Best Proclivities Poems
Sinew torqued and bowed as he pressed the weight
Of drudge claimed goods to be stacked and stowed.
The lady claimed that his omnipresent proclivities
Would neither build strength of character nor stature.
Laugh, she did, as she knew the wolverine has left the den,
To build his muscle with more willing obstructions.
The starving dog follows the master who feeds him:
And she, the mistress, always leaves flesh on the bone
Opus Mysticus
Let us enter... and be silent.
My insanity hangs on the wall with all the other Van Goghs.
Sleeping snugly between semen stained sheets
and saliva creased pillow cases.
Inundations and vivid remembrances
of days dead and hours traumatized.
You and the skinny one behind the wheel.
Whistling depressing dirges in D minor.
Your vituperative Mein Kampf of the ages!
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
Young children bathing in the quagmire of Eden.
Bellerophone on Pegasus riding through Hell's Kitchen
in the upper east side.
My problems are but pinned butterflies
quasi-embalmed in glass cases
seeking in futile
the sweet revenge of past indignations.
Where are they now?
The artists of Transcript Necco?
Of Zoot Horn Rollo?
They're down on the dark city streets
off in dark scummy alleys
jamming till the lights go out.
Elucidations.
Proclivities.
Paragons.
Intense disaffections.
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
The Three Little Pigs
The three little pigs
Had lost their wigs
So now all the animals saw
Was three little bald wiggly pigs
They had pen and paper
Pigs writing poetry
They said oinking and inking was in their nature
We have to change the laws of the legislature
Pigs and poetry was made a crime
The horses sneered, well it was about time
They wrote dirty prose and broken verse
Why even Orwell felt this was totally perverse
The ducks just clucked
As ducks normally doo
They chuckled at pig poets going to the loo
They would soon fly away, or else they would be forced to sue
The three little pigs
For their poetry stew
Nuwas rode in on his donkey grey
Looked at the pigs and said oh no don’t you stay
When Abu yelled to the sheep over there
He said bring me a sheepskin and a little of him
Wine flowed as he spun his tales from jail
Of the young couple Mary and Joseph, he laughed and he wailed
Why he said of the three little pigs
Thought themselves Royals cause they wrote with pig-pens
At the wave of his glass, is said be off to your dens
I of antiquity, shall cheer and dance with my fellow turkmen
Seeking justice the pigs went to the owl
However the goats looked up and cried that’s a fowl
Now the farmer was away paying his taxes in town
When he came back to the farm
He found three little pigs had drowned
Notes: This was inspired by a combination of ideas concepts, the first being George Orwell’s Animal Farm, then the controversial proclivities of Abu Nuwas, and the common thread, other than the bizarre, is the freedom to question all things, the failure to do so, only slows down the advancement of science and new ideas.
Once upon the start of time,
Universal Space was permaculturally natural systemic
intelligence
information--
Positively radiant development
of nondual co-gravitating systemic memory capacity,
progenerically,
pregeneratively,
birth-bang Father Solar System
revolving Mother Earth,
their swirling twisting revolutionary prime relationship
diastolically reflected in Grandmother Moon's
monthly periods of fertile gravitational light
and dark newly dissonant transitions.
YangSun radiates Yin's EarthTribal Skins,
breeding hydrogen and oxygen,
and that whole tribal table of
ecological economic transactional cooperation,
air and water and soil and fire
and synergetic love-chemistry sets
of live-systems,
evolving and absorbing reverse-evil non-paradigms
of generally dissonant and yet prime-consonant negentropy,
and the rest,
as we often say,
is justice enculturating and in-forming history;
Of poly-cultural evolution and development,
in-carnation and meta-systemic karma,
of enthymematically rooted stimulus and response communication,
of Yang greets Yin
meets bi-rooting Yang
greets binomial Yin
meets binary balanced Yang;
+/(-)(-)0Bit-monomial Time
balancing
Permaculturating
Universal Systemic Well-Being Relationship.
So, if don't nobody bring me no bad news,
we can live cooperatively and peacefully ever after,
with emerging proclivities toward warm glowing campfires
under the stars
reflecting sacred burning bushes
dreaming bicamerally balancing minds.
morning brought an arcane song to my ears
i was observing the spilling of light
between the curtain and the wall
the way the light seemed to carry the dust
when my quite moment
was dispatched
by the sensation of the earth and
its 30 km/ps rate of motion
by comparison
i wasn't even a mite
on an elephants eyelash
i was a microbe
riding on a rock
on a massive migration through space
my body became filled with avidity-
something was about to happen
the dam was made of mud
and it was monsoon season
looking into the hallway mirror
i was astonished to see the image inside
was not me
this was some type of apparition
a ghost
that belonged to someone else
the electrons in my brain swirled
forming the loose pattern of wafting smoke
an electrified current
all of this energy
shot past the sleeping dogs
though the house
pierced the atmosphere
then outward into the deep vastness of the heavens
a remarkable paroxysm and
i was back with myself
yet
i felt subtly metamorphosed
looking around,
all of the stuff
i had worked so diligently
to acquire
took on a look of being frivolous
unnecessary
it was all the programming of someone else
the whims of a schizophrenic
with vainglorious proclivities
a booming voice announces:
if you do not abide to the constructs
of this lovely societal aggregation
you are an outcast
a luddite
a nihilist
a lost soul
a demagogue
a loser
a shoe shiner
a sewage swiller
weak,
pathetic,
unable to assimilate
due to anachronistic tendencies
...
we have viewed into the aperture
that gives a glimpse
of both dissonnant living and
ways to slough off the insanity
but
we are controlled by dna's unblinking eyes
we make love and war simultaneously
we are the amalgamation of genes we conspire against
dna spirals up my spine
then feathers across my neurons
entrenching its fingers into my convolutions
i am the product of a mad scientist
who has designed me with used atoms
from distant, dead stars
i breathe oxygen
that have been around since the birth
of the universe
yet,
despite it all,
these animated atomic miracles
have fought to keep us all held together
so that we may witness the splendor
of being alive
the morning song wasn't so veiled after all
Oh Younger Self!
Don’t be behind at saying what you want,
Just because you never did have the font,
Regression exists in us if we fail to specify,
Objectifying later, our questions to quantify.
Believe only in the people you trust and obey,
Don’t quantify because you’re in the minority,
Remember what you’ve got, media and friends,
Treasure your relationships to make your own ends.
Just be short-sighted, only aware of the now,
Don’t aspire to be godly or sickeningly high-brow,
Crimp what you like but is wrong multitudinary,
And don’t equate true morality with the binary.
Exclude yourself to discuss your mind and trueness,
Freshness is in people who flow with goodness,
Be rejected, make do and accept low facilities,
Happiness is in your real desires and proclivities.
"I" lends respectability
To extant personality
And offers much to those it serves -
Perhaps more than it should deserve.
Important as this "I" might be
It lacks depth in humility
And sometimes fails humanity
By being its own efigy.
Beyond the realm we know as "I"
Is that which we identify
As beneficial harmony
That honors truth and equity.
It is a place of selfless grace
With neither gender, class nor race;
No self-proclaimed philosophy
Nor strident religiosity.
It prompts no economic scheme
Of gain derived through plan or dream
And holds the harness of the Id
As Ego, superego did.
It gives no thoughtless verity
To "sunshine days" integrity.
Unawed by status or by wealth -
This is the realm of "Beyond Self."
This realm is blessed with keen insight
Enhanced by self-reflection's light
And tests responsibility
In terms of our civility.
Here, selflessness is our just cause
Relying on a moral clause
That accepts human frailities,
Conditions and proclivities.
My child has a love of poetry
It is rare, for she is only nine.
In her bare mind, words are potpourri
floating, rhyming by stanza, by line.
Holding a book ever so tightly
(it relieves the raw ache in her chest),
my sweet Emma floats almost nightly
carried by puffins in a bird nest.
She paints her pictures lying in bed
dreaming up puffin activities.
Writing what's in the front of her head,
one of her common proclivities.
Her situation stems from asthma
of pet hair and seasonal rebirth.
She fancies ease from the miasma,
high above noxious coughing on earth.
Starting with nursery rhymes at three
we have read Silverstein and Dahl
both of us memorize easily.
Her choice today is Lewis Carroll.
My Emma lives in her Wonderland
especially with a nebulizer.
Her teachers all seem to understand
it's “down to earth” math that defies her.
August 23, 2021
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Contest Name The One Who Touches My Heart
Had I never known the heat of sensual fire
From a woman consumed with sexual need
Whose object of desire in the darkest hours
For pleasure and gratification - was me
I would never quite realize how empty and cold
Are your reasons for a passionless life
That kindness, compassion and trust - alone
Are insufficient qualities for a wife
Fear of having to reciprocate
Unwanted proclivities in exchange
Could never extinguish the primal lust
Of a woman’s pheromones enraged
There were wanton impatient lovers
Who’ve met me at the door
Overwhelmed with awaiting my presence
Made love to me right there on the floor
Their motives were often deep inner need
But just as often the simple desire to please
A woman’s innate need for lovin’
Could never be stifled or contained
Nature’s demand for intimate mating
Would overrule any reason to abstain
But you leave me caressing my pillow
Clueless and careless that sex has refrained
Days on end with no kissin’ or huggin’
Endless months without releasing the strain
Only a damaged psyche
In deep emotional pain
Or inherited cold-blood
Coursing through chilly veins…
Could explain.
Claims of excessive carnal demands
While seldom if never met
Are the excuse for withholding affection
But don’t explain the willful neglect
To give and share lovin’
Til the end of our days
With the spouse you had beget
Whatever sexuality issues
Is not alone your lover’s blame
You mislead yourself most of all
To believe our deceased romance
Attaches no fault to your name
Once-in-a-life-love sacrificed
After all, the greatest shame.
Iger
A peculiar proclivity
I always dream of your pink embrace
I sit solemnly inside of the blood drenched summer without a worldly thought
I pray inside of your warm temple
A perverted proclivity
Sin is named my dream again
The tears in my eyes are now pieces of silver
The sky is dark and the everywhere dead
There is only the two of us
mirrored faces into jaded eyes
I used to dream of your warm,pink embrace
scared of the life possible to brew
My proclivity is dead
I instead travel inside of the shadows of darkest hue
ACTIONABLE ACTIVITY IS NOW A FASHIONABLE PROCLIVITY
A paean to Rap celebrating criminal activities
And the audience screams approval of illicit proclivities
Guns and drugs,The Law are the subjects rattled on about
Of course "street Pro's" gawking on like loose lipped trout
This is the picture of where society has descended
To use a word I hate it's "cool" to be a criminal defendant
The Law is not to blame for the things people do
When screwing with the Law The Law will screw with you
What LeftBrain Yang learns about nature,
by standing apart from nature,
RightBrain Yin explores within Sacred Nature v Secularizing Pathology.
LeftBrain Yang
sells us Win-Lose choice
of therapy restoring peace, someday,
or retributive traumatic self-righteous justice,
sufficient for today.
RightBrain Yin
would offer ego/ecotherapy within,
with sacred natural-spiritual
nondual Yang-Yin primal relationship.
Yin darkly offers this deeper sacred ecological gift
of cognitive-affective dissonance,
anti-enthymematic noise,
resistance,
depressing witness,
Yin lightly invites divine co-presence,
basic attendance,
noticing Win-Lose of YangLeft
against YinRight crises
As also Win-Win LeftEgo
within RightEco
sacred Gaian opportunities
for restoring cooperative
bilateral balancing
health-therapy
Rather than Yang's dominating habit
of dismissing,
undervaluing Yin's matriarchal WisdomCircles
seeking com[passionate]
poly[culturing]
natural-spiritual outcomes.
Our political economies of choice
toward Win-Win cooperative light
or competitive Win-Lose,
not quite so bright, defaults,
preferences,
instincts,
choices,
proclivities
invite restorative therapies
of RightBrain's Sacred Tao-ecology
With ThreePoint Trinitarian thermodynamics
dipolar appositional vectors,
nomials,
variables,
dialectal structures,
morphology,
ethology,
cosmology,
revolutionary transubstantiation,
wu-wei dipolarity,
positive psychology,
biology,
sacred ecology
of Win-Win bilaterally humane-divine
ego-eco
Left-Right
DNA-RNA ecopolitical solidarity
Fractal holonic 4D RealTime relationships,
double-binding
within full-color and sound
scaled spectral octaves
Singing and dancing together
but not merely toward or for poor victim sinner Others,
and certainly no longer degenerating away from
restoring co-redemptive Others,
but Win-Win singing PermaCulturing NatureSpirit Operas,
already at bicameral hand
and foot
and mindbodies
within bilateral Earth-consciousness
Teaching and learning
speaking and hearing
giving and receiving
deep sacred healthy-wealth,
compassionate nurturing ecology.
So did your cloak and dagger swaggering self-flatter quite sufficiently?
Did you believe your baseless propaganda mantra would diminish me?
Or that the instagrammed aggression of your engineered passivity would finish me?
There are no lies remain can yet disguise the truth of your proclivities.
That you've corrupted your own memories, repackaged them as history
Whilst blissfully you stuffed my mouth with words you never heard from me.
Then cynically declare them true for all the watching world to see
And hope in vain that they will mask your narcissistic tendencies.
I may be flawed but in my heart of hearts I know I'm a good man
And I suppose, I thought despite it all we had a deeper plan?
But nothing could be further from that ugliest of honest truths.
That in the end nothing I did was ever good enough for you.
It didn't matter when I told you that I loved you every day.
The more I tried the harder it became to put a smile upon your face.
And you can hide behind the lies and fantasise that there were spies in play
Turn me into what you need so you can throw our life away
Make me bleed it still won't put a stain on the reality.
The truth remains, I'll say it plain to circumvent your vanity.
You took the gains and the acclaim of everything you had from me.
You've lied, decried and paralysed the thing that should have set us free
When something changed you couldn't even bear to be honest with me
You fed the flames and shift the blame but all your hubris can't contain
The fact that in the end you hated yourself far too much to ever have loved me.
Nobody has the slightest clue
but there are no leads, either...
We have made sure of that.
The paradigm of who we are
has been
put forth and created
by the ones we love
as much as we created
it in our own minds
it was made
blow by blow
blade by bruise
and with hot and cold breath
as we have fluttered along
to amuse and
confuse those who endure
among us
as we endure ourselves.
Not to quench, but engulf.
Let's add...
"Take it as you will!"
We have proclaimed.
"We don't need your pretty
recriminations!"
But at the end of each day,
you linger and
I have the image of snowdrops
of your teeth on your lips
And the thickness of your lips and
your eye lashes
when you roll your eyes
or when they beat to the rhythm
of your blossoming
dry eyed and thick lipped
dreams and cream.
No one can take the
proclivities
of my heavy heart. It is
a stupid start
from the heaving and aching
(it's unseemly)
from the breath that
goes down a notch
and escapes
the leaps and bounds of
the lips that have done all, cursed you
and kissed all the
bits of you.
I wish for sustance in the gloomy places
and lightness in the treaden on ones.
Perhaps it is not a false paradigm
afterall, when we say it's not so.
And everyone needs to shut
the flip up.
Can not help the confidence
that enrobes
us. Just pretend
and put your hands up
if you aquiesce to my vision
i will put us into real time
Let's go together....
I can't slow it down....
I try to enhance
and it's a small glance
into the darkness,
and you aren't there
I can never fear
That which is not here.
We will avenge
together
if we have
the
time
...
I will make time
for us only
if you would only
spare me a moment
And we won't leave a trace.
Behold the busy bumblebee
Gathering pollen and nectar, his treasure.
He transports it home
To be stored in a comb
For his queen to dine on at her leisure.
How doth the humble bumblebee
Manage all that he does without stumbling?
He toils night and day,
Earning minimum pay,
Her commands he'll obey without grumbling.
Wherefore's he called a "bumble bee"?
Throughout all that rough and rowdy tumbling
Industriousness is no quirk,
There's no task he will shirk,
So, don't smirk, he is anything but "bumbling".
In a thriving hive of buzzin' bees
Will reside several dozen cousin bees,
All of whom are humble bees,
And very busy bumblebees,
Knee-deep in bees' activities
And apian proclivities
That show their main necessity
If just to bee or not to bee.