Long Bottom line Poems
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There is too much fear in the world these days,
Fear of the unknown, scared in soo many ways!
Phobias of spiders, mice, rats and bats,
Are you frightend of nothing? Why are you scared of that?
Scared of oppression? And the way they use aggression?
Are they messing with your head, using psychic suggestion?
Wrestling with your doubts will only lead to fear,
Always looking into shadows.. scared that something's always near.
You're winding yourself up! There's no reason to be scared,
But it's never as it seems.. so you'd better be prepared.
Because if you're feeling fear, it could be.. you're not ready,
With your trembling legs, and butterflies in your belly.
It's not so strange, that lots of people fear pain,
Being boiled alive, with needles stuck into your brain,
You've got to be careful, I'm afraid to say,
Be quick to make your mind up, to fight or run away.
Would you fill your pants, with a gun to your head?
Now, that's REAL fear.. you could be dead, enougth said!
Some could find your nerves and make you scream for weeks,
They can teach you about pain and how it reaches new peaks.
But the ones like that.. are fearful too,
Of justice, revenge, and the human rights crew.
They should be scared! I wanna see their faces white,
'Cause they even kidnap kids and slip away into the night!
Now I'll get swept away, as it floods from me,
See, some of these emotions, are as deep as the sea,
Some wanna get a gun, and hunt these sick suckers,
And get them on their knees and say PRAY MOTHERF%%%%%!
See this is the crux.. this is the bottom line,
If they catch you doing that, then it's you that's doing time,
It's never black & white, it's not easy to see..
There are so many fears, it's all part of being free.
Are you scared of the dark, because that's how it began?
Are you scared that it links you to the earliest man?
Who had to hunt to eat, had to kill to stay alive,
And did what they had to, so this race could all survive.
The things to be scared of are the things inside,
You can struggle and fight, but you can never run or hide,
So walk down the street with your head held high,
And face down fear.. because we're ALL gonna die!
But the opposite of fear though.. is to be brave,
Who knows how many lives you could save.
The futures unknown, and we all face change,
It is all just a part of being free-range.
After all is said and done, cliché style
(Forgive me if this does not rhyme, I'm moving
Past rhyme for the sake of rhyme)
You will have gone away rich and returned for more
Because you thought you knew what you needed
To feel loaded, fulfilled and needed
You thought you knew your needs
And had articulated and defined them to a tee
You knew all the similes that ran parallel to your feelings
But those were nothing more than thoughts
Which is why a mind is such a terrible thing to have
You thought
You knew the right ingredients for happiness
Just the right mix
To make laughter and an electrifying smile
A happy ever after which, you thought
Existed in cash and came contained
In bags of gold marked with silver linings
which you carried a thousand miles
Only to end up clutching a plastic smile
Because all the nonsense you collected turned out
To have a mind of its own
So, you met yourself returning from that place and thinking
Was I better off before I became better off
Or did I believe a lie? Of course, you were drunk then
And you certainly are drunk now
Except you have no idea what it is. You're in the dark like me
And even now I hear a chorus of ayes and nays
And someone letting out a wry laugh and shouting amen
Because the bottom line is this; this will resonate
Even if it doesn't. I will let you be the judge of that
Folks trying to nod and shake their heads at the same time
Take it easy people, this is exactly what you think it is
Name it what you will. If the cap fits, I suggest you wear it
And so, cliché style, you returned
To the place from which you had returned
Because enough was not enough. You wanted more
But needed less of more and more of less
And fortunately, or unfortunately, about this you were clueless
All that glittered was just a bag full of humus
And once you admitted this to yourself a new light shone
And you wondered how come you'd missed this all along
But couldn't dwell on that because you had better things to do
In the end you gave away all the matters that had mattered
And in half breaths cursed and muttered
Words and phrases too precious to repeat in this space
In the end you were richer without the riches
And much more comfortable without the restraining breeches
From a society that had always wanted to define and control your mind
TEMPER
My love,
I am pained by my pain which leaves me in pains
Oh!.
Have you not drank your fill
Of my will's will?
The tug ever drains me
Temper!
Temper my love!
Are you listening?
My mind is a mine
Mined In fields
Of my faces
Oh!
By whom you ask?
Oh! Please you know better of my foes than I can number my woes
I seek a treaty of decorum
For I hide and seek,
which glances to give at every waking morn
It tires me
Temper heed!
It tires me.
I am stuck in a bowl..
No a bowling alley
Sorry, I went bowling..
Temper dearie.,
See as my sanity flees from me
With every whistling intake
You are priceless to a fault
Sorry.. A point
I have drunk dry of my purchasing power of you
My minds bank seems bankrupt
Please!
Do not loan them in.
Whom you ask?
Your offspring
You play my sanity as they delay my insanity
Imagine the pain of injecting you in
Yet I commit a felony if I let you shine
Besides giving me an audience,
You get me an audience
They differ in purpose
One to hear, one to leer
Nip you in the bud they say
But I really love,
The psychopathy you give
The satisfaction of deride
The aloofness of my prey
As they are caught In my web
Listen!, do you hear
The drums of their quaking despair
The loss of steering which is lost
But is still in their hands
But my deride is far from the labeled cups
Of despair
My weakness unnerves my being
Their weakness display calms me
Why?
Cannot let it show
They toy with the truth
Seen alot of their cinemas of toy
Bottom line
Their pain for my pain
Loss of steer for my steering
Insanity is a constant in all
But!
It's levels varies for all
So I seem mad
Am I?
Maybe mad indeed I am
It's all your fault
I can't withdraw, the symptoms
Are too pathetic
I need this job
You can't throw me a cliff hanger
Of your depature
The adrenaline pumps to my mind
Blemishes me with deadly wits of control
What you define as manipulation
The edge It gives
Similar to an addiction
Is the key to my survival
... So we die here, right?
I am hooked to you with a line and fingerlings
I hope a good shark snaps me
I really want to quit you
My sweet addiction
But you are just too sweet.
CUB.J.PRINTS
This change is the only thing that I had no control over
What I discover now is that I never had nor ever will have any control over it
That the stillness was always there
That there was nothing to achieve
That it was always way beyond me
And totally was me, every atom
No, it was never something outside of myself, but was something that I had to be still enough to see was always there
As I am aware of doing now, curious about what is going on
Curious about who I am, who I really am
About all these layers and levels that form a human life that I am privileged to be able to view and feel and experience from the inside
As we are all able to do, equally
Each of us given this gift
Consciousness happening now
Without effort or specialness
Without conditions, no ‘buts’
No one has more consciousness, nor less
It’s just a case of knowing that that is the bottom line, nothing else
Of trying everything else, of going round the houses
Of climbing into the misty mountains and returning to the market place
Of doing everything special and coming back to the normal
Knowing that we are who we are
Which is what we sought and what we saw in those glimpses that they say are difficult to sustain
That created more division than we’d ever known before
Thinking that we now had a higher and lower nature
An ego and an authentic self, battling it out endlessly
More divided than ever and further from the real
Though even in that we never moved away
Just that it distracted us
Delaying knowing and feeling that it’s simply this, simply this
Which is everything
Including the battle between the ego and the authentic self and all other internal warfare
Knowing that it is not who we are
Noble and interesting though it may sound
A worthy life project, do we dare to abandon it?
That would surely be nihilism or defeatism?
That would be worse than all the struggles and battles
Like giving up
Like dying
We are the event horizon in which everything is happening
Are we going to quibble about what arrives on that horizon?
Accepting this and throwing away that?
Nit picking for the authentic bits and chucking out the ego bits?
Making the best of a bad job
An endless wheel
Distraction from the real
Come down from the mountain, there is nothing missing here
The real awaits us, for when we are ready
The American Library Association
implores cognoscenti tubby alert
for impersonators, who
call themselves Ernie and Bert
took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,
(who worked for Peanuts),
and pay-dirt, though
dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous
sordid details suppressed kept from press,
(which scurrilous breach of conduct)
involved said scallywag
violating more than flirt
discovered in prurient compromised activity,
where his skin flute encircled,
with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected
public television station benefactors,
and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly
to make a profit) sounding proper
sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
asper faux expected by
a "FAKE" trumpeting prophet,
sans motley crue comic
stripped of more'n
motion picture PG ratings,
hence future lurid, graphic,
banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
muted, disallowed, and banned
so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
(who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
returning amidst fanfare hoopla
much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
glory and apple pie order land
ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
and horrifyingly
brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
whereat armed guards
strategically stationed
at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable
ravishing knowledge
hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
faster then Clifford
the big red dog re: oh speed
wagon in toto (oz suppose)
to escape paginated bound woes,
but especially to flee bozos
not tubby confused with Bezos -
(the richest cat on planet Earth),
whose cashiered spigot flows
née gushes without any need to faucet.
A problem with fundamentalist short-circuits
is their Left-dominant tendencies
over RightBrain polypathic-polyphonic resonant feelings.
Fundamentalism shrinks Left-RightBrain Both-And
WinWin ecopolitical thinking,
strategizing,
democratizing,
domesticating,
creolizing.
For example,
imagine your nationalistic domestic policies
to pit those who victoriously have
against marginalized and criminalized lepers,
parasites, really,
in your not-so-humble,
vaguely fascist,
opinion,
are not going so well
as you might have Republican conservationally predicted.
You need something
you know everyone, of importance, will champion,
so you point out that transgenderal confusions
are not appropriate to military-industrial's bottom-line
compete unto death
monoculturing focus.
Transgenders must, then, be an unnecessary economic liability
and political loyalty risk
because they aren't decisively anything fundamentally patriotic,
much less appropriately straight patriarchal.
Unfortunately,
for the fundamentalist Either-Or nonthinker,
without richly constant and diverse healthy relationships
with any ecopolitically multicultural depth,
what might sound like a political big win
over little inconsequential losers,
breaks down with actual one-on-one experience.
The anti-transgender agenda
breaks down because too many sergeants
and corporals,
lieutenants leaking counter-factuals
to admiring admirals
and generalist generals
about the long history
of incredibly excellent military-industrialized service
individual transgender personnel
in the thousands
have delivered in the past,
unlike a dysfunctional bicameral Congress
and a sociopathological White House;
whether a swampy, witch-infested dump,
or not.
Transgender co-intelligence
tends to understand
cooperative media economies
and political persuasion.
That's a bicameral nest of honey bees
you don't want to fundamentalistically mess with,
because they will make you look politically stupid
and economically bereft of moral integrity.
It's rather like believing health-assurance climates
of care-receiving
and for mutual healthcare-giving
is just a Democratic women's eco-survival issue
when your own nationalistic patriarchal prostate
is growing in a cancerous viral,
self-imploding,
wu-wei.
*Note: This was made on July 2nd. I honestly forgot I wrote it. It was mostly written in incoherent scribbles. AND NOW IT'S A MASTERPIECE. Just kidding. It's....uh... a fickle drizzle of thought let's just say. ;)
---------------
Ideas...ideas....
Trying to find a certain balance of genius
Within this tired dollop of foolishness...
Craving excitement....messy...indulgent words...
I never knew the difficulty would rise so substantially under such little pressure
You don't see me, do you..?
I'm not so good at these damn writes, about you...
When I look out of the window of a car,
Sometimes I get lost in myself
I feel so pensive...often, very sad...
Like I'm in a movie, and I am missing someone, or something
Almost as if I am lost in the death of a loved one
But it's not usually someone in particular
Other times it is...
I think about his side of earth...
Yeah, him...
It gets crazy in my head from there..
I guess I harbor bitter toward people that will never feel the same way
Though I harbor bitterness from seemingly nowhere sometimes
My thoughts often go back to the majority of people
And how fickle we are
It's a little bit depressing but,
More annoying I suppose
I am strange...
There could be opportunities that I don't even see
I guess you can call it blindness
I don't know...I guess the first step of getting rid of the blindness
Is acknowledging the fact that you are blind...
Sometimes the darkness of not knowing is rather comforting...
Maybe I'm just writing from my ass, but who cares?
Laughter...I've done a lot of that lately
I guess it's difficult to get back to that groove, at least for me
I'm so emotional, it hurts
I sometimes wish I was more grounded...more realistic
I never ask for normality
Because I don't think that there's anybody who knows exactly what that means
Whatever though; that's not really significant, is it?
What is important though?
I'm not sure anymore
Maybe I do know; I just don't acknowledge it enough
I am better than that, aren't I?
I'm just so lost in myself..
I know I am better than this...
But who cares about me?
Shut up already!
Gain some perspective for once!
The bottom line is, I need to learn to love myself
Otherwise, I'll become the fickle one.
It has been twelve years
Every one of those years
I have been turned away
by officials of the city
Twelve long years
of being on the housing waiting list
Being the only breadwinner
Times got tougher
To my children I imagine
that to them
I am a failure in many ways
No where for me to seek refuge
The only way is inside my head could convince me otherwise
What do you say to a
man living with cerebral palsy?
Who has to proof himself on all fronts
Spiritually it becomes draining
in a one room flat
He becomes out of touch
with those immediate loved ones
Wife then kids or vice versa
All freedoms are compromised
Specially the kids
As a physical impaired man
I am not much affected
Considering my boarding school days
It becomes tough
when it is an all female club
And I am the only male
and physically impaired
Mentally the impact takes its toll
There is a heaviness within me
I cannot seem to find an outlet
That's why I'm living on a page
Out of control
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
If you see me smiling
It is a front
this is how I deal with my pain
Many second job attempts fail
I am beginning to doubt myself
I sometimes stare at myself in the mirror
My wife's take on it
is that I am full of myself
That may be the case
It runs much deeper than that
Maybe I am taking her
too much along with me
But I can't help it we are close knit family
The Lord has blessed me
With three daughters
They could write
a book about me
one day if they are aspiring authors
along with my wife as their editor
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
I silently wish for all those material things
Things that is out my grasp of understanding
Why some of us
gets it easy and others hard
Is there a lesson
to us that are disenfranchised
or are we nearing our expiry date?
Hey, it is just a thought
along with my perception of things
Who gets to build us up?
When you hit rock bottom
What is the bottom line?
What if we get to that helpline too late?
What will they say in your obituary
Were you worthwhile living with
Or were you known to be a prick
Only time will tell
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
Earth resounds rational
restoring harmonic faith
in an omnipotent universal
double-entry accounting and governing
ego-eco balancing system
WinLeft only to also WinRight,
And cooperatively researching
EgoYang/EcoYin positivenergy co-relations
co-incidents
co-arising WinHealth-WinWealth--
further revolving health/wealth multicultural events
of creolizing herstory,
macaronic
co-acclimating
transubstantiating
nurturing nutritional
bottom line cooperative
not nonzero-sum Right inductive
and zerosum Left deductive
extending family roots of ZeroZone
ecopolitical and personal
secular and sacred
LeftEgoNature and RightEcoSpirit flow-power.
We probably could
bicamerally imagine
a bilateral omniconsiderate
integrative should co-operate
as Whole Open System
of generalized
metaphysical polynomial inter-relationships
intra-reassociated relationals,
PositivEnergy nutrition principles.
Left deductive yet cooperative scientists
uncovering never LoseLose devolutionary
dysfunctional NegativEntropic ExFormation
rediscovering devolution down and out and in
toward ZeroSum double-entry,
not this
not that,
Tit for Tat
WinWin Game PolySystemic Theory.
Right inducing sacred invention
of Left's secular Ego-Titsical idolatrous reborn identity,
ZeroZone within mortal sinner skin,
is appositional dipolar
to Right MindBody's
ongoing original timeless Ego/Eco DNA
thymine/cytosine Harmony,
WiseElder hydrogen/helium
nature/spirit
Convex/Concave Resonance.
Polyphonic bilateral
ZeroZone polynomial
heuristic health-wealth systems,
whose total open everyday personal system
WinEgo/WinEco consciousness
would double-bind cancel out
all notnot polynomially disassociated questions
about all pathologically isolated climate problems
Resolving resilient integrity pathologies
could therapeutically result in
timeless feelings
sublimeLeft/subliminalRight
polynomial ZeroZone as also not(not-polynomial) ZeroSum
WinEgo as also WinEcoPolyPhonic Resonance
and LoseLove's Resonance
as also Lose EgoPolyPathic Integrity
double-binding deficits.
Yin/Yang within
not knot-squared
and cubed
and fractailed...ZeroZone bell curves
of and for fractured Universally Resilient Health
riding HereNow's remaining Wealth.
In my younger years, I was one of the most serious persons to be found. I remember a scene in my freshman year in high school when I was 14. The teacher decided that she wanted everyone in the class to say something funny. I didn't mean to be odd or disrespectful when it came my turn to render a joke, but my reply to the teacher was, "I don't joke". My fellow classmates, some of whom knew me far better than she, surely thought that I had lost my mind or that this wasn't the place or time to prove that I was a 'religious nut'. But the teacher, not really knowing anything about me, took offense. When she realized where I was coming from, she moved on. It's a scene I will never forget about a time that I was far too serious to coexist with the human race.
It took years for me to realize the beauty of humor and laughter and began to incorporate it in my everyday life and career. Just when I had made an amazing discovery; just when I discovered how boring I was and began to make amends, my wife began to say to me, "You are not funny". I even discovered that the Bible says that even God laughs, and that laughter works good like a medicine. Yes, I love good clean comedy and shy away from the bad dirty comedy. I suspect my English teacher is long deceased, but if I ever saw her again, I would apologize and say something funny to make her laugh until she is convinced that I have reformed and corrected the error of my ways. I tell you, I laugh far more than I use to but not near as much as I should.
I think that at some point, my wife took note of the fact that I might have been trying too hard to be funny. I don't know; perhaps I was trying to make up for lost time during those much too serious years. On several occasions, my observing wife has said to me, " You have a serious type of personality, and some of your humor is out of sync with your character". Bottom line is that she tells me that I am not funny, but it is too late to stop me now. I do not listen to her in this regard about my humor attempts. I keep trying.
090120PSCtest, Living It Up With Laughter, Chantelle Anne Cooke. 2P