid animals
She drips from their chins. I wait for them to bleed
From their eyes. To die of something, anything
For desecrating what is mine. But still they moan
Hungry for more, staring at me, ready to attack. I lunge
A few feet away, with all I have, but they’re on human crack,
Arms reaching for my body next to the rats. My wife’s finger
Rolls away. Her wedding ring still on between gnaws.
A peek into my future, what’s next
But to give in to the savagery. No energy left to defend my life.
Teeth bite into my skin clamp onto my shin. Someone bites my tongue.
I swallow the last breath of air. A whisper of sound barely there.
Then released.
Yet The Starving’s just begun.
10/16/14
For Cyndi’s contest
Holodomor genocide
Her hands were happy,
she fluttered them against
a cliché sense of blue in the air
and laughed when the allure of
the flowers further on trilled against
her skin. She submerges herself in light,
filtering through veined jade appendages.
-deeper-
Life is what she lusts for,
twirling in circles with the moon
to see if she can become a world of her own.
She picks roses and strips the petals
to smell the thorns –and shakes her head
because none of her pain is original.
Even so, she breaks into a run, bitter
at the dust beneath her and
every single one of the
footprint after footprint scars.
She might as well not even try the other road,
they tell her.
-the light bends around her, she rubs her eyes
to rid them of the green edge-
She realizes too late, the thorns are disappeared.
The path stretches on without end –it draws her into
a malachite mist.
She inhales slowly and
gags against the moisture that now
condenses on the walls of her lungs.
Clawing at her tongue, she stains her fingers
with mucous.
-The sky bleeds poisonous green arcs-
-what happened to the blue-
The heels of her palm against her eyes
-a vain attempt to salvage color-
she screams as she turns –
inside out, emerald. She feels them
sour, glassing over premature
and dripping venom. Liquid
strains her veins against her clouding skin.
She vomits bark,
desecrating the space between her toes –
putrid, willowy leaves sprout from her hair.
She looks up as if from beneath miles of
sea water, her undulating legs firmly rooted.
-I don’t want it-
she says faintly.
and the forest groans against her weight,
settling slowly like ash on the residue of thorn-ridden existence.
-The pulse glows green-
Adam Smith battles
With Karl Marx, desecrating
This beautiful world.
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
Like fish
for whom water might have transparent invisibility
of an untroubled healthy atmosphere
So too,
our prime bicameral compassionate relationship
is also
our SpiritualMind/NaturalBody Win/Win first love
and last Truth AND Beauty
Passion AND Pleasure hope
For ever-more polyculturing climate health,
and not degenerative Win v Lose
monoculturing
LeftHemisphere dominant
monotheistic
monopolistic
monolithic
monotonously predictable
caste-preserving monstrous pathology.
That being so,
if indeed I have this Left AND Right balanced accurately,
conserve/progress polypathically,
economically and politically,
ecologically,
then health optimization
for LeftBrain ego-caste conservation
AND RightBrain eco-caste liberation
can never settle for tolerating
pluralistic InEgo v OutEco caste-preserving voices,
instead, using these emergent compromised choices
toward discerning WinEgo/WinEco
panentheistic co-passionate pleasure.
This could be true within a humaneMind/diviningBody individual,
within sacred/organic extensive families
living in and on EarthShelters
within natural dynamic-enspirited,
cooperatively-owned and managed economies,
and between politically incorporated governments,
as it is true within any regeneratively trending healthy ecosystem,
explicitly thought,
and implicitly felt,
Crown conserving
and Root liberating our nondualist
ego/eco-arising journey
toward Win/Win healthy inside safe environments,
like fish in ecotherapeutic waters.
Just as "no air" environmental awareness
feels safe for a fish
Just as "no water" environmental awareness
feels safe for human lungs
Just as organic "belonging" awareness
feels Anthropocene safe
from desecrating trauma triggers.
The government and its people stay on antagonistic sides
but what stimulates the rulers’ infidelity to patriotism
can easily be bought by any, over the counter.
They are desperately in need
of sailors to guide through the storm
yet for some reasons,
nurture a belief of so called anointed but empty vessels.
Structural human developments
siphoned by leadership’s exhaust pipes,
desecrating humanity’s sanctuary
for corruption to sell in wholesale.
The public treasury flows down
non-stop even bypassing its bladder,
as materialism and the quest for good life
break all of conscience’s administrative protocols.
Survival instincts undergo inflation
for civilization to suffer a recession
to this end, unity’s objections are overruled
by Nepotism and favouritism.
Social growth is blocked
and always in need of foreign catheter.
A direct current links poverty to the mindset and way of life,
giving a clear evidence of an economy
in desperate need of reconstructive surgery.
We thrive finding freedom
to speak out
to dance around
and sacred shout
to sing full-stop gospel
turn'em out
Outside our secluded cells
of dominant evolution
and protagonist predation theories,
desecrating aparta-schisms,
jingoistic decultured
shameful jisms
Having His MonoTheistic elitist
StraightWhite Capital-Headed Way
Extracting all polycultural Truth
polyphonic Fertility
polyvagal Medicine
polytheistic Trust
CoEmpathic CoPassion
Communion Ability
Degenerating all polypathic
polymathic elegant Beauty
Judging ecopolitical Grace
of Sacred EarthMother Justice,
just EarthTribe us
regenerations
naturally lusty
and spiritually chaste
Singing and dancing
in outside cathedral circles
spiraling lines
of seasonal unwinding fertility
reasoned rhythmic agility
prescribing Whole Open NeuroSystemic Peace,
multi-regenerating timeless
ultra non-violet
communing dark bright resilience
Requires positive health value
brilliance
for playing win/win nicely
with and for
elegant and intricate
GoldenMind/SacredBody
cooperative wealth
CoPassionately robust
EnLightening/EmPowering
nonviolent sacred communion
for ReStorying strong flowing
shining sharing circles
Coming out of secularized
monoculturing closets
disclosing multicultural freedom
to include Indigenous-Taoist Wisdom
rooted in whole open panentheistic
nonzero-spacious/temporal Souls
Climbing root and nail chakra
out of our anthrosupremacist closeted UnSouls
Longing to sing and spiral core dance
WuWei inspired freedom voiced
and choiced unvoice
neuro-systemic lusty prance
to recreate,
co-arise
trauma-free
ego-mental/eco-physical health thriving
DiPolar appositionally sacred
vertical mind/body bilateral balance
Left/Right bicameral resonance,
like peanut butter and banana,
like denim and Square Dance
Resilience encircling
Does +1 communication universe
of (1)-Numerated Thing
=
-(-0) metaphoric appositional
double-binding unity
Not-(0)Nominal Relationship?
Could Mind/Body
empowering health ritual erotic Dance
primally co-relate wealth
with polypathically encircling
exotically enlightened Romance?
Possibly including,
if this pleases you,
Bromance?
Your face on a magazine published before I was born
The other pages torn to make paper boats and spitballs
But the page you live on is as fresh as it was decades ago
As if someone was afraid to touch it for the fear of desecrating something sacred
Or perhaps to keep from looking at you
As we all look away from the dying.
Your pitch black eyes reach across space and time and grab my heart and shake it.
You have my attention;
What do you want to say to me?
Do you want me to save you?
Up to your neck in dirty water and volcanic ash
Trapped in the debris of the only life you ever knew
Standing on the bodies of those who cared about you
Who laid there so your head would be above water
So that you could live as they couldn't.
Millions tried to help
Million cried and
Millions more prayed
So that you may live.
Failed by all those who should have looked out for you
And for the village
And for all of humanity.
No, your eyes are not asking anything of me.
They are not anxious or pleading
They are not even scared.
Your face is relaxed
Peaceful and graceful.
You face death with a grace
I have yet been able to show in life,
Even though I am twice your age
Because you're frozen in time.
I've learned more from this picture
Than from scriptures or science.
A picture is worth a thousand words
But there are no words to describe the death of a child.
So, I won't even try.
Note: The title should read "Adiós, madre." Unfortunately, I cannot add accent marks to titles on this website.
The Gospels share a negative understory,
thematic across all four.
However diverse these four voices may be
in describing and delineating Messianic love,
and political-economic priorities for poor spirits,
all four are univocal with anecdotal warnings:
If you are on the supremely powerful hoarding side
referring to those less fortunate than your enlightened self
as mere cowards
and traitors
and sinners
being who they marginally are,
as they perhaps criminally are,
for acting out insanely,
as they compulsively,
but not long-term nurturingly, will,
then you are on a wrong side
of co-redemptive ecopolitical action;
the wrong side of the GoodNews Gospels.
Blaming the victims
of poverty and ecopolitical marginalization
of abuse and neglect,
of addiction and victimless criminalization,
is the Gospel-condemned hypocrisy
of desecrating Pharisees
and Sadducees,
Publicans
and other clericalist malignant Aristocrats,
Caesars breeding Mammon
rather than CoMessiahs breathing Manna.
If we create an old with new blend of Jesus
as Solomon,
a more positive Gospel message
invites discerning issues of freedoms and rights to say
and/or do and not do
by asking ourselves, and each other:
Will this democratize freedoms to love,
to participate
to cooperate
to look for WinWin resolutions?
And, will this build higher boundaries around monoculturing restrictions
toward further WinLose anger,
fear,
intolerance,
chronic hatreds,
while excusing hypocrisies
of supremacists calling themselves on the side of defusing love's barriers,
removed from cowards,
losers,
soft on healthy defense,
fostering long-term economic disaster areas,
deniers of LeftBrain healthy nondual co-realities,
detractors from patriarchal capital-obsessed evolutionary self-aggrandizing theories
as more culturally important
than Matriarchal-ReGenerative CoOperation Stories
about Messiahs
and wise guys, royal as humble-servant birth
of healthy,
courageously cooperative,
mutually trusting and vulnerable ecopolitics.
Many moons ago the island was born
spewed up in a volcanic eruption
it was perfectly formed out of rock
five nautical miles from the mainland
A barren isle with no life on it
visited sometimes by birds and seals
over time the dung from them all
provided a base for tender shoots
There was but one stream here
which flowed from the towering rocks
cascading joyfully down into a pool
a stunning splash of viberant blue
Around it started to appear flora
the seeds carried in by the birds
were now taking root and tranforming
life now has a grip which in time flourishes
The barren island soon attracted life
first the birds who started nesting
in the newly grown lushious trees,
their songs bringing musical sounds
Then came the many different insects
most importantly the honey bees
fertilising starting new species
covering the land with lush greenery
Gradually the animals swam over
getting busy finding homes
now the island was flourishing
gay sounds breaking the long silence
Here nature has triumphed over all
transforming a bare rocky isle
life has been yet again reaffirmed
from nothing comes a veritable paradise
Man attracted visits collecting eggs
fishing the shores and lakes
Yet none set down roots here
there is a strangeness that unsettles
Instead they use it for worship
and for their native burials
for they had knowledge of nature
this was not for man to spoil
All was well in our island paradise
until white men found this little gem
desecrating the graves and plundering
the island until it was almost bare
Furious witch doctors set a curse
that night screams could be heard
the natives huddled together shaking
by morning, deep silence reigned
Looking out to the island
they saw new razor sharp reefs
completely surrounding the island
Nature had reclaimed her masterpiece
May all sacred,
but not quite omnipotent,
fathers learn this day
as we impatiently correct
our stress-disordered sons
That respect is earned,
so maybe disrespect is too
positive and negative layered
for and against authority
for and sometimes restlessly against
repeating Business As Usual
white middle-class dadisms:
You snooze
you lose
May apply to your lethargic
chronically anxious
thuggish
couch-surfing
cannabis-fed son
And yet feels counter-intuitive
for babies
and us great grandads
who need our outside rest
away from commercial
too lit up
and loud
and relentlessly plastic
inhumane degradations
In such a rabidly anxious hurry
to wait for inevitable pandemics
and genocide,
floods
hurricanes
tsunamis
forest fires
drought
dry river beds
famine
insomnia
rabidity
insurance company bankruptcy
government balkanization
supremacist tribalism
Silent self-medicating snoozes
feels like a healthy alternative to:
capitalist narcissism
anthro-supreme monotheism
monoculturing nationalism
painful survivalist isolation
demented diseases
species extinctions
self v other criminalizations
weaponizations
May feel like hoarding safety
for defense-oriented males
on a bad day
in a depressing moment
Become
yackity yack disrespectful
feeling entitled to rightwing exclusively define
"real [unwoke narcissistic] men."
Yet quietly hiding
under these sacredly respected
and secular unrespected unsuspecting layers
of diverse manhood hues and warring cues
lie traumatizing patriarchal cultures.
Capital co-invested resilient climates
prefer cooperatively active integrity
over passive faith-based respect
and dramatically traumatic disrespect
and unenlightened
stress-triggered verbal unrespect
accelerating competitions,
dis-integrity
unhealthy desecrating excommunications.
Consecrating sacred solidarity feelings
learned today
converge synergetic need/want supportive
resonant polyvagal
resilient communication systems
searching for win/win reconnections
Even when sometimes disrespectfully correcting
my pre- and post-traumatic
stress disordered father
son.
Trees In Spring
Beneath the trees, gazing up, I see
Branches reaching skyward, sprouting leaves,
Filtering rays through the canopy
That cause my eyes to blink breathlessly
From the mosaic, prism colour scheme.
The scenic vista is dynamic
And pleasing to absorb spring’s hypnotics.
These vascular plants drink nourishment
And utilize the sun’s energy
In the process of photosynthesis.
The reality of perception’s direction
Persuades self-effacing resignation
From biased human disposition
With artistic interpretation.
“I pray nature forgives my trespassing!”
Trees in spring of natural beauty
Whose subliminal message I can’t dismiss.
“Human intrusion has been devastating!”
Unwarranted greed condones desecrating
Tangible living poetry in motion.