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Best Idolatry Poems | Poetry

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The Best Idolatry Poems

Details | Idolatry Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Hush The Stars

“Look up at the stars,” you say
Its just another night up on the old water tank
Our blanket is spread and here we sit with the universe our theater
Another night of showing me the constellations 
Astronomy…your love
You…my love
The stars….your hobby
You….my idolatry

I try to follow your pointing finger
I try so hard to see them, those legends in your night sky
Hercules and Orion
You breathe out the names in sacred tones of awe
The constellations come alive, thundering across the sky
Celestial history of time

But the only stars I see shine in your eyes
your masculine grace
the beauty of your face
your inner glow that shames this night star show
you take my breath away...

And all I know on this night
is that I want to slide down the handle of the Big Dipper with you
And splash into the waters of passion
Drenched in the liquid light of your love
My universe

“You’re not listening…” you reprimand gently
as you look at me
I can’t speak
You touch my cheek
“What is it?”
And my voice is still
as I struggle to find the will
to make you see
all that you mean to me
I rise to my feet
Trembling, I speak...

“I will not let ….the stars outshine MY love for you
That’s…all you see
I’m here
now taste my jealousy"...
Your upturned face moves me beyond inhibitions..
My hands overcome the shyness
my stuttering voice belies 
They start to undress me

“I am…your earth bound Virgo
Here….I’m here…
But I will no longer be your virgin...
Not tonight" 
My blouse flutters to the ground
and my hands move to my skirt
"Make me your Andromeda, your chained lady
Yes….wrap yourself around me
Bind me with your love
Be my hungry Leo, thirsty with desire
And I will play the part of Aquarius… a water bearer of love”
And my undergarments….along with my skirt, fall all around me
Naked, I lower myself onto your lap
I straddle you
as the Milky Way straddles the night sky

And now….I am all you see
Your star struck eyes now focus on me
Wonder fills them as they take in my breasts
Full and taut with desire
for the first time revealed
I feel your fire
I speak…

“Yes, you cannot touch celestial orbs, but touch these...
Touch me...taste me....I'm here
And let my throbbing full moon
Covered now with a mantle chaste 
Reveal itself to your touch
I want you so much...
Yes, I'm here"...

And you fondle and taste 
and you fiercely embrace 
In my virgin blush
the stars hush
they hush to the sound of your name
that comes from my lips in bursts of new pleasure
time stands still to in the wake of this thrill
and my universe comes to be
birthed within your release

Trembling in my arms you speak 
In a voice awed and weak

"My you
The stars fall silent...their voice is hushed
every time....
every time...
you say my name.

You hush the stars with my name"

Eileen Manassian
February 24, 2015

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Famous Last Line

India (Original Poem)

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.

India (New Poem)

Handed down through the ages,
India's Gods and Goddesses call
Out to me from sacred places.

I want to bathe in Ganges waters,
Be there when monsoons arrive,
View Holi's colors on happy faces.

I wish to absorb all the beauty,
Mix with all the friendly people
And sing in celebration's song.

I want to enjoy the festive music
And watch the dancers dancing,
I wish to truly feel that I belong.

I'd revere every God and Goddess,
Have respect for all Gods I know not.
I'd love to learn of Ganesha's power.

I want to meditate in floral gardens
Contemplate by reflective pools...
Connect my spirit to the Lotus flower.

I would take my small camera with me
And shoot all the sights and sounds,
Share my heart with natives blissfully.

I'd love to share in children's laughter.
Share my thoughts and culture too.
I'd treasure my time in India eternally.

Famous Last Line
March 9, 2016

Holi, the Festival of Colors. Holi is celebrated as a welcoming of Spring, and a celebration of the triumph of good over evil. What that translates to in action is an enthusiastic dropping of inhibitions, as people chase each other and playfully splash colorful paint, powder and water on each other. People also attend bonfires to commemorate the story of Prahlada.

Hindus consider the waters of the Ganga to be both pure and purifying. Nothing reclaims order from disorder more than the waters of the Ganga. Moving water, as in a river, is considered purifying in Hindu culture because it is thought to both absorb impurities and take them away. What the Ganga removes, however, is not necessarily physical dirt, but symbolic dirt; it wipes away the sins of the bather, not just of the present, but of a lifetime.

He is the Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. He is also worshipped as the god of education, knowledge, wisdom and wealth. In fact, Ganesha is one of the five prime Hindu deities (Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and Durga being the other four) whose idolatry is glorified as thepanchayatana puja.

Lotus Flower:
The Lotus, the national flower of India, is a symbol of supreme reality. Hindu religion and mythology portray goddess Saraswathi, the muse of learning, as being seated on a lotus flower. To the Indian psyche, the lotus is more than a flower – it represents both beauty and non-attachment. There is a saying that although it grows in mud, it smells of myrrh. Toru Dutt in her sonnet “The Lotus” addresses the flower as the “queenliest flower that blows.”

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

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Gold Fever

Gold Fever 

History will not record the bloated weight
Of this pious and bigoted race 
Or count the fat and flaccid wealth
Of religions idolatry

Those pages have been scrubbed clean
By prosperous forgivingness 
And the cruelty of established political dominion
Will not tally the bodies of the oppressed

To them, faith and belief are merely a weapon
A system of abusive control 
And a means of power continuation
A dictatorial right to rule the population

History will not record the inheritance of opinion
But lay blind at the doors of massacre
The Aztec, The Aborigine, The North American Indian, The African Negro, 
Pray in silence to The Church

Centuries written in blood and torture
For a message of verbiage and usage
Extracted and leeched from the poor and uneducated
Created the western dream

The long night of the witch hunt is not over
The Inquisition has saved us
With fake blood and wooden crosses
This elite of moral perspective shall save us all

We have paid the price in conscience
Superiority managed by white skinned indifference
Holy mother church has welcomed all
All into its iron embrace of slack jawed wonder

And what more despicable rule can there be
Than to dictate ones own spiritual journey
Spouted by the rote of political expediency
And the promise of heaven

Ingrained now this so called Christian ethic
And so much of the truth left distorted
Forgotten now are the ancient mystical secrets
Which united mankind to understanding

Idol of gold and crucifixion
Of cathedral and stained glass objectification
Gilt and holy water of sumptuous ritual
Of silken pope and luxurious self righteous invention

An aberration of human faith and belief
An unrepentant destroyer of “ Loves ” dream 
The curse of The Christ as you continue to translate
The Word

And where the paupers fist crunches the dirt
Where dried and parched lips pray for rain
Where the desperate cry for a reason echoes
Where blood flows in feted anger
Where children scream in fear
Where hunger and despair debase and demean 
Where there is no light
And in the dark only pain

If you wish to care for the souls of mankind
It is there with them
Is where you should be

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2008

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Romantic Ramblings about the Ultimate Man

You’re the finest man I have ever seen
You are handsome and strong
Full bodied
Beautiful to the eyes
Alluring to the hands
Your lips
Send messages
“Come and taste
And never thirst again”
Your eyes
Changing hues
Like the sea
The sky
In between
Iris pools where I love to swim
Liquid pleasures draw me
The depth….unfathomable
I dive deep
Deeper still
Till I am breathless
Needing to resurface

Your mind
A garden
Laden with fruit
For my hungry soul
I devour your wisdom
It is sweet to my mouth
Honey clings to each word
and sweetens my inner soul
I can listen spellbound
As you expound
The mysteries
Of existence and time
The intricacies of the world above
And the world below
And the world within
Oh…the world within
The best of them all

How you enter it with confidence
My little world
You stride
Confident and bold
I worship the ground you walk on
I worship you...body and soul
I stop breathing
With your proximity
Afraid that my breath
Will betray me
forming itself
Into a perfumed message from my heart
confessing my idolatry
So I keep silent
I hold my breath
I look away
Overwhelmed by your beauty

You are the ultimate MAN
The incarnation of
Every woman’s fantasy
Your body a haven
Your arms the walls of safety
You protect
A bastion of strength
A fortress of comfort
A perpetual knight 
To my damsel in distress
You hear my unspoken cries
And come galloping
You whisk me away
To your castled heart
Where you allay
Every fear
With that smile
the drawbridge to your soul
The royal seal
You’ve sealed me with
“All is well
I am here
I am...HERE.
Lay in my arms
Put your head on my chest”

Oh...that slow easy smile
That rivals the sun
For it cannot compete
With the heat
Your smile births in me
The sun scorches from outside in
You scorch from inside out
I melt
With that sweet smile
Oh what of your touch?
A brush of your hand
And I grow faint
And your smile broadens
Sending flares
For you know
I’m prepared 
For your entry to my inner sanctum

You are the ultimate in creation
Desire’s ultimate desire fulfilled
Passion’s passionate plea
For perfection...
You are
And here is the mystery
You are here with me
In me
In my body soul and mind
You reside
You reign...supreme
Never to be dethroned
But to be adored
And my muted celebration of praise
Is heard only by the stars
But you will see its sparkle 
Here in my eyes
When our two worlds
Flaming into paradise

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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Prince of this World

Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016

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Out of an ethereal mist her form –
round, soft edges shimmering, a milky

apparition, like the full moon on a foggy
July night. Myrtle and roses came first

in the aroma that took him to the shores 
of Tunisia and a Mediterranean breeze –

his mind wandered until she came full into view
and then his focus was secure…her beauty

filled every available space and he was captivated,
captured by love’s rich palette. He recognized her

not from a daydream nor a fantasy but his Big Dream.
“You…we have known before the slippery

rocks and the gypsy dance…stars over Mont Royal.”
With one look and a flash of lightning she charmed

his sight; he should have known he was doomed
to make the pilgrimage to Samos and the tomb.

She came to fill his head with poetry, rivers
of words to fill his verses and charge them

with emotions. Instead she filled his heart
with a drunkard’s love, a spring wine 

with a delicate bouquet…morning weighs heavy.
“Let me open the gate and chase the noisy

dogs away,  my riches lie within the garden.”
The shaper of words then took her guitar and sang

sweet melodies like kisses and he was the Best Man
far too drunk to resist her passions. He partook

in the creation of music divine amid the cries
of idolatry but he was deaf to the discord. 

With every song they sang he fell deeper
into her graces and his destiny was sealed;

he traded his heart to be skilled in the art
of making love with words, a noble task.

Whenever his vision appeared
he sensed infinity within his grasp.

So, could this awakening be
the pebble whose ripples rock the sea?

The seeker, who had found his treasure,
was now swimming in fatal hope.

I am jealous of White Feather to have kissed
the artful lips of Erato and survived.

Contest: Your BEST
Sponsor: SKAT

Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2016

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Crack Kills...God Heals

Crack kills. 
God heals, 
And destinies, 
He fulfills. 
The truth, 
He reveals. 

To get us, 
Satan uses lies, 
Theft, demolition, 
And tricks for us, 
To forever be, 
In demise. 

To save us, 
Jesus took licks, 
Was hung, He bled, 
And He died for us all, 
To have everlasting, 
And fruitful lives. 

If you want crack, 
To stop killing you. 
God got your back. 
He sent Jesus through, 
Forty-two generations, 
To save me and you. 

To free us from, 
Whatever addiction: 
Dope, lost hope, 
Fornication, adultery, 
Idolatry, homosexualism, 
Racism, or any other sin 
Not mentioned, that you, 
May fall victim to. 

God wants to, 
Use you. 
Satan wants to, 
Abuse you. 
Live the way 
God wants. 

Don't let Satan, 
Tease and taunt 
You into sin. 
Join God's team, 
And win. 

You can't fix, 
Yourself. Come 
As you are. 
Let God drive 
Your car down, 
Destiny drive, 
To the Avenue 
Of Being Forever, 

Crack kills. 
God heals, 
And destinies, 
He fulfills. 
The truth, 
He reveals. 

To get us, 
Satan uses lies, 
Theft, demolition, 
And tricks for us, 
To forever be, 
In demise. 

To save us, 
Jesus took licks, 
Was hung, He bled, 
And He died for us all, 
To have everlasting, 
And fruitful lives. 

Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2010

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Your smile...the essence of a thousand suns
   Your eyes...the splendor of the changing sea
      Your lips.....the velvet of a thousand dreams
         Your hands........the molded form of fantasy
            Your body..................the source of idolatry
               Your mind...................the garden of vitality 
                  Your touch........the cadence of a symphony
                     Your kiss....................the flavor of eternity

YOU….the breath of love that is meant to be

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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where do you stand

There is so much deception
Diluted reflections,
Alluding to perfection
But denying the resurrection,
Changing what was formed during conception,
While claiming they are an exception.
It’s only a matter of time,
Before the righteous shine
For these trials are benign
In the grand span of time.
All these tests,
Bring forth the best,
And separate us from the rest.
Some think they are so blessed
But they are goats, I must confess
They are breaches in this mess.
Selling daughters
To the Order
Draping sin
 In fine linen
Making love… a financial gain
While your sons go insane
Drinking blood sacrificed to demons
Making wealth off a man’s seaman.
Idolatry clothed in the "common good"
Many have forsaken what God said they would.
Perfecting holy words to fit a style
Don’t you know God says its vial?
Fear of man rather than the one
Who can cast you to hell and heal your son.
The infinite power, love and grace
Has suddenly been altered and replaced
By doctrines of devils and smooth operators
There is only one God and the rest are all haters.
But many go along with the times,
As if time won’t stop and require a fine.
We all have a date with an eternal fate,
We all have a dance with an eternal romance.
The question is what kind of dance will you eventually partake
Will it be pearly white gates or a fire filled lake?

By: Sabina Nicole

Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2016

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Patience is the Essence of Life

Idolatry makes me out of patience 
with the people lacking nous in essence, 
flitting away an all too frantic life.

One cannot hurry the lessons in life. 
Adopting great fortitude and patience, 
also childlike belief, is of essence.

Joy comes at a price; the very essence 
of wisdom attained through trials in life. 
Silence: trusty companion of patience.

True patience is the essence of a Life.

Poetry form: Tritina

Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013

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Spiritual Baseball

If I were to venture a sports analogy,
I'd say life most resembles baseball spiritually.
We spend eons preparing in the dugout,
Then nervously strut out to take our time at bat.

The rival coach directing our adversaries
Is the Father Of Lies and man's false philosophies.
His goal is to prevent us from reaching home plate safely.
His team's minions outnumber us near-infinitely.

The rival pitcher has icy practiced steel-like nerves,
And he's struck out many with foul spitballs and curves.
He pitches things like sloth, envy, greed, media idolatry,
Addictions, “Pro Choice”, perversions, **** and other immorality.

Our beloved Coach whispers to us from the dugout.
HE famously scored grand slams when HE went to bat.
If we listen to Our Coach, and with spirit swing fast and hard,
We'll knock those pitcher’s balls clean out of the yard.

HE knows we won’t always hit solid homers,
So HE doesn’t expect us to succeed just as loners.
We might on our swing just make it to first base,
But the team batters behind us can help us reach home base.

Even though the adversary’s minions outnumber us,
Only our choices will allow them to defeat us.
So with our Coach and team we must stand up,
When the Great Umpire of all calls “Batter Up!”.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

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Understanding Nature

Understanding Nature

Part 1: What (I Think) God Wants You to Know!

Some people don’t understand Nature,
Feel death and pain prove there’s no God
Or if there is He is a monster,
His empathy for us a fraud.

They say all of Nature’s uncaring,
No reason to posit a God,
No Creator under the mattress,
And people who think so are odd.

Most atheists aren’t open minded,
More dumb than believers they curse,
They live their whole lives without Bible,
Rejecting its comfort and Verse.

Should Bible be only man’s wisdom,
Through years’ mighty lessons were learned,
But atheist alienation
Means lots of their fingers get burned.

No scientist thinks Nature’s plan-less
Though plan’s authorship is unknown
If not His plan, perhaps another?
For truth in the Bible’s not stone.

Though Christ taught us words of His Father
A parable’s not really truth!
But teaches God’s will to the masses
As parent might speak to a youth.

If you are not God should you grumble
That scripture is not always clear?
Rejoice truth exists and be grateful
All wisdom is not that austere.
The Golden Rule’s just one example
Of Law that brings Grace to your life
Although there are some who reject it
The truth of it cuts like a knife.

The beauty that all see in Nature
Can’t hide the fact devil exists
Man’s freedom to seek his own power
Explains why such evil persists.

God’s beauty is He is consistent,
Tomorrow the same as today,
Though doubter’s fear their death’s departure
Their brain is just on holiday!

Part 2: The Value of Pain and Suffering.

God created all in His image
Which surely implies that God learns
And overturns rigid believers
With all of their stagnant patterns.

And who will say God didn’t suffer
When Jesus was nailed to the cross,
Though child’s death is greatest pain man knows
Can man really measure His loss?

Don’t feelings define our existence?
Who wouldn’t be lost without theirs
And trying to live life without them
Like solitaire musical chairs.

Are feelings a curse if we own them?
Is death all that bad if there’s soul?
Why wouldn’t our death be like waking
In heaven or hell, what’s your goal?
If souls don’t exist what’s your problem?
Best guess, we’ve just one time around,
Your life will be just what you make it
And then you’re at peace in the ground.

Whatever you think of my logic,
Your feelings are gold on this earth,
Protect you much more than they hurt you,
Are all that establishes worth.

Best say a prayer now for this blessing
If God’s there to listen or not
Give feelings a home where your heart lives
For they can still help you a lot!

How better could God honor soul’s life
Than sharing His feelings in love
And though we see through the glass darkly
We’re still tasting stuff God’s made of.

And suffering really is measure
Of feeling’s temp beyond the norm
But even when it gets excessive
Its intent is still to inform.

So rather than choosing depression
Consider that you’re not alone
God graced to survive any battle
Though this life is really just loan.

In “getting” our soul’s evolution
We start to claim kinship with God,
In valuing faith over knowledge
We let go of ego’s facade.

And Science itself is a model.
A new form of God’s poetry
Its parables hint at His wisdom
To save us from idolatry.

The wisdom of God is your servant
That’s how you can know it’s from Him,
Vibration that touches your heart strings
Makes earthly noise sound like a hymn.

Part 3: God’s Nature Is Evolution

If God is real surely His Nature
Is always in strict harmony
With everything He has created
For truth cannot be fantasy!

And Science has value like Bible
For both are creations of God
Attempts to dis one or the other
Unseemly and really quite odd.

But Bible is subject to man’s whims,
While Science bows just to man’s test,
Man’s interpretation his Gospel,
Agreement where scientists rest.

While men think that gravity’s certain
New science calls “fictitious” force
As answers from Science grow subtle
Man’s prophets just ply stale discourse.

It’s “Big Bang” that sparks evolution
Though hydrogen’s all that exists
Condensing at last, growing massive
Till heat born of structure resists.

And one by one stars are ignited
That age, fuel depleted, explode
A new element evolution
And chemistry on space unload.

This process done over and over
Until worlds and planets are formed
Where chemicals solvent in water
By atomic rules are transformed

And life starts evolving like magic
As lightning strikes spark God’s intent,
Unstoppable new evolution
Where life is revealed as God’s rent.

From stardust man’s cradle emerges,
From stardust man’s form took its shape,
God’s plan, evolution from get-go,
Bacteria, fish and then ape.

It’s vanity you think you suffer
It’s vanity you think God’s dead
It’s vanity you feel deserted
As you lie alone in your bed.

This world was created to serve you
As you were created to serve
In service you’ll find true fulfillment
As you give what you would deserve.

Brian Johnston
March 8, 2016

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2016

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It's Time to Stop Playing Church

t’s Time to Stop Playing Church! In many churches, they just want to have “fun.” Just look at what the church has become! It’s often a place of idolatry of various kinds. As many come with a lot of sin on their minds. Conviction from God doesn’t seem to last. Preaching on sin seems to be a relic of the past. Money and free coffee is what brings people in. God’s presence is absent before service begins. The people want a service that’s an hour long. God’s spirit can’t move. It doesn’t belong! “Come as you are,” is the motto of the day. Yet, people leave the same as they walk away. Do you have a problem? There’s a class for it! Do you need prayer? Call the pastor and ask for it! It’s like a drive thru service served on a platter! Is there a call for holiness? It doesn’t seem to matter! God’s judgment is coming! The church doesn’t care! When Christ comes, many will be caught unaware! Many churches are too busy worshiping false idols. As many have forsaken the God of the Bible! It’s time to repent and come before God’s throne! Let’s allow Jesus to be the Lord of our heart and home! Let’s seek Jesus, who requires a holy way of living! He wants a pure heart in the life that we’re giving! Coming to church isn’t the answer to what’s needed! Only by obeying God’s word, can a life be completed! Let’s preach the gospel of Jesus this very hour! Let’s seek his presence and his righteous power! It’s righteous living that matters the most! Let’s be changed by God’s power of the Holy Ghost! By Jim Pemberton 10/02/16

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2016

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Intensity's Revenge

The Story of Her Intensity

Intensity is what drove him away
Intense were her demands and great her need
Obsessive love a price he could not pay
And so he left- his heart and soul now freed

He tasted of a carefree reckless lust
No strings attached, just pleasure every day
No one to whom he had to bind his trust
His days were filled with dreams and nights with play

At times he thought of her and of her pain
She loved him with intense idolatry
But on his conscience she was just a stain
A proof that life was just hypocrisy  

One night when all alone he lay in bed
He felt a longing for her warm embrace
The vision of her body filled his head
Intensity of passion on her face

The years had passed and now he sought her love
He stood outside the bedroom of her heart
He hoped to find the wisdom from above
Believing she would grant a brand new start

But through the window came the muffled sound
Of moans of ecstasy he’d heard before
The world turned black, for he was losing ground
Intense the plea he heard, “Oh…give me more!”

The sound of her fulfillment reached his ear
Along with breathless gasps of lover’s voice
He turned away to face a life now drear
For her “intensity” left him with no choice


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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African Greed

African Greed

They all speak and spit, dream for Dollars, it’s America
They will kill you and vomit for Pound, it's England
They know almost nothing about economy, wealth
They think just because you have money, you are rich
The word money comes, sound divinity, adoration
Don’t say corruption, financial crises, just say greed

It looks as if all of them know how to manage money,
When few can tell where money is made, designed, printed
Few in Africa can tell which kind of paper is used for a bill
Few in Africa can tell how much it costs to craft a coin
Few can tell if bullets of our guns are made in Africa
Don’t say civil war, extremist, Terror, let’s say greed

African greed, let Lumumba roll back on his no grave
African greed, let Sankara fight back for his legacy
African greed, selling our wisdom back to alienation
African greed, selling our hope back to illusion
African greed, riding our horseback to colonialism
African greed, selling our leadership back to dictatorship

They put money in front of vision and motion
I am living in a place where” you are your money”
You get a kiss and smile on your bank balance
You get friends and lovers on your pocket size
Even education is now linked to how much you can pay
Don’t say Ebola, HIV, Poverty, Demons, let’s say greed

African greed; let Mandela roll back in his grave
Africa greed; let Mandume fight back for his land
African greed; selling our identity back to slavery
African greed; selling our faith back to idolatry
African greed; sailing on boats back to savagery
African greed; selling our dream back to the nightmare

Copyright © ISAAC KINZAMBI | Year Posted 2016

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The Chains That Bind Me: Letting Go of ED

Chains, so heavy. Binding every body part.  
A cell: its cold metal bars blocking out light.   
A wall, originally meant to protect, now a barricade nothing penetrates.
A net, once safety, now entangling, strangling.  
A trap, caught with no one to rescue, screaming yet unheard, misunderstood.
A thick fog stifling my breath, clouding my mind.
A prison of mirrors, taunting, criticizing, hating.
A barbed club, beating my flesh raw.  
An inescapable grading system consisting only of the letter “F.”
A harsh judge, always condemning “guilty.”

What happened to the Friend, the Protector?
Have I lost control? To this monster that possesses mind and soul?
How did I get so lost?  Even my voice can’t find its way. 
Where is freedom, light, joy?  …In this meaningless existence.

Fears suffocate me.  Trapped in mind and body.
If I’m living, it’s a nightmare.
I can’t move, can’t scream, can’t breathe, can’t feel.
I’m crippled, though not physically.
Worshipping an idol that leaves me empty.
God, where are you?  
Where did I go wrong?  
I only meant to be perfect.
Meant to shut out pain, to stop feeling.
To please You and the world.

I rejected my true identity, didn’t I?
Didn’t trust in Your love and power.
I played God, Decided I knew best.
I hated Your Creation, attempting to change the cracks that make me beautiful.  
Rather than allow You to mold them.
I shut out Your plan by choosing mine. 
My control led to chaos, to self-destruction. The opposite of Love.
I chose bondage to self and fear, not Freedom.
Judgment instead of Grace.

The dangers of perfection, of self-idolatry, of control.
Not just an eating disorder, but so much more.
Why cling to sickness and defeat when You offer safety, Triumph?
Why deprive myself of True Life?
Why choose chains when meant to run in Freedom?

I let go, surrender, give my life to God.
Chains break; my body crumbles.
I rise, facing the Monster guarding my prison cell.
Finding my voice, I scream: it shakes the walls.
The same club I use to beat myself,
I turn on him, until his flesh too is raw.

Though aching from being bound so long,
I see light.  My heart skips.
Cracks of light pour through the wall,
It shrinks in stature.
Gentle Hands hear me, untangle me.
I open myself to the mind of Christ,
Asking for transformation of thought and heart.
The fog lifts – I can see, I can think.
Emotions flood in, no longer feared.  
Instead a gift, an adventure.
There is comfort that He is near: my Friend, my Protector.  

Over the mirrors, I glue God’s Truth.
The taunting ceases; A new reflection appears.
A daughter crowned with jewels is what I see,
Holding the hand of her Father, the King.
Light radiates from the pair,
A halo of peace surrounds them.

In His presence is power and healing, acceptance, love.
Judgment is gone, as is the drive to do and be.  
He has drawn me with everlasting kindness,
In me, He is well-pleased.  
His works are wonderful,
That I am beginning to see.

Why choose a prison of our own making?
When He offers hope, love, freedom, all we need.
Why hold to darkness when He is light?

Turn and face the enemy – 
Muster His strength. Fight its deathly embrace.
By letting go.
By letting Him.
Transform. And break the chains.

Copyright © Kira Olson | Year Posted 2013

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I Ain't Feelin' It

Could what a political scientist would call
deeply held belief
also be what a psychologist could identify as a
feeling of affinity or aversion,
trust or distrust,
confluent familiarity or cognitive-affective dissonance?

"I deeply believe Tasteless Trump
is the logical conclusion
so richly deserved by the Republican Party."

Is this position rooted in a belief system
or an empathic feeling of trust/distrust system
or are these dualistic ways
to speak of one nondual feeling-belief mindbody system?

If our political and economic choices
evolve out of our complex sensory networks
of health v pathology,
both ego-internal
and eco-external,
both endo- and ecto-symbiotically evolving,
then how do I know
that what you believe
is not what I experience
as a feeling of trust v. distrust, dissonance,
basic aptic contentment,
or stressful stretching
to find co-empathic commensurability,
as something nondually in-between
your evolving belief systems
and my evolving feeling sensory-rooted systems?

For political party planning,
community organizers have a useful iconic principle:
Highest and best original investment system
will generate the most widely replicable positive community outcomes,
but only for those well-spoken,
within the original highest and best co-investor system.

Or, something like that.

Permaculture Designers have a similar system design principle:
Greatest effect with least loss, least effort, least suffering, least dissonance.

Combining these may reproduce a new-old Golden poli-economic Rule
of ReGenerative Systems Development:
Optimize systemic belief/feeling integrity
by learning holistic wins of love management,
given current co-investor potential.

Given current poli-economic co-investor potential for
freedom toward health, as freedom from pathological anger,
freedom toward love, freedom from fear of fear itself,
freedom toward learning trusting truths of co-empathic beauty,
as freedom from dissonant terrors 
of self and other hatred,
fundamentalist monocultural elitism,
sociopathic anthrocentric suprema-cynicism,
suicidally hypnotic addictive self-idolatry 
of LeftBrain ego-predative dominance.

More holistic current feeling/belief learning potential
evolves love/synergy through inclusive deep listening
and then intentional practice 
of co-empathic eco-compassion.

Deep learning our belief-feeling continuum,
noticing what were oppositions now feel like heuristic appositions,
slowly, integrally,
inclusively discerning our shared vision 
for optimizing potential regenerative co-empathic trust intent.

Given my current
     scientific research/spiritual development
situation and story,
my blessings and apparent curses,
resonance and poli-economic flat-line echoing silent dissonance,
I am trying to do my part to regenerate healthy ecosystems
biosystems of life and dying decomposition,
with least loss and suffering,
ecopolitical death,
resulting in highest and best nutritional effect
for my,
and our,
and Earth's feeling-beliefs,
both political and economic,
ecologically evolving systems
for health regenerating safety
of future generations,
our EarthTribal PostMillennial CoInvestment,
our vulnerable innocents facing climatic transitions.

Would both political and psychological scientists
recognize an embryonic DNA/RNA scripted baby
as a deeply rooted belief/feeling system,
hopefully evolving toward political and economic maturity?

Like Republic Party Investors
giving birth to Donald Trump as their Favorite RelentlesslyWhite,
nonIslamic Son,
to re-present their most nutritional offering
and sacrifice,
a sacramental icon of political and economic monocultural elitism,
not recognizing the superior polycultural power of co-empathic trust
has already slapped them in the face;
but just to wake us up to our own naked absence
of basic trust
in double binding principles
of political subsidiarity to 
economics of integral-dialectical-nondual complementarity;
trust beliefs form as well-fed feelings flow.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

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Victories for Love

The problem of military reactions
to territorial control issues
is not merely that violence breeds further strategic development
of violence,
although this is no small,
nor amoral, 

This primal problem of militarism by historic default
is that it is an intrinsically violent chapter
in the Big RedBook of Capitalism,
rooted in God created elite might right.

Notice the tools we make and buy for soldiers.
Compare these to tools in the Peace Corp.
These tell the very different problem-solving environments
found in authority to take life
rather than responsibility to share life.

And which of these feels sacred?
And which feels evil?
Whether a necessary evil or not,
still evil is not an amoral enculturation choice 
over presumably weaker sacred options.

Our problem with birthing and raising nations
is similar to growing healthy mammalian babies.
Violent authority-based relationships
and love nurturing responses 
and nutritional responsibilities
grow viral within individuals,
climates and landscapes of planets.

Yet it is a relativistic mistake,
a compromising error,
to believe WinLose choices
rather than WinWin co-responsive options
are merely strategic architectures,
without moral implications,
and projections for growing more democratic love
or degenerating further violence,
the true capital investment returns
for choosing to spread one's dominant authority
rather than cooperative EarthCentering responsibilities.

The U.S. democratic-intended Constitution,
and Amendments,
were born of both love for this people
and this place,
this sacred land,
developed in a new responsibility,
a New OldWorld opportunity
to grow a multiculture of healthy inclusive love,
yet also born of hate for Royalist elitism,
supported by threat of military violence
authorized by right of a Crown
not made by merely human hands
but, yes, made by cowed human minds,
resulting in often exploited backs and legs
and arms 
races and racism,
including conscription 
of the darkest and poorest first,
creating a new nationalistic suppressed generation
in toxic patriarchal authorities to take foreign life
because of something larger
more Yang-significant and dominant
than risks of our own Yin-lives individually lost,

Implying authorities to incriminate lives of brothers and sisters,
to deprive healthy lives to enemies of the State,
now become a God of CapitalHoarding Revenge,
a jealous rich god of royal elitism,
gone viral with MADness.

The U.S. is a continuing experiment
in these double-binding addictions
to love's responsibilities toward WinWin democratic resolutions,
and violations of cooperative authority
devolving toward further WinLose reiterations
of suboptimizing health-wealth strategies,
as if positive love morality of cooperation
could ever be normatively set-aside
for double-negatives of hating foreign fathers
and violating their heathen wives
as merely sexual property.

Rather Old School,
Old Testament,
Old History
this military-industrious
violent authority to defend capitalism's dominance,
a perennial contagion
we spread through using younger bodies
as slaves for mutual slaughter
rather than investing in cooperative Peace Warriors
equipped with more permacultural loving tools
like trees
and solar panels,
cell phones
and seeds for regenerativity.

A history of democratic love
is born and restored at home
through developing cultures of healthy care-receiving and giving,
certainly including a federal mandate for universal health care,
but not just for U.S. tax payers;
for all Earth's lives,
our native Elders,
without whom we never could have arrived
at this opportunity
to choose contagious climates of health
over toxic addictions to further WinLose climates
of capital-hoarding violence
within and between brothers and sisters,
matriarchal cousins
extending cooperative family co-gendering trees
back through spacetime,
prehistoric polypathic nondual love.

And yet I can hear Puritan foundations,
evangelical voices
responding ex-gospel cathedra:
We still cling to our Jealous God
of and for White Heterosexual Male Dominant Idolatry
with rights of capital-invested might
to violently defend our self-entitling righteous beliefs.

Yet, this Jealous YHWH,
supremacist shouts more commandingly
only in our Older Testament.

Jesus knows Abba
whose ultimate property is restoring perfect love,
a property you also believe in
as New Testament GoodNews Gospel.

This is where love's ecopolitical responsibilities emerge,
evolve as morally higher and better and deeper rooted
than simplistic Old School violent revenge
of royal-supreme Elites.

Again I hear evangelists
and false prophets of violent revolutions
against secular humanism
shouting with spit-flying emphasis:
We must not believe in God's evolution
as this is a view incompatible
with God's Original Creation Revolution
of planet Earth
and Her atmospheric Universe.

Your theological and emotional health issues
are all the New Testament scriptural evidence
that Jesus the Jewish Son
clearly does believe in messianic love's evolution,
from Vengeance Is Mine!
to God is multiculturing contagion of therapeutic love,
and not at all Old School RoyalState-Capitalist
military violence addiction.

If you see love of revolving regenerativity,
wealth of health opportunities
as weaker than violently vengeful WinLose monoculturing risks,
this view is not much Christ-like.

Had God invited your birth and maturation
prior to 1776,
you might well have felt compelled
by fear of King George's righteous royal entitlement.

Christian Elitists
are not what mainstream political U.S. culture
has ever labeled as truly patriotic or USA indigenous
in any historical senses of native as naturalized,
and most emphatically not
what either Republicans or Democrats
would consider patriotic
promise of a national evolving multiculture of healthy wealth
for restoring health tomorrow.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

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Original Languages

Life explores integrity,
hoping to fulfill
all exploding polypathic 
curiosities polyphonic.

How might history rewrite humanity
if those who adventured out
and eagerly invaded
felt more reluctant to dominate?
More sure that their long-term survival
in this, or any, non-native land
required them to first learn those languages at hand,
and adopt them as their creolizing own.

Would European colonization outward
look more like global metamorphosis,
transubstantiating communion

Would the language of democracy
recognize no dualistic divide
between cooperative health
and co-investing wealth of cultures?

If invading civilizations
had been wiser
we could have earlier seen
curiosity best listens and learns native civilities
from what has been exegetically in cultural place,
before knowing how and what and when and where to displace
our own first language preconceptions.

How could I communicate my invasive wisdom
into your language of experience
of hope and anxiety
unless I have first learned your expressions,
verbal and nonverbal,
pitched and rhythmed by enculturing flows
of Earth's nurturing
and restricting

How would U.S. democracy unfold
in First Nation language?
Where Earth
and water
and wind
and fire
individually perhaps, and certainly together,
have veto power
over healthy WinWin anthro-choice.

And, animal and tree spirits
share our prime universal suffrage,
voting Yes through healthy balancing increase
and disinvesting No through internal climates of decline.

We would learn language
for trusts and mistrusts
of late summer trees
already falling leaves
turned yellow
along colonizing lanes of diesel cultures.

We would not deny
internal and external climates
of growing rabid pathology,
idolatry of LeftBrain dominant patriarchal capitalism,
speaking harshly
yet deniable abstractly
of polysyllabic demise,
dissonance of denying language
expressing First Nation climates
inside as outside
up and down
back and forth imaginations
within enculturing languages of time.

Healthy democracy would not merely debate
reasonable extremities of over-heating Earth's survival,
but would center focus on regeneratively rediscovering
past and future optimizing reasons
toward reweaving nature-spirits discerning climate health
as optimizing wealth
both inside yin nurturing
and outside yang cooperative,
universally uniting democratic control.

Explorers seeking further curiosities
recreating what's next,
gathering nature-spirit voices
deferring to more original health
enculturation/decomposition histories,
ebb and flow of nurturing Earth,
multiculturing languages
speaking through passing lights and darks
of Time
incarnating healthier climates
of goodwill.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

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Achab, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's Achab by T Wignesan

Achab*, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Achab by T. Wignesan

One man alone stands erect before the king, and speaks
A man

The king is not accustomed to being confronted face to 
He reigns over heads bent.
He prohibits their looking at him
The eyes of men.
He has nothing but idols
In front of him.*
His looks and those of the others
Stare into the void
The majesty.

The king is not accustomed to being addressed.
Words only serve as air to fan him.
The empty mask does not listen
In the same way as his eyes stare into the void.
This muteness represents the idol
That each supplicates.
He pretends not to exist
Faced by the void
His majesty.

The king is not accustomed to being human.
Being appears to him a promiscuous entity.
This livestock’s the leather
Produced by thunders.
He remains the imperturbed idol
A nimbus of lightnings.
His glory resides in his power to kill :
Void the earth,
His majesty.

The king is not accustomed to being drawn into discussion
Think what one may, his power enables him to shed blood.
Whether one dies or survives
He should defer to the monarch
And make believe the king’s the idol
Whether dew drops or rain pours.
Everything should find its place
In his vacant looks
In majesty.

One man alone stands erect before the king
And speaks.

Between the king and him there’s no level ground. Neither
For the moment, between this man and the mass. Such a 
Is not to be led some day by the flock.
The king limits the grazing grounds of the masses
Whose far to high foreheads he’ll mark and relegate them 
          to the slaughter-house
It’s our species which is uneasy at being erect
Our fear of being able to think for ourselves being 
sanctioned by law
Commonplace couch grass being nibbled at on this flat 
That’s in no way the man. Who is the man ? Question
Void like the Void up above which answers him.
The irruption of evidence in a man
Who’s absolutely certain that he can do anything he says 
he can
Absolutely certain of the Speech in him.

A man alone, who deliberately blows through
This painted idol in the void. This blasphemy
Which imitates here below the empty Glory in the 
heavenly sphères.
One act of courage detaches itself from the crowd
And speaks for the army of ages and says : I
As if all the kings were so many skulls
Weightless sleigh bells in the glorious void
Only one says I because he’s certain of existing
Having dedicated his life to serving the only Living Being.
He’s the man : his entire being is made up of the word
Received, given. He knows what power resides in him
The Void has emptied him of everything but his Reign
And his own name serves as a gage.

« As true as the Living Being is the Living Being
And I in his service
There’ll not be during these years
Neither dew drops nor downpours
Only my word »
Says Elie.

*Achab, son of Amri and King of Israel (either 918-897
BCE or 875-854 BCE). Married Jezebel. Allied with
Josaphat, King of Juda, against Syria. Killed by arrow
during war to conquer Ramoth Galaad.
* Queen Jezebel, Princess of Sidonia, led Achab into
idolatry, according to Catholic Encyclopaedia

(Tu, O.C. t. II, p. 592)

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

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The Destruction of Planet Number Three

The sun's savage fingers have penetrated
the calving sheets of ice, delving deeply 
beneath the blankets of the frozen surface.

And the oceans, bruised mauve and swollen 
like a pregnant whore, rail against the rocks
of man's kingdoms with their bowels ripped 
open by bleached coral and rising temperatures;

from which clouds rise up, bitter like a smog 
eclipsed sun, only to fall back to earth with 
corruption pinned to the coat tails of every raindrop. 
And, across the fields, a coal-filled crystalline air 

drives a guilty world's dreams towards unprotected 
lungs and evaporating lands. Where oil worshipped 
totums portray the sordid lucre of promised bounty,
producing lopsided views of a dying humanity

And the keeper of the rain forest's keys deals with a 
polluted man, chain saw in one hand and palm oil in 
the other. Leaving the abandoned trees to rage 
unheard against the indignity of their rape. 

Leaving embattled tribes, gentle guardians of the land, to
stand defenceless against the idolatry of the dollar; whose
spiteful colours of destruction are spreading their kaleidoscopic 
tendrils across a world full of dust bowls and refugee famine

Proud are we who stand tall against a world that gave us
a garden to play in and a sea to banquet on. And proud are 
we who make the toys that blast holes out of creation and 
bind the full power of the sun's wrath against such a tiny emblem

"Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much. Wisdom
is humble that he knows not more" (William Cowper 1785)

Copyright © Terry Robinson | Year Posted 2015

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Wake up,
there'a a rebellion going on
There's a revolt,
and the conspiracy is strong
Two hundred and fifty princes
against Moses the man of God
They all got their swords aimed
against the power of Aaron's rod
The leaders of this evil insurgency
are two lovers of Egyptian idolatry
Wicked men trying to resist the truth,
but their folly will be made known to all
Reprobate concerning the faith,
brother against brother is the judgment call

Now whose side are you on,
whose's it gonna be
Do you choose Moses and Aaron,
or do you vote for Jannes and Jambres

Whose side are you on,
now that you've crossed the Red Sea
Do you wanna be free and serve God,
or worship the idols of Egypt in slavery

Brother against brother is the battle call today
Do you wanna go back to Egypt,
or remain here in the wilderness to stay
Some say they'd rather have their bellies full
and be in chains
Then to die of hunger and thirst
in a land where it doesn't rain
Some say Moses is a false prophet,
who brought them to the desert to die
Some say there's no land of milk and honey,
that's just crazy talk, pie in the sky

Now whose side are you on,
who do you choose to believe
Will you stay with Moses and Aaron,
or will you follow Jannes and Jambres

Whose side are you on,
now that you've crossed the Red Sea
Do you want to go on to Canaan land,
or do you want to go back into slavery

Speaking for myself,
'cause I don't know about you:
I'm sticking with Moses,
and I'm staying with Aaron too
We got the Rock,
with the water gushing out
We got the Manna,
every morning on the ground like dew

Then the glory of the Lord
appeared before the congregation
Ready to destroy the whole Israelite nation
But Moses said, Lord please,
please don't destroy them all
And God showed mercy, letting only the rebels fall
into the pit, where the earth had opened up her mouth
Into the bottomless pit, where there would be no climbing out

Standing before the throne of God on judgment day:

Brother, whose side were you on,
did you follow the devil and pick wrong
Were you part of the rebellion that took place,
did the dirt from the pit cover your face

Brother, whose side were you on,
on which side did you belong
Did you help defend the two holy men,
or did you die with Korah and Dathan

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016

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Psychology of Political Economics

Shalom, Aloha, Namaste

Identity is rooted in socioeconomic health of mutual trust,
beginning in utero
swimming about in embryonic nutrition,
rather than active distrust
or more passive mistrust of the relatively unknown
yet somehow paranoic alien, Other.

The psychological fuel for polypathic political trust
is capacity for empathy,
which grows bicamerally within mutually subsidiary economies
of co-empathic positive intent,
co-arising nonduality
in more ecstatic peaks of good beatific as beautifully edgy humor.

Empathy is a teachable,
because learnable,
listening and noticing skill,
stretching to include those aliens of self and other doubt,
occasionally even abusive terrorists within.

Mature co-empathic bicameral skills
are what we might call healthy mindfulness,
ecoconsciousness of Self as holonically syncing with Other,
intent toward mutual integrity,
esteemed equivalence,
emerging from comprehension of our Original Intent
as regenerative cycling Earth's SpaceTime fertile paradise
of Positive Deviance Psychology, 
Political ChoiceMaking for Positive Nutrients, 
Economically Cooperative WinWin TransActions,
deviant from vacuous dissonance and chaos,
random WinLose irrationality,
endless notnot polynomials of double-binding ambivalence.

Zero-centric mindfulness training
is not only the stuff of sit at home,
chant and drum meditation training and sensory experience
of nutritional sounds and tastes and sights and smells
with concomitant affective feelings 
of resonant trust, dissonant mistrust, assonant distrust, hate, fear, anger
trusting things might be better 
if I can just cathartically,
purgatively force myself and others to calm back down
from active distrust to at least more passive mistrust
about our continuing future lives together
in more peaceful silence of mutual breathing,
in as out.

While shared centering space and sounds can be useful
especially as household units,
and prior to important political and economic discernment events
systemic networks of positive transitional evolutionary intent,
stretching mindfulness through each active loving moment
of each day and night
is optimally sustained only in a safe-risk environment
of political and economic cooperative nurturance,
where power competitions are normatively agreed to remain subservient 
to greater cooperative nurturing,
Both-And powers of consensual discernment
to discover together highest and best political ecotherapy
and economic health optimization outcomes.

We are best within our democratically-inclusive empathic wheelhouse,
rather than the mutual immune fears of unknown
mysterious and unfortunate threats
and other competitive LeftBrain too-reductive dominance
in defining extended families of synergetic confluence,
requires (0)-centric disciplines of mindfulness
but these are more accurately embraced as Tao-disciplines
on behalf of Love as Nature's KindTrust Expansion,
rather than suboptimizing political/economic goals
of Anger and Fear Management and self repression
of the static/stuck Panic-Terrorist within to feel better
managing damage control,
safety and security,
defensive mutual time out preferences,
restraint procedures
and economic investment boundary policies
to contain our LoseLose worst hunting and ungathering fears.

The Haudenosaunee definition of grace,
"the words that come before all else"
under ideal compost incubating circumstances
of mutual-mentoring 
Both-And political and economic cooperative discernment
might bilaterally nuance,
grace evolves the words that come before as after all else,
as above,
so below;
as Exterior Landscaped
so Interior Landscaped.

The belief that anthrocentrism is fundamental 
to wise political and economic regenerative planning
for future generations,
is the Original Sin of fundamentalist self-idolatry.
Our capacities for healthy mutual co-empathic trust development
far exceed such a limited and limiting sense of our own personal,
and EarthTribal identity,
history of cooperative enculturation and intelligence.

Radical Revolutionary Earth (0)-Soul Centrism
is bicameral ecoconsciousness
of polypathic highest as healthiest beautiful minds and words
that come both before and after all else.

Our co-empathic democratic multicultural trust
in healthy cooperative futures begins this and each EarthLoving Eternal Day and Rich Composting Night,

Aloha, Shalom. Namaste.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

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" Hail to courageous Patrick! "
The Christian Irish loudly sang,
taking their chant to all Ireland...
and that made Milchu very sick!

In his veins ran pure blood of Roman nobility;
at that brutal era, Druidism was Ireland's religion,
and he, the follower of Christ, felt much contention...
but armed with determination Patrick fought it fiercely!  

" Hail to courageous Patrick!"
As a saint he never accepted defeat;
he was bread and water for the weak...
endless fear for the High Priest!

" Pagans, you shall not worship neither the Sun
nor idols, Christ is your true Lord! "
He preached in all villages ignoring any frown
from that warrior waving his sword!

Would he had never been captured
and sold into slavery, all Ireland wouldn't have known liberty;
his task was to tend sheep as David,
but choose to give his entire soul to God to wipe out idolatry!  

" Hail to courageous Patrick! "
Every man, woman and child shouted without being afraid;
they knew that God had sent this holy and kind man to them
to teach prayers of fervent faith!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013

Details | Idolatry Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Midnight Madame

Honey Glaze Bun
A herd of hoof ran across her back
 Her mind drifting into slumber
Her midnights rendezvous became dangerous acts 
while the itinerant
Slept in every alley on Delaney Street

An exhausted prosecutor 
Release her back to the cruelty of the dark street
Where broken lamps on 
The Great White Way generates
Little or no heat
And the deafening sound of the siren
Kept her awake
Until the blonde blue eye stranger pulled up
In a dark limousine rolled down the window
 And whispered
“Hello honey bun
Come on in 
Your place or mine
Let’s be discreet.

Half a mile down the dark road
The hooded stranger
Poetry became a reality
An old Shakespearean

Let not my love be called idolatry,


Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012