Long Fluidly Poems

I wanted to write
 The best slavery poem   ever written—
Perhaps win a Pulitzer or Faulkner. 

I had every intention of conforming 
To the standards 
Of modern verse and composition, 
Lyrics fluidly written, 
Perfect...

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It's hard to think in Either-Or Deductive,
while speaking and acting in Both-And Inductive.

For example,
If my Brother is kind and loving
(and he usually is),
and really not all that judgmental and condemning
with his wife and kids especially...

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Human history is difficult;
hard pressed,
discovering
and rediscovering,
connecting
and reconnecting feelings
about therapeutic needs
and sacred wants
for trauma-prevention peace
trust
joy

Through co-empathic singing passions
which may,
too often, 
feel stressful

Irritating
depressing
stormy
before unconditional win/win regard
for Self AND Other
reconnect,

Like EgoTheistic re-ligion
and EcoMatrimonial
indigenously multicultural
ecowomanist wisdom

Of Ego/EarthTribe mutual MeWe...

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It has been said
by Shakespearean wit
All the world's a stage.

And so it is, I actively and fluidly suppose,
One Great Transitioning Stage
of diverse seasons
and eons of becoming cooperatively larger
and, especially under climates of crisis,
competitively smaller, too...

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Lori Gottlieb
describes mental health mediators
and dream translators
prescribing more cost-effective therapeutic questions:

Who am I?
What do I want?
What's in my natural health/spiritual wealth
bilaterally balancing way?

What do I want more:
to autonomously control
OR 
to be part of some monopolizing,
possibly...

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As traumatized as I am
by the history of organized elitist creeds,
including religious and judicious,

I am even more terrified
by my experience of disorganized unnatural spirituality,
dissociated bicamerality,
unenchanting mono-laterality,
win/lose egocentrism,
narcissism,
flirting with lose/lose climates of nihilism,
anthropocentric chauvinism,
inhumane unnatural straight...

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"I am circling around love,
around the throbbing hum,
and I have been circling for thousands of days,
and I still don't know if I am a wounded saint,
or a rainy dawn,
or a creation story."
Rob Brezsny, in Pronoia

You...

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She knows what it means,
and must never not mean,
to work with newborn win/win children
perverted by wounding RightWing patriarchal punishments
overpowering LeftWing ecofeminist invitations
to liberality of loyal transparency 
and lovely vulnerability.

When she asserted her sociological conclusion:
Too many...

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A warning breeze bore tale of a familiar and fiery rage;
in the dread of night, a crone hobbled, accursed of her age  
by smoldering orange glow, she took to an ancient black tome 
raptly...

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Within the glass backed walls of the  squash courts, ....

Eager junior players are busy getting into their strides..
In small groups of 4 to 6, they are seeking to earn their stripes..
Religiously undergoing punishing ...

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Back in the day
of exclusively straight white male
anal-retentive missionaries,
the Church

Whether monoculturally Catholic
(which may become an oxymoron
one enlightened day)
or Protestant,

But certainly not polytheistically ecstatic,
like a perfect Thanksgiving meal
shared with EarthMother's sacred
deeply co-passionate
mutually resonant
and co-invested
convivial people

Proclaimed religious...

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Dreamers of Dreams

Incongruous realities of microcosmic minds
Torturous awakenings in lives raging reminds
Dormant and deceived are rapid eyes moving
Absorbent are neurons firing fluidly brewing
~
Images living through altered consciousness
Stages changing forever falling bottomless
Distortions within space of timeless...

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In such a whimsical action 
a half-asleep routine 
shaped disrobed and left stark naked
this vehicle, this housing, a shell
scarred skin, greying hair, bones, muscle 
and more besides with plenty of stories to tell.
Awash with collected...

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This coming New Year
Brings with it scattered rose petals
Flowing tearfully in the air
And I dream
Of Love, picking them up one by one
To assemble them in some sort
Of unique bouquet,
Handing which to me
He would say,
Here, this...

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Mommy had a cold, now Dragon has it too. Oh woe is me! Woe to you, too!
Fire’s dribbling, fluidly from his eyes, as lava flows, in a nasty watery goo.  
Coughs shoot in fireballs,...

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I finished reading Sharon Blackie's Enchanted Life yesterday.

Kind of a How To Do It,
a how to fix BusinessAsUsual textbook
organically rooted in animism,
I suppose a theologist
and maybe an enchanted ecologist,
might duly note

Although animists are not distracted,...

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The Armenian and The Liverpudlian 


It’s hard to see sometimes
How chalk and cheese can mix so perfectly
Makes you wonder how the differences of character
Can work together

He, all forthright respect and daily clarity
She, all winsome wishes...

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I open my eyes within your mind
Trying to see your world as you do
Yearning
Searching
Seeing
Hoping to find our self from within…
You
Us
Now
 
There we are within an image
projected upon the haze of our desire;
A rolling mist at...

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Spilling verses 
as if they were a life line
Thinly hanging on
In air
Hoping they go
Somewhere
Reaching 
Teaching
If not Preaching
A truth
To life
Giving meaning to
Always becoming a path
To our feet
Defying mere physics
Like walking on water.

Inking my way past
Adversity, while...

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The bare branches of the tired old tree towering tall
above me creak in the frigid whistling wind
coated in a covering of frosty snow
glazed over with a sheet of ice from
the freezing rain that followed
I have...

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The way she was standing 
So open ended 

The power she holds in just a glance 
I checked the notary with dexterity 
and the line in my head 
Saying “I’m not good enough for her”

But...

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PER CHANCE TO DANCE

synchronization
such a simple concept
as per a preconceived precept
and both so delicately adept

fluidly
as one
each step a humble bow to  the sun
every beat a reverent blessing for the moon
while ceremoniously synchronized to the...

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The Librarian

She polished her soft curved buttocks on my suede overcoat
And the smell of her ginseng breath made me stop
And raise my head
Losing my place in the card catalogue.
I shifted my eyes to her reaching...

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Written: March 2nd, 2024                               ...

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We return at nightfall, shoulders bowed, weighed down by slights and insults. They 
fall from us at the door,
as everything beyond these walls recedes. The horns and sirens, the pain and 
desperation that invade our...

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