Long Aspirations Poems

Yours truly would never be confused for a gourmand, nevertheless I could enjoy experiencing taste testing select food samples if offered an opportunity of attending a fancy feast viz smörgåsbord, whereby oral indulgence would arouse,...

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Food glorious food

Asia generic guy gastronomy (and how gourmet foods eat destructively clearly beyond any) excess enthusiasm, the necessity to feed and clothe this lean mean exercising machine gunning corporeal essence christened Matthew Scott Harris...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers III




Success
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

We need our children to keep us humble
between toast and marmalade;

there is no time for a ticker-tape parade
before bed, no award, no bright statuette

to be delivered...

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I'm so confused,
raised to believe cooperative love powers
over competing fears
about scarcity of healthy time, 
and other resources
for evacuating anger 
about past over- and under-valuing of myself
as a regenerate wealth source

CoPresent ReTort,
raised to believe the Golden...

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In one sense,
the Cafe CoOp
started as my therapeutic retirement dream.

But,
in quite another
the CoOp goes back to when I was eight,
and I thought,
assumed really,
everyone indulged in Thought Experiments
about what would my optimal Eden Paradise.
restoring peace and...

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It was at this point 11 o'clock 
At night. Damian Left Molly and 
Checked on the seven. Everybody 
Was fine. He returned to 
Business. Molly was no longer 
Afraid she knew she was in the...

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Poems about Children IV

Salat Days
by Michael R. Burch

Dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, Paul Ray Burch, Sr.

I remember how my grandfather used to pick poke salat ...
though first, usually, he’d stretch back in the...

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In Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"
she paints a nationalistically wealthy saint
where also lives a monochromatically utilitarian narcissist,
sucking on attachment to fame and power
for bought and sold ZeroSum accounting Souls.

If the perfectly powerful pure patriarchal patriot
were your...

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The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal...

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I shall resolve to leave this
Place now...
And steadfastly search out,
Nestling between ridge and bluff
Amidst the folds of a foreign 
Land,
Several acres of unkempt ground
Fallow and rough;
Upon which stands...
Crumbled stone walls
With an exposed slate roof in
Some...

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Additional free advice to those* who would be King from the THIRUK-KURAL with Commentary
[*like presidents, prime ministers, dictators of declining (falling or fallen) nations or even empires]

K442: urranOy niikki uraa amai munkaakkum
   ...

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I suppose you might have missed out on Paul Feyerabend's,
and especially Thomas Kuhn's Problem of Incommensurabiity.

Oh, not at all.
I have not looked at science or culture
or language
or even your attempts at communication
quite the same since...

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I am sorry
about my judgmental,
sadly disdainful,
tone
in earlier messages.

Even worse,
I remain embarrassed
for spreading it out
for key staff
and leaders
to well-positioned see
and hear
and feel,
touched by wounded toxicity.

My training 
and experience
includes victimized by homophobia
and healing through community mediation.

Within this...

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I believe it was Alfred North Whitehead,
an early developer of cognitive systems thinking,
who observed frequent miscommunication
and confusion
and chaos
over bilateral complexities
of Set v isolated Individual issues
within a systemic set
of inter-related issues.

This comes to mind
as I listen...

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Mary was a virgin girl:
With big dreams and aspirations!
An angel came to visit her:
With honor and salutations!
Troubled by his sayings:
She did not know what to think!
The angel said to Mary:
My dear, no need to shrink!

Mary...

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To begin each morning here with now
includes who we bicamerally are,
who we have Elder RightBrain been,
where and when our DNA-scripts
came from RNA-AnimaMundi divine whispers,
and who and when and where and why
we would most clearly appreciate...

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Evolution Not God

It is the case that there is no God,
He does not exist, he is not the one,
He is not there, he’s not everyone’s invisible puppet,
It is not personal, he is not the Son.

Evolution...

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Swept up into piles; everywhere 
Abouts; in collected heaps all 
Around.               
It is almost as if the drab 
Streets were strewn...

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Your compassion reveals
mutual biological interests,
a powerful tool
for focusing fertile thoughts
and pent-up feelings

My passion regenerates
articulates
seeks to accurately label
read and process,
attend to your best nonviolent communications,
nonverbally hummed flirtations
of this
our potentially significant
Otherness.

These compassion communications,
positions,
postures,
poses,
plays,
prances and dances and trances,

Intuited...

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Spark to light the fire. It’s my life mission to gain the knowledge of what makes people laugh and intrigued by my experiences in my never ending and changing life. I want people to know...

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Universal elegy grieves and yet embraces shifts of paradigm
New beginnings consciousness initiates comprehends and thus proceeds from
Illusion’s delusion collusions misconceptions in the irritating
Vortex whirlpool immanent void of false containment

Enlightenment modern postmodern retro visionary futuristic aspirations
Resound...

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What does it feel like to wake up into your skin?
Your day?
What do you feel first most days?
Is it in any way influenced by gratitude,
or totally given over to worry,
anxious
or, worse, anticipating 
shortness of healthy...

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Sixty-eight and Sixty-nine
By Franklin Price
02/03/2022

In January sixty-eight, I was sent to Vietnam,
Was no internet back then, no Facebook, only Spam
I went to serve my country. Had signed the line in sixty-five
Going there to do my...

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As hapless vapors of decay, surround us, suffocating the fecund earth. A blanket of suffocating grey, born from the diseased aspirations of humanity. We, the self-appointed masters of a planet in shambles, gaze upon the...

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t was half past five before sunrise, 
when darkness faded into the misty Saturday's dawn, 
just an hour after a bloody confrontation, 
but a brave woman descended into a blood-bathed
street of Lustre, 
with hungry cats...

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