Best Matriarchal Poems
Temple of the Gods
Within the realities, unseen deified admits a parallel preen
A shielded smokescreen for their succus is made unclean
In the matriarchal machine a throne tallat for the Queen
A calumnious convene in illusions that dered and demean
The fallen Angels level in their banishing bedaubed bedevil
In ruins ravaging, they revel a tenacious tenet of their temple
For their mendacious meddle we are the reifier of our vessel
We wilfully wrestle and retire in our denned deceived nestle
We are the many among the few evitative as we quietly ensue
For we must rise and renew all sexes seduced within their skew
Time to be trusted and true him or her who sees the veils thru
Constructs that construe dimensional drifts solos in the goo.
A Palindrome is a word or phrase which reads the same backwards as forwards, such as madam
deified – past tense of "to deify", meaning to consider as a god
succus – any of various liquids excreted by animals or plants
tallat--A loft.
dered – past tense of "to dere", an archaic word meaning to harm
level – various common meanings
tenet – a belief or principle
reifier – someone who reifies (considers an abstract concept to be real)
denned – past tense of to den, meaning to live in a den
evitative – a grammatical case indicating fear or aversion.
sexes – plural of sex
sees – third-person present tense of ‘to see’
solos – plural of solo
May.08.2018
Palindromes
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Categories:
matriarchal, evil, power, prison,
Form:
Rhyme
In Monolithic monuments are the bringers of the derelict dawn
I see many idolatrous idols, forged in ancient bibliothecal Babylon
Within worshipful winds, that carry words of parasitical praise
And indulging in illusions that comfort their camouflaging craze
I am the god of Lust beware my tempestuous heinous hunger
My appetite for decadent desire keeps me forever younger
I am the god of Gluttony beware my excessive consumption
The more I ferociously feed, the more for my euphoric eruption
I am the god of Greed beware my matriarchal material possessions
I want what I want and not what I need, to satisfy my aggressions
I am the god of Sloth beware my lazy inhabitations and failure to act
In my dormant dwellings, savoring sanctuaries where I safely retract
I am the god of Pride beware my self-indulging pompous portray
I talk to merciful mirrors that reflect reinforcing rumors my way
I am the god of Envy beware my desire to obtain what you possess
I want to experience everything, the secret to my seductive success
I am the god of Wrath beware my feelings of anger and habitual hates
Waging worthless wars as I open up the homogeneous hellion gates
The gods have spoken, their words eternal spread throughout eternity
In the efficacious end, Love will conquer all, so I say to you... ‘Let It Be’
Aug.02.2017
Let It Be
Sponsored by: Catie Lindsey
Categories:
matriarchal, abuse, desire, sin,
Form:
Rhyme
ARE YOU RIBBING ME
GIVE us back our rightful place
Matriarchal society - was not broken- when you fixed it -
you need to stop playing games with yourself.
When western heathenism became patriarchal--
the feminine energy was still ruling--
We allowed you to realize whom came from whom.
Was it not the womb who gave birth to the?
son and the moon.
Was it not you who slid down our milky way.
Was it not you that we gave the power to.
Because you are our creation.
Give truth back to our men
the out of control concepts has bred deception-
Before too- many more myths create
the polarity- desires, pulling men
between masculine and feminine…
In the beginning the one who had all power
Created both male and female not to rule over
One another but to be as opposite attractions
Giving life -love- and-
Joy and to make more
Creations through pro-creations.
I WAS Placed in the womb
and in the womb, I was formed.
When I got here
somebody told me
I came from a Rib.
Did the research and found
it wasn't me
I am a womb-man
came from the womb
people.
I met the "Rib People"
heard their fantasy,
and they do not like me,
because I am woman.
But still they place more
seeds in my womb...
and give mystery to my history,
even though they know
They came from me.
The rib story gains
popularity as It's
entwined with the bibliography.
Now instead of love," Jealousy"
has reared its ugly head,
and female fetuses by the millions
are ENDING up DEAD!
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2017
Categories:
matriarchal, death, deep, , western,
Form:
Verse
I am the sum of the ages
beginning before my mother,
before my grandmother,
and before my grandmother's mother.
I am the product of their matriarchal choices,
the quotient of their actions, reflections, and self-images.
I am the difference of their generations.
And I bequeath the equation of this inheritance
to the matrices of my living legacies.
Categories:
matriarchal, family, mother
Form:
Free verse
Rationality exorcised,
Culturally terrorized,
Freedom lost in the blink of an eye,
Federal coercion,
Statewide indignation,
Selling flag nooses for resuscitation,
Christianity stifling,
ISIS plea-bargaining,
Embracing flawed ideology without even reading,
"Societal oppression",
Active aggression,
Against the bystanding citizen and the egalitarian opposition,
Educational revisionism,
Internal terrorism,
All in the name of matriarchal Marxism,
Gender criminalized,
Youth institutionalized,
Submitting future generations to intellectual genocide,
With a porcelain mask of pseudo-benevolence,
You spew lies and propaganda demanding executive orders of masculinity's temperance,
So with societal lynchings,
Your dogma is breaching,
The foundations of animosity,
Into the world of pure insanity.
Categories:
matriarchal, abuse, angst, feelings, gender,
Form:
Rhyme
Although gay women are attractive,
Can their love be counted on,
A chemistry that’s non-reactive,
Oligarchs of Amazon?
They face perhaps same traps that we do
Think of men as only drone,
An inverse baby kind of voodoo
Makes weak labeled sex to groan.
Where all good jobs are matriarchal
Confident they know what’s best,
A standing joke the patriarchal,
Litmus test for world unrest.
The thought’s out there this might be right on
Most know men have lost the race
Is ‘Women Better’ just a long con,
Bankrupt hyssop’s sexist’s face?
Misogynistic choices kill love
‘Death to men’ no better prayer,
While teamwork puts the hand in glove,
Seems to matter both are there.
Are women victim’s of man’s error?
Most men raised by woman’s side?
Small boys ignoring all their terror,
Little men, their country’s pride.
Men seem to rule, but die in battle
Block what festers deep inside
Then led to slaughter just like cattle
‘Free’ state purchased with their hide.
A girl I loved once had obsession
Wanted more to be like man
A mom at war with her depression,
Made this seem a better plan.
I can’t report she had much luck though
One girlfriend would beat her up
A flower dressed in man’s tuxedo
Life remained a half-filled cup.
But is it nature, is it nurture
Leads us to our confused art?
Heed dying gasp of cloaked John Bircher
Even Bible plays its part!
If life for others is what you choose
This can’t guarantee you’ll win
For life in faith means you could still lose
Doing good can still be sin!
A pig, a poke, that’s all you get,
Some joy, calamity, and yet
If God is dead, get real, get hip,
There’s sure release in death’s strong grip
As poet, I see humor in
This tale I spin, the life of men
God’s presence in man’s history
And Grace that spices mystery
For human love I know exists,
In spite of pain, it still resists
The certain coming of death’s call,
Though life be short, it is your all!
Brian Johnston
February 5, 2015
Categories:
matriarchal, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The Farm ©
by Trisha Sugarek
Fields of mustard seed
as far and beyond the eye
the farm dogs return
dusted in yellow
The clapboard grey of the old
farm house stands in testimony of
generations of pea farmers,
hunters, fishermen, and cooks
Heady fragrance of a farm dinner
immerses the senses as the screen
door slaps open
The matriarchal voice sings out
‘tea party!’ A call to supper
And the city folk sit around a battered
and scared wooden table laden with
baked chicken, fried steak, mashed potatoes,
green beans and corn that hung from the
vine just minutes ago
Her biscuits and corn bread are the stuff that
dreams are made of
Later they all sit on the warped porch steps
and listen as the geese honk their way in to
the fields and their nightly time of respite
Bats fly across the moon, frogs call out their
secrets, a loon wails its loneliness
Categories:
matriarchal, autumn, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
When did business ethics
find roots in science
rather than re-connecting
humane re-ligion?
Thereby exempting,
divorcing,
earning a merely fair
and acceptable free economic pass
to continue extraction
exploitation
to build corporate empires
divorced from religion's incorporated
GoldenRule win/win ethics,
Including
family fair play
of sacrificially co-redemptive moral values
on altars of messianic
bodhisattva sacred smoke
and self/other co-reflective mirrors
Meming little everyday issue miming,
like don't neglect our long-term health care planet,
Like take care of our homes
and local communities
so we, together,
can continue keeping each Other
healthy and safe.
How alarmingly Old Indigenous School
it feels to interdependently belong
to green matriarchal
DNA regenerative systemic roots
of habitual healthy instincts
Sensory and sexual
re-connecting
re-ligioning
vocational secularized sacred employments
In cooperative wise gratitude
for MotherEarth's naturally enspirited
enlightened
empowering regenerative
ecofeminist
green graced bowing attitude
Positive
and cooperative
nonzero-emergent
polycultural
WinEgo to Win EcoSystemic health/wealth climates
of resilient integrity
Rooted in sacred Right hemispheres
and cooperatively regifted
in co-empathic secular co-arisings
Heaven's Light uprising brings
and rebrings,
turns
and returns day
and night
Earth's health-powered
ReSalvific ClimateJustice
Which, to my left hemisphere,
is all about careful autonomous control
and scrupulously quantitative best
NonZeroSum cooperatively owned emergence
toward inclusive multicultural planning
for WholeEarth health/wealth
optimization
To which my right hemisphere responds
looking for healthier four-square lyrical fond
of some things hoping for a miraculous beat,
comfortable with seasonal reasoned rhythms repeat
not quite so hopelessly white patterned arches
resting on male privileged marches
Busyness roots in monetized science
thereby left hemisphere exempting artistic
everyday eco-political experience
from GoldenRule expiring
Win/Win re-connecting
re-ligioning EarthDay
natural/spiritual cooperative
co-invested polyculturing ethics.
Categories:
matriarchal, business, health, integrity, religion,
Form:
Political Verse
Erik Erikson
described U.S. culture
as stuck in adolescence,
and a more feminist Erika Fromm,
or Erik Erikson,
might have added
Nationalistically stuck in patriarchal adolescence.
Yet in the normal course of biological events,
and spiritual evolutions,
each life,
individual and cultural,
unfolds a rudder.
Each rudder has a Tipping Point,
acting like a pre-deductive
adolescent-curious
rudder,
manipulated by a health-intending navigator,
like the pre-ramp lip
on a wheelchair ramp,
inviting a more cooperative initial push
or final descent
in helpful on and off directions,
left and right,
up and down,
in and out,
back and forth,
Yang ecological economic maturity
with Yintegrative adolescent revolutionary politics,
nondual faces of one co-directing intention
toward recognizing limitations
and liabilities
of competitive adolescent behaviors
too patriarchal LeftBrain dominant for fully mature unfolding,
while also appreciating more cooperatively slow
and steadier
eco-flowing assertions
to politically co-enfranchise matriarchal RightBrain
integrity of improved developments
of and for Tipping Point maturation.
Categories:
matriarchal, adventure, age, health, psychological,
Form:
Political Verse
An', as [music] blowed an' blowed,
I often looked up at the sky
an' assed meself the question--
what is the stars,
what is the stars?
Juno and the Paycock
Sean O'Casey
Our sacred choir
prepares a new anthem
which, in summary, goes:
I have the deep soul blues today,
so Give Me Music.
This troubles me
because Music erupts from within,
more primal than a commodity
to be delivered on command.
What is wrapped and presented from outside
we may hear only as voices with rhythm
and harmony
and unresolved dissonance--
but all these together
are not yet our enchanting music muse
fully investing
infesting
musing through us.
Choral inside resounded music,
resonate through all four voices,
sharing our deep-rooted muse,
blues soul longing to speak and dance
music of the stars,
To come home again
where we have always shared soul belonged
inducing peace.
Sacred choirs
do not usually demand of matriarchal Earth,
Give Me Music!
More likely we invite experience
of more resilient inside dancing muses
healing like anciently redundant starlight.
I feel angst in soulful mourning
that cannot be healed through commanding
Give Me Music
or anything else, for that matter.
But, loss does invite deeper experience of resonance
and small bits of creatively digestible resolving dissonance
to feel better
about absence of remembering
What is our starlight soul
but well-sung dance
enlightening solidarity?
If we are asking Earth
to heal us with the Muse of starlight mystery,
then, indeed,
Give Us Music's full harvest
blowed an' blowed.
Categories:
matriarchal, angst, dance, loss, muse,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I am reading
"Democracy in Black"
by Eddie S. Glaude, Jr.
but continue reconstructing this title
"Hypocrisy in Only White."
Because
when I let my memory
look back to my own self-interests in history
as archaeological digging and prying and discovery,
adventure and curiosity
of my internal ecological development,
I reweave back
through still on-going matriarchal lines
that include,
are shared with,
anyone capable of reading
and comprehending
these words of regenerating memory.
Back
to darker
denser
richer genes and memes
of cooperative to still thrive today,
saving competitions for survival moments.
Back to
better to prey together
side by side
as neanderthal brothers and sisters
than to grow predative
against each other.
This Golden Rule
of dark Afro-Eurasian
equatorial resonant depth
of historical origin
in normative play
at least until we substitute capitalism's
supremacist agendas
for rationalism's ego-ecocentric
reweaving memory
of this original Earth Mom
magical and mysterious
then worshiped and danced
ritualed and cooperative ownership co-governing,
then more modern radical eccentricities
forgetting our shared matriarchal
regenetic
memory of dualdark
hypocrisies of merely white inferiority
complexes
disease
dissonance
despair of remaining fully
who we together are,
where we have been
predating history
where we could return
each morning
with greatest polyphonic joy.
To paraphrase David Holmgren
(Permaculture, p. 113)
Containers were one essential organic innovation
necessary for this cooperative agrarian revolution.
Opportunities to refill organically produced bodies
are enormous
transitioning into recycling energy descent
for shared cooperative memory.
Reimaging full organic containers
is far better than sending us
away and down and out for recycling.
Most official ecopolitical waste reduction strategies
place little emphasis
on organic reuse refilling re-educating
deep ecologically learning containers,
or confuse WinWin refueling,
reweaving,
with capitalism's WinLose recycling,
switching productive containers
into merely consuming eventual empties,
bleached-out white-washed faded hypocrisies
of purest supremacy against nothing
deeply densely
richly resonantly valued.
Categories:
matriarchal, culture, earth, health, history,
Form:
Political Verse
blue amnesia vibe
consumes me to Forgotten
Matriarchal Thoughts....
Categories:
matriarchal, imagery,
Form:
Haiku
FANTASY LAND
A
VIOLTTE POEM
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a land of few hippies',
where live elves' and pixies;
matriarchal fairies,
Irish drummers
where happy and laughter
and joy ever after
fun end to a chapter,
love their summers!
humans come to visit,
all so much fun isn'it
left leaving some credit
we thought runners
you people have many,
care we not of any,
our lives' so friendly,
your could, chummers
our land of plenty
where guys act so genty
adult? yes, so scenty
ladies stunners
~~~~~
Violette
By Lawrence Eberhart | April 7, 2014 | fantasy
• The Violette is a stanzaic form with a rhyme scheme similar to the Zéjel without the mundanza, introduced by Viola Gardner. Line 4 carries a linking rhyme from stanza to stanza.
The Violette is:
• stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains.
• syllabic, 6/6/6/4 syllables per line.
• rhymed, feminine rhyme used aaab cccb dddb etc b is a linking rhyme from stanza to stanza.
Pasted from http://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/violette/ via http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/index.php?showtopic=1882#baccresiez
My Thanks to Judi Van Gorder via Lawrence Eberhart for the wonderful resource at PMO, what Lawrence has done at http://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/
Mick Talbot
Categories:
matriarchal, fairy, fantasy,
Form:
Once upon an eternal sacred time of Earth's Golden Age,
Yin knew her body as a divinely virginal forested place
given equally to all for and of Earth's holy
wondrous
regenerativity.
She, without language,
but with marvelously holonic ecological symmetry
and sensory proportion,
recreated organic ecosystems,
bilateral branch/root trees of nutritionally reversed hierarchies
with mutually subsidiary memory,
digesting compost icons of Earth's Yang spaciated,
convexly articulating,
four dimensionally spacetime octaved
health-nurturing prime (0) relational time resonance,
autonomic integrity,
universal positive Left-Yang
OVER
unitarian double-negative eco-binding Right,
Yin's dualdark WinWin
ego/eco
nondual evolving nature-spirit.
Elder Matriarchal YinRight mind
and Younger Patriarchal YangLeft body were,
and remain,
happiest and healthiest together,
and cognitively-feelingly dissonant
when Yang remains adolescently uppity,
believing his superior polypathic brain runs his ego body,
which may be too often his suboptimal flow of quasi-graced state,
yet Yin's RightBrained autonomic DNA-memetic
integral-organic
ecological body
still integratively sacred dances
our LeftBrain's best reflective language,
poetry of embodied form
with Earth's ecosystemic functional flow-powers.
Climate health-Positive Yang
external/internal landscapes decomposing dualdark Yin flow,
WinWin future/past regenerative (0)Riginal Intent
within Earth's ecosystemic nondual co-arising
polypathic bicamerally continuous
memetic-iconic re-imagination.
Go tell it on Earth's mountain:
this MindBody of ChosenAnthro Christ reborn
Bodhisattva Warriors,
Yintegral Princesses rebirthing Yang Conserving Princes/ses
of Earth's Post-YangSupremacist Peace.
Categories:
matriarchal, beauty, creation, culture, earth,
Form:
Political Verse
When you hear plans for reactive justice
do you also listen for responsive mercy?
Or are you more likely to feel merciless revenge
against uncivilized behavior
swelling vibrant adrenaline
thrilling your self-righteous bloodstream?
If revenge is your best defense
against chaotic complexities of bad mad behavior,
If punitive humiliation
is this justice by disgrace
you deem responsible,
comfortably live by,
protect and defend,
then you will be an often disappointed,
and disappointingly ineffective,
parent
And would best and brightest stay far away
from anything in law enforcement,
militarized defense,
courtroom dramas,
and gun permits.
Advocates and defenders of justice for all
are deep lovers of intentions and behaviors
good healthy humored
seeking our not so bad, sad, and mad renovations
of white-washed purging rituals
including Society's eco-political purifying rituals,
obsessive-compulsive demoralizing ruminations,
ruinations,
rambling echoes of great and small transitions
quaking Earth's moral indignation
steeped in Anthropocene rape cultures
and pillage histories
of patriarchal justice
without matriarchal mercy,
much less Eartheatrical peace.
Justice without mercy
is like believing in love
without practicing peace
Like trying to restore a moral climate for love
without a maturing polycultural life
engaged co-empathically together
All guilty of anti-Earth transgressions
against compassioned innocents
of most every unmerciful violence one might imagine
inside inhumane uncivilization
Until we fall Anthropocene bad
sad
mad
unglad apart
To reweave yet another new inter-re-ligious
brightest and best day
Without such long LeftBrain EitherFor/OrAgainst
pathologically punishing shadows,
unmercifully thrown survival of the fiercest apart,
not yet fully grown Anthropocene together
Mature sacred and organic
mind/bodies
Anthro/Earth-Tribe polyculturally thriving
merry mercy co-passion full
Maturing polypathic peace
EarthJustice regenerates.
Categories:
matriarchal, health, humanity, humor, love,
Form:
Political Verse