PROGRESS
To improve win/win therapies
for past win/lose trauma events
and their degenerative systemic lack
of conserving organically healthy,
well-nurtured,
good-humored
and celebrated sacred joyful
integral
sensory-neural root systems.
CONSERVATION
To protect existing animated systems
against critical trauma events,
chronic stress,
and degenerative,
dissociative
Losing Global Wealth Conservation
AND
Losing Liberal Health Progress
root systemic mortality,
genocide,
ecocide
Tragically possible
while denying sacredness
of healthy polycultural
resilient life systems
like Green Gaian Paradise ReMemories
and RedBlooded Peak Ergodic-Erotic CoGravitating Passions,
panentheistically eco-progressive,
monotheistically win/lose wounded
ego-conservative anthrosupremacy.
Social
economic
and political
"EVOLUTION
is driven by progressive ideas
and policed by conservative sensibilities..."
"Progressivism
and Conservatism
each worry about one half of every issue,
and together,
they make sure we're paying enough
attention [etc.]
to everything that [bilaterally] matters."
Tim Urban, The Story of Us, 2020
Wilbur wasn't always so sure
His horse knew how to be good
He gave him the best directions
And plenty of love and affection
But, Mr. Ed could be quite the comic
Never listening to Wilbur's instructions
Instead, finding amusement in the ones
Who felt like watching his funny sitcom
It was actually Allan Lane
Who gave Mr. Ed his voice
He told of this and that
And every imaginable choice
Mr. Ed was not who we were told
His real name was Bamboo Harvester
A delightful name for a famous equine
Who will forever reign in my heart
As the horse who brought so much
Grace to the part of the famous Mr. Ed
Wherever I go in this world
There will always be assurance
That the famous Mr. Ed was one
Who brightened lives with his pranks
He was a funny, good humored horse
With so much love in his heart
I could never imagine another horse
More capable of filling the room
With uproarious laughter and joy
Mr. Ed was a wonderful old boy!
A Notable Horse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
September 28, 2021
Why do historically indigenous integrity
and cooperative cultural responsibility
Sound and appear too silent
and invisible
to Capitalist power centers
of immediate reaction
against ecowomanist impassioned co-response
Integral Call and Respond
empowering memories
of enlightening
good-humored interfaith communications
of and for
Earth's regenerative SeedBearers
Aware of natural
spiritual nonzero-sum empowering
enlightened cooperative economies
of empty wombs
becoming pregnant potential
For political integrity
for healthy polyculturally co-invested lives
and cooperative economic co-responsibility.
My family
remembered now
and in our projected
integral future,
in this eco-political body
of spirited
natural Earth,
Birthing
and dying,
regenerating
and degenerating,
easing
and diseasing,
healthy
and pathological,
good humored
and bad hearted,
Unconsciously contemplating,
co-template-recreating
cooperative memorable days
and deep matriotic nights.
Words as offensive weapons
dwell on ugliness of bad-humored life.
Words as effective tools
dwell on beauty and truth
of good-humored health,
empowerment,
love.
Yet, swords become plowshares.
Plowshares are repurposed as unwieldy swords.
Regenerative intent becomes degenerative chaos.
Degenerative discontent becomes regenerate
tipping points
within silent complexity.
Can words become weapons
for active peace?
And still tools
quietly feeling unresolved
in silent external/internal wars?
Between curious ancient communioned minds
and courageous ego-independent bodies,
Between original health-tooled womb
memories
And today's wealth-weaponed tidal means,
unsustained strength
yet resiliently flowing ways,
transparent patriarchal dissonance
revoicing maternal confluence,
empowering vulnerability;
revolutionary stillness
actively listening
between quiet health-wombed rememories.
Wisely employed wellness tools
for feminist well-being weapons;
cooperatively-managed words
for hearing beatific Truths,
re-seeing Ways,
rekindling communicating Lives;
Revolutionary politics,
awesome economics,
wondrous revitalization,
compassionate communion.
"Do nothing
and everything is done."
LaoTse
Do no spiritual thing
and every natural climate is finished.
Become no merely natural being
and every spiritual becoming
has already been merrily fulfilled.
Play no win/win nature
and every lose/lose spirit is working out
resolution
integrity
confluence
synergy.
Play only win/win nature
and all lose/lose spirits
zealous
competing
totalitarian
dualistic
bigoted
supremacist
patriarchal
violent
violating
racist
sexist
ageist
xenophobic
homophobic
narcissistic
egocentric
anthro-testosteroned
become way too much ultra nonviolet work
for even the most left-hemisphere dominant
StraightWhiteWesternMale
to become deductively distracted
from inductively healthy
playful
good humored
full moon light for
multiculturing extended family life.
Do no win/lose capitalistic work
and every win/win playful communion is done.
Or, like he said,
Do No future-planning Thing
and Every past Thing is Done.
There remains
only integrity
of this Moment's
health-wealthiest play potential.
She says she's fine with it
With social distancing
It's her normal defiant
absence of resonant integrity.
In fact,
thanks to the magic of World Wide Webs
she now has all day
to bask in messages she can choose
as resonant
and "bad" humored dissonant
social engagement
and political disengagement,
empowering
and disempowering
now her whole day/night choice
of sounds good-humored sung
and bad-rumored hung
out for risky social distance voice.
Polyphonic prosody
is like polypathic integrity
except older,
often wiser,
healthier
and wealthier.
Harmonic humored sounds
predict virally rumored rounds
of global ego/eco-therapy,
bicamerally wiser resonance,
bilaterally health systemic resilient
and wealth politically economic
Power tensions,
as my oppositionally defiant daughter
might more mindfully intend,
resound "Fine!!!!!!!!!!!"
roared like a weapon
might not(not) question double-rewinding Fine?
if you could ask me nicely for a hug
so we return to smiling, Fine
As pastel hugs
and shrugs
dawning viral light.
Skyler
Little boy grown large, are you leaving me?
Where is my companion of those calmer days of motherhood
When I finally had the rhythm down enough
And could enjoy the magic of the world
through toddler eyes
And the creative logic
of the 3-year-old mind
And lunches at McDonalds?
Skyler
S-C-H-U-Y-L-E-R,
Scholar,
Professor,
Master of minutiae,
Watching Discovery Channel and History Channel
And quoting dialog in entirety.
Working hard to mask the serious
with the casual.
Charming, charmer, charmed,
my ray of sunshine.
Moody but never brooding
and quick to beam that grin,
And drape one large arm
over my shoulder
In good-humored tolerance of maternal foible.
Others see the Adonis and draw to you
like bees to honey.
They sense what I have always known.
I see the little boy
gentle hearted, strong and true.
The spirit who whispered his name as I slept
And who blesses my life with the joy that is you.
(c) 2004
Let´s meet the happy-go-lucky man;
full-blooded,
neither craven nor valiant,
taking life as it comes with a touch of indifferent air,
good-humored, easy-going,
careless and not jealous.
Just It wouldn´t be bad to beam him a bit of mundane grandeur to be a perfect partner.
If it was not because...
We are actually referring to a dummy
Mesmerized and enthralled
Objective and fair-minded
Optimistic about anything
Nurturing and nourishing
Friendly and affectionate
Lenient and sympathetic
Observant and mindful
Well-balanced and graceful
Earnest and passionate
Reasonable and sensible
Open and forthright
Nerdy but interesting
Meek yet forbearing
Adventurous and intrepid
Yielding and malleable
Oriented and discerning
Nonchalant and unperturbed
Easygoing and good-humored
05/01/16
"Poem Written On Your Birthday
II" Poetry Contest
2nd Place
All ye who enter here
despairing statues of salted liberty,
merging solidarity with Earth’s poor hunger
to range free falling Victorian bricks
and mal-bourne sticks
to land here with now
with all arrived before you
prepared to grace Earth’s healthy breathing space
and time of BrickWork connecting sacred place,
restructuring minds co-infesting recomposing bodies,
bay to mountain swinging resonant designs
recycling Earth’s health-bourne habitation,
celebration
with all entering good humored here
with bad tumored now
climates of each day’s great dissonant transition.
LifeWork EcoLogic draws history written by our stars.
BrickWorld Cathedrals incarnate Earth’s green musings
sung by sunlight’s empowering designers
of MultiCultural ReGenesis.
Seek within our lower reaches
to resolve with sensory roots
reforming crowns
searching hidden ex cathedra gold,
deep beneath not-so-rushing,
lead headed crushing stone.
Conjoin these bricks
of nature’s rich vocation light,
regenerous
religious enbrightenment
to guide our humbled exodus
until we enter here once more
to sing and dance
among Earth’s ReGenerate Cathedrals.
Bright, yellow, fun balloons rise in the air,
bring optimistic and good-humored flair.
With cheerfulness, enthusiasm, share-
a brilliant, yellow, sunshine-like affair.
March 4, 2016
~2nd Place~
Contest: United Colors: Yellow
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 03/04/2016
Positive keywords for yellow: optimism,
cheerfulness, enthusiasm, fun, good-humored
I thought I knew you, William Kane.
No sooner did my world begin
Than you were peering down at me
And I acknowledged you as kin.
I thought I knew you, William Kane,
No matter how thick your disguise.
I was both prey and pet to you,
Someone to fear yet idolize.
We ran together in our yard.
You clasped my hand tight in your own,
And I was glad to feel its warmth,
Yet glad when you stole off alone.
“Able,” they called me, but I knew
That you possessed the keener brain.
When praises came my way, I thought:
Credit should go to William Kane.
You thrust me forward like a shield.
Not one soul saw you tug the chain.
I was your spokesman-advocate,
Your buffer brother, William Kane.
You were a man that people liked,
Tactful, good-humored, not profane,
Affable always, much admired,
Coping heroically with pain.
When illness ripped your mask away
And all deception was in vain,
I tried to pull you from your hell
But lost my balance, William Kane.
The grass grows slippery and red
Where I am lying in the rain.
Once more your troubled gaze meets mine.
I’ll never know you, William Kane.
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