Long Erroneously Poems
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Bertrand Russell
was intrigued by systems theory,
appalled by systemic racism
within himself and others,
corporations and churches
not recognizing each other's wisdom
also found in temples and synagogues
and community investment banks
and poor houses.
He was also interested in political philosophy,
power of aristocrats
anticipating growing personal economic despotism
offering no respite
to green/blue democratic EarthLovers.
A contemporary of Einstein's,
who shared Russell's political philosophy
and perhaps his interest in 4Dimensional
prime NonZero-entropic space/time
co-arising dipolar bilateral
spatial/integral
physical/metaphysical systems
also sort of bicamerally structured
Russell writes,
"The reason physics has ceased to look for causes
is that, in fact,
there are no such things.
The law of [unilateral linear] causality
is a relic of a bygone age,
surviving, like the monarchy,
only because it is erroneously supposed
to do no [win/lose, either/or leftbrain dominant reductive] harm."
Here, Russell's parenthetical analogy
betrays his political philosophy
favoring natural/spiritual green/blue co-arising systemic democracy
of We The Healthy MultiCultural EarthPeople
causing and effecting
monoculturing
narcissistic aristocratic collective fantasies,
anthropocentric Naked EarthExploiting Emperors.
Causal systemic power travels down to up,
like root systems toward flowers,
nutritionally before,
secondarily, communication flowing back top to down,
like seeds embedding in Earth's co-invested future
multiculturing fertile soil
bearing multi-regenerational anticipated win/win fruits,
Dipolar co-arising in polyphonic apposition
more normatively nurturing
than win/lose bipolar challenges of monoculturing,
too aristocratically self-delusional
short-term empowering aggressors
leftbrain straight white western male predators
on organic polycultural matriarchal fields
of original nature/spirit win/win systemic energy
in which each individual ego
is EarthMother sacred
eco-politically born
For growing systemic
democratic cooperative green energy,
power,
empowerment,
enlightenment
of integrity's systemic multiculturing potential
for climate health,
internally ego-inspiring spiraling spiritual
as externally natural rooted
organic ecosystems of life
reversing monoculturing death.
Spelling, syllable count, vanity, too simple, Simon! Be prolific, cruel, smart, up to par, above the bar, fit for the stage. Tap, tap, tap…
—by poet
The Prismatic Self
See the wooden stage, markers for my feet, bright lights, great expectations, critical analysis. Curtains will open any minute as my words make an entrance. Will my opening lyrics draw a crowd? Who will be in attendance? The theater’s not likely sold out.
Backstage, the sponsors, who are they? ATTENTION! As if a teacher wields a pointer, tapping at my feet. Will the audience throw erasers?
On the palm of my hand, the rules - perhaps strict, but I’m not in fear of a stickler. Trained by the nuns in love and hate knuckles.*
Lots of rules, I might have to practice the act for quite a bit longer. I practice in my dressing room, trying on outfit after outfit - those flouncy forms or something simple and succinct.
Am I a people pleaser? Do I perform at the pleasure of the King or Queen? Or am I my own worst critic?
Yes! Yes! Yes! No!
I desire to be seen but I will yield. There is something more important than being the lead. Still, I must confess, I must run back to my little box, mime my tears, dread my limitations, take a breath and when I am ready - take a bow.
At the onset, I must build my own backdrop, backstory, be vague and understood. I run my lines quickly, slowly, go over them again and again, even as I recite them freely, as a monoku or Shakespearian sonnet; or get even more elaborate.
I labor over each word, its placement, its meaning. I don’t care! I do care! I must feel it practically perfect; though I will let it go. Eventually, it will be a comedy of errors, erroneously erupting past the stage, in the rubber hands of cause and effect. The sponsor’s Marlboro ashes fall on it, without understanding my heartfelt meaning; my wings clipped as I await the list…the dreaded and dreadful list. Most surprised when I am the cream, alone - floating at the top.
**Fastbreast, blushing, aghast, euphoric. That sponsor is exact. I do not grow prideful. I do glow. The tip of the iceberg shows, all other words sunken, below. In leotards, the ships pass by, having a look - one clips itself.
*conceit
**Fastbreast - heart beating rapidly (Neologism)
When the beloved disciple named John wrote in the first line of his gospel book,
He was writing to his Jewish people because over time their God they forsook,
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God,”
Was a reference to your coming as the one sent by the Father in fulfillment of his word.
From John’s book we learn that you were the one speaking the word at the world’s creation,
And that as a part of the divine plan, you had come to bring fallen mankind salvation,
So, you laid aside your divinity and became one with humanity,
To thereby provide a way for sinful man to live with God in eternity.
By a miraculous process you were implanted in the womb of virgin meek and mild,
And at the end of a period of nine months, you were born as Mary’s infant child.
That the one without beginning could be born and held in his mother’s bosom,
Is a mystery too great for our finite and degenerate human minds to fathom.
As a human child you increased in wisdom and stature and gained favor with God and man,
There was no doubt in your mind that your purpose on earth was to fulfill your Father’s plan,
Which involved you dying for our sins after perfectly obeying all that His holy laws demand.
O what condescension on your part, to accomplish the salvation of fallen humankind.
Among those born of women there will never be one like you on earth,
Its history is subdivided into B.C., the period before your birth,
And A.D., the period after, erroneously interpreted by many as “after death.”
Your powerful influence extends across this world’s entire breadth.
Jesus, centuries after you have come and gone, your name is still a cause of offense,
There are those who reject you as a fraud, and those who come to your defense,
One group surrender their will and accept you as the God of their salvation,
While the other steadfastly refuse to submit to your loving dominion.
Before ascending to heaven, you promised one day to return,
To receive those who through the Holy Spirit have been reborn,
So, in faith we await the salvation that was from eternity planned,
And one day go home with you to dwell in that heavenly land.
Did your mother ever tell you,
Did you know?
(Some of us have a penchant for the inscrutable)
Did, your mother ever tell you
(These bonds are primordial and immutable)
In one of those intimate conversations
Between mother and child
(Mostly wasted on superficiality of dopamine significance)
About your origin and your age?
(Neither carbon-14 nor red shift light can date us)
I supposed
With your superior knowledge written on official paper
That provide the data of your birth
You think it not worth the bother
To have such small talk about origin.
Mothers knew the world before the big banging bang
Or you measure your life with time like baking flour.
Trivial, trivial, three scores and ten is distorted denial.
Did your mother ever tell you
About her memory of tomorrow?
Did you know
That every child comes mass produced from heaven
The female foetus has 7 million oocytes to begin
The tomb stalks us from the womb because of sin
Death comes early to siblings we forget tomorrow
When the memory of the future fades
She is born with only one million eggs later on
O that I could tell the brothers or sisters in one year we lost
That by puberty only 400, 000 eggs are not gone.
Was that random love
Or the beginning of my purpose driven life,
O mother, will you remember now?
Did you hear
The whispering of my siblings telling me "go first!"
I was Jacob, coming last despite my bossy siblings
Who 7 million with me were only potential until my birth;
This perhaps, the Electra complexity eluding Freud
Matters not, mother knew
I never took orders very well
That is why on the Wanderer I was not in the hold
But many many died in the wretched womb of our beginning
When slaves grow green and slavers search for gold.
I came long after laughing
And could not believe what birth certificates taught in writing
Did they not know the entire universe is one age
That God rested from all his work and his creation that he made from then
That time sequenced us like products on an assembly line
That all eggs existed simultaneously
So that I age vicariously and erroneously
Mother said nothing to me
So I beg you, talk to your mother again.
Defining a Man ( A Letter to my Daughter )
What is a man in these modern day attitudes and parlances of our times
harder now, I think to define a man than maybe it was
but then maybe not, considering how much we all have learned
Rather it should be easier for a man to define himself, as a man, in these days, than it
was in the past, but this seems not to be the case.
Ever it seems, men, cling to the ideas of “The Macho Man” ( which if you think about it is
so Gay.. trying to prove to everyone that you are not Gay, by being a “Man”….. how gay is
that ? )
Any “Man” that conforms to a stereotype, or the stereotypically accepted view of what a
man is “Is not” a man
But a mere shadow of one
Who by acceptance has agreed in his own conscience “not” to think past or beyond
a cultural definition of what he is
And therefore has not explored to any depth the idea of maleness and all its qualities of
personality
They have, to say, accepted a definition of themselves which is a blanket and an easy
excuse to explain what they are and how they behave.
I can count the number of men I have met in my life on the fingers of two hands
but I have encountered an innumerable group of brainless masculine gender defined people
in their thousands….
Firstly a man is or has the courage, “not” to define himself by stereotype
he becomes a wolf instead of a sheep and so to some degree an outcast. ( and so many sheep
call themselves wolves that it is laughable considering their obeisance to acceptance )
A man, does not use self-centred egoism as an excuse for truth or a replacement for truth
He will contend with any rationale that challenges his idea or view of his life or world
until it can or has proved itself to be better than his own
In which case it becomes his own rationale.
A man does not, by the use of any force, verbal, physical, emotional or mental, make any
person submit to his will, in order to prove that he is right. ( erroneously or not )
A man will use his physical strength to defend, not attack.
Men are now women and women are now men?
People have no more sense, than a rooster or a hen.
People blowing up fatter like parade balloons?
Then, we can float in trash dumps that once
were beautiful lagoons?
We no longer believe in God or His resurrection.
Just destroying the Constitution and condoning violent insurrections?
Dead bodies no longer bother us at all.
We hearken only to Fauci’s syringe shooting calls.
We were lied to, and told us the vaccine boosters work.
My friends who got them, got ill, some died, no
thanks to Fauci, that infamous jerk!
Of course, many are those with no vaccine who stayed well.
And baby embryos used in my blood are akin to my
burning in hell.
Suddenly, there’s polio! Please give me a break!
Stop~I have more brains than either a hen or a snake!
Monkeypox is a now a new STD, a must for pharmaceutical millions?
Don’t you clearly, obviously see, you are not a papillon!
The zany addicted mask freaks are out to scare us all!
They carry the clarion call to join their ghoulish ball.
I cannot bring back my loved ones from the dead.
They believed the lies the WHO and the CDC erroneously said.
And what’s with the spreading just plain fear in comments “Are you alright?”
As if the newest Covid monster were about to kill and alight?
This is Poetry Soup, not Fear Soup, or am I wrong?
“Isn’t life great”, is a happier comment than joining the fear throng.
Joy, love, family and honoring God,
Will give us courage to live, not shuddering,to be buried, beneath the sod.
We will be told to stay away from the elderly, too?
I took one picture of my grandson through the window, and I knew that was nonsense, I would never, never do!
I only state the things I see going on here.
The claws of madness, by a disease called FEAR!
7/28/2022
~2~
Once,
About ten minutes ago in the year
2006 or
2549, depending upon which avatar or
Messiah is consulted, I
Tumbled out of my bed to the
Untranslatable
Predawn
Cackle of
Frantic voices
Descending.
So, with urgency
Rarely experienced since the
Evacuation of my spirit
From the Land of
Possession Addiction, I was called to summon previously
Unknown prowess
Chancing traffic choked streets
Of Nakhorn (used to mean “New City” 700 years ago but not sure now)
Chiang Mai.
So there I was
Aboard my mostly pint-sized for a European descendent Kawasaki 112,
Red-blooded American head
Protruding
turret-like out of an
Undersized helmet that,
If nothing else,
Officially pronounced me foreign
Blazing a jutted path around
Decrepit trishaws,
Ubiquitously red baht busses and,
Not the least, a motorcycle with a sidecar bandaged to its
Aching side just in time to witness a
Spit-shined just out of the wrapper BMW
Brusque aside a
Sardine packed dump truck
Loaded,
Not with dirt, but five dollar a day
Laborers.
All this and more
Just moments before
Mounting the silted Ping and
Stampeding city gates, I glimpsed
Censored Snippets of TV reports blurting something unintelligible like
“Bangkok coup”,
“Corruption”,
“A King”
And
Somewhere,
Quite uncensored, of a not so pleased
Laozi,
Lotus splayed in
Meditation
Kneading the Eastern soil one
Daoist grain at a time,
Before ancient city walls
Rose up,
Monolithic in my path.
And then the recall that
Centuries before,
Burmese raiders
Resplendent in warrior garb
Plundered the palace and soul
Of the kingdom Thai before stealthily
Creeping back to their lairs,
Buddha-fat with riches.
That leaves the Siamese of 1935
And me, to wonder
Where is freedom
When we travel so far
Pell mell and
Peril, only to discover
In a fleeting brief moment the road to
Iniquity marked, rather
Erroneously, with the signpost to
Promises?
Suffocation experienced analogous
to absent echocardiogram
or electroencephalogram blip
(Derek Chauvin - he of
George Floyd infamy) iron maiden grip
linkedin with psyche subjected
to laceration courtesy cruel horse whip
mine inexcusable
(albeit clueless faux pas)
family members living social in Bend, Oregon
and Oakland, California did yip
private information across cyberspace did zip.
Apology (ex post facto)
extended regarding about
mine guilt ridden conscience
programming mental state
think sufferable infinite
jesting Möbius strip
casting dark shadow of doubt
looping along outer limits
of twilight zone
futilely shucking off
emotional tailspin (kamikaze) fallout
impossible mission
unable to muzzle or thwart lout
who poetically blurts out
simian old routine programmed
erroneously heavily incorrectly
peppers entire Hollerith
or IBM punched cards
yielding botched defenseless redoubt,
when Yankee doodles dandy
teapot short and stout
convection currents trigger
whistle Dixie when liquid piping hot
a microcosm concerning plate tectonics
across webbed wide world
yielding necessary oomph
to migrating trout.
Absent awareness
flourished amidst ignorance
sixty plus shades of gray matter
hotly doth smolder and burn
unbeknownst rancor did furiously churn
when yours truly divulged
he made aborted attempt
to couch his genuine
paternal care and concern
lack of discrimination
and judgment I did not
(honest to dog) recognize nor discern.
Understandable blameworthy
grievance against me,
not granted app parent permission
thus culpability I obediently yield
words that sparked hurt
now utilized to wield
heft to communicate authentic love
(cryptically coded)
and hermetically sealed
hopefully in due time
mine discretion well healed.
A poem about two cities, 12000 miles apart,
but when it comes to politics, the same!
Bradford in England, Manukau in New Zealand.
We all know
there is an authentic world
being endured,
in the inner city.
Rampant “Bradford” In the north,
“Manukau” In the south,
all insidious pavements
lead only to concepts of
harmonious bickering,
acrid tasting pollution
bound by the “Red Ribbon”
of municipal crap!
True blue generations reared
in socialistic ideals,
surrounded by slabs of concrete
to demean a catabolism
of one’s comfort zone,
a system nurtured
in closed minds, torn souls!
Yet today many voices
constantly cry out,
from behind the barriers
that society constructed erroneously;
voices that ripple
the airwaves, before being
immersed in an ocean of
radical subversion.
“If only to keep them bastards down.”
“Manningham lane”
“Preston road”
Teeming with cultivated
inclinations, fenced in like cattle
where the “Acropolis” Meets
the “Ghetto” That invisible
boundary of frailty, whether physical
or in one’s self righteous mind!
© Harry J Horsman 1997
All through the night
Nothing feels right
The static sound in left ear
Enticing a certain kind of fear
Your body feels like it has a current of electricity
The Book MK Tech explained it with complexity
Never finding anything as a protector
When your body is setting off EF on a detector
The mind starts to fret and stress
Since EF from electrical outlet is less
Perpetrators have made a deal with the devil
Their computer renders voltage at a high level
The most common place you feel tingle
Is usually when the feet and brain mingle
Your mind all the sudden will feel trap
Whenever you start feeling a brain zap
The electrical current can be throughout or localized
But no matter how it is, you’re being chastised
While perpetrators like to make you insane
Your body begins to be aching in pain
Praying perpetrators eventually will reap what they sow
You’re being electrocuted worst than inmate on death row
While someone is truly giving you all kinds of electrical sensations
The medical team will erroneously diagnose you with hallucinations
You will become traumatized beyond belief
From the electrocution you will seldom find relief
Drugs start becoming daily amenities
Unable to find help from governmental agencies
Adding voices with the electrocution to the mix
Sketchy doctors will say antipsychotics can fix
The electrical pain will leave you feeling lazy
Everyone around will claim your crazy
New disabilities are purposely being created
While your left hurting and feeling isolated
No one will see your tears or hear your cry
Leaving you puzzled asking God why