Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
— Zumwalt (2011) (used by permission from zumpoems.com)
What better than a summer afternoon?
Where else, but on the trail to La Toscana?
Who is it mounts a mens that's not more sana,
devouring a voluptuous Verdi tune?
Which month might one elect, which isn't June?
I'll pass on Sassafrass and Lisdoonvarna,
to binge on bars, basilicas and Barna.
I like my treasures liberally-strewn.
You're cynical? Think pinnacles don't serve?
I can't agree. A twelvemonth of frustrations,
quotidian slap-downs and humiliations
are answered now. We've finally capped the curve.
The clouds will come again, of course, but verve
should also have its vestals. A libation!
Oh, your eyes so dry,
Longing for a long cry.
All those fake chortles,
Hollow habits of a mortal.
Someone asking, "How's your day?"
You liberally
Lying with "I'm okay."
Okay is not the word I'd use,
Though it's an excellent excuse
Hiding my aching bruise.
Rotting is what I'd use.
It's my soul's beloved ailment.
No, it's not a bruise,
It's just a mere statement.
Social cohesion and consideration
the collective good
In excess one who prioritize there
needs and perspective's excessively
a negative consequence of extreme
individualism
making it harder to relate to others
by creating an extreme condition
not caring about others experiences
and perspectives or putting on a
empathises on individuals: without
creating ties with or within a
said community. Culverting shifts
that allow the empathise towards
self expression and personal
achievement Lacking Tradition or
respect for the past. Yet in reference to
society all things are futuristic..
One could quote things conservatively
and liberally say
"there's nothing new under
the sun: what's new to
us has already been done"
The roots: and origins of creativity
Being creative is the the hypocricay of
now!
Written by:
Tegen De Grappler
(The Other Guy)
"not Interested' was marked on his que card.
Seems she's fo
Just like George Jones when
He Stopped Loving Her,
death, the only thing that could occur
To enact what only this loss could secure
(Killing the love he had for her)
I've counted and underlined in red
each time an “I love you” was said
Until the pages, written in blue ink
Resembled nothing more I think
Than a passionate patriotic prose
Red white and blue superimposed
Over words of love and promises not kept
Sprinkled liberally with the tears I've wept
For you were not nearly as noble as
That great country singer gentleman
For whom only his untimely death can
Erase his love and promises.
All it took for you, Great Lout,
Was a younger face and lips that pout
They always say that sin will out
One who for others don't care about
And the keeping of your word you flout
So although now I know the truth
I act more like George than I care to do
How I wish that I could forget you too
For all these letters I won't send to you
Are filled with my love in red white and blue.
The buffet was spread liberally,
All across the floor,
As usual my dogs only want more!
Spoiled animals that they are,
They are dearly loved,
But not too far!
Normally a feast would be,
Turkey, Chicken, canned food,
Or all three!
But as luck would have it,
The food did not end up in a bowl.
But in a heap taller than a tree!
Lift a bag of dog food,
The bottom gave out,
The pups have been cavorting about!
While I with broom and dustpan,
Scoop up the mess,
Bring the buffet to an end!
Little Brother
Frogs and snails
Puppy dog tails
That was you to the core
Throw in a pinch of Karate Kid
Just a dash of Falkor
There you are,little brother mine
Your recipe when young
Then you just kept growing up
I kinda doubt you're done!
You tower over other men
And you're also pretty tall
Tower over, no, not in height
But in character,you beat all
Compassion became the ingredient
That makes up the bulk of you
Add a cup of charisma
A charmer through and through
Whisk briskly with sharp wit and humor
With laughter and sly smiles
Put in the oven of love and respect
And Bake a little while.
Glaze over liberally with talent
From God to you it flows
Decorate with fatherhood
So beautiful to behold
Before you were made in flesh
God took something sweet away
The sugar, spice…everything nice
He returned on your wedding day.
It may seem like you are finished
That God has made you what you'll be
But He isn't finished with you,
little brother, Wait and see!
S/he is troubled
about how to dance more green
in this overwhelming Anthropocene
And has grown to love
an outside starlit image
of Universal Red SageGod
resiliently dancing under the shifting stars
Safe and warm inside
felt unconditional embrace
Of sacred fire circle singing
Green MuseGoddess
solidarity love songs
Resonant
sacred crowning harmonies
of sunlight's healthy survival
empowering win/win wealthy
organic soil
root systemic
co-thrival
Like Sun inspiring Earth
Like transcendent wind
over
immanent water,
coinvesting in cooperative mind-song
over body danced whirlwinds
of liberally conserved
co-passion.
Played with, mishandled, juggled, fumbled then
dropped
Once whole but now broken, this precious glass
Shattered and liberally on the ground it lays
A motley of pieces large, small, and in between
all scattered
No longer smooth and pleasant to the hands and eyes
Broken,
Broken is this glass.
Many jagged edges are now dangerous to
the touch
Broken and distorted is this glass
I feel victimized
by the commercial success
of what was once a silent,
waiting,
watching
for Emmanuel,
Allah WithIn Us
I wonder
when I become red-faced angry
about not being able to CONSERVE
sufficient power to have my sacred way
right now
If this is entirely different
than when I feel disempowered by fear
of losing what
and whom
and when
and where
and why I have chosen
to love too LIBERALLY
Without restraint,
without constraint,
without greed,
without ego-aggrandizing need
Without anthro-privileged boundaries
to loving
divine embrace,
warm
humane grace
PeaceFull face
of sacred EarthTribe,
Divine Beauty,
Humane Unity,
hypostatic Integrity.
In the morning I heard the tea pot singing,
With the amber liquid sizzling,
Saw spouts of vapor ejecting,
With a sweet aroma tickling.
While pouring my cup of steaming tea,
Adding some cream, a little sugar and stirring it
I thought of the magic effect it brings,
Reviving us on every morning and keeping us fit.
As we sip it while we scan the news paper
We feel the early languor being lifted,
Keeping us hydrated throughout the day,
With our cognitive abilities liberally assisted.
I feel there is nothing like a cup of well blended tea,
For a tired soul to enliven his body.
It’s delicious taste and delicate fragrance,
Make it everyone’s lovesome buddy!
It’s a heavenly drink for the torpid minds,
A beverage brewed from the best of leaves.
A magic potion for the feverish lips,
Which in tiresome hours, everyone craves.
Sure, teatime is the most pleasant family time.
How we babble and burble over a cup of tea
Drawing people closer and cementing relations.
Certainly, it’s a time to look forward with glee.
There are few more days when I can indulge
Scales the enemy in Battle of Bulge
Oh! delights of lovely chocolate cake
Sprinkled liberally with milky flake.
Now, Lasagne with its Italian taste
My favourite dish I leave no waste
Spaghetti is good with Bolognese sauce
New Year resolution dreaded of course.
I will NEVER cheat will stand resolute
Green salad bowl with a piece of fruit
Step on the scales my failure is quite plain
Resolution broken hard to maintain.
The eagle flies with two wings, the left and the right, working together. The right says it's good, but the left says it's better. The body is one, resting at the center, the stabilizing, driving force of both sides despite the weather.
Together, both wings fly liberally and fastidiously across the plane. As one, the bird keenly overlooks and surveys the moving train.
From the train, many look up from time to time, but around November everyone looks up for a better view and peace of mind.
O' bird, Big Bird, with that eagle's eye just flying high, surveying and guiding the moving train as it passes by.
Sometimes the left will appear better while the right is lesser, or vice versa. But the direction is always the same because the body is at the center for sure.
Sometimes it has to fall
It all has to come tumbling down
Somewhere there's a missed call
One indeed has to be lost to be found
Falling, spiraling, crashing down
Once built up with blood, sweat, and tears
Now unrecognizable on the ground
Echoes of the nonsensical chatter and jeers
Precious pieces liberally scattered
So much time, love, and effort were employed
To look at all this debris, I can't help but wonder if it matters.
A hollow space in my soul, once filled now only a void
Bewildered, astray, and empty
Loneliness now fills my days
Futile thoughts or hopes of someone feeling pity for me
Silly, just silly to think because this is my spiritual assay
This LeftMind dominant
viral virtue
of practicing RightBody patience
Is a coverup
for feeling deep impatience.
Feeling impatient is not as hopeful
as exploring active curiosity.
Curiosity
about why someone,
including my own anthro-privileged self,
would default to live win/lose
competitively
When our healthiest,
and safest
economically enlightened
and politically empowering experiences
have always grown choices to live
liberally
radically
integrally
EarthTribally
sacredly
neurosystemically
ecologically
more fully win/win,
cooperatively co-invested.
Passionate curiosity might kill the occasional cat;
but probably not more deadly
than dispassionate lack of curiosity.
Besides,
passionate curiosity can also be more fun
than boring impatience
More joyful,
than sad
mad
bad
More curiously glad
even appropriately win/win consenting adult/adult lusty
More sad/glad soulful
preferring mindful disciplines
like healthy therapeutic dances
and well-sung
resiliently brilliant love songs.
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