Long Excavate Poems
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there fluffin ditter
is a rubber hose
connected to the
fleckin Strum
( a tuba with no mouthpeice0
The freakin floss say! Mastrao
it
flutes the bassafoss.
where the octavor
octavates.
So the clarcotti can claricott the
freakinfoss dossator!
Noun we can Octavate the
cantorious octaive!
Sound Mastro sound!
cresendo Octaive!
Forte-Cresendoium excavate!
the element of future funk!
Adagio sorely!
Adagio suerty!
now:Vivace, vivasism!
where the schism and Coda
are soothed and smoothed
there they mingle together
and create the groove!
rough boards smoothed
pocco a pocco
whoomp: whoomp, ah whoompa!
ting ting ah ting ting!
I remember
a young child in Sunday School
wondering what Jesus meant
when he said,
I have come out
into Earth's narrative
to turn Her repentance upside down.
How could this be true,
when he also taught that those who receive more
will get more,
and vice versa;
less worthy grace
for less valued face.
This didn't sound right,
yet it did seem reviving,
Like something to hope for
even though Jesus didn't really get the job done,
or at least not here
where I was
and not now
when I am.
It has taken a lifetime
of wondering about that curious and courageous,
audacious and admonishing claim
to realize Earth's nutritional narrative
isn't about turning planets
or people
or plants
or even energy and health systems
upside down,
But is all about returning Earth evolutions inside out,
back forth
reverse forward,
principles for reverting revival revolutions.
For example,
Indigenous wisdom originally understood
we are here as one people,
one sacred empowered Tribe
to serve the health needs
and wealth wants
of EarthMother.
Just as Western patriarchal capitalism misunderstands
Earth is here
as our anthropocentric commodity,
one secular planet
to excavate
exploit
extract
rape
enslave
colonize
market
discount
clearance sale
to sever Her health needs
from our capital-hoarding wealth wants
before She inevitably dies.
What Jesus calls upside down
and inside out,
Laotse's listeners call
a Principle of Reversion
back to when Yin induced Yang
so Yang would compassionately deduce Yintegrity
for humane wealth Truth
serving Earth's health-revolutionary Beauty,
With many more cooperative
economically thriving outcomes
than leftbrain dominant
competitive
political survivalist incomes.
The Concernment of Peoples
he stood before all of the world
to speak his concern
for the future
he marveled at mans achievements
he spoke of mans ability to create
and recreate to survive the harness
of climates to make uneven plains
flat and straighten the oddest
of surfaces
He ordered his servants to excavate
the soils for minerals
and he called upon Tyche to be the
model. Tyche who is Goddess of
abundance and prosperity
the fortunes and lucks of folk.
she shall stand upon the trophy
that shall be awarded to
those who are inspired to create music and
eclectic sounds.
Good fortune and Success
be upon ye.Cavaliere Ereditario
Tyche Trophiono
Or she above the stones
to the success of one's works.
"Quando Mi Sposerò Nuovi Suoni Mi
Annunceranno"
Spoke Tyche at her modeling.
Asasa Afua tied for peacock feathers together
and afixxed them to a dozen tulips
they were then wrapped in lace
and turned to gold to
be held by Tyche as she modeled for
the trophy.
A tart of spinach, cured pork, feta and drizzled honey
for celebration
drinks were a mix of ginger ale, champagne brandy
and peach nectar
a pre celebration treat for those
who were blessed by the changing of tides!
I don't want to wander those places where our footsteps have long since passed,
Down shaded alleys where our memories whisper and stand guard like stone sentries,
I no longer wish to hear those songs, symphonies of the past, nor let them steal my thought.
To wrap myself in your now absent shawl of longing and your kisses, as though they never were.
Echo of laughter, tightrope walker on the heart's string, I won't let you spin me around,
To recall your face, a bastion of joy, which I would have painted in the most playful hues.
I no longer desire to search for you among fragments of memory, to see you in every little detail,
To excavate your visages from the neglected corners of time's dusty albums.
I miss 'us,' but I don't want to rewrite our story, each page bearing our joint signature.
To no longer yearn for what's been lost, for the echoes of your footsteps that resonated in my chest.
I don't want to cry again, to let the tears of missing you wash over my face.
To let the pain sink into the abyss, no longer feeling each caress that brought solace.
Noon when I no longer summon your laughter, thunderous waves crashing over my soul,
Nor how your face, once an island of happiness lost, could be my guiding light.
I don't want to make you cry or to hurt you, to break the wings of your dreams with my inadequacy,
Please, do not inflict heart scratches anymore, in this ongoing war to remain standing.
I don't want to hear you say you miss me, words like arrows into the vulnerable veins of 'us.'
Nor to utter, even in a whisper, that I miss you, for longing burns like a brand that is not there.
To no longer feel the red-hot iron of love trouble me again,
I'm afraid... To not fall into your net once more, into the weavings of your heart. I don't want to… I don't want to…
The cardinal adorns itself in a long red feathery coat
With an inconceivable hat protruding from its unpredictable head
pointing steadfast in the hesitant atmosphere probing everyone far and near
It stands speechless on a swinging branch cruising in the presumptuous tree
Whose root has anchored deeply in the ground and its branches shooting all around
It spreads its wings across the universe sharpening its boisterous beak
and getting ready to preside over the matchless ceremony hoping to create harmony
It whistles a familiar tune saying that everything will be over soon
Its music symbolizes late Winter and its melodious voice mesmerized
mother cardinal with an unforeseen Spring drama
but she responds in a majestic voice from her invigorating chamber
singing a euphonious melody and gazing at the pillar of hope
Look into my eyes and tell me what you see
Look into my heart and tell me what you hear
Look into my soul and tell me what you feel
The radiant sun is shining upon me and I can
Feel the spirit of God all over me
Legions of angels are protecting me
But you have travel thousand of miles to destroy me
You surround the altar in your illusive red garment
feeding from the peoples throat
But this is where it all began deep within the earth
The pyramid, the hexagon and the pentagon
If you keep digging you will excavate the timeless birth
Samson was the strongest man on earth
But even so he was deceived by the relentless Delilah
who discovered the real source of his strength and power
one hatchet one man erupt the pillar on which the world stands.
And so the entire world crumbles in the palm of his worthless hand.
soon to bid
another farewell, yet,
you've already unearthed
a smidge of sad longing
buried too deep within
to excavate.
as our sizeable distance
kept stretching apart like a rubberband,
first came
your reassuring smile
when you
turned your head
to look at me one last time,
and with that smile -
before slipping out of sight -
a careful aim
directly at the center
of my heart;
just one wink.
ah, so you knew it was
precisely what I needed?
it's torturous
watching you depart;
with a piece of heaven
to cling to...
gently,
gently,
ever so gently,
you pull me back from
the precipice of melancholy.
Murderous Sprees...
sinister Population Control, Sans Cosmic Creator?
Maybe,... I shudder to think
up the sleeve and ornate cufflink
of divine maker, a deliberate pitch
to foist *****sapien on brink
viz self destruction,
asper bedlam upon Earth that doth stink
a hellish conspiracy linkedin with tragedy
namely sinister predestined plan to shrink
terrestrial realm usurped by ink
king a pact of devilish destruction, demolition
denunciation, et cetera doth stoke
unslakable thirst of bloody drink
sucked out the flesh o' every body electric
as zombies and vampires quench
fifty plus shades of deep pink
drain liquid of life courtesy of chosen thugs
incognito golem aliens to kill and sink
civilization, until every person extinct
cold comfort (from this Yankee of mortal fate
lifelong resident of Keystone state),
one day extraterrestrials, (whom might
inhabit planet teeming with billions)
will excavate and then curate
a sorry lot of creatures, where bullets did eliminate
an arrogant, haughty, narcissistic...peoples
(a handful of exceptions to the contrary),
whose various tribes never adapted to integrate
sundry superficial differences among themselves
instead chose to allow, enable and provide
(Putin shill) collusion did willingly corroborate
with dopplegangers i.e. "FAKE" guardians
whose real not so impossible mission
to feign friendship, at heart..a pie rate
but sole outlook to eradicate
coercive, self immersive,
passive, et cetera species
and blithely earn blind trust, unwittingly mutate
into their likeness only to trump
pet gentlemen's agreement brittleness did break
as "FAKE" and devastate
democratic and constitutional compact
(utilizing bribery to swindle elite schools
so crazy rich parents could manipulate
levers of prestigious academia) to satiate
egos bragging about brilliant offspring
only to undermine the complex edifice
spoiling promising futures via golden gate
bridge of studious grads,
who exercised sweat o' their pate.
Water: Water the settling water
there often after rain
it settles here
it stay moistest here
in the vclearing
is there water here
is there water here
we shall excavate to see
there it is water
like we thought
the gallons per minute
ratio is astounding
murky these water due
to it's need of filtering
a plastic culvert with
a goetextile or silt fence
wrap with large hole drilled in
to filter the poluutates and undesirable sediment
oh clear ye the water
a halluelia in victory
clar ye these springs
water water you and me
a submersible pump and airtank system
with bring these waters to us
praise ye
praiuse ye
water;water
praise ye!
Coffee shops bloom into aroma.
New York City
spew on the sidewalk.
This day Lord if you care;
in the timpani of each mind
thunder your long bong songs.
Bless the rats in their
dank hid-ey-holes
bless the thrice gnawed pizza.
Thunder sweetly
in the pidgins throat,
forgive us our lox & bagels
and let the dawn excavate us
from the weed soaked
down-town funk.
Lord, if you care
and if that `care'
is You in us
then let the Big Apple
be newborn
and not maggoty.
Not a place of filth
and fading beauty,
but each of us
a lamp in a city of lights,
and dear Lord,
please turn us on.
Each moment is new,
never before known,
as embarked navigation.
Situational atmosphere mixes in.
Sifts into a branded new creation.
We haven't the experience to know
what can be.
A wonderful incident is possibility.
A mystery within an altruistic recipe.
Young in-deed is our existening.
What is of yet, glistening.
Does Righteousness shapeshift
and hold secrets beyond our comprehension?
God's hands dew excavate into the Cosmic Sands,
and shift upon
Moments
Polarity?
Terraforming the Word to defy
our expectation?
Beckoning at a Vantage-Point,-
Clarion Station,- beyond
all Clarity?
Master's Plan, blinking, winking,
as His Will courses through the pulse of Eternity.