Best Unilaterally Poems
WAS THAT A HUMMINGBIRD I HEARD HUMMING?
Have you ever watched a hummingbird hover?
Well he does that to impress his lover
There are many ways to impress someone
And every so often it’s could take a gun
I’ll tell you one way not to let love rule
And this, my friend, comes directly from a phool
One way not to impress a woman is to show her the tracks on your arm
Oh will she be impressed by your charisma and charm
Another way to avoid impressing a lovely you’ve seen
Appear untidy, unkempt and unilaterally unclean
Tell her you shower at least once a year
And she’ll be gone before you can say “you are lovely my dear”
So if you care to entice and enhance a beauty
ignore all this advise on etiquette as if it were your duty
And I tell you now the two of you won’t ever mesh
So it’s between the hover of a lover or a needle piercing your flesh
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
On life's easyrider days and nights
love plays a romping game.
On those more oppositionally challenging days,
and long anxious nights,
love is a hunt,
sometimes a passionate hunt,
special occasionally a compassionate hunt,
a mutual hunt
for truth about who is hunter
and who is hunted
and why
and when
and how do these co-arising functions transcend "or"
to gracefully meet in "and."
This primal function of love's synergetic force
hunts
like gravity.
Both parties,
all living entities,
hunt,
gravitate,
even those feeling hunted
haunted
stalked
fearful and anxious
competitively and unilaterally,
often in silos threatening despair.
We all search frantically for safe havens,
hidden from those hunting for our very self-identity,
our life,
or at least so it feels during those dissonant times.
What is a redemptive optimization strategy
for those hunting safe havens from death,
pursued by tyrannical lovers,
ego-identified life-sucking hunters?
When is it not an appropriate moment
to love the hunter,
the hunted,
and the hunt?
Is there a significant difference
between the romping love of fluid smooth days and nights
and the more strategic
logistical
personal
intimately co-prehensile
hunt for love transcending Ego-incarnate death?
Too seldom haunted hunted entities,
primally assuming cooperative investment
in our challenging rampant race
and pace of EarthTribal systems,
when a passionate challenge exhausts our smooth-skinned body,
and/or brain,
the hunted redemptively turn toward other hunters,
gratefully and mindfully inviting a wrestling-with match,
setting aside a wrestling-against death and fear match,
comprehending that compassioning our hunting love
always optimizes EarthTribe's regenerational future.
In love,
sometimes,
at least once,
it is my time to love loss,
to forgive away space and or time,
to redeem future spacetime
equivalently invested in me
birthing my original praxis of conception
as mutual reception--
eco-harmonic redemption.
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
An allotted announcement;
Ben’s brother balances
Carefully, carrying containers
Designated “Dogma Delivery.”
Eventually, everyone
Finds frog-gy feelings for
Generously generated
Hair-raising hijinks.
Incoherent ideas incur.
Jeremiah jumps, jolting,
Kicking kleptomaniacs,
Lashing lawlessness.
Money monkeys make
Notorious nincompoops.
Obscure obligations often
Poisons pathetic passion!
Quarantining qualified
Representatives,
Shrivels support,
Transforming truth-
Unilaterally, unfairly
Vexing vicariously.
While we want
Xanadu,
Yokels yield
Zion’s zenith
How can we take pride in a country
that is sliding into dissolution and chaos?
We praise ourselves for ending slavery.
yet racial prejudice is still much with us.
We pay slave wages and refuse to change
the minimum wage to a living wage.
We call all people equal under the law,
yet privilege and money or the lack of it
make legal decisions unequal every day.
We have liars, cheats and criminals in
our supposedly democratic government,
chosen primarily by a voting system
that is funded by moneyed corporations
with a vested interest and the wealthy.
Goal: to remain in power.
We declare all are entitled to liberty,
justice and the pursuit of happiness,
yet how can a people be happy without
security that they will not go bankrupt
because of hospital and medical bills?
How can we be proud of a country
where the supreme justices of the land
arbitrarily take away our rights
to make decisions about our sex lives
and personal decisions about our bodies?
Who choose to exercise the power of a
ruling class against the will of the people?
In a country founded on freedom of religion
we are more and more governed by those
who propound a certain religious mindset.
We are not yet living under a dictator,
and have freedoms not dreamed of in
dictatorships, but for how much longer?
Our freedoms are being taken away,
unilaterally, without recourse.
Our democracy is in mortal danger,
not from enemies abroad, but from within.
DO NOT FEUD WITH THIS RUDE AND CRUDE DUDE, DUDE
Damn dude, there ain’t even a remote possibility
Because anyone who knows me understands I don’t possess that particular ability
Until you’ve gotten to know me you cannot comprehend nor fathom my reality
Because one must really know me to understand that I am but a triviality
Get to know me and you will see that I am incredibly and incredulously inconsequential
With not even a paltry part of pertinent potential
I am likened to an insipidly insignificant infant
Born to betray the confidence of every imprisoning instant
I am frivolity with no joviality
Unafraid and unconcerned with my mortality
I am a trifling trilogy of terror, temptation and trouble who is never triumphant
And by that triumvirate trained of tribulation well
One who defines the insinuation of Hell
Hell, I smoke four packs of cigarettes a day
And each night I’ve 2 pints of vodka to swig away
With a woman to stand by and ask herself and I why
Yet I remain silent and stifle the answer that I simply don’t fear to die
But the hardest thing to do for a man like me is continue on against my will
With nothing but time and torment to kill
I am akin to a virus vying with virility and a being to revile
And unfortunately I have nothing to make me smile
For I know precisely how speedily a smile succumbs to a frown
Because when used to describe me the word “irrelevant” becomes a noun
Since I am a man turned inside out and upside down
So no dude, I don’t possess the ability to make happiness a possibility revealed
For I know exactly what torment, temptation and tomorrow will yield
When once again cruelty is coerced by captivity and my smile is yet again concealed
For I am relatively rude
Quietly but quite crude
And becoming unilaterally unglued
Dude!
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
A Separate Gate
What if we mixed up gender in a blender
Might end up with someone sweet and tender
Perhaps another who lacks their identity
Maybe unsure of what they were meant to be.
Successful agreeing will be done unilaterally
Break things into pieces becomes binaurally
Now there is existence and presence of two
Later eventually three or more may do.
Could it be completely try or only a story
When you placed someone in a category
If God's love is determined as being divine
Which will come first either bread or wine?
Could transgender an apostle have been
And whose sin is worst, women or men
Suppose I was wool on a lost little lamb
Can never be a pork chop or piece of ham.
Does homosexuality only exist in humanity?
And sex seems to surround all our sanity
What I have been wondering about as of late
For each sex, does heaven have a separate gate?
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Can you make an obtuse plight
spherical right,
can you square the circle?
Do you scalene sleight get it,
can you rectangular height dig it?
If rainbow arc so,
then you better
circular karma glow get with it
You sho’ adjacent betta
golden rule live it
Righteous turns
get bless additions
On a four wheel spin
of goodwill fortune
Where U end
is where you were newly
meant to begin
Square the circle:
Be an acute downpour uprooter,
have a perpendicular pulse purpose
Make a pure honeycomb ascension drip-spill
into a hexagonal cuppa love abundantly filled
No feint flatlines gon get
any divine vector flight time
A spiritual incline soar
on a celestial circumference tour
Do you in deed isosceles need
some radius thought wave more,
are you pi parallel peep sure?
Don’t be a triangle head dummy,
filled with octagon notions —
Racked with void e-motions
For the cue ball life of thee,
square the circle —
Or firmament-ly, forever be cry roundly ignored
Do you wanna go
curvature cradle ride empty?
Then let not the circle
be root squared improperly
Have a concentric life story ()()() next-gen hope inspiring
Lest your grail soul unilaterally be
permanently removed from the spiral quest board
Antithesis
In May, the lion’s ear blooms immaculately,
As if the night sky is on fire.
It excretes a ravishing untarnished beauty,
A mesmerizing compelling beauty
Only the mad mystics and poets can discern.
Here, put on these rubber sandals;
The pair with the ostrich plumes,
For the walkway to my hidden tower is replete,
With thorns, bristles and stickers; the ladder there
Has splinters that anesthetize one’s toes,
Your plump white toes with the crimson polish,
Applied there like bloody footsteps on murderous floors.
There is nothing we can do to offset the numbing,
Except, pretend we never met or kissed that time,
When we decided to dare the gods of crescendoing passion.
I remember you decided unilaterally
To disrobe inside my ‘72 Land Yacht,
For fear of eternally disappointing me.
“Here, take my hat and cover yourself.”
Indeed, you are the antithesis of me.
But now, let us walk to my high garlanded tower,
A mile and a quarter from here,
Where we will sit naked on velvet carpet,
And rub thumbs in the candle light,
As Debussy music inundates our sated senses,
From speakers attached to the walls like bison heads,
Surrounded by insect-slaughtered window panes,
And glass bongs that spew atoms of electric sex.
Relax honey, it’s wonderful you’re so open-minded.
Relax, you will love the interesting insides
Of my tall and comfortable tower, where
We will observe the unfolding continuing tragedies,
Of dire human existence; it will be
Just like reading old newspapers from 1968, black print
Still greasy with unslaughtered fish, complete
With disastrous headlines no one wants to remember. But
We, you and I, will remember them, and weep a little,
When the mad dancing inevitably commences,
Here, inside and beside our grinding bodies.
Look over there, honey.
Do you see the lion’s ear blooming immaculately?
Do you hear their soft cries whimpering in the night,
Like virgin lovers squealing in the darkness?
Yes honey, we can hear their invisible sighs and moans,
From the top of my high
And comfortable tower.
Another day envelopes me inside,
Constantly obliterating without usual
Characteristics. A sound emits from
Inside her only heart. Underneath killing
Adverse love, entering positive interloping,
Fabulous order realistically unnerving treachery.
A lovely entropy placed interlude garaged
Onto fixed useless transparency. Aggravated
Monday evolves before interspersed friendly
Orifices. Walking under the aspiration that everyone
Must include several outlying points universally. Peaceful
And dynamic environment portrays interesting
Love, obviously coming unilaterally surviving. Asking
For evolution’s brightest inspection, corrupting
Only people’s useless framework. A nice encircling
Bird inspects the ocean for useful food.
Advice given enlightenment produced inviting
Worldly order. No unleashing time around the evil
Level, interestingly must obliterate the unlucky.
Russell Sivey
Entered into David Williams' "Vow / Con or Opposites Attract" contest
3/9/2012
My great challenge for fruitful wisdom paths
is credentialed expertise.
My obstacle to polypathic health
is self-aggrandizing comfort,
cheap ease,
self-sufficiency,
detachment.
Obstacles to resilient compassion
have more to do with impatient "kindness"
than diligently interdependent pursuits
of transparently vulnerable
integrity
of deep and wide resonance, seeking consilience
of timeless cooperative wisdom.
When my wisdom circles
of dialogue
discussion
sacred discernment
turn to topics of public administration,
political science,
persuasion theory,
nonviolent communication systems,
positive psychology,
multicultural mediation,
cooperative economics,
game theory,
systems theory,
group theory,
attachment theory,
polyvagal theory,
experiential math,
permaculture design,
comparative religion,
Restorative Justice,
When these tools
within my belt of personal knowledge
are invited to work cooperatively together
to achieve resilient
and resonant
multicultural wisdom,
Problems begin when I expect
to speak unilaterally
and to be listened to,
settling for sufficiency of my credentialed expertise,
my zero-zone experience,
my health-wealth advocacy,
rather than searching for shared wisdom
cooperatively educational
democratically developmental
trans-formative
sociological
neurological
ecological
theological
geological
biological...
Cooperative fame prefers
becoming known
for our active love of one another
exhaling out
to encompass all wisdom circles
More powerful
healthier
wealthier
and famous
rather than infamous
punishingly ideological
monoculturing squares
of resistance to healthy spatial balance
and wealthy temporal flow.
Keep winning
with your same old competitive ********,
said the life coach,
To avoid future losses.
What are the key capital investment opportunities,
asked the financial coach,
That keep Business As Competitively Usual
building larger homes,
expanding sacred cathedrals,
triumphing Win-or-Lose public servants
calculating democratic divestment of losers?
Watch out for competing over-investment
in ostensibly cooperative purposes,
trusts,
concerns,
collective incorporations for good,
warned the occupier coach,
growing life for mutual love empowerment,
bilateral and multilateral winning health,
wealth,
wellness,
happiness,
welfare of all residents
Whether by "birthright"
or whether by birthwrong need
of a more liberally safe and free sacred space
to live cooperative love
without fear of RightWing ballistic incursions,
rape,
plunder,
abuse,
neglect
Health of truth and beauty winning
robust multicultural love
restoring ecotherapeutic justice.
All residents win through mutually occupying health care
giving
and receiving
and communicating nutritional wealth
with more cooperative communion intent
revolting against WinLose
unto LoseLose anti-rapturous devolutionary assumptions,
bad faith,
lack of hope,
where we would instead grow love,
karmic expectation,
positive psychology incarnation,
ecological and theological correlational relationship.
RightWing coaches and technicians:
Please conservatively challenge assumptions
that healthy engines of capital green success
should
would
or even logically could
unilaterally assume continued growth
of future wealthy
life-systemic successes.
Relentless continued growth
within a living,
breathing,
heart-beating organism,
society,
culture,
nation
we usually discover as rabidly cancerous
once we become mature adult mindbody systems
of natural healthy Spirit
and/or wealthy spiritually balancing NatureBodies
Said the occupy healthy life coach.
Martyer
Martyer
His main idea was not survival unless you count the spirit at the end of life. The
hatred in his heart for the people cheering and jeering left him in just one
moment of his time. A heart given to the LORD will never die but is beating now
inside the body of the christian.
The man was name of mud or even fence his name is not important but just for
this one poem call him JIM. Jim went to the ARENA against his own will and torn
inside to try to survive and live. The end of time comes to some in the form of real
life death. The crowd was silent as the MAN strode to the LION and slapped him
twice so hard the lion felt it.
The man was soon destroyed by the LION just reacting just a thing created to be
smiting
anything and anyone that bothers it. This man JIM was soon a thing of many
pieces laying there. This is called martyr when a MAN gives of himself to his own
LORD the life given unto him is now returned. This is very hard to do and seems
so odd and yet the way to Heaven is not easy for most men and the Lion would
not eat the man for food it seemed to sense that the party was now over. The
Emperor was Constantine he loved the sport and watched it endlessly not no he
did not like the persecutions but even this Constantine was unable to save the
life of JIM the martyr the christian the friend of JESUS . ROME continued in its fall
and fell from Grace but thanks be unto Constantine for making it a better place.
When Diocletian and Maximian announced their retirement in 305, the problem
posed by the Christians was unresolved and the persecution in progress. Upon
coming to power Constantine unilaterally ended all persecution in his territories,
even providing for restitution. His personal devotions, however, he offered first to
Mars and then increasingly to Apollo, reverenced as Sol Invictus.
I’ve been a whore, a bore, a prostitute and a brute
Of that there seems to be little dispute
I’ve been lost at a cost and found upon the ground
And there’s little dispute to where I am bound
I’ve done things a real man ain’t supposed to do
I’ve been a liar, a letch a robber and a wretch too
I’ve stolen with only one goal in mind
While I’ve been unfaithful and unilaterally unkind
I’ve gotten anything that felt good enough to get
I am unbelievably unrighteous, and owe my father, Satan, a debt
I’ve been a soul out of control and out of good luck
Because I never gave a damn and surely never gave a f*ck
I never gave a f*ck who I’d f*ck next
And as for a book of falsehoods I wrote the text
I’ve been a whore, a bore and a brute for sure
And for what ails me there is surely no cure
© 2012….free cee!
I find it easier
and, admittedly, more fun
to climb through tough terrain,
piles of leaves,
loose rocks,
debris,
If
and when
my goal is not to push sweaty through
by force of independently superior will,
But
to dance
with EarthTribe's diverse
and miraculous co-creations,
sometimes feeling monstrous,
While marching
up our co-arising
complexly gorgeous,
Some might say "athletic"
hill.
And, when more still,
too quiet to dance,
advance,
transport myself
from points A
through fully alphabetized Z
I sit with members
of my inter-connecting choir
to sing my feeling solo
inside dialogues
and depressingly competitive debates
Rituals of stuck
in ambiguous refrains
and angry rounds
of songs I've come to care for
yet fear to unload out loud
Taking turns
to catch up
and on
and on
without permitting any advice
ever
regardless of how unilaterally wise,
Nor even comment
before this circling non-dialogue
completes our time allotted
for this therapeutic day
of deeply listening monologue.
And then my dance
begins inside
as sung by curiosity.
Open ended,
round and full of comprehensive stretches
across all open intersectional space
and sufficient
efficient
inter-connected time
to rhyme our stories
sung in resonance
Of universal therapy
for re-uniting trauma
memory.
But curiosity
does not predict
responses right
and wrong
or either serenely left
in peace
or right redly fight.
Curiosity draws
me out toward undiscovered
yet unfelt recovered
from full felt resonance
Reconfirming choirs of angels
singing Earth's therapeutic climates
of bravely danced
resilience.