Long Hierarchical Poems
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I heard from our Tree today.
He and She were both
barely speaking to me
forgetting Her root system
all tangled up with Historied trunk of convexly hierarchical
branches of photosynthetic production,
rather than sharing Her permaculturing compost
more naturally and economically balanced.
I watched our Tree today
while fading memories of shared Him-Her nutrients,
breathing together,
following our full color spectrum
from light through double-bound dark
absence of presence
springing up summer
and falling down winter,
shared days and seasons and informating species,
riding times' energetic gravitating wu wei surf edge,
tipping point between past practice of warm v. cold memories
and future's predicted GoldenLocks intent,
"just right" Earth Day
growing lovely forest dreams
of mutual forbearance and organic porridge sustenance,
and synergetic gratitude,
not so much growling at one another
barking out Golden Rules' bicamerolling spiral head,
core ring of TaoNowLogistics.
Tree therapy for weak-rooted imbalanced ecopathology,
breathing in Him
then breathing out Her EcoLogos wisdom
unweaving binomially out again
embracing His Easter
uprising recreation.
The carcass hung suspended
in a numbed shadow of the mind,
no more an animal, a form
that once lived and drew a breath.
It was now transformed into nothing
more than meat. Headless,
hoofless, quartered and stripped
of hide, what remained had no identity
but a shape, marked out
in imaginary grid lines ready
for the saw to reduce such bulk
to cuts of beef.
I spent my Friday afternoons
in the company of victims of this
deconstructed life, sweeping the floors
and washing down benches glazed
with grease and blood.
My fathers butcher shop
held a corner on the main road,
our surname emblazoned in bold
print across the top. Such,
for me, straddled the distance between
pride and shame. The grace to celebrate
my fathers honest trade rubbed
against the pose I was crafting
to compete in the hierarchical orderings
of a growing middle class.
It clashed with my slide into becoming
a snob.
In truth though, I had no stomach
for the trade. I would heave on the smell
given off when hot water melted grease.
Something in me recoiled on the sight
and feel of blood. The brine vat
was a dark cesspool that fouled every
sense I had. As a small child
I can remember standing beneath
the carcass of a lamb and looking
up into the hole of its headless neck.
A drop of blood fell on my cheek.
The vision of a crucified Christ
flashed in my mind, and I,
beneath the cross, was splashed
with the guilt of His blood.
From then on, there was a sense
of the unholy that always lingered
in the little Calvary of butcher shops.
Kulaks never acquisced* Stalin's regime of hierarchical Russia,
for it made them very prosperous growing grains for brewing Vodka,
and because of the prosperity, they seemed extremely rambanctious*...
unlikely the poorer peasants who we were less loyal and ambitious.
Lenin, he fearless archaist, rose to power to build an atheist empire,
where no religion of any kind was tolerated and thus the persecution
of Christians and Jews began...including the laughing and defying hooligan*;
had he mandated religious freedom, there wouldn't have been unrest and dire!
Stalin wasn't as tall as in sculpture, but was terribly feared in all Europe,
not even Hitler with his powerful war machines could defeat him without hindsight*;
like Mussolini's regime, it came to an abrupt halt: his statue torn down in daylight...
jubilant civilians revenged his cruel government by using the sturdiest rope!
I've felt it said
here
time and again
That a personal issue
is also about political tissue
reconnecting economic responsibilities
risks
opportunities fiscal
annual
perennial
Centers of felt pleasure
and good humor
are Passions,
not only small
and great transitional
but resonantly
resiliently multi-anecdotal,
Excluding all DisPassions
DeGenerations
and humorless passions
actively resisting future dispassions,
loss
suffering
mortality
and all that dualistically dark stuff,
sensory tissue memories
of sacred issue images
My peculiar ecosystem
co-empathically admiring Ultra NonViolet
rainbow
spectrally ionic Heaven
multiculturing emergent organic
ironic Paradise
And personal political insider trading
in Gospel EmPowering PassionStories
co-emerge eco-Paradise here
with ego-Pleasure now,
sacred place
with historically enculturing
triangulated
bilateral
tipping pointed hierarchical
and reverse root systemic revolutionary
upside-down
EarthHealth PleasurePower
anticipating more HeavenWealth ParadiseLight
win/win peace-viral
evolutionary PanSensory
bicamerally enlightened
eco/ego double-binary
unboundaried trans-empowerment.
And so I try to co-discern
discuss
cooperatively dialogue
about whom I am supporting,
investing in,
and why
I might reasonably expect
mutual win/win health/wealth outcomes.
And, on the other hand,
when such mutual intention becomes
and belongs within anti-losePleasure/loseHumor
transparently shared limits,
then it is time to set chronic stressed
win/lose compromises
anticipations
evolutionary theories
existential angst
depressions
negative impressions aside
To grab hold
of cooperative
systemic con-celebrating revolutions
toward transliturgies enlightening
empowering
re-ligioned win/win
SecularLeftMinded/SacredRightHearted
ego-impassioned EarthHealth Justice
resolutions
Embracing Pleasure
and Paradise,
Power
and Light,
Earth
and Heaven,
Secular
and Sacred,
Deductive
and Inductive
cooperative GoodHumor,
within NonZero-Soul's ubiquitous remainder.
Absent deliberate intervention
vis a vis suicide,
supposed "natural" longevity of generic human
starring sallying forth primate ride
ding bareback across avast
broke back mountain minus pride
defies accurate prediction,
though hypothetical
projections can override
unknown factors, whereby
excluding misfortune nationwide
(and/or globally deadly accidents,
catastrophes, diseases, mudslide,
fatalities from gunshot, et cetera)
unexpectedly arise dismissing by landslide
mortal adversity can be generally,
and more accurately spell joyride
ding calibrated to continue,
thus subsequent existence,
viz getting inside
scoop of this basic fellow, aye surmise
to continue for many another hayride
say...two score plus more orbitz,
whereat linkedin, flickr ring guide
by invisible hand snapchatting
crackling and popping fireside,
twittering whatsapp pining
during eventide,
watching virtual twilight at dockside,
witnessing artificial intelligence,
perfectly mimicking
illusory edenic countrywide
vibrantly melds scenic ideal tonic bedside
counting black sheepish crows,
thence set sleep number
putting all worries aside
while merrily rowing boat
with gentle creatures alongside.
Hierarchical paradigm of the Amish community
After reading the novel titled
Broken English by Paul L Gaus...
accentuating, exhibiting, incorporating...
the Amish, whose long history of farming
with horses and mules, dates back
to when horse-drawn plows
first used to break up the earth.
While some newer Amish farms
use tractor-drawn equipment,
many Amish farmers still prefer
to use horse-drawn implements.
Said sturdy and simple contrivance
sports prominent envious society
regarding yours truly,
who feels tethered to capitalist construct
gagging me with unremitting yoke.
Hence, I experienced being woke
at mine incompatibility
inured my entire life
to the abstract codas, credo, dogma,
ethos, karma, mores, precepts...
constituting western civilization.
How quaint to bare witness, where townsfolk
congregate to resolve community conflicts
suspicious should an hyperconscious,
and pugnacious "English" poke
their figurative noses
where they don't belong kinsfolk
of sect who sell dried tobacco
foodstuffs, crafts evoke
hankering (regarding yours truly,
a run of the mill doubting Thomas)
to become linkedin
with a voluntary community
less restrive than
the so called "plain" people,
unencumbered with materialistic trappings
whereby assignments delineated
governed jump-started
by age and gender at birth
men assigned physical tasks,
while women linkedin to domestic role,
members of the sect
know their role from cradle to grave.
Aside from delineating
responsibilities predicated
on whether an individual
child, teen, or adult,
their culture allows,
enables and provides
self reliant lifelong skill sets
whipping a proud member into
topnotch shape of body, mind and spirit.
I always seem
to end up here, shuffling
along the river, soul deep
in its waters. I wallow
for a while like an old,
crusty animal, trying
to rid myself
of the usual parasites.
These pests gasp
for air beneath its tides
and thick mud.
A soul must have a place
to go for the caked on grime
of life to be washed off.
It seems a law written
into the DNA of our psyche.
For some, sacramental ritual
once scrubbed them clean
but this has fallen
out of favour, hollowed out
by hierarchical abuse
and an absent God.
Others simply ask
for a voucher.
Nature has always offered
its sacred spaces to mend
troubled souls. Or there
are caves you can carve
into the mind where a still
resides and encloses
a healing peace. Other
excavations hold effigies
who promise the faithful
any number of offerings
to soothe the spirit.
In the end, you just need
a place where you can go,
somewhere within a breath,
or walking distance,
or a mystery only the soul
seems to know.
Demanding schedule,
Shadows lengthen in the quiet hours.
Everyone pushing pens, crumpled papers in bins,
Mistakes made, restarts with no end.
Demands unmet, demands that are too much,
Yet the heart still whispers dreams of peace.
Desperately seeking solace in the stillness of the night,
Navigating nightmares in Teams meetings,
Seeking calm amidst the digital storm.
And wondering what the hell people actually do in the NHS,
Searching for meaning in the chaos.
Hierarchical structures and sardonic grins,
NHS rules and no parking spaces for nurses.
Dementedly, they denounce our demands,
Yet we persist in the face of adversity.
High in their echelons, blind to the ground,
They allocate funds while we bear the weight,
Unseen is the strain, the scarcity profound,
And we stand resilient, meeting needs without debate.
Yet still we stand, unyielding in the fray,
For our patients, for each other, come what may.
In unity, we rise, facing the storm,
Finding strength, resilience, a new norm.
Channeling Nightingale’s lamp, though snuffed out,
And Seacole’s courage, steadfast in the fray,
We rise as they did, with resilience and clout,
Guardians of care, in a new dawn’s ray.
Though we stand as healers in halls of power,
Our voices, at times, are but whispers in the tower.
Yet in unity, we rise, unbroken,
Ensuring every story, every truth, is spoken.
Through every trial, we stand unbroken,
With the spirit of healers past, our legacy spoken.
In unity, we forge a brighter way,
Champions of tomorrow, in the light of a new day.”
What made Catherine the Great
The Great
instead of merely The Terrible
aristocrat?
Great is not her messianic
multiculturally inclusive
democratic therapeutic intent
Which is a surprisingly ubiquitous delusion
of win/lose
all or nothing LeftBrain
Either deductive persuasive Truth
Or inductive synergetic trust
and lust for Beauty
Rather than win/win
RightBrain co-operative
intuitive BothTruth/AndBeauty
Yang/Yintegral
bilateral Great Climaxes
bicamerally integrating
dialectical InEgo/OutOther
co-empathic consciousness
Actively
curiously
courageously listening
for cooperative
co-passionate
co-governing Greatness
Not quite so
Business As Usual
patriarchal
hierarchical
capital-commodity invested
in StraightWhiteMale privilege
Kinda Terrible
terrifying
aristocratic entitlement.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I tried my best,
To get out of this world of average,
And rest my feet on extraordinary,
But I failed.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I worked hard day in and day out,
In silence without crying out loud.
Still couldn't get through,
The competition that is a little too.
Dear Mom and dad,
I gave in all my energy and effort,
All with all my heart,
Still God couldn't be merciful,
To provide strength a spoonful.
My Dear teachers,
I struggled to cope with your humiliation,
And state of no satisfaction.
I tried to ignore your heartbreaking words,
Which were difficult to be heard.
I know that you don't understand now,
As now I bow low,
To tell all of you a words few,
That respect was not meant for you.
My talent has no place,
In this amazing hierarchical society of yours,
That only the deemed to be extraordinary adores.
Dear God,
I tried my best to stand out of the rest,
But, even you couldn't be merciful.
You could be the color of my dull world,
But, chose to take only trials and test.
How do we learn to be average
In this world of extraordinary,
Because the saying has been reversed,
Extraordinary are many,
But averages too deserve a place.