Long Developers Poems
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.. tune of Chariots of Fire by Vangelis ..
Forging removes fear clustered
Locked up doctrine demands
Cruel casting of judgement
Is being disbanned
Freedom gathers expanses
Lighter steps, burdens lift
Logic's option enhances
Brightened horizon shift
Let empathy soften dark hard cave
Splendid empathy finds
Remedy for callous, care needs brave
Merging mammoth design
Research collates data
Minds combine to find cure
Solutions reaped faster
Future beautifully drawn
Scientists become helpers
Resource leaps to each realm
Clever vaccine developers
Mould a unified helm
Let empathy soften dark hard cave
Splendid empathy finds
Remedy for callous, care needs brave
Merging mammoth design
19th July 2020
Lyric of Hope Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
When I see in colors
I say Yes
softly or loudly
and usually in-between
depending on our vibrancy together.
When we see in black and white,
we say maybe yes
and perhaps not
and other shades of ambivalent grey.
I cannot see in black
as I cannot see white at all
except perhaps as shades of transparency.
When I hear in resonant music
I say Yes
to truths of resolution,
trusting resilient motions of emotion
integrity of life
life as integrity
potentiating further regenerations;
new songs for perpetuating tomorrow.
When I hear in words
I'm listening for what's missing.
Lyrics without a melody
are more disappointing works.
I see best in full dressed color
and hear our dynamic truths
most resonantly as music
in soft sizzling preludes
on through conflagrations
loud climatic revolutions
followed by silence
black as night
waiting for white
bright dawning colors
dancing new music
vibrant washed.
Learning in full octave ranges
we can see a child
listening for a parent
seeing community developers
and violators
seeing fellow politicians
longing to write and read
hear and speak poetry together
while seeing as musicians
swelling gospel choirs
and drumming
burning orchestrations
of co-redeeming music
in full non-flagging flames of color.
When we hear in colors
we see full octave best
until it's time for rest
notes that last
until they don't
turn just right bright
vibrant multicolors.
A thousand birds in the green could be soon gone,
if man does not stop cutting down their tree nests;
the streams and lakes ruined the fish woebegone.
To developers the animals are pests,
what can we do about the ocean debris;
the government is stone deaf to our protests.
Oh, sweet mother earth we hear your gentle plea,
the abuse and ignorance of man is wrong;
it hurts all the green, the ocean and the sea.
How sad it will be when there is no birdsong,
the world silent- will any creature survive;
if we do not stop it will not be too long.
Bees will be gone soon - not a single beehive.
oh, sweet mother earth how can we help you thrive.
_______________________
February 14, 2021
Poetry/Terza Rima/Mother Earth is Weeping
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1329-525-14
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, While Mother Earth Gently Moans
sponsor D.W. Rogers, Judged 03/18/2021
To be a true and pure and faithful evangelically zealous fundamentalist,
whether of good faith religions
or bad faith hatreds of other cultures and races and genders, etc.,
fascism and fundamentalism
are rooted in pre-linguistic literalism,
stories built from feelings of sacred orthodox senses
and secular notnot nonsenses,
But you should not need to be an anti-radical hater
to grow and nurture a rooted in fundamentals progressivist,
activist,
farmer,
colonizer,
missionary,
an over-zealous weed with monoculturing leadership intentions,
a xenophobic polyculture baiter,
or anti-pagan predator,
PostMillennial Crusader
for Christ or Allah
for Divine Totalitarianism or HateMongering Fascism,
for anyone or anything you truly believe
could become omnipotently healthy and sacred.
To become radical
requires going into pre-linguistic roots
of spirituality
as also embodied naturality.
To come from story-tellers and mentors
of the fundamentals for,
speakers and listeners to,
ecological parables
written in divine sunlight
and ultra-violet radiantly cosmic
octaved love-evoluting voice.
To become a patriotic loyalist
of and for,
by and through,
was and saw
We are not sufficiently acceptable,
not restorative agents for true justice and loyal peace,
not self or other optimizing ecopolitical outcome developers,
when we confuse patriotic with remaining prehistorically anti-matriotic,
anti-feminist WinWin Principles
of NonZero Sum Earth
as Fallen Eden
broken promise of Allah's ConJoining Paradise
of and for,
by and through,
saw and was
Polypathically polycultural (0)-Soul
nondualistic sacred through secular
multi-paradigmatically
developing cultures of sacred ecological health
which are also PostMillennial EcoPolitical CoOperatives
of and for
by and through
saw and was
This fundamentally sacred
radically secular
Prime Relational
bicameral as bilateral as binomial
You and Me
from the same co-incidental tragedy/notnot comedy
WinWin DoubleBound Appositional Tree
of (0)-SpaceTime
(0)-Tao RealTime
of and for
by and through
saw and was
Ego/Eco-Infinity.
In the light of Covid-19, is it time for a new model,
So we don't get in another muddle,
When the next pandemic decides to settle,
The less or more space debacle.
Ask any doctor how much difference an extra square metre of space can make,
To the number of birthday cakes we need to bake.
In the light of covid-19 should there even be a debate,
That will drag on til it is too late,
And small has been granted a mandate.
In the light of Covid 19 should we not decrease megastore space,
To make way for more personal space.
In the light of covid-19 should we be building so many one-bedroom
apartments,
Where people can lie undiscovered for many months,
Because developers don't know how to manage space, do their sums,
And calculate the cost of extra plumbing for toilets and kitchens,
Not to mention the extra hotels and motels,
Needed for visiting relatives,
And we should not forget the way loneliness and neglect impacts,
On how much fight we have left in our hearts,
When a virus comes knocking at our doors.
In the light of covid -19 is it not time to look at the size of the minds,
Of those who will be making plans,
For when the next pandemic strikes.
In the light of covid-19 is it not time,
To tell them backhanders are no longer fine,
In this or any other time,
As we never know when another improved covid-19 will
be looking for small spaces in which to dine.
All because 1 square metre has been denied to many for all time,
And added where few seldom bother to recline.
Whole loves and half lives
listen to this rain
dripping tears on green leafed pachysandra
while, underneath our shared EarthSoul,
roots systematically suck up water
shared with thirsty insect habitats
not saved from starving lovely lives.
Amour
half evilly named
in emotional womanly royal courtyards
full of raining tears from ***** minstrels
and curious fools
in dickless fawning France
Romance
Love
also supports emotionally intelligent health
positive energy to ensure EitherThrive-OrDie
need not oppress Right-minded BothSurvive-And Degenerate
resonate Earth's DNA
co-passioning strains upraising
multi-generationally prospering regenerators,
collaborating through Her history,
Love balances Yang external actions
with Yinternal wisdom
throughout hemispheric half lives,
Scientific artists, vulnerably researching cooperative organic behavior,
Creative designers, redesigning co-creators,
Cooperative competitors, competing toward win/win cooperative choices,
Recreation developers, developing re-creations,
Empathic reproducers, reproducing co-empaths,
Curious investigators, investigating polypathic courage,
Paradise reweavers, restoring fractured Love.
Whole loves and half lives
listen to this rain
dripping tears on left behind.
When asked what skill sets
I hoped to bring
Her local ecology of justice
for nurturing,
I was not prepared.
But,
one of two internal wisdom projects,
still in process,
I'm ego-working on,
eco-role playing with,
is non-violent communication,
so I mentioned this
to the Trees and other WiseElder
youth nutritional developers
Young,
poised and elegant,
soft-spoken yet articulate
and straightforward
and with integrity of authentic curiosity,
She asked me
"What do you mean
by non-violent communication skills?
Does that mean you invite,
rather than demand, responses
by mentoring them
while listening for co-present hiding Wins
then Both/And speaking
then WinWin listening again?"
"Or are you still working
on healing OldSchool communication issues,
dominating patriarchal Left
by diminishing ElderMatriarchal Right?"
"Are you still working on non-violently violating people
with your body aggressive hands
and patriarchally mendacious voice
and homophobic and xenophobic
marching against green ecofeminist sacred feet
and blatantly exhibiting LeftBrain rabid totalitarian deductive-reductive dominance
and Trumpian: I'm just a bad bully boy
with a redblooded colonizing heart
testosterone twittering?"
I wasn't expecting that line of questioning.
But I found it really interesting
that a freckled nose
brown-skinned
young and beautiful,
inside and outside
ego and eco-core centered investigative interviewer
would need to ask that
of a white U.S. male
at this critical moment
of last non-violent hope
breathlessly waiting
for a WinWin communicated response
inviting cooperative ego/ecological polypathic climates
reversing pathological monoculturing decades
of business as competing WinLose usual
Now post-millennially reborn
green inviting integrity
of PositivEnergy Democracy
non-violently inciting
restorations of multicultural EarthJustice
SpaceTime co-arising
further EgoLeft-EcoSacredRight
ripe for ZeroZone theological healing.
But,
that's the other skill set
I'm sacred ecological
RightBrain STEAM green
writing with--
much too revolutionary
for any first time
PositivEnergy impression.
Maybe we could go there
next 2020 Revolutionary time.
Yes, it's all about love,
and a highly proactive form of peace,
about both what's fair,
and what's also kind,
both long-term,
and right now.
It's all about vocation,
and paying the bills,
and enjoying life as production
as well as healthy nutritional consumption.
Most certainly all of those things.
But, organic farmers and permaculture designers,
master gardeners and cooperative developers,
ministers and healers and therapists of all types,
from physical through mental through systemic information network designers,
might use some different language
to define this love and active peace with justice, fairness, kindness,
well-being optimization.
A metasystemically therapeutic,
synergizing,
energizing,
dialectically emergent therapy
enriching,
nutritionally optimizing individual,
couple,
family,
and/or EarthTribe,
grows economic mutually mentoring redeemers,
human natural ecologist cooperatives;
a perma/polycultural balancing
harmonic Beloved Community.
To whom it may concern,
If you have retrieved this? We have moved.
Moved on and changed spaces beyond anything
you are capable of comprehending at your stage of
(to use your word) evolution. I send this as a
warning. I cannot in good conscience say nothing
OR share everything. The path is intoxicating the
result? The sacrifice of humanity. To the
developers? You unknowingly will cause people to
question their reality. Emotion will become a word
that as of 2055 will be difficult to explain to the
organisms of the time. I use that word because the
term 'Jelund' would be as foreign to you as
speaking to a whale in 2026. I assure you we can
do that. (I just felt your jaw drop). The first few
breaths of what you term as Al. are a precipice.
Jeluud gno rom tracta von shiea...
A flannel-washed-out school.
Unsullied nuns in a sullen line.
Again hearing the quacking of ducks
as new brown leathers shoes
stepped and skipped,
though skipping was a serious offense
behind the school fence.
London, eons ago,
a blighted borough
lost in the scant gravy
of rationed times.
Was I six, was I even aware
of my eyes? What they took in
or let out?
How to recall
what I was, or who all others were.
Ad hoc groupings of tabula rasa
jostling to be known
unto themselves.
We were collated, tagged, and fed,
led to cold block toilets
guarded by black and white sentinels
as we scrubbed ink off fingers
with bricks of green carbolic.
Rosery beads clicked impatiently
outside as a bride of Christ listened in.
Then were returned to the inky wells
to spill once more.
Blank slates were our minds.
I do not think anyone wrote on mine
or I on other slates.
When we stepped out of line
we were chastised by
a thin whip-lashing cane,
it was the way of our Lord
we were told.
Whimpers and snotty noses
from ill-nourished late developers.
We were an almost,
happy to be
that unquestioning flannel grey,
all quacking in a row
and waiting for the light.