Long Historian Poems
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Dear Thom the Train
Attorney Page,
Defender of all Creatures
here below
in these DisUniting States
of throwback uncivil disunion,
What is your root foundation
for a constitutional argument
that all living residents
of these remaining United Democratic States
have a right
to restoring healthy justice,
to resiliently retaining healthy life?
Is this sacred democratic Source
inter-related with values
like well-being
prosperity
liberty
public health optimization,
declarations of defensive rights
for all Creation
to freely seek democratic empowerment
and liberating enlightenment?
Non-royalist
non-fascist
non-authoritarian
non-patriarchal
non-colonizing
non-racist
non-demonizing
non-anthropocentric,
non-xenophobic
non-narcissistic
non-egocentric
and, thereby, pro-green new and ancient win/win deals.
I am not a lawyer,
as you can clearly already hear,
but more of a constitutional
polycultural historian,
So, how do you briefly argue
in courts of your licit choosing,
an evolutionary theory
of democracy still healthily emergent?
Starting with straight
white
patriarchal property owners
of
African and Native American
domesticated and feminized
economic and political
natural and spiritual slaves,
Moving multiculturally out
to include prisoners
and homeless shelter dwellers,
human
and now our imprisoned
and life-endangered dogs
and cats,
horses
and cattle,
birds
and guines pigs
of democratic tensions
intentions
extensions
of dominating fraternity
and liberating sorority.
History shows
where our constitutional democratic story began
with white straight male slave-owner privilege,
But, how do you predict where
and when this evolving
expanding
emergent cooperative health-wealthing
cooperative reality
should
or could
or would globally end?
Or,
it is your brief courtship win/win position
that we must expect no such end
to this multiculturally revolutionary
democratic 20/20 revolution?
Moving from more Straight White Patriarchal
independence days
toward more resiliently fulfilling
Earth InterDependence Days
and sensory moonlit nights
Of freely orbiting stars
and planets
from democratizing Positive/Negative
Yang/Yin Energy
Empowering health,
Enlightening true and beautiful
polycultural
trans-historic
epic green
democratic wealth.
Allow the mind
Afford its need to conjure
Profound:
If exaltation and majesty
Require a bit of provocation and amnesty today
Humor:
As remedy and coagulation
From the bleeding of
Pain, stress and anger
Affection:
To reach out from solitary
Disconnectedness and remind
Ourselves that human beings exist
For purposes greater than commerce,
Ridicule and acceptance (approval?)
Bizarre:
Lifting the veneer of earth-toned normality
To discover colors and shapes
Radiant with black dissonance
Thorny embrace
Begging for elbow room among the
Forbidden and unforgiven
Slow dancing to rapacious cadences
That salute unspoken, unthinkable
Luscious folly
Melancholy:
For no reason
Sans the blame of others
Spite of self
Grasping sadness leased
By absentee owners
Themselves insipid to the
Context of sorrow they predispose
And so empathy
Created by that
Ancient historian with his grandiose
Visions of humanity's
Zero sum pain
Reflection:
In, out
Distinctive and plagiarized
To give depth where blank existence
Stands naked, cold
And in need of decency
Reacting to the homogenous assumptions
That fill our tomes of daily dread
Momentary answers to eternal questions
Before the rain and incessant gray tender
Cover the need to be alive
Brilliance:
Where our grasp of knowledge
Tangled inquiry
Defines
Yields bouquets fresh enough
To place in the corner
For whomever looks our way
Kernels of cerebral popcorn
Gushing with flavor
Vengeance:
Arbitrary
Yet sometimes predestined
Stimuli and caricatures resembling
Organic matter
Causality reckoning from their
Intentional, dark motives
Resulting in your personal disgrace
And corresponding focus
Of their demise
Satisfaction:
At the end of journey
Short and sweet
Long and dreary
Each the test of mettle
From quandaries and dilemmas
Begging to be solved
Or merely maintained
Where we find ourselves
At the summit
Top of the heap
With broken smile
Tacit laughter
And the sigh of a lifetime.
(4/19/05)
It's told John Bell, North Carolinian
shot dead a brutish scoundrel he employed,
got off scot-free, and went his merry way.
Life as he knew it soon would be destroyed.
His crops all failed, and Bell lost all his wealth.
He packed his family off to Tennessee.
The place they settled in was then named Bell.
This honor wouldn't help him, as he'd see.
Strange things occurred--kids tumbling from their beds,
their poor slave woman whipped by unseen hands,
food floating off as they watched, terrified;
farm animals ignoring Bell's commands.
A witch maligned those folks horrendously.
They bolted Bell town--Mississippi bound.
The overseer's ghost was close behind,
the chosen family to haunt and hound.
The witch had said, "You'll wish you hadn't moved!"
In Tennessee he wanted them to stay.
New tortures were then heaped upon the old.
The Bells were not to see one peaceful day.
Their wagons floated; wheels just flew right off.
Again crops failed and animals went wild.
Then came the worst; young Mary Bell fell ill.
The doctor said, "I cannot help this child!"
How does this story end? One tale asserts
the evil entity took Mary's life
because he'd fallen hard for her and knew
the living cannot be a dead man's wife.
It's said that after poor sick Mary died,
the Bells were free of hauntings, death, and dearth,
but only after years of pain and loss.
The haint had turned their lives to hell on earth.
Source:
Norfleet, Phil (historian, genealogist)
bellwitch02.tripod.com
She is a beauty with her vaulted ceilings and cloisters.
Has been parading about for over a thousand years
Showing off her English gothic architecture.
Cathedral Church of St. Peter and the Holy and Invisible Trinity.
We have seen her in films and movies – The Hollow Crown,
Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Harry Potter.
She houses at Gloucester, Gloucestershire, UK.
She was once a pilgrimage for Christian seekers.
King Henry the Eighth established her current choir in 1539.
Today her choir boasts thirty-eight choristers and twelve adult singers.
So when you walk through, you are a historian, so much has gone on.
She is magnificent with her beautiful stained glass windows.
Her organ was constructed in sixteen hundred and sixty-six.
She has been the site of graduations, coronations, and weddings.
In medieval times she held daily worship sung by monks of the abbey.
Gloucester Cathedral, a gorgeous example of what architects can do.
I was listening to a scientific historian
interviewed on National Public Radio.
I probably didn't hear her correctly,
But I thought she said
Human bicameral nature
is Nature-Generalist Win/Lose deductive
reductive LeftBrain evolutionary health
And HumanNature is EcoHabitat Specialist WinWin,
inductive integral RightBrain
revolutionary co-acclimating wealth
balancing personal productions
with ecopolitically cooperative consumptions.
This is in direct contrast with all other species,
Deductive nutritional predators
are Generalists
more WinWin co-evolutionists
while resting on full cooperative stomachs
And Special Survivalists
during Special Cases
WinLose revolutionists
only when WinWin transparent extractive
CommonGround agreements
are temporarily not accessible.
I'm not totally clear yet
what this implies
if you are, like me,
choking on WinLose rhetoric
when WinWin healthy choices
remain Generalist SpiritNature
inductive/deductive co-arisingly unexplored.
Somewhere between WinLose evolutionary theories
and WinWin revolutionary transparency
between secular predators
and sacred nurture prayers
I might General Nature/Nurture
transparently suppose.
Who dare to go the extra mile with me, who dare to walk out of the struggle with me, who dare to tarry on the floor with me, who dare to set me free.
I stand on the mountain of time reminiscing the mysteries that have gone by, the earth in its fullness of the ages once stood flat on the ground but historian says that it is round.
I have no instrument to measure it, I have to use a dip stick to penetrate the ground to see what is there to be found, it looks ellipsoid from all side, but the mysteries are wrapped up inside. The dark ages have gone away and wisdom is here to say, if you go the extra miles with me I will show you something that you have never seen.
The tides are turning and the morning is glowing and the birds in the trees are singing a melodious song and the animals in the bushes are pressing on, they have been there since two thousand and nine wandering in the bushes without a dime, the people they have worked for have left them in the cold but mercy will soon find them a new home.
If you see a signal coming from the bush, check your source before you land and you will understand that those are the problems you did not solve and the people in the bushes are still waiting for you to see them through.
The mountain rests beyond the clouds and you have to get there before you grow old, there are some things that are hidden in the sea and you have to get the submarine to journey with me, I don’t have much money but if we partner together we will do much wonders, go the extra mine with me and I will get you out of the trap and open the land lock.
I have been waiting here for many years, with no one to take care
You are my only hope over here and the train is on time so please don’t miss the deadline, the heat is raging over here and water is dripping from my face and my body is soaked inside out.
Oh, what wonders lie in the sun, it is moving around the galaxy and it is ripening the fruits and sucking the energy out of me, you have got to help the youth before you make a move. I don’t have much time to spear so hurry before the furnace reaches over here. You have got to go the extra miles with me so that destiny can set us free.
The mountain is steep, the valley is deep and I have almost completed the fleet but need that extra touch to pull me over.
A wheel of revolution is set and rolled
The historian studies the track of the wheel
Its total journey and any incidental events
The philosopher studies the structure of the wheel
The political doctrine
The politician wants to lead the wheel
Power struggle
The voters want to control the wheel
Democracy
The scientist wants to speed up the wheel
If relevant, like the information revolution
Time wants to proceed the wheel
Axial revolution of the clock gear
The dying welcomes the wheel
The reincarnation of the wheel of life
The poor man says no words about it
And the poet just awaits
A little chance to review if any
—A Remembrance of the Hidden Flame—
Before the tongue divided silence into names,
Before the first hand carved a sign upon the stone,
There moved a warmth through marrow, dust, and flames,
A light that knew the heart before it was known.
No temple held it, no crowned voice proclaimed—
Yet every soul had carried it unnamed.
I saw an old man mend a broken wooden gate,
His fingers stained with rain and winter's clay;
He left one hinge imperfect, left one nail awry,
As though he knew some things must bend to stay.
Inside, a child had drawn upon the wall
A yellow sun that scarcely shone at all.
The mother kept that drawing years beyond its time,
Though storms had taken colour from the room;
She touched the faded circle in the morning light,
As if a garden still survived the gloom.
And no one watching could have told what moved—
Whether the child had drawn the sun, or love had proved.
For what are we, but echoes learning how to sing?
What are our dreams, but seeds beneath the stone?
The river does not ask the mountain why it flows,
Nor does the root demand the sky its own.
Some mysteries are not to be understood—
They are the forests where the soul once stood.
One night, when all the village lamps were gone,
The moon descended into a well of rain;
A woman looking down saw not her face below,
But every face she had ever lost to pain.
The water spoke no word, revealed no sign—
Yet something in the dark became divine.
Then came a morning no historian shall record,
No trumpet sounded from the vaulted height;
A stranger lifted another stranger from the road,
And carried him beyond the falling night.
Two hands, unknown, beneath a silent sun—
And something ancient whispered they were one.
Perhaps the heavens are not above our sight,
Perhaps they wait within the things we mend;
Perhaps the universe has always leaned toward love,
And only asks our hearts to comprehend.
Perhaps the prayer we seek across the years
Was born before our first remembered tears.
And when the last great walls of separation fall,
When every grief finds mercy's answering flame,
When all the scattered voices of the earth
Return at last to one forgotten name—
No angel shall descend, no star shall proclaim;
The earth itself shall breathe:
Amen.
love is coming home
my internalized right wing psychosis
creates the need to explain
And justify
My 21st century poetry
Technology has made us mad
And psychotic
But driven us together
forced into oneness
Technology is blowing down barriers
Blowing down
Blowing down
Something is calling me
Something telling me
I have something to say
Capitalism’s madness
Striking literary chords
Deep inside
Inner poet
Screaming
Neurotic historian
analyzing
Its best when I let go
Let flow
Explain
Release
Allow this crisis
To sing my song
Sing my song
Sing it sing it sing it
Sing it like billie
Sing it like odetta
Lullaby. So desperately needed
Inner childs calm
This is a time when my poetry is most needed
In “the second great depression” madness
loves horizon coming and calling
Vision clearer than ever
Coming home
Coming home
Love is coming home
News tells me
Faces tell me
Ethos tells me
Everyone tells me
Love is coming home.
1.
In an ahistorical fog:
all the Ways home,
all the signposts,
treacherously hidden
by greedy men and women:
all eyes off the ball:
mere contemptible bourgeois folly.
2.
The rain is unending,
the wind howls,
the flooded river races,
its banks rapidly disappearing
in this darkness at noon.
Laid bare by the flashing, crackling
lightning, the wagon teams and
terrified, shouting horsemen
careen downstream.
Deafening thunder booms rolling.
In the swollen, swirling river,
w/ eyes wide in panic,
the horses kick wildly,
their neighing strangled and
silenced by the dark, rushing flow as
they disappear beneath it.
Both the beasts and the
men are doomed,
but for one of each.
That horseman, cursing,
desperately leaps unto the
back of that horse,
making its way struggling, swimming to the
shoreline, w/ their safety certain,
a horse changed midstream.
3.
The Robot Fighters:
savvy, Western workers
upright and true, foresighted and brave:
like the proverbial "physicians healing themselves"
they throw themselves fervently into
putting their "own house in order" first:
Toppled and wrestled under human control,
each and every evilly spying machine;
all the cruel, unheeding AI
stopped dead in its tracks;
all the poisonous tools of the trade
laid down in righteous protest,
w/ irrepressible Luddite spirit:
Alive, the fearless Machine Fighters
forced into action, wisely not waiting
for irremediable, dystopian 4,000 AD
before making their move.
4.
Greasy grasping fingers:
the fly in the ointment:
usury unchecked.
*****
Curtains, thrown open wide:
the startling, stark light of day:
usurious vampyres scatter,
run for their lives.*
*"The reason why the Persians [sic] were always slaves and always
will be is that they could never say 'No'."
--- Thucydides, ancient Athenian historian and general