For Trumpians
our multiculturally celebrated Golden Rule
applies first to Ego
then to immediate white privileged family,
then to wealthier gated community,
then to a more rabblous Republican Party,
then to USA nationalists
European predative culture idolaters
mistaking capital-inspired Manifest Destiny
for sacred DNA theology,
then to fallen Earth,
if there is any gold left over
after all that strained dispassion,
divestment fatigue
stretching out from entitled EgoCenters.
For Green Party contemplatives,
the Democratic Golden Rule
is first celebrated with,
then applied to, planet Earth,
then all Her sacred EarthTribes,
then to humanity, alive,
dead,
and yet to arrive,
then to cooperatively co-invested local community,
then to extended family,
then to nuclear family,
then interdependent Ego,
should there by any radically inclusive Golden Rule energy
left deductive
and right inductive
to regeneratively,
win/win bicamerally, share.
Categories:
contemplatives, community, health, humanity, humor,
Form: Political Verse
Still no Window,
Still no Whiskey.
Still no Mountain,
Still no Glade.
Still no Rustic
Bench or Rickety
Table. No Oil
Lamp, No Hand-
Whittled Pen.
No Daydreams
Wafting 'n Wefting;
Curling Heavenward,
Mingledancing with
Tobacco Scents.
No Time Sense,
Such as with
Such Contemplatives,
Such as with
Surrenderers to
Fate...Much as with
The Untired Retired.
I suffer from
Idylolatry and Idleolatry.
I suffer from
I suffer from
...and yet,
I write.
Categories:
contemplatives, philosophy, poems, poetry, poets,
Form: Free verse
Still no Window,
Still no Whiskey.
Still no Mountain,
Still no Glade.
Still no Rustic
Bench or Rickety
Table. No Oil
Lamp, No Hand
Whittled Pen.
No Daydreams
Wafting 'n Wefting;
Curling Heavenward,
Mingledancing with
Tobacco Scents.
No Time Sense,
Such as with
Such Contemplatives,
Such as with
Surrenderers to
Fate...Much as with
The Untired Retired.
I suffer from
Idylolatry and Idleolatry.
I suffer from
I suffer from
...and yet,
I write.
Categories:
contemplatives, poems, poetry, poets, writing,
Form: Free verse
the exquisite deadening boredom
which comes with repetition & mundane habitual actions found in
the dead-end-jobs of america,
not only shed light on THE GREAT BIG LIE that is,
“the american dream,”
but they allow for us to ponder the concentrated ramifications of our
fierce
anger,
as the have-nots continue daily to outweigh the haves
(whose faces one can hardly place, as the smartest stay clear of the spotlight)---
we dead-end-job contemplatives
fester together,
watching western “civilization”
plummet,
drooling, having overdosed on vain self-indulgence & hegemony,
stumbling from the clinic with a list of new std’s we’ve acquired
from whoring ourselves every which way possible,
spiraling downward at a
break-neck pace.
and then your 15 minute break is over.
Categories:
contemplatives, life, , western,
Form: Free verse