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Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Gaia Out Speaks

Queen Gaia
of Earth's Shabbat
is here to speak today.

Unfortunately,
she can only sign,
and the only way she can see
is through our DNA/RNA fractally-balancing syntax,
so she has asked if she could respond to your questions,
as she understands them
within Time,
who are her TransParent Gender Memories,

YangGod, of Physical Convex Special Case Universe,
and Goddess YinYin,
of metaphysical RNA-temporal syntax,
both bilaterally and bicamerally-reiteratively balancing
Earth Tribes of organic ecosystemic processors,
and planters and dialectical planners,
with interdependently balancing consumer and production functions,
exegeting iconic communication
about natural-empirical facts of Earth's nutritional life,
with Zero-centric dialectical neutral tone and energy
and spacetime,
+/(-,-) neural-synaptic/aptic
ecotemporal balance of Time's transparent memory.

Wow, go Gloria,
you optimize my Mother's BiCameral Pretensions
with such dense summary
of WinWin's PolyCultural HealthCare and Safety CQI 
CoOperative Agenda!

About which we are facing some increasingly climatic issues
of ecosystemically pathological trends
throughout our full RNAcentric EcoLens,
and through our DNAcentric AnthroLens,
where correlational trends
of human political and economic and nutritional systemic ends
of all paradigmatic cultural dialects
are now at both high and deep levels of pathological risk,
as well as polycultural and cooperative health opportunity
to mutually embrace this Transitional Time,
remembering our Golden Rule applies
through both our AnthroLens
and our EcoLens.

Thank you for that background summary
of your unfortunately limited synergetic flow power
during this Yin-recessive moment
within YanGod's precessive, evolutionary transition
toward full-balancing Interior with Exterior,
Ego with Eco, DiPolar Identities
of Time's polycultural diversity.

I don't know how many questions you will invest
with all your climatic signing
necessary to be heard and seen right now,
trying to gently calm all the "Loser!" angers and fears
within critical-transitional, revolutionary change,
so I will ask my personal favorite
because I find it so curious:

"Queen Gaia, don't you think it would be Bodhisattva Warrior timely
to come out of your bisexual agenda closet?"

You know, that is one of my favorite questions too,
in part because it took me so long to hear it.

It is difficult to hear and comprehend climatic questions
that you are confident you have already responded toward,
signed with sufficient redundancy
as to be ridiculously ubiquitously flying in obviousness.
Of course our RNA and DNA memory embryonic strings
are full dipolar-engendered,
so how could Queen Gaia of Shabbat's historical-cultural Creation Story
be anything other than TransParent Yang/YinYin as WinWin
evolutionary co-gravitational thermodynamic revolutioning balance
of BiLateral-Reiterative Genetic Time?

Species of systems,
like any possible imaginable metaphysical use of the word "system,"
must have Yang/Yin balanced-governance economics
to interdependently sustain synergetic dynamics,
positively healthy regeneration trends
capable of consumer and/or producer systemic function.
Neutrally (0)-balanced ecosystems,
sustained in RealTime cooperative interdependence,
are Positive-PolyCultural trending
and Negative-MonoCultural trending
dipolar BiNomial Balance of at least outsideness
as appositionally equivalent double-binding insideness,
cogravitational boundary of surfing BiGenderative Time.

So, yes,
Queen Gaia is BiGenderal
and therefore Shabbat signs
with DiPolar Syntax language,
with normative-neutral
ecosystemically BiGendering 
positive/light OVER negative/dual-bound transparent
equi-valent 4-seasons
of dialectical reason and co-intelligent in-formation
eco-flowing optimized,
nutritional flow of healthy resonant resolutional wealth,
celebrating Yang/Yin Golden EcoBalancing Rule
of Love/Synergy 
as co-arising Presence of mutual gratitude
for my Gift-It-Forward
ecologically evolutionary politically inclusive economy.

See, I knew we were sisters!
I mean,
how could the root nature of Time's Positive
equals Negative
climatic energy Shabbat
not continuously and confluently declare your BiGenderal
BiCameral
EcoConscientific Beauty!

Thanks. That means a lot,
especially right now
as we have arrived together
at such a critical moment.

OK, next question?

Well, perhaps I would add,
in defense of our timing
on this transgender balance of nature issue,
you do realize, I hope,
that millions of people
throughout Earth's ages
living within some level of transgender identity,
other than BusinessAsUsual missionary crusading hetero-anthro,
have understood "Queen Gaia of Shabbat"
quite deviantly from a Jewish concept
of a Queen Bee?
There are diverse nuances for "Queen"
which do not easily translate across dialects.

I can't tell you the number of times
we have looked in a lake or a river or a mirror
and imaged Queen Gaia in drag.
Imaging possibilities is how we recreate together,
usually within our own subcultural dialects.

Just as mutually therapeutic responsibility
is how we regenerate
as cooperative individuals
and as a species
and as this entire Shabbat Paradise-Potentiating Planet
of Earth's RNA/DNA ReGenerative Trees,
InFormating EcoMemory Rivers
dipolar rooting FireGod's transparent compost
of LoveLight to WinWin,
articulating (0)-centric 4D
photosynthetically 
endosymbiotically cellular
transformationally
diastatically optimizing natural growth trends
toward just-right Yang/Yin balanced exchange atmosphere
for Queen Gaia of Shabbat
to rise and shine sustained.

You do realize that you can sign what you just said
a lot faster than all the redundant nuances of my language
can capture,
trying to mono-transculturate polycultural regeneration?
I'm having trouble keeping up with you.

Well, try slowing down
looking at trees,
contemplating their root systems,
noticing how under-standing revolves 
eco-normics of a political integritree.








Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

God as Brown as an Egg

If God is EggWhite
then Tao is His embryonic EarthYolk.

Why would you say such a confusing and silly thing?

What is the difference between a Paradise Tree of Life and Death
and a Great Chain of Being?

Is this a change of subject or are you answering my question with another confusing and silly question?

Easier question:
How are a ReGenerating Tree of HealthyLife then PathologicalDeath
and a Healthy ReCycling-ReProducing Organic MultiGenerational Chain of Being
similar?

If God is a Western ReGenerating/Degenerating Tree,
and Tao is an Eastern ReProducing/Unraveling Chain and Ground of (0)-Balancing organic health/pathology becoming,
then we might both Tree and ReChain Jean-Jacques Rousseau's empowering philosophy experience,

"I had perceived everything to be [regeneratively/degeneratively] radically connected
with [economic-ecological] politics,
and that, upon whatever [nutrition/toxin] principles these were [cooperatively/competitively] founded,
a people would never be more than that which the [ecosystemic] nature
of the [ego-self and Earth-other] government [inductively, more than solely deductively] made them."

Both Western dualist divide of nature from spirit,
and Eastern cooperative nondual co-arising nature-enspiriting political philosophy
portray The EcoPolitical Moral Order
through evolutionary and revolutionary WinWin both-and metaphors;
essentially contending with the double-bind appositional primal relationship
of cooperation OVER and/or UNDER
BEFORE and/or AFTER,
the WinWin-Yang v LoseLose Yin-understory of
EcoPolitical Elite LeftBrain-Secular
and RightBrain-Sacred NonElite bilateral integrity,
like life and death,
light and dualdark,
positive and double-binding notnot ambivalently pos/negative,
competitively oppositional deductions and cooperative appositional inductions.
ConVex with ConCave,
Yang with YinYin, etc...

George Lakoff's "Political Mind"
implies cooperative with competitive economy of bicameral nurturing flow powers,
the temporal ecologic of our God as Tao-given Morally Helpful Order
(and not so much condemning disorder).

"...since we owe every [regenerative-health evolving] thing we are--our very existence--to the workings of [Earth's] nature, nature is seen [by bicameral balancing ecopolitical minds] as [regenerative-health] moral."
And yet, also both-and ecologically,
degeneratively pathological
as absence of sufficiently nutritional moral-normative 
co-arising nondual
self-as-part-of-Other governing dynamic organic balance.

Just as God's Tree of Life
includes Ego's Death,
just as Tao's Organic Chain of Earth's ReProductive-Evolving Health
includes Ego's DeGeneration-Devolution of self-centering supremacy,
so too our Moral Order of history
includes both "natural hierarchies of [LeftBrain] power emerge"
and unbalanced dissonant RightBrain disempowerment continues Earth's premillennial creation story of matriarchal NonElite repression.

Lakoff continues,
"According to the [eco]logic of the [regenerative/degenerative] metaphor,
to find out who is most [cooperatively Left-Win/Right-Win] moral,
look at who has been, over history
[but also within matriarchal embryonic understory]
most [Ego/EcoConscious] powerful in the [LeftBrain YangDominant] hierarchy.

From here,
Lakoff illustrates spatial-moral order metaphors of supremacy over subjects,
ecopolitical Elites over NonElites,
the Elite of nature's endowment 
in more empowered contrast to their lower-tiered NonElite.

We begin to see some ahistorical,
anti-ecological
temporal before-after
cause-effect reversal issues
about who and what came first,
then causally-regeneratively/degeneratively second,
in our Moral WinWin Tree-OrganicChain Order.

In our Western Tree of Life and Death,
God rules ProGenitor before and, therefore, above,
DNA-scripted regenerative biosystems.
But, in our nondual co-arising Eastern Organic Chain,
human bicameral Yang/Yin nature
co-evolves with and as Tao's regenerate/degenerate ecological 
RedYolk/BlueEmbryonic integrative nurture-resonant balance.

In Western Moral Patriarchal Order,
HumanNature is more sacredly above,
yet not historically-naturally before Earth's MultiCulturing Natures.
In Tao's Moral ReGenerate/DeGenerate Order,
Earth's RNA-scripted Nature
nutritionally-organically predicts and precedes
and evokes and invites ecological healthy DNA climate precedence
toward bicamerally balancing Humane/Divine nondual Nature.

In Western Patriarchal power hierarchies deduced-reduced from above
as Moral Order,
Adults are above Children,
yet Tao Matriarchal/Patriarchal double-bind appositional nutritional empowerment of Both-And as WinWin 
cautions us
to not loselose touch with historical-temporal facts.
We were all RightBrain dominant infants 
and more Left/Right Patriarch/Matriarch balancing prepubescent children
before we became EgoDominant deductivists,
and RightBrain repressing eco-inductive nurturing adults.

Western God-YHWH-Allah Cultures claim ecopolitical competitive supremacy over and above
NonWestern too-cooperativist cultures.
Yet God has become, for some,
the Supreme WinLose Condemning LeftBrain Dominant personification
of nondual co-arising Tao's bilaterally cooperative
PatriarchalSecular/MatriarchalSacred Earth HealthWealth Optimization Landscape.

Where Conservative Fundamentalist residents 
of USA-RedDominant
place these Uniting States above other Nations,
a more cooperative WinWin regenerative view of muticulturing history
might more humbly remember
this USA is a mere adolescent among Elder Regenerating ecosystemic Cultures,
West/East,
Ego/EcoLogical,
ReGenerating HealthWealth WinWin Evolution more cooperatively than not
not DeGenerating Pathological Devolution
of immoral Patriarchal-YangDominant disorders.

BrownEgged Tao is older than God,
so it seems inappropriate to consider ourselves ecopolitically USA Conservative LeftBrain deductive dominantly and morally
and historically,
sacredly and naturally correct,
to competitively divide Earth
as Elite Christians.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

The Old Dark House

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Sunshine Smile | Details

- The Old Dark House -


This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!








Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Balancing Work and Play

I was reading Rev. Julian Clifford Jaynes' homily,
delivered May of 1919
to the First Unitarian Society in West Newton, Massachusetts,
commenting on the 100 years since Channing's Baltimore Sermon.

Rev. Jaynes had a son, 
a second generation Julian Jaynes,
who was a rather well published Princeton psychologist
with an evolutionary theory of bicameral LeftBrain intelligence emerging from older RightBrain synapticYang/apticYintegral consciousness.

Earlier in the morning
I had been reading this younger secular humanist Julian Jaynes,
who was also a bicameral mental-health development John the Baptist
to what later became Positive Psychology,
prior to reading Reverend Jaynes' 100 year perspective
on Channing's Unitarian slap down
of a vengeful Calvinist God,
condemning the grievous sins of mere mortal humans.

Mortal humans who are also bicameral human consciousness,
as teleologically and ecologically and phylogenically understood
by the younger Julian Jaynes,
only son of a Unitarian Rev,
whose father died a few years after Psychologist Jaynes was born,
and after delivering his historical summary of Unitarian bicameral evolution
toward Universalist-LeftBrain and Unitarian-RightBrain nature-spirits
nondual co-arising between 1819 and 1919.

I developed a distracting habit of writing in additional words
that the younger Jaynes might have added
to describe a dynamic nondual natural-spiritual balancing act
between Universalist Yang EgoConservatives of Traditional health values
and Unitarian Yintegrity of Earth-Regenerating nutrition.

As I began to see through the eyes of Rev. Jaynes reading his son's theory of bicameral egoLeft-Yang and ecoRight-SacredYin evolution of balancing nondual co-arising consciousness,
Universal ebbing waves of triumphal unchanging YangTruth Tradition
prepared to surge back toward narrow-midway Unitarian flow
of LeftEgo with RightEco climate balance for abundantly regenerative love,
health, happiness,
economic and political balance
of YangLeft EgoCentering Universal Co-Empowerment
nondual co-arising promise
with YinRight EcoCentering Flow of Both-And
Universalists with Unitarians,
which did not become religiously updated from the Prime (0) Relational Principle of Taoism,
until a few years before Psychologist Jaynes published his treatise on
Positive pylogenic development
of Left-Right Ego-secular/Eco-sacred bicameral evolution.

This is how I  added the younger Jaynes
to Reverend Jaynes
speaking about the 100 year influence of Reverend Channing:

"...What terrible things did Channing say? 
He declared the supremacy of the human [ego/eco-logical healthy and wealthy trusting] reason. 
He put Holy Scripture under the searchlight of rational [LeftUniversal-RightUnitarian] interpretation.
He defended the [balancing] character of God from the old imputations of cruelty, injustice, and the wrath of an irresponsible [LeftBrain EgoDominant] despot.
He broke up the mystery of the Trinity, and behold,
the [Universal] Fatherhood of one supreme [Yintegral Unitarian] oversoul,
the pleading personality of Jesus
as our human [ego/eco bodhisattva] brother and prophet,
and the Holy Spirit as the diffusive [regenerative nutritional yin] power
of divine [healthy] goodness and love."

"Then followed what he called 'the one sublime idea,'--
the inherent [LeftYangEgo-RightYinEco] dignity [and integrity] of human nature
and the saving power of personal [ego-conservational universe = climate health progressive eco-unitive] character,
irrespective of any artificial [supremacist Yang] mediation
of a universal [and unitarian, WinLeft-WinRight mutual] atonement [economy]."

"That is all!
How mild and familiar it sounds this morning!
How the sweet [therapeutic] reasonableness 
of those [co-absorbing LeftUniversal-RightUnitarian] affirmations
condemn the [too Yangish LeftBrain Dominant historic] character
of the theology that denounced them as the [secular humanist, relativistic, rather than primal nature-spirit nondual co-relational] charter of hell."

"From hilltops to hilltops their [ego/eco-conscious] echoes flew--until in brief time,
one hundred and twenty-five orthodox steeples rocked with their joyous clamor
of [unitarian-yin] acceptance and [universal-yang] approval.
New England was aflame."

"...[F]or what?
For [ecologically rational] intellectual liberty,
for breaking the bonds of burdensome [static, dead] tradition,
for spiritual [YangLeft-deductive and YinRight-inductive] serenity
in the presence of every new [bilaterally appositional health/pathology] truth, 
for daily [regenerative/degenerative] visions
of fresh [healthy ego/ecological] horizons
opening out into a morally sound and beneficent
[Unitarian-integral climate of health-flow] universe."

"We have seen one other thing--are seeing it now.
It is a [regenerative] revival among ourselves.
It is the awakened sense of [polypathic multicultural] responsibility
to the [healthy balancing natureLeft-spiritRight] faith we profess.
It is the disappearance of our former complacency [about mutual antipathy],
our cozy isolation,
our let-alone policy.
Growing in their place is the strong [Yang-UniversalEgo] desire
to make our churches,
not merely bomb-proof resorts of safety for Unitarian [Universalist] saints,
but live [inviting co-arising] centers
of [exterior-Universe/interior-Unitarian climate health] action,
with risks and hazards and challenges of [eco-centric] danger
and [ego-centric] sacrifice,--
centers where strong, earnest men [and women and everyone in-between] love to serve,
because it is a man's job [a humaneEgo-divineEco bicameral vocation],
centers whence [Yang Universalist] definite,
aggressive,
effective influences shall go [grow] over the top,
to plant the [polypathic bicameral] standards of [health-wealth balancing] liberal religion
and to do clean-cut,
businesslike [organic nurturing nutritional] work
[and play].










Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

God's Return Ticket

God's Return Ticket

Did you ever wonder about the Almighty’s criteria or selection process for reincarnation of souls back on Earth? Just think some famous politician, movie star, sports figure,criminal, dictator, and so on could use “God’s Return Ticket” to appear once again on our earthly plane one day as another person in body and spirit. Yet, how would you react as a transient soul in God’s Kingdom if you found out that your return options would be perhaps as an elephant, a gorilla, a lion, a toad, a snake, a bird, a dog, a cat, a fish, a whale, a snail, an octopus, a flower, a tree, an insect or even some type of inanimate object. The possibilities when one thinks about these options could be practically unlimited!
    
Now that I’ve maybe captured or at least heightened your attention to this spiritual possibility (even if just for the sake of conversation), imagine for a moment in the reveries of your mind and imagination of what it might be like to return to Earth as one the following:

A Former Man as a Woman: This time around you might have a definite edge since you subconsciously know how men think.

A Former Dictator as a Peacemaker: Historical first-hand knowledge of having been a brutal leader may enhance your efforts in negotiating peace in the world. (One can only hope!)  

A Former Hobo as a Wealthy Person: You’ve got a man now who may be respectful of those who are less fortunate. Such a wealth person may become a budding philanthropist. 

A Former Criminal as a Man of God (priest/rabbi/minister): Well this would be a turn-around whereby a former criminal now has the advantage of being a Man of God and has a direct connection to what he perpetrated and experienced when he was on the other side of the law. This experience may make him a better priest, rabbi or minister in the end. 

An Elephant: A quite stately and wonderful mammal indeed whose presence certainly enhances the Animal-Mammal Kingdom on Earth. Elephants are vegetarians and by their nature are not a threat to anyone. Returning as one today could be problematic given the mindless decimation of their herds worldwide by merciless poachers and criminals who represent one of the most sadistic and despicable parts of the “human race” today. (Let us all hope these individuals go straight to “Hell” when they die one day for what they’re doing to our elephants!)

A Gorilla: This could be viewed as a step back from whence you came as a human being, that is, depending on your views and belief system concerning evolution. I would think though it would be better to come back as a Gorilla in the wild than being one in a zoo. At least you would have your freedom, but then the challenge to this would be doing your best to survive the many poachers who would be trying to capture or kill you and your Gorilla loved ones!

A Lion: This choice might not be so bad. Just think, you could return as the “King of the Jungle.” A word of caution is in order though: stay in the wild and avoid being captured and put in a zoo or your “King of the Jungle” days will be past tense.														
A Toad: Just think, you’d acquire the unusual ability to hop around on “all-fours,” eating your favorite insects, and making croaking sounds all through the night.

A Snake: These reptiles are scary and are probably not the first reincarnation of choice. The real question might be what type of snake would one come back as. Good Luck! 

A Bird: Coming back as a bird would give you a chance to switch over to a diet of worms and help you to develop and hone your skills chirping and whistling all day long. Enchanting!

A Dog: This could be an interesting return to the mortal world. The question would be what size and type of dog you would come back as, and would you be the “quite type” or a “barker.” At least you’ll be man’s best friend.

A Cat: Being reincarnated as a cat would make you very popular with cat lovers and just think—you may end up inheriting the complete gene set for the nine lives’ gift of regeneration. Not bad at all! 

A Fish: Returning as a fish may give you satisfaction in knowing that you are a vital part of the world’s food consumption. If you come back as a specialty fish this might not be the case. Beware of returning as a Piranha, unless you plan revenge on someone who wronged you in a previous life. But as a Piranha—you won’t have many friends.

A Whale: Returning as one of these majestic mammals might indeed be a quite fabulous experience. Size matters in this instance and commands respect, but beware of poachers—another courtesy of mankind—at its very worst.

A Snail: This existence back on planet Earth may not be the most pleasant for you’ll be subjected to possibly being eaten or squashed by an inattentive passerby. Your very slow self-mode of movement will be challenging too.

An Octopus: Imagine your ready mobility in the sea and the newfound extent of your manual dexterity as you move under the water. You could be the new found hit of the underwater sea party!

A Flower: This could a wonderful experience especially if you were to be a radiantly beautiful flower. You would be a welcome addition to the plant world and could be the focus of people who seek out your beauty or perhaps want to pick you as a symbol of love and emotions. Think Red Rose!

A Tree: Well a tree may give a reincarnated soul a chance at a much longer finite life on Earth before dying or being destroyed by man. At least one would have the satisfaction of knowing that their presence as a tree would help improve the carbon dioxide imbalance on our planet. 

An Insect: A lot of insects are really nasty, but if you can make it back as a Honey Bee or Butterfly that would be grand.

An Inanimate Object: Just think you could come back as a plain old rock or stone or a seashell.

Enjoy these possibilities! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – February 7, 2015
(Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details

But Just Where Is God

(Musings of a poet with huge doubts and a fragile faith)

Introduction: Is God A Joke Or Human Vanity?

When close friends die and other’s thoughts are suicidal,
When mankind’s soup du jour is loneliness with anguish	
When mental illness, homelessness, more war, and child death
Swarm down and then attack us like a plague on Egypt,
Our tainted bread, a leavened loss, seems heaven’s judgment
And death the only path we see that seems to stop our pain.

When ministers rape children trusted to their keeping
When prideful Christians stand to mock that ‘men are brothers’
A joke if atheist, or black, but lie if foreign
When men of faith can hate both Catholics and Mormons
Deny as well that we are all our brother’s keepers
Our unwed pregnant daughters also miss protection.

As human politics and compromise are mortal sin now
No virtue left in give and take for either party,
And suddenly our finite views are God’s own wisdom
All other men with different takes on Bible’s leading
Are traitors, infidels, untouchables, satanic,
If you’re not me then you must be an earthly demon.
 
And am I wrong to think that God is missing somehow?
Or is it just our god who is exsanguinated
For human vanity seems now the modern flavor.
But even if the Bible is God’s truth unvarnished
How dare men claim their take on it is also faultless?
The blasphemy of this should leave the soulless cringing!

Is God then Friend or fiend? The question still is hanging!
Respect for Him obscene? Disgust His just deserving?
The judgment that awaits if we deny Christ’s coming
Is meant for human shame? Or is it there for saving?
Perhaps instead of blaming God for what life brings us
We’d profit more by working on the faults we proffered.


I. Consider: Where might God not be revealed!

I’d swear that God’s not in my parlor sipping Merlot,
And no, He’s not the tenor singing in my shower,
No burning bush or stone tablets, no writing over transom,
My house not chosen over yours because I live there,
My saint filled church less sinful than your congregation,
All human effort does not bring man God’s protection.

Injustice can’t survive his Grace or sin his Mercy,
And Sun can never set on any of God’s anger,
No evidence THAT church can pull upon His heart strings.
Do feelings have the power then to steal God from His children
Can hating God ensure you’re in a God free haven?
The things He’s not, not proof that He may not be present!

So what’s the logic linking God to man’s disasters?
Is 'free will' really such a black mark on creation?
If sin is ours alone how is it God is sullied?
Will you forgive yourself for harm you do in growing?
This God that you resist, His Heart tuned to your wavelength,
This parent that you’ve longed for, always has been loving.

 
II. Consider: Where might God be found!

What force could be so strong to steal Christ from His duties
Green pastures sure to mark the path with Shepherd leading
Cacophony of day cannot divert His focus.
The Shepherd loath to leave His flock if they’re in danger
Though He will not forget or leave the one that’s missing
All sheep accounted for before He sets His staff down.

The Psalmist also swears that ‘goodness and His mercy’
Are always Hallmarks of the house that God is found in,
So shouldn’t the reverse of this be God attractor
And God find rest where ‘goodness and His mercy’ flourish?
Grace pointed to by tables laden high with plenty
For even those who’ve pledged themselves to our destruction?

Then too, the Bible states that God is mankind’s suitor
His church to be Christ’s Bride (if God’s plan is not dreaming,)
His wooing us shows us Love, reveals the sacred pathways,
That guide us to our place in heaven’s verdant valleys
The wedding feast and guests, the wedding preparations,
The order of the hour in hallowed halls of heaven.

If God exists He certainly must be a part of
(Reflected without compromise in) His creation
(While holy in His eye, perhaps not more than twinkle.)
How is it then He promises His loving presence
Wherever in His name that two or more are gathered
Who seek to honor Him with works and with their praises.

 
III. Consider: What do we know of what He is like?

If God exists He must have been there from beginning,
And what men thought they knew, earth still, the stars revolving,
Were foibles of mere men, creation more demanding
Complexity makes newest findings too seem shaky
Reality may not exist (though models serve us!)
The truth that is revealed, the poetry of science.

A God that is complex is not new understanding
But Friend that finds us precious fires imagination
But what if our creation never was outside Him
With mankind really just existing in His daydreams?
If this were true and God were not enamored of  us
A simple nap might mean the end of all creation.

 
IV. So where then is He now!?

If poetry can bless the models science offers,
Perhaps I’m right to think that it serves spirit also,
Imagination holy at angelic level.
To seek God’s heart in man, a path that might be chosen,
Our God revealed in works where man has left no imprint
The mystery of God perplexes as it pleases.

Perhaps you will respond to other new perspectives
A metaphor perhaps would be a fish in water.
How can an immersed fish , who’s never been without it
Imagine, ever guess its impact on life’s workings
The water gives him life, his food, and air for breathing
Is God’s Love then like air for every man to swim in?

That every man will die cannot disprove God’s Loving
Indeed how can you prove that death can even happen?
And if we all have souls then has your death true meaning?
If spirit’s flight still soars, can life be more than dreaming?
If you are still with me, I give you final issue,
If soul cannot be preached, then death is equal fiction.

Brian Johnston
March 24, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details

KNOW THYSELF

Know Thyself
(one of the two Delphic commands of Apollo)



For years before the narrow windows of my senses
                                                                       I stood,
Trying to pierce the nebulous world of outer reality,
                                                                   Hoping to find GOD,
One year was following the other but I was: 
                                                                 Still wondering,
                                                                          Still inquiring,
                                                                               Still demanding.

I was lost in the tenebrous world of materiality’s
                                                                  Phenomena, 
While the true essence of things, evasive 
                                                           As ever,
Persistently escaped the grasp of my confused
                                                                  Perception, 

Unable to see behind the impenetrable veil
                                                             Of Isis,
And disappointed with reason’s constant 
                                                            Failure,
My impatient voice towards the starry heavens I lifted,
                                                                   Asking aloud:

              Where are Thee, oh LORD?

For I have been seeking for Thee so many years now,
But I have found Thee not!

I have kept my eyes wide-open in order to see,
As many colors of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a moment have I shut them, 
For fear I missed Thy resplendent light,
But I saw Thee not!

I have kept my ears wide-open in order to hear
As many sounds of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a second have I covered them up
For fear I missed Thy sacred voice,
But I heard Thee not!

I have kept my hands extended in order to touch
As many things of Thy creation as possible
And not even for a minute have I held them back,
For fear I missed Thy spiritual touch
But I touched Thee not!

I have kept my nostrils wide-open in order to scent
As many perfumes of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an instant have I held my breath
For fear I missed Thy holy aroma
But I scent Thee not!


I have become a famed gourmet in order to taste
As many delicacies of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an hour have I withheld my appetite
For fear I missed Thy heavenly feast
But I tasted Thee not! 

                           WHY?

Then, the thunderous voice of the Lord, 
Coming deep down from the twilight of time,
Tearing the eternal heavens apart
Answered me and said:

Dear innocent child of Mine; hasn’t time taught you,
That I am neither to be seen by eyes
Nor to be heard by ears?
That I am not to be touched by hands
Nor to be scent by nostrils?
That I am not to be tasted by palates
But I am only to be felt by enraptured hearts?


Trembling and puzzled, in a shaky timid voice,
                                                          I dared ask:

How could this be done, oh Lord?
For I am so weak and ignorant, I do not know
                                                               The way

And the compassionate voice of the Lord answered me
                                                                    And said:

Don’t call yourself weak and ignorant for
I have endowed you with power and knowledge
                                                                     So great,
You have only to unearth this incalculable treasure
Hidden deep down in your soul and you will be 
In touch with Me, with eternity, with the universal law,
With the light, with the truth and every single existence,
But first you have to listen carefully to what I command:

Close your eyes for they cannot see Me
And cover your ears for they cannot hear Me 

Pull back your hands for they cannot touch Me
And hold your breath for it cannot scent Me

Shut your mouth for it cannot taste me
And stand completely still in order for you 
To sense Me 

At once I rushed to Obey His divine command, so:

I closed my eyes and saw no more
And covered my ears and heard no more

I pull back my hands and touched no more
And held my breath and scent no more

I shut my mouth and tasted no more
And stood dead still for a moment,
                                  Just for a moment alone!

And BEHOLD:

I felt His ethereal presence enveloping my heart
And I saw His celestial light caressing my mind
And I heard His heavenly voice calling to my spirit
And I touched His angelic essence with my elated thought
And I scent His seraphic aroma with my sacred, now, breath
And I tasted His rapturous divinity with my blissful soul. 

Then, immendiatly, the gates of revelation opened their 
                                                                               Passages wide
And in a magnificent lofty parade, in front of my soul’s 
                                                                               Dazzled eyes
The mysteries of life, one by one, were unveiled to the last
                                                                   Thus making everything known.


And now my enraptured self, jubilant before the eternal truth,
                                                                          In ecstasy exclaims:

Thank you, oh Lord for showing me Thy blessed Essence,
                                                      Thank Thee, for I know Thee now!

And the Lord enigmatically smiled at me and with His 
                                                           Divine thought tenderly declared: 

No my loving child, you only know YOURSELF!



                           © Demetrios Trifiatis
                               
 

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details

Brahman Nemesis

                             Brahman Nemesis

          22 But to those who adore me with a pure oneness of soul, to those who are ever in harmony,
               I increase what they have and I give them what they have not.
          23 Even those who in faith worship other gods, because of their love they worship me,
               although not in the right way.
          24 For I accept every sacrifice, and I am their Lord supreme.
               But they know not my pure Being, and because of this they fall.

                                           THE BHAGAVAD GITA: 9, transl. Juan Mascaro (London:Penguins), 1962


               the puja  never ends 
                                 the sound of conche-shells rush up from starved caving lungs  the fire still burns ditheringly in tiered brass oil-lamps  the sanctum sanctorum still resounds to the same old Vedic mantras their walls pitch-tarred by centuries of sacrificial smoke  the naked granite Amman’s  torso and limbs sunk in massive mountainous pitchblack porous rock  bathed in milk and coconut-oil  jasmine petals  vibhuthi     the ritual never varied  nor the droned sanskrit rocambolesques phonemes learned by rote and remembered since a toddling three or four through chanting playfully all-day-long in unison within bare highstone-walls amidst the  making-of-faces to the bare-chested fair-complexioned eternal cousins in drawn-up and tucked-in dhotis their long-flowing gingerly-oiled sheetblack hair tied-up in a cone and sagging over the forehead   these the keepers of the « I » who wants and Oh needs worship

        You the Brahmins claim   picked from Your head Your chosen
                                   You who gave us the intelligence to question
                     Doubt and despite our conditioned voice our dissent
                  Now threaten us with holy fire the right path mistaken 
                                O Allah-uh-Akbar                        
                                O the King of Kings  
                                           Give us this day Your comforting bread

                                                                 
        now the days are almost over when Your chosen few strutted about Your smoke-and-incense-filled courtyard barechested lest their twice-born ethereal insignia misses the masses clanging bells yelling orders in mantric spells making as though You resided in them  nay  You were them they were You  their minds wrought by the belief that work was for the menial castes all untouchables all fools all filthy their breath impure  Your chosen children’s food pure  sanctified daily by Your inner eye  their genes their blood pouring from one tumbler into another and back into their veins like the hot tea drawn in an arc between arm-length held tumblers their vedas the only vedas  their language Your language  a prayer in any other language gets channelled to Your  if we are to believe them  sworn enemy the stoker of the fiery dungeons  

        there was a time  there were millenia  those who issued from Your arms thighs feet  and the néant below and beyond  all all untouchables of course  gave in sacrifice to You what was demanded by Your chosen lot  how you cared for your few ordained representatives on this infinitesimal speck in your sweeping vastnesses  
       but now the time is drawing to a close  the pujas the marriages the deaths the astrological charts net in hardly the sums needed to keep Your valiant few intact  their voice tremble now their chants in Your name growing meeker and meeker through commonlaw marriages  selflit pyres  computerized astro-charts  and prayers offered in Your name while speeding in petrol-driven carts
     
  who would you elect again as Your spokesmen
                     Whitehall  White House  the Kremlin  the Imperial Palace or the Elysée Palace
              who would speak for You
                                    represent You
                                        sing Your praises
                                            keep Your house in order here on earth
                                                and drive terror into those who would suspect a ruse

     now that the prideless old but still plump priest with six unmarried daughters begs with outstretched hand at the temple portals vying with the maimed untouchable in shredded trailing rags   his wide bright doleful eyes 
                    a telltale warning to your indifference  

               one to keep his pure-bred lasses within unpryable walls
               the other to keep hunger from shrivelling up his balls 
        
                                                                                           the ultimate sacrifice


1 the brahmin conducted mass in the sanctum sanctorum as the intermediary between Brahman (the God-Head) and the other castes, the latter paying for it in cash or in kind

2 the Hindu Goddess Parvati ; also a suffix to names of deities signifying malevolence.

3 powdered ash of cow-dung, used by Hindus on their forehead, arms and torso as an insignia of their religiosity.


From the sequence : « Words for a Lost Sub-Continent » in the privately published collection : longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris : 1999, 115p. ISBN 2-904428-14-3

May 24-25, 1997

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems