Best Divest Poems
Tribute to Teachers - Constanza
Upon my soapbox I protest
that teachers schooling young and old,
be honored like they're made of gold.
How small in payment we invest
with expectations raised sky high,
still, underpaid we can't deny.
For educators, my request,
to legislate to change the laws
for student ratios just cause.
In government we do divest
to raise the bar in public schools;
give teachers much more needed tools
and raise all pay at their behest!
Without these changes I do fear
few will want a teaching career.
Upon my soapbox I protest
how small in payment we invest
For educators, my request,
In government we do divest
and raise all pay at their behest!
6-20-2018
A poem with a message ' Poetry Contest
Sponsor stephen pennell
Constanza Contest ~Second Place~
Sponsor Emile Pinet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Black Hills wept for Thee
East of the Black Hills of South Dakota,
On the Pine Ridge Reservation,
Live a proud tribe of Oglala Lakota,
Part of the Great Sioux Nation.
On saddled chargers rode half the Regiment,
of the Seventh Cavalry.
A tune they played on behalf of the GarryOwen,
was such a sight to see.
While climbing through Prickly pines, they spied,
near the summit of Porcupine Butte.
Spotted Elk with Hunkpapa Lakota tribe,
the chief of the Minneconjou.
Five miles West through the cold day they walked,
the Lakota and soldiers of the Seventh,
Where Wounded Knee creek's icy waters balked,
between hell and heaven.
The Colonel ordered all of the tribe's rifles confiscated,
while the braves danced the ghost dance.
For rumor had spread of a new religion, long awaited,
that would turn the tide of chance.
Then suddenly came the report of rifles fired,
as the women and children fled to a ravine.
From the heights the thunder of cannon, now inspired,
close quarter fighting and lead, now convened.
Who knows where Providence went,
on that cold December morning.
Both guilty and innocent, now spent,
lay dead with little warning.
Bodies of the fallen now sprawled across the snowy plains,
with faces frozen in a moment of violence.
One mass grave with all, is all that remains,
of tears and laughter forever silenced.
In the days that followed medals were pinned to chests,
who proclaimed victoriously.
Though God only knows why, ignoble and divest,
life taken in vain, ingloriously.
In the shadow of the land of Sitting Bull,
was now told the tragic story.
Passed down from Mother to Daughter were recounted,
days of lost glory.
“Let us put our minds together to see what life we can make for our children.”
-Sitting Bull
Every poem
An invention
Some would say:
When a romantic
Creates a breathing rose
In the mind
For the heart of another
A far superior find
Than all
Man’s Relativities—
So—
Let Einstein rest
Of his atoms
Undressed;
And Galileo
Further divest
In some far
Distant sky,
Too far off
Even
For modern
Glass-eye
Perhaps now,
As I,
Would also decry:
That the artist, alone,
Sees and lives,
A true icon,
Beyond the grave—
A slave not to science,
But to love and beauty;
With far more inquisitive duty,
That of revealing
The Universe
The soul of it
Divine—
Did our Age of Aquarius evaporate,
fail to regenerate,
to resonate,
fall too far short of what our parents
knew we should anticipate?
Free love could not sustain
weak non-violent resolutions against
whatever busyness was for.
Yet, if love invites synergy,
mutual gravity,
and creation evokes compassion's transregeneration,
how could love cost more than free?
How could co-redemption not invest everything
in learning how to cooperatively Be,
free of enslaving supremacist becoming,
free to come together
as ecological We?
Those who stop to count these costs of love,
look for ways to divest of co-investment,
ignoring Earth's mentoring economy
of light's photosynthetic comprehension,
of neutral's dark unconsciousness,
a fog bank evaporating
doubly unbinding timeless spaciousnest
patterned mystery
absent of color
flowing free love intention.
If Time's eternal unfolding presence is 0-dimensional,
and AnthroNature's bicameral perception i
s 2-dimensional line
and 4-dimensioned time
recreating bicameral form with function,
ego emerging from eco,
yang incarnating binomial yintegrity
reiterating communicating neuro-processors
borrow RNA's decomposing 3-space with 1-time prime bilateral dimensions,
equivalent seasons;
Shy winterish Uracil of Universal freely decomposing love
greets Cytosine's full summer-formed regeneration,
as objectives greet their past and future subjects;
while Adenine painlessly springs
for Guanine's lavishly com-posted integrative harvest,
as verbs form fractal-recycling nouns,
verbal con-science revolutions,
relearning Earth's organic language,
by echoing universal polypathic syntax.
Universal Anthro-cultural
verbal power of co-governance
becomes a Left-brained dominant and reductive tyrant,
an Emperor reified of clothes
to cool His naked Ego-thirst.
However,
when power remains integral within co-passionate
climatic health,
co-gravitational integrity of wealth,
synergetic uniting cooperatism,
then naked 1-power conjoins dark yin-time 0-rations,
shy bigendering romantic convex/concave camouflage,
re-birthing this post-millennial
gift-it-forward
Age of co-binary Aquarius.
I drink...
Alone, all the time, always thinking,
About past times that should have been.
I should have done this, I should have done that,
I never get the chance to do anything,
Because nothing ever goes my way,
As I'm too busy anyhow,
My bravery is diminished just for now
And life's dreams will be fulfilled another day...
And confrontational pressure will soon go away.
My life is a struggle, and
Like dead weight, I plop back down,
A tiring sigh befits my frown,
Viscous is my life's blood,
Laziness is my likelihood,
I am a self-trapped man.
Self-esteem, non-existent,
Life is sucked out, numbed is my soul,
Nothing here, no spirit left,
Nothing but skin and bones.
Imminent is my digress,
Divest of intellectual progress.
I go over the events in my mind,
The portrayal of my life, and I shine,
It's so exciting, yet so elusive,
My drunkenness has gotten me stupid,
Once again.
For I relished the vivid, savor the imagined
Wallowing in what could have happened
And afraid to take the real first step.
I'm swirling, swirling, swirling,
Filled with sameness and frustration,
Face red and swollen
With the day's libation,
Eyes are glazed, mind on vacation,
My true reality, always distant,
The ice cracks and pops to the marriage of spirits and
I drink...
I spoke to a tree
last night; while
I sat on my garden
chair – snug and
warm in the late
summer's air;
we spoke, of course,
of full, green branches
about to divest themselves
of veined leaves and nests,
and the feathered breasts
who will soon fly south
letting the old limbs rest,
well earned for an abundant
season –
but we did not speak of
Global Warming...nor did we
speak of disastrous storming –
not a word mentioned of
man-made plagues...nor of
logging destroying our
blessed forest glades – nor
did we speak of human-vultures:
political leeches, using false
speeches, to steal the wealth
of Christ's Blessed Brothers,
as well as the wealth of well
meaning non believing others...
We did speak of
forgiveness
and unconditional
love – wondering of
Heaven...and
what
conversations
above....
Moonlight Falls
From the mystical river of moonlight falls
cascading her light when the night comes to call
and the star studded sky does so daintily dance
her magic awaits if you dare take the chance
When the white melting moon lights the water so clear
the black hearted creatures know darkness and fear
it's life giving water can anything cure
but death surely waits for a heart less than pure
Cool to the touch and refreshingly sweet
she taunts in the torment of summer nights heat
a most sacred gift sent from heaven above
without dark desecration from souls without love
To think you can fool her is foolish at best
her light is so bright your pretense she'll divest
many have tested her waters and tried
a thirst without quench was their soul left to die
From the mystical river of moonlight falls
cascading her light when the night comes to call
and the star studded sky does so daintily dance
her magic awaits, do you dare take the chance?
- Jeannie Minor
Why is it:
we plant gardens
but we garden plants?
we call natural medicines drugs
and we call unnaturally produced drugs medicines?
we label our disease-addicted corporate-insurance complex
a humane "health care system"?
we prefer fetal alcohol syndrome, pickled livers, and dead drunk outcomes
to THC induced probable failure to ever develop yet another over-yanged Type A personality,
with an antisocial proclivity for sprouting pickled livers and other deadly outcomes?
we tend to respond to uninvited Type B personality invitations
with Type A fully-alert personalities,
yet we respond to uninvited Type A demands
with Type B laissez-faire, neglect, and cognitively hypnotized languishing?
the older our nation grows
the younger our culture appears to prefer?
we pay more and more to elect politicians
who produce positive economic priorities and outcomes less and less?
the louder and longer I persist in persuading you of my wisdom
the shorter and softer grows your attention span
and capacity to hear me?
we produce prodigious amounts of dispossession destined for the trash
yet we seldom intend to ever possess and take ownership of our future trash?
Business As Usual economists respond to eco-logical health
as if their home eco-nomial turf were some alien crazy wealth?
domineering competitive Business As Usuals
fail to see we are a sustainable cooperative economy's
most significant source for disinvestment
away from Earth design health
and resilient development wealth?
we seldom have enough time to notice and appreciate new places and faces
but we drag through ponderous time invested in the same ol' retiring spaces?
if some communication event between two people
is called a transaction
then we think "economics,"
but if some communication event between two non-humans
is called a relationship
then we think "ecology"?
that digital information is always binary
but polynomial information is not assumed to also flow binomially balanced?
we invest in gardening well-crowned edible and ornamental gardens
but we often find it prudent
to nationalistically divest
of co-evolving nutrition-rooted Earth?
Love without Beloved,
Beloved without Love,
neither alternative could be
me without you
you within me
both equivalent would be
We.
We without you,
or me,
this simply can not be,
we takes both equally
bidextrously
ambivalent
Without me,
just you,
or me,
which We cannot
co-arisingly be.
I could not be me
without a you,
nor you
without a me,
as I, you see
we're not at home
in silo-by-silo
universality,
confusing coincidentality,
poor performing
economicality,
dismal absence
of ecologicality,
teleologically teasing
merely biological We.
If no Earthy EcoSystem,
then no Me.
If no Me, then no exegetical
metaphysical
metamorphical
polycultural
permaculturing Be.
If no Belonging,
then no longing.
If no longing, then no hope
of Belonging.
If no becoming, then not Being
seeing
sensing
souling
solving
resolving
resonating
hibernating
sublimating
en-double-lightening We.
If synapse
were not quite so closely haunted
by relapse
deep learning might be
as boringly unpredictable
as gravity's self-creational
bi-relational
lapse.
When East and West learn to divest
of Othering culture's absence,
as South and North learn to invest
in Other culture's apart-sense,
then PermaCulturing Design
will co-redeem
sustainable We
polyculturing our healthy Planet
polymorphic economics
polypathic ecologic
becoming PolyWealthy Therapy.
Messiahs turn Left
to Rightly Prophet
and CoMessiah Right
to EcoProphesy Left
and back again
to revolution Earth ethics upside down,
with SunGod's cooperative rays on top
of Earth's economically rich
deep pie charts
and global graceful synergy spread wide
warm watery reception,
challenging bi-generic tree-ringed contractions
of grace,
karmic abundance,
a Bun Dance away from narcissistic ignorance
Ego's fancy prance,
of why when we each and all come together,
in love's full climaxing bilateral embrace
we turn our identities future side down
a pace
in this HereNow timely space.
We each come to redeem our Ego investment
born of Earth's long-spun
cosmic fun
regenerating narrative,
double negative binding Identity
creating SuperEco-Normic
sticky Bliss
Is not
Love without Beloved,
Beloved without Love
neither alternative could be
me without you
within me
both equivalently
must be
gummy We.
Naturally regenerative
living systems,
like Earth
optimize global ecological opportunities
as co-redemptive economies
of loving solidarity relationships
expressing mutual not-negative subsidiarity,
within a web of interdependent Win-Win default networks.
If we are born passionate investments
of past yang/yin regenerations
redeeming economic risks
weighed as ecological opportunity
for pleasuring pleasant peace
with active love for all species,
all nature,
all Earth,
all Universal Intelligence,
then are we also,
at least potentially,
an interdependent species
of co-redeeming economists
thinking and acting and relating and feeling
sensing and feeling and smelling and tasting
touching and respecting and appreciating ecologically balanced reasons,
seasons of time and pattern and rhythm?
Where fasting advents precede
and roundly follow
cornucopic polycultural seasons for all cells
and organelles.
We find and sustain co-therapeutic relationship balance
half way between Yang-ego's deductive-reductive immunity boundaries
and Yin-eco's intuitive receptive co-operativity,
co-redemptivity,
correlation-ability,
mutual empathic gratitude
polypathic trans-actional multisystemic relationships.
If co-redeemers are messiahs
then we are also mutual bodhisattvas
as we intend cooperative Win-Win eco-normative salvation
and eco-logically therapeutic outcomes.
Perhaps mutual messiahs find it simpler to wrestle with,
rather than against death's pain and suffering,
to figure out what to divest of
by reconnecting within each moment's present opportunity
to what and whom and when and where and why we invest integratively
with each Other's health and well-being,
co-redemptive economically rational, yet passionate, logic,
as well as Right-brain's intuitive temperate sense of balance,
proportion,
enthymematic syntax
permaculturing rooted rhythms
of mindful songs
and global dance.
Ego's Logos as co-determinate partner
with Eco's Right-brain Mythos
co-redemptive political design
re-creating economic developmental revolutions.
At the ripe old age of seventy something
one begins to notice the clouds that have formed
in the mind creating a veil betweens one's
consciousness and the world around them.
It seems that things that were once important in one's
youth and middle age now seem to appear as almost
meaningless, hidden behind the clouds as vague recollections
of someone else's life.
The frequency of friends and relatives passing becomes more
intense and a feeling of being alone even when surrounded by a
crowd begins to invade one's mind leaving one searching through
the clouds for the necessary meaning to what life lay ahead.
Daily thoughts turn to examining all of life's possessions and a
burning desire to divest oneself of "things" that were once
important to you becomes a daily occurrence and one drifts
through endless hours unable to clear the clouds and begin the
task at hand.
Thoughts turn to the nature of man and his seemingly insatiable
quest to choose evil over good and the clouds darken from white
to grey to black because one feels helpless to change that which
seems to be predestined.
Every day becomes a battle to clear the clouds so one might reclaim
the exuberance of youth and the feeling that there are more worlds
to conquer ... but alas, the clouds drift in suffocating the mind and
all energy is once again lost.
It would seem that we are here only for an instant. A life is no longer
than the twinkle of a distant star. The clouds that gather as our internal
light begins to dim is but a reminder that all life must ultimately come to
an end. And such is the cycle of life.
Hope tenuously hovers over our wounded world
Usurped of compassion, greed is gaining control
Mankind no longer respects the gift of human life
Apathy runs rampant when overdosed on delusions
Natural affection for our neighbors no longer exists
Ignoring the maladies is a threat to the human race
Tethered to tyranny will chain us to grief. Divest the
Yoke of inhumanity and retain integrity to show we care
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . :
November 14th, 2017
Humanity Acrostic Contest
Sponsor: John D. Hamilton
In Response to Another Poet's Poems.
Who said for whole world I was not caring
Making many mistakes and continually erring
While under her clothes things were well-stored
Being two breasts big beasts I highly adored.
I always liked her face and its colour
Which found me as it did allure.
From high on head to each tiny cuticle
Her whole body was bound to be beautiful.
Eventual down she tried to simmer
Even though her lips would often tremor.
To me each one I saw was God forsaken;
All those selfies of herself that had been taken
And if of all her clothes she were to divest
What would she do with all of the rest?
Used palette knives for appearance which was palatial
After finding a frown which had been occasional;
Only reason husband had been on bended knee
Was so up my dress he again could see.
Both my eyes jumped high like over a hurdle
And all I ended up seeing was her girdle;
Guess what when I looked into her eyes;
She said, "Your turn to make the French fries."
What I always wondered about our genes
What will they be like in our teens?
And to say and ask question hope I will be at liberty
Which sex will be first to end up in puberty?
Oh, and will sustaining be well-worth in her hub
While you love drinking another round at local pub
If I were intrepid and ended up being remorseful
Did it first require a fin destined to be a dorsal
(And to eat each would only munch on a morsel.)
James Thesarious Horn
Whew. What a bunch of BS
Poe’s Hourglass: A Melancholic Decree
Once upon a midnight dreary,
As sands slip through life’s hourglass, eerie,
I pondered upon my penitent past,
And the regrets that will forever last.
Time, that wicked thief, has stolen away,
Leaving behind fragments of my yesterday.
Each grain, a specter, fell with a sigh,
A haunting reminder of moments gone by.
Regrets, like phantoms, torment my soul,
Their presence an anguish I cannot control.
Paths untrodden, chances missed,
Eternally trapped in a remorseful abyss.
The hourglass, a harbinger of mortality,
Hath measured my existence with cruel finality.
As grains descend, my heart doth weep,
Lost in the void of time, where plutonian specters meet.
In vain, I grasped at the sands so fleet,
But they slipped through my fingers with deceit.
A pallid burden I could not divest,
Heavy upon my chest, a weight doth rest.
O’ time! That cruel, relentless foe,
With each passing moment, thy presence dost grow.
No respite, no solace, can I find,
Like a thief in the night, gone is my time.
And now, in the dark recesses of my desolate mind,
I find sorrow in the verses I bind.
For in these words, I resurrect demons of the past,
And find memories mournful, that will forever last.
In the style of Poe, I lament the unyielding sands of time,
A symbol of life’s ever fleeting, haunting rhyme.
Regrets! Regrets, forever thy shall be,
In the hourglass of life, a melancholic decree.
And as the sands doth slip, and the ravens soar,
I hear the whispers of, “Nevermore”.
-Edward
The Frost poems
try to wake
us to the thread
of our humanity,
to ask us
to divest ourselves
of all the fear and
vanity,
to see
through someone else's eyes
the flower
or the sky.
Why does that seem so hard to do?
But somehow we must try.