Best Messiahs Poems
TO CIARA: RULES FOR LOVING
Little dark haired one, don’t fall
for the first boy to give you attention
or pay you a compliment. Don’t fall
for the first boy who says he is
‘the leader of a hundred men’;
there are many false messiahs.
Ciara, don’t fall for the first boy
who sings you love songs or writes
poems for you, you will know
the truth by the undertones; follow
your instincts, they are there to guide.
Don’t fall for silver-tipped words.
Irish jewel, jade of the Isles, don’t fall
for the first boy to make promises,
actions speak louder than words.
Your autonomy is a gift but when
disenchanted it becomes a wall,
a curse. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
Don’t fall, innocent girl, for the first
boy to bring you shiny things, a far
greater beauty shines in you,
a power unaware. Value kindness
over the things people call precious.
Keep your enthusiasm in high regard.
O, Ciara, whose name is whispered
across mountain valleys, don’t fall
for the first boy who brings you flowers
on the first date. Don’t fall for the first
boy to show you his rose tattoo;
please don’t fall for him…
Oh, sweet woman of a thousand names
respect yourself enough to trust
yourself enough to let go of the rope
and fall for the one who writes the melody
for the song in your heart… fall for the one
who knows the geography of your soul
because they are his maps, too… fall for
the one who speaks the language of trees…
fall for the first boy who brings flowers everyday
and grows gardens in your eyes.
But, Ciara, at least once in your life
fall… for a heart that has not loved
fully is a rose that never blooms.
NOTE: the real Ciara who inspired this poem has gone on to become Miss Canada 2017.
These Hallowed halls
Frequented by myth and griffin
Whose presence Guards these priceless minds
Protecting the unwritten novels
M C Squared and ingenious thoughts
The prophesy of zero one
This gluttony of ideas thirsting on capitalisms juice
Summoning their messiahs to walk among us
The commodities of life, this treasured bible
Children the future and Capitalism dissects,
Yet Another batch of disciples
So what care I for prophets of doom
Population before climate
Religion over peace
Vanity before reason
Pride over poverty
Cap and gown before that which created me
For I live high above these ghetto streets
Yet my peace is drowned by Evening chorus
Screams from the gutter
Another tattoo and the rush of heroin
Another type of messiah
Something for the poor to believe in
Just another nickel and dime resource to me
Yet to hear this is a damnation of me
This arrogance over nature
To control that thing
That shackles our existence
That jails our thoughts
Prostitutes our freedom
And lets us die without reason
This way of life
Of poverty and desperation
Of concrete and aborted foetus
Of welfare cheques and sex for sale
Of unhappy beings behind
Unhappy doors
Protecting their own portals of betrayal
In a private subjugated hell
For Compassion has left these mortal beings
And my mind is closed, for there is no profit for me
But conscience is my jury
And nailed to this holy cross
The verdict is written
Vermin under the butterfly
For compassion was never my thing?
And Human nature can be,
A most desperate thing.
The stars both numb and inspire,
awe either enraptures or terrifies.
The word ‘infinite’ becomes a conjectural sum
to be defined by pundits in bow ties
and star-crazed, white coated messiahs.
Tilt your head back on a cloudless night
feel the cold mathematical anesthesia
of the infinitesimal, not anything fathomable,
not even a reckoning in an unsolvable puzzle;
a nonplus that breeds only more numbers
until like a train calculations runs out of rails
to travel upon.
Each mental abacus
must be pre-set for incomprehension
and that beyond the tyranny of numbers
we can, in the end, count only ourselves in
and that is by no-means certain.
I arrest in the road and think this is the town
Where the tumbleweed girls bowl around and around,
I freeze in the park and think this is the town
Where the seeds of sweet love die cold in the ground.
I lean on the bridge and think this is the place
Where the eyes of dead fish stare up into space,
I lie in the church and think this is the place,
Where evangelist devils preach sin and disgrace.
I trip in the road and think this is the street
Where the black heart of Judas continues to beat,
I step on the cracks and think this is the street
Where the march of the butchers cut life in retreat,
I bow in the street and think this is the road
Where messiahs and villains on wild horses rode,
I cry in the street and think this is the road
Home to the homeless of no fixed abode.
I climb on the rail and think this is the town
Where the plasterboard ceilings came tumbling down,
I halt at each stoop and think this is the town
Where the lost were last seen and will never be found,
I stare at the ditch and think this is the hole
With depth deep enough to eat every last soul,
I weep in the glass and think this is the hole
Wherein nights never end, filled with sulphur and coal.
I stalk down the hill and think this is the city
Where never was mercy and never was pity,
I glance at the graves and think this is the city
The realm of a cut and paste lynch-mob committee,
I bullet the gun for whatever befalls
As jukeboxes blast in the rooms with no walls,
It’s the law of the gun for whatever befalls,
To kill all that draws breath, or walks or crawls.
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.
Lost in the divine languor of deaths sleep
Somewhere distant he heard the call of his name…
Barely sensing the avidity of life’s gift
Recalling the auger of the messiahs promise…
He rebuked the plea under the swathe of deaths eye,
Again the distant voice demanded of him
Forcing him to recall all that he had once been…
Beheld of the need to carry the word
Forcing himself to his feet inside the dark sepulcher…
Consciousness breached the boundaries of his mind,
With a heavy breath he carped at the pain
Racking through a body lost in the rigid shroud of death…
With each aching footfall he moved toward his salvation,
Again came the command, “Come forth”
The cherubic beauty of the voice persuading him…
Lazarus stepped into the light to live again.
I am Ebony …….
A Black Woman, the most Disrespected person in america
I am Strong, I am Intelligent, I am Aware
I the Black Woman, have Power and Grace
I see with my Heart because the eyes are Blinding
I see the Ignorance and Injustices like I see Life
My Life, one of a Warrior, a Survivor
I am a CoCo Goddess
A Queen, Uplifting and Divine….. Supreme
Just a Black Woman No…. why so simple?
A Creation of Complexity and Uphoria
An Artwork, A Framework, Yes
The Black Woman is Royalty
#BlackLivesMatter
#BlackGirlsRock
The Executive Leadership Council
It’s time for the Kings to support the Queens and visa-versa
Empowerment for the Conquerors
Our flesh like Brown Sugar
A Symbol of our Native Homeland
Black, a word with such meaning
Brown Skin, Diamonds, Priceless ....
Melanin for Sale! $365 a piece!
Prominent.
We are the faces of A special People
Our Presence Warm and Inviting
The blood within us Thick and Potent
Years of Freedom?
Oh yes, Freedom of the Mind And Spirit
The Body…..???
Suffrage and Struggle are upon it
Though, we shall be resurrected
Looked down upon and Belittled...
Stereotyped and made fun of…
But a force to be reckoned with
For we are the True Messiahs
Like Maya Angelou
I will Rise
Like Angela Davis
I’ll change what I don’t accept
And like Lauryn Hill
I have passion
And I will not falter
For I Am Ebony
Sambhavami yugé, yugé, says the Gita:
God will come back again and again.
What for?
Of course to protect the virtuous
And destroy the evil doers.
Déjà vu!
The Jews seem to wait for the same end.
That’s what 'The Second Coming’ means, too.
Thus, a belief system, whether born in a Desert
Or a River Valley, seems to point to the same end—
The Coming.
Now, what do we do in the meantime—
Now that the end seems to be infinitely distant,
Elusive, mirage-like?
Do we just wait and suffer?
Or wait and drift?
Or dismiss it as illusory?
Or explore alternatives?
The gap, anyway, seems
To be a period of entropy,
Which, according to scientists, is on the rise.
We may call it Postmodern era
Or Kali Yuga or whatever.
The gap is to be filled
As Nature abhors vacuum:
We have to live in the meantime
And life demands solutions.
Absurdity, for instance, has got to be dealt with.
So, little narratives
And interventions arise by necessity.
There arise, for instance, Irrational Philosophies:
A Nietzsche or a Marx or a Freud
Appears to be our Messiah.
But these Messiahs can offer only palliatives,
Like a counter-irritant in times of pain.
We are – most of us – materialists in a sense,
Inasmuch as we bank
On the Grand narrative of matter
Or on the Grand narrative of the material presence—
Of the Divine in the future;
Maybe as Darsan or Epiphany.
To most of us, seeing is believing;
And hence our incredulity.
Now, to speculate:
The Divine presence may be abstract—
Rather than concrete;
Maybe something like software
Rather than hardware;
May be within
Rather than without.
And, as such, is likely
To be always already there—
If and only if one is willing to see!
***
The years have
come and gone
and we are gathered here
today
to celebrate the
end of our enslavement
We can only hope that all slaves
will soon be free
And that they will become
joyous free people
At the Seder table
Where Messiahs have come and gone
And prophets true and false
have spoken their words
We hope for the best
for the Jewish people
and for the rest of the world's people
Light and love
to all of you out there in the darkness
Peace - sisters and brothers
No, Speaker Ryan,
you do not speak for me
of the sacred probabilities
for growing civil kindness.
I respect your mind and your feelings,
but we are not, as you assert, all angry.
In fact, some of us think it is a bad, sad, and mad idea
to try to develop healthy and equitable policies for Others
out of personal anger and political fear,
when we could choose motivations engaging cooperative love,
restorative justice,
compassionate communication
and internal/external peace-making.
I am sorry you are angry,
but please do not project your concerns
about lack of viable health and safety outcomes
onto win/win-motivated me
And millions of others who believe that green
unconditional warm compassion
is not only more resonantly kind
but also more resiliently healthy
than red anger
and dark blue fear
of traumatic loss.
Both political and environmental scientists
can explain why monoculturally rabid
win/lose
0-sum
predative environments
are unlikely to evolve therapeutically stable
regenerative resolutions
toward healthy sustainable
nutritionally rich
and multicultural win/win co-empowerment outcomes
for you,
and me,
and we,
and Earth
Polarizing anger
is unlikely to produce deep economic ecological healthy relationships
and wide poli-cultural love communion
with AnthroCreator God,
or with awesome messianic EnLightenment,
or with EarthPower's indigenous bodhisattva wisdom,
much less all bilaterally intelligent three
Worshipped, celebrated, legislated, governed
not with militarized PTSD anger
or polarized fear-mongering stress
or unfree, costly hate speech
But eating with joyful humility
and drinking with open, trust-developing curiosity
producing Left-cognitive and consuming Right-intuitive
compassionate neurosystemic communication
SunLight liberating messiahs
and EarthPower conserving bodhisattvas
Fruit of resilient transgenerational
sacred passion/organic pleasure,
EgoMind v EcoBody chronic trauma-informed
AnthroCrown/EarthRoot
BiPartisan CommunioNations.
I met a man -
one could hardly deem old.
His smile was warm, yet
his hands were quite cold.
I asked the gentleman:
“Do you remember my name?”
I queried the chap:
"Do you know why I came?"
I solemnly wondered
if this tranquil soul heard.
Again, the man beamed;
speaking nary a word.
I harkened his heart
'bout my wares as a child -
the man calmly listened;
he comfortably smiled.
I prattled on
'bout my debonair Dad -
how I truly valued
the cherished moments we shared.
Private passioned spirits
rivaling a deity's gold.
Handel's honored messiahs
chanting secret fables untold.
I asked the quiet nobleman:
"Can a son's tears be reposed?”
My Father simply smiled as
his maple-casket lid -
closed.
he looks like “jesus”
long haired white guys,
from
Koresh to
Vissarion,
to
AJ Miller---
these cult leaders all
“look like “jesus,”
according to many.
in fact,
all one has to do is
look like the pictures of
this fictional character,
in order to start his own
cult.
the desperate & empty will flock
to the fluffy haired scruffy faced,
and these are the idiots
driving around in cars
on the same highway as you &
i---
these are the idiots who teach
at your children’s schools,
until that one day
when they leave their
own lives completely,
to go & live in Siberia or Queensland
with their
messiahs.
imagine if the charlatans who first
painted images of the infamous fictional
character,
created a fat, 80 year old, bald guy,
with horrible acne &
rotted teeth…
would the idiots still flock?
would the idiots still give up their lives to
worship at the next
compound?
This world inside
filled with dalai lamas
composed of double layers,
light spirit rivers of nutrition
discerning dark flowing soul Source.
This world outside
vibrations of octave spectral light,
echoing morphology
ecosystems of desperate joy
and all primal elements between
betwixt
among
within
without soul vibrations echoing ecowokeness,
Earth's trans-ego
eco-symbiotic expanding integrity.
Our in/outsided nondual mindbodies,
vibrating warm souls
haunted by hate
shepherding external relationships
through ego's gate
of transparently shared soul identity.
This species multiculturing kosmic christ,
shepherd guardians hunting paradise safety
through haunted health forests
cut and sliced into label doors
into ego hells hunting Earth's co-vegetating skins,
muting ecological echoes
feeding on heavenly root systems,
vibrant deep down shaking spirit souls,
searching our primal co-gravitations
mutually defining Earth's fully abundant neurotic rivers
spiriting nutrient light
streaming out
dreaming in
screaming out
breathing in
becoming bodhisattva hunter warriors
for Peace.
BiHemispheric
intelligent designers transporting deep
rich
dense
polymorphic muses
of Earth's future vibrant TaoTime
ReGeneMentor Messiahs.
EarthMother outside in
light spiriting dark soul
EarthTribe ReSource.
The one who spots the line
before spotting the bait
is the ultimate winner in life.
Rumi (Maryam Mafi translation)
The ones who spot Earth Day's decomposing line
before spotting Easter morning's ReGenesis bait
are our mutual messiahs in full living.
Each dawn reincarnates Earth Day
as Easter morning's karmic revolution.
Eastern minds dream of humane fleeing flying,
too often frying, frogs
while Western brains cooperatively
comprehensively
swim through red sky warnings
regenerating Western horizons
fading full-moon Yin
to more simply rest in NOW
and dream of mutually mentoring messiahs'
Eastern dawn
of Polycultured Tao,
fractured Frog Princes croaking songs
for long-strung graceful Princess ovations
recreating East-West harmonies
for NorthWinter through SouthSummer
weathering Earth Day Opera.
Red sky Earth Days
regenerate
green horizon Easter Genesis.