Long Composting Poems
Long Composting Poems. Below are the most popular long Composting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Composting poems by poem length and keyword.
random thought
about bought
lesee i let a i o u
tune my poems
& it's so true
entomb my tomes
now for guilt
wrapping quilt
or satisfaction or both
placate faction doth
i don't write know more
blank white boar
less than not
in ending this
game of rot
composting fbook
if you care to look
just don't kiss
any dyslexic
mix or be sic
sans which rye
on rub in put in pi
know where going
less point more thumb
all ready now showing
orange ain't knew dumb
can't get past
third weak
sans rubbing cash
praytell pay less
peter's pall
merrikka stall
must get this sin
don't kill venezuelan
since rus needs busy be
now that you crane
has no see
but blown apart brain
an wouldn't want sia
defend with weapon i ran
brics expect expand
wooden wont bee ya
all drunk
aslib progressive punk
hanging hard
on mccarthy card
ptsd owns petard
seventeen years we went before I knew your friends
names you barely know now and you kept them
absent from me as you keep yourself still, so leave
stay cradle-tucked away as a soothing, sour breast
pocket letter I wrote a long time ago and you kept it
as close as your friends, in a sense
I know you; you want me as whiskey going down easy
making you fuzzy, spitting skins of salted sunflower seeds
th-pping-th-pping—
flooding the green-glass ashtray on our mantel; you gave up
smoking long ago but held onto the equipment like a heavy,
hoard of breath waiting to be used again for anything
other than spat nutlets of the pith leftover, stripped
from our heads of picked-at stems, sneeze-weeds
from our backyard horticulture
I see you :: you want me to forget that bit too? I saw it
through the garden, you leaving the path, seething
steps' impressions follow you—though first paired
depressions, the imprints as all after them, stay
in placating place until the next rain
glazing the brown, composting ground of stage
melting your trespass
into the foreground, back at level-set
ready for another sprouting or the last grasping
seizure of breath from a neck stretching
to see over the gate looking for a new path
on the way out
Miracles of GrandMother Tree
begin with her purgative peaceful birth.
For at this time,
so long before her cycling rings of time began,
we see her original seed
and this seed's less original composting environment,
and within this brief timeless moment,
before her benign becoming,
these each appear to decompose
into each recomposing other,
beginning GrandMother Tree's long waging of peace-filling rings,
recording recycling time's historic four fractal seasons
of perennial reproduction
Once begun with consilient fertility,
GrandMother revolves through days and nights
relentlessly deepening creolizing root systems
of nonzero co-relational recreation.
For each new ring
another year of cooperative becoming.
Cooperative thrival,
and only as necessary
competitive survival,
or healthy becoming decays to loss of living
Yet even these degenerative transitions
are not equivalent to springing back to prior springs.
She cannot go home again
because she carries her original home
within her still small skeletal seeds
reincarnating past purgations and ministrations
All while extending further rooting down
ever richer deeper cooperative
health-seeking Win/Win system sensors.
And so, at last,
GrandMother Tree begins to fade from Yangish life
toward Yin-emptying death.
Whether fast, through uprooting hurricane,
or slow, through slowing drying aging defense/offense loss of balance,
her woody organs disintegrate
creating compost perfect for her dormant seeds
and, even more richly,
for seeds of her adult children,
now become intrinsic to
her richly interdependent forested environment.
Her forest floor
each spring
producing metamorphic regenerations
of seeds and benign environmental compost
remembering each Win/Win peace fulfilling communication
GrandMother Tree winds and water
reweaving nutrients of time
in economic co-invested
political co-empathic space
Ecosystem rooting for waging peace,
ever more robustly resilient
While waging defensive war
strenuously defeats dynamic balance,
waging Win/Win peace requires root systems
repeating GrandMother's dharma balance.
Singers and dancers,
artists and writers,
philosophers and poets,
academics and health professionals,
parents and teachers,
actors and contemplatives,
grandparents and children,
live and die between Heaven and Hell.
Between Heaven's interdependent sensory Enlightenment
and Hell's individual secularized Industrious-Militant Revolutions
Pathology and sin result from severing healthy spiritual tools
for development
from degenerative denatured fake-wealth weapons
for destruction.
Heaven's tools restore peace
where re-tooled weapons
without divine mercy
redistribute Hell's sure-fire punishments.
Sacred tools,
like bicameral hearted minds,
were
and are
for hunting,
gathering
harvesting
cooking
serving
cleaning
recycling
composting
regathering,
impressing
not trangressing,
health-restoring FuturePowers.
Weapons were
and are
for killing
threatening
hating
condemning
judging
repressing
depressing
suppressing wealthy MultiGenerational Matriarchal FlowCycles.
Technological tools,
post industrial,
have evolved from
WorldWideWebs of Heaven
for cooperative social health information
Too often devolved into propaganda weapons
against WorldWideWalls for self-ghettoizing Hell
promulgating competitive anti-social disinformation.
Sacred tools, verbal and non-verbal,
derive from
and help build
heart-paths toward progressive liberties in love
and conserving equitable and responsible compassions.
Secularized weapons
contrive from
and help destroy
other paranoid
rabidly bipolar
mind pathologies.
Sacred tools serve immortal life.
Secular weapons serve up violent death.
Just as word choice
is the smallest detail
of communal win/win communication,
Weapon choice is the smallest
and also least cognitively wealthy, part
of commercial and residential conscious win/win choice-making
well-tooled
politically healthy
true-wealth conserving co-investment,
Articulating
incarnating
re-creating
sacred life evolving in-between
LeftBrain's ideas of Heaven
and RightBrain's experiences of lose/lose Hell.
Karma, grace, incarnation,
evolution, progress, enculturation,
pick whichever label fits for you,
are like composting souls and soils,
regenerating dispossessed stuff
within myself, society, Earth.
With compost we extract what we cooperatively invest,
both nature with my nurture,
through Ego's intent
and Earth's Logical polycultural nutrient-praxis.
Soil and humane nature's egosoul enrichment
as bicultural co-redemption
compost two layers
of one ecotherapeutic process;
Browns are decomposing Yin function
and Greens are resonant resolving Yang form.
Just-right balance cooperative water,
avoids dehydration and toxins,
and gently stir BiLateral Time
daily CoPresent
Endo/EctoSymbiotic
Earth-(0)-Soul TransFormation.
I've become inordinately attached
to cooperative health-trends
of EgoMe without EcoWe
as one of my less-well-performing compost piles.
Even so, we keep stirring.
Whoever said
Landlords have all the power
Knows that of which I speak:
Reading land leases.
Not a normal pastime,
but perhaps because
I have not read even one
written in compassion's voice
and not retribution's
self-empowering choice.
Thou shalt not
do anything
to attract
vermin
or pests.
No composting,
no vegetable gardening,
no careless garbage bags outside.
We retain the right to change our minds
without cause
or notice
about your little bird feeders too.
Vermin or pests.
Such choice of language
sounds King James Version jarring
denigrations of Old Testament
sinister degradation
predation.
I keep waiting for other pathogenic threats
like leprosy
to appear in these forbidding rental contracts.
And why vermin or pests?
Are there some vermin
royal white privileged landlords
wouldst not as well define
as pest?
Although I can think of pests
respectable people would not reference
as vermin--
or not into a live microphone
at Republican Conventions
for not least is best.
Vermin.
Why not rodents and insects?
Cause we know our landlords
are speaking pejoratively
of enterprising rats
and homey nesting mice
as disgustingly not nice.
So
if I were to put up bat houses
for those who would happily devour mosquitoes,
am I helping with this sacred anti-vermin cause
or offending golden contractual rules,
or both,
somehow?
How refreshing it would be
to read
and reread
compassion-driven leases.
To find that Impossible Dream lease
where all creatures are respected
and everybody knows
to read
and write
and speak
and act
in cooperative WinWin
playing nice
rather than ragging
on flies and mice
As merely pestilent vermin
infesting an investment place
that used to have highest
and best extractive value.
There was a time
not so very long ago
when clopping horses
and sighing sleighs
and paddle splashing canoes,
and then, later, trains
and electric streetcars
were the resounding heart
of multicultural transportation.
And local newspapers
with indigenous,
perennially planted village editors
among ecoschooled
one-room patriarchal chiefs
competed only with local gossip
in barber shops
and beauty parlors
for communicating hearts,
listening among each democratic trusting,
sometimes mistrusting,
but rarely anti-trusting, other.
These were slower
and in some more nutritional
ways more goodfaith experiential based
and less indoors extracted,
distracted from outdoor Earth voices
singing resonance,
preaching resilient multicultural climates
of and for co-redeeming health
as Original Intent
of Paradise WinWin Wealth.
There were these times
when horses and sleighs,
mules and oxen,
cattle and pigs,
camels and llamas,
and then, later, bird flight imaginations,
bikes
and ecoschools
and organic composting gardens,
electric streetcars and trains
were the heart of multicultural
PositivEnergy communication.
Remember great climatic transitions,
memories etched in regenerating systemic syntax,
DNA coded,
but also RNA's much older eco-equivalent health scripture
through God of Time's bilaterally balancing norms,
organic love incarnating
and sacred life outcarnating,
full-polycultural
crown/root systemic health.
Each plant and sludge cell,
eco-therapeutic consumers and producers
of ecologically balancing air,
some seasons warm and more productive
of nutritional outcomes,
other seasons for cold,
with dualdark past meets future
tipping poignant decomposing health and therapy events
composting fertile transitional rebirthing issues
and transformational death opportunities
to consider warmer,
more pregnant days
and nights,
less consumptive of last year's eco-embryonic promise,
like sucking oil out Earth's AnthroSupremacist
privileged monotheistic
nationalistic
narcissistic,
LeftBrain verbally dominant,
codependent Me v They
win/lose 0-sum ableism.
ReConnecting great climatic health v. pathology transitions
through bicameral lens (0)-centric DNA/RNA
Double-fractal
8 to the double-boundaries
of great spectral circles
revolving historic trauma/therapy re-memory
spirals of Time's ReGenerating Health
for springing ReNewing Global Wealth
and falling failing
unknowing
decontextualized
dissonant localized despair
Win/lose oppression
suppression
depression
negative impression
Re/De-Genesis/Exodus
Promised Love
of Her Win/Win Muse Story
and NoPromise Absence
of Win/Lose AnthroSage-dominant
dissonant WarLord
monotheistic SunGod
unenlightened disempowering
misogynistic
unecological unhealthy
un-coempathic lack
of secularized
LeftBrain verbally dominant
SWM clerically privileged
West v East as xx v xy
DNA v RNA
patriarchal v matriarchal-linear scripted
monotheistic v polytheistic
oral trauma v therapy-informed
history.
She laces this dark late winter's evening
with white manna grace,
flowing flying frosting
folding in and over and around
dark naked tree limbs
Dressed up and out
under ice limned networks
down in-flowing rivers
emptying onto cold cover
of frozen lace-flake
shivering shimmering
sad season
Hovers over what had been
pedestrian front predation lawn,
now transforming and mesmerizing
ecstatic ice crystals
Twinkle in response
as their ice-flame children
follow in post solstice pilgrim path
to die their individuality
within this here-now scurried view.
I smile, perhaps flirtatiously,
within shy winter's virgin dream,
a stubborn storm of snow
softly settling
quieter than white noise still
so so civilly right,
a silent black then white
bright moving set
frames a roundly wonderful life.
S/he is not smiling back;
I know that
But I feel this cold embrace
teasing tickling of too-perfect beauty,
hope imagining S/he could sleep
within heaven's blanket
Dream down Her winter's rain
for deep composting thirst
to drink through walls of hibernating glad
brewing spring's warmest winding offer.
This could go on all night
free of freezing fright
This reverse stalking
inside window peeper out
across front and back porches
Glazing Gaia's grace
elational transfiguration,
silent musing ecodrama
shows off Her magic show
for those with ears to see
through silent first snow
of momentous perennial occasion
Falling just in time
to brighten this sad day for dreams
of Beloved black in white Communions
spreading EarthMother's silent storm
Of love,
impossible to ever sleep
deep same again
Unlikely to become unlover,
to uncover
supremely white slippery cover.
Such elegant purgation grace!
I would dishonor Her
to break such silent sleep
within surrender's coldly storming space.
Legacy of the Green Monster
An odd green monster
Resides within the corner
Of my kitchen sink –
Mouth open,
Stomach rumbling,
Whispering feed me – feed me now -
Ready to receive scraps of wilted salad,
Spicy pie,
Pasta sauce and olive pits
With bits of Tuesday’s stew -
Not fretting when it’s musty perfume
Mingles with strawberries
Past their prime –
Banana peels -
Or
Tattered leaves swept from the floor
Dragged in on furry paws;
No sweet smelling new mown hay;
The useless and expired
Now expelled from the monster’s grip,
A smorgasbord of the over ripe,
The underdone,
The scorched and slightly singed
Mingling – Maturing -
Ever ripening in
A mountain growing by the house
To once again revive growth,
With discarded apple cores
And sweet potato peels -
This pungent bisque spread on sleeping garden beds
When springtime wakes the earth
From hibernation
Only to find tomato plants
Growing in the strangest places.
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