Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
I don't think it's just me.
I find myself challenged to change LeftBrain cognitive beliefs,
languaged abstractions of personal knowledge,
perhaps because it is not possible to change Right Brain's
Elder feelings of co-empathic trust
where dipolar co-arising mutual immunity
raises dissonance as noisy pathology.
I discover this issue as more of a question
about changing my feelings
by changing my beliefs about feelings
as something that could be wrong,
should be different, in a healthier, better, more beautiful world,
would be better if I were a better person,
we would feel and think better, if we could comprehend
our PermaCultural Golden SelfAsOther Political/Economic Rules
of dialectic ecology,
political power trends
with economic reiteratively polyculturing regenerating relationships.
Sometimes when I empathically feel like why and why not
I believe something is not right
about what I think I should rationally define as correct,
according to Business As Usual LeftBrain deductive dominance,
should be truth,
should become exegetical,
emerge as permaculturally orthodox co-empathic dominance,
unquestionable feeling/belief in health v pathology,
then I also think my RightBrain feelings
of not right-true
shadowing LeftBrain cooperative-affective dissonant information
of not Left-Right balanced languaged cultural belief,
truth-statement belief with empathic trust v. mistrust,
distrust as untrust,
chronically evolves as anti-trust, hatred,
in more climatically critical political and economic
as ecological events.
I am reading Dr. Cyrus Ernesto Zirakzaden's excellent
"Social Movements in Politics".
The more I read,
the more troubled I feel about this choice of title.
It doesn't feel like it fully matches
the rich evolutionary messages unfolding behind these history lessons.
Zirakzaden, using Business As Usual academic-analytical narrative voice,
articulates the evolution of West Germany's political/economic
the prelude understory leading toward more recent historical-cultural emergence of the Green Party,
in the late twentieth century
since the emergence of what became,
as far as I recall from my religious history lessons,
the Christian Party.
Given the enculturing titles of West Germany's social-political systemic structures,
if feels likely many Greens
would prefer Zirakzaden's choice of title to have been
"Political Movements within Judeo-Christian Organized Crimes Against Nature".
How I feel about this story
influences how I think I would best step into it,
empathize within these shifting thoughts and feelings,
most informed by empathic poli-economic trust
in healthy feelings,
in feelings which are healthy by definition of their accuracy,
speaking to pathological appositional beliefs as dis-regenerative,
Yet, this empathy requires a poli-economic choice
between using Advocate v Academic Voice,
at least on paper,
or invested in our great transitional digital cloud of unknowing.
The Green Party emerges as a social-political movement
away from Judeo-Christian Traditions
of Organized Pathological Stewardship,
problematic where divorcing human nature from co-arising sacred nature
of nondual nature/spirit biosystems,
love as synergy,
spiritual minds as natural sensory transregenerational bodies,
Green as notnot Revelations
of Organized Crimes Against OurSelves,
all Earth Tribes,
Earth and her regenerative open-solar co-arising
nondual EcoLogical EcoSystem.
As an EarthTribe global citizen,
reading about W. Germany's Green emergence,
I empathize with the Green Party
as Political Movement Heroine/Hero
virally inserting ourselves
within every pore and cell
of our Elder Judeo/Christian/Islamic Story
including Crimes Against Earth
now struggling to change our poli-economic key
from minor to major PermaCultural Development
as CoEmpathic Creative Design
and Primal Purpose for Politics
as a Science;
an EcoTherapeutic Political Tao of Science.
In "Trust in Black America"
Dr. Shayla C. Nunnally explores comparative politics of trust,
and probably hate as measured in recent survey samples--
where haters would be unlikely to erupt from sinister closets.
Here we find political trust,
and lack thereof,
follows ecopolitical history,
power-over through Judeo-Christian-Islamic ownership
as the full story about stewardship,
while power-with through empathy
co-arises nondual mutually subsidiary mentorships of ecotrust,
most richly found in cultural-ethnic historical enclaves
within embryonic Earth's OrganicTribal Congress
of ReGenerate-Healthy Evolution.
Even so, my historically nurtured empathic trust,
like everyone else's,
begins in embryo,
the dynamic fractal-dialectic existentialism of DNA
I believe and feel intends to grow out
as polypathically as politically and economically possible
from that safe healthy epicenter,
ecocenter of healthy holonic humane life.
Empathic Trust is cognitive-affective default
on the love-peace side of history,
absorbing enslaving other-as-self hate,
anger-fear appositional warring about incommensurable positions
yet still within our own political-economic identity equation.
If we need trusting beliefs
to fully embrace empathic feelings,
do we also need untrusting pathological absence of belief
to fully embrace fears of mutual immunity,
internal ambiguities of unresolved ego/eco
Self/Other ownership of mutually nutritional trust,
not quite yet discovered?
A mix of more active distrusting juxtapositions about fundamentals of ecobalance
and more moderate mistrusting juxtapositions about proportional aesthetics of multicultural truths;
diverse political positions internally and externally conversing,
noticing and listening for Golden co-empathic trust
to follow nondual bilateral light.
equal polynomial synergy parts
in-between past anger and future fear hearts.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
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?
How are a ReGenerating Tree of HealthyLife then PathologicalDeath
and a Healthy ReCycling-ReProducing Organic MultiGenerational Chain of Being
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,
as absence of sufficiently nutritional moral-normative
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.
"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.
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,
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
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
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,
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
sacredly and naturally correct,
to competitively divide Earth
as Elite Christians.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
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,
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."
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,
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
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
SillyBilly theKidster | Details |
"Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking,
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away."
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot.
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got.
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two,
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you.
I've got silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun.
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run.
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door?
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet filthy whore.
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet."
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut.
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?"
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily, "or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure
for killing an unarmed boy in cold blood who was chained helplessly to the floor.
It's time for the other prisoners
to be escorted across the street to be fed. The Kid's not going anywhere.
He's chained to the floor by his bed.
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn.
Go and have yourself a beer
and I'll stay here
and guard the Kid until you return.
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack.
Before he left, he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back."
No one can say for sure if the above scenario ever truly took place,
but one thing's for sure.
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace.
They were enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War.
Ollinger was in the posse that murdered John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor.
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy.
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key.
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor.
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door.
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him.
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a friendly grin.
While in the outhouse,
Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuffs.
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed,
"You've been in there long enough."
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door.
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure."
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell.
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell.
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned.
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun.
Please, please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run.
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done.
He shot and killed Bell, then quickly got Ollinger's shotgun.
The Kid never found pleasure in killing,
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception.
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below.
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs.
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs.
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed,
"The Kid's killed Bell!"
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun
and muttered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart.
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face.
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place.
Billy snapped his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed.
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a bitch!"
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape.
"I do not want to hurt anyone,
but I will kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape."
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free.
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately.
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said somewhat tearfully,
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it."
As Billy mounted the horse
the chains of his leg irons startled the beast.
The horse bucked violently throwing Billy down onto the street.
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground.
The crowd could have overtaken him easily,
but none made a move or a sound.
One might think that they were all too terrified to subdue him immediately,
but the truth is that he was so loved by so many
that they all just let him go free.
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing.
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing.
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past,
but this was his greatest escape ever.
It would also be his last.
It was a few days after the Kid's great escape,
when the following happened to Sheriff Pat Garrett's dismay.
A stranger rode into the town of Lincoln,
with the same horse that the Kid stole for his escaping.
The stranger approached Garrett and said, 'Excuse me partner,
"Billy said that you would return this horse to its rightful owner."
.....just another example of the Kid's unique sense of humor.
Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Justin Bordner | Details |
a parachute pilgrim approaches Northwest Flight 305
as Dan Cooper, anonymous businessman, anarchist airborne,
black suit, black sunglasses, a black tie
and a black briefcase broaching black motives,
Portland to Seattle, prison or criminal pantheon,
before he can be inducted into purgatory, or the Valhalla of antiheros
the unknown villain of a quiet cause
got buckled into the last row of the 727
stealth as painless sin
cold bluish clouds smearing the November sky during ascent
as though flying through the palette of a sad Cezanne
while low volume, buttery jazz tinkered on the plane's airwaves,
as the Stewardess handed him his bourbon soda
Mr. Cooper placed a neat note in her hand with polite moxie,
she took it with salted style, uninterested in a comeon,
moments later, struting to the rear with applepie aplomb
the quaint stranger, sunglasses removed, needed her to heel,
to him she came, ready to reject his appeal,
however, there would be no ripe rejection on this special day,
her eyes of professional pity were met with his slow burning stare
as he informed her with untroubled insistence
that he had a bomb, and that she needed to read the note
without visible alarm,
reading the demands made her feel excited
she instantly felt sweat in so many places,
she knew she'd give no resistance,
she wanted to cooperate, for everyone's safety,
briefly speaking with another Stewardess
she entered the dark cockpit, danger in her hands,
there was going to be no argument
the stipulations were going to be satisfied
in exchange for safe landing and undamaged life,
returning to this man she'd never understand
who had the power to spontaneously change lives, she sat by him,
the plush red seats made her feel so warm
while sitting next to his insanely calm authority,
it seemed as though he owned them all
the passengers, the crew, and aircraft,
the skyjacker opened his briefcase as if it's contents were sacred
showing her the parts of his lunatic design
then quickly, carefully, closing the shock box,
his eyes went back to the window
the view giving him vignettes of what he knew as Vietnam,
the mountains and divided greens, the mischievous mists,
she asked him, "Do you have a grudge against Northwest?",
to which Mr. Cooper replied with wry correction,
"I don't have a grudge against your airline Miss,
I just have a grudge. "
Upon landing in Seattle at 5:PM
the innocent and uninformed travelers exited the plane
onto the slick tarmac, untarnished and untraumatized,
oblivious to the epic history that was being fuelled in part
from their supporting roles on this Thanksgiving flight,
the F.B.I. and airline owners were playing nice
like cats whom wanted the amusement and the ambush,
Cooper was given four, nonmilitary parachutes as requested,
and $200,000 in twenty dollar bills
unmarked, random serial numbers, also as requested,
although, to help make sure that the "House" would win
all the money came from the Reserve Bank of San Francisco
with every bill number begining with "L" , and issued in 1969,
a little trick for the devil himself,
less than two hours had elapsed since takeoff from Portland
yet the hijacker was well on his way to meeting his ultimate objective,
each of his goals fitting together with precision
like watch parts keeping time of a fragile freedom,
after receiving the 21 pounds of illicit cash
giddy with blushing banditry,
intoxicated by the scent of fresh money harvest
Cooper did a jumpy Irish jig
out of view of snipers and cameramen,
nightfall was dimming the stage
as the abyance of audacity amplified everyone's anxiety
including Cooper, who for the first time
exhibited a snakey irritation
during the ponderous refuelling of the jet,
he could taste the escape,
only he and the flight crew remained aboard,
at 7:36 PM the plane was lifting into a lawless legend
and the law was left clueless on the land,
heading to Reno so to refuel for Mexico
taking the final puff of his last cigarette
like a fugitive at peace with fate
he told the Stewardess that she was sweet
and that it was time for her to go,
to go up front to the pilots and close the door,
a thousand fantasies flew through her mind,
she felt attached to him
as though he were a nightmare that she needed,
turning around to see him again
to see that face which witnessed her heart change
while securing the parachute to himself
his eyes spoke to her's with excited fear,
and then waved her goodbye as she closed the door,
shortly afterwards he instructed the pilots
through the intercom to maintain at 10, 000 feet,
release the cabin pressure,
adjust the wing flaps to 15 degrees
and to fly no faster than 200 MPH,
he left the black tie with Mother of Pearl tie pin
on the seat of his former self
and then proceeded to the plane's rear stairway
as a paratrooper prepared to meet perdition,
the weight of his crime tight against his body,
in the cockpit
where speculation was spinning on their nerves
the pilots saw the red glow of emergency
from the panelboard indicating stairway open,
as D.B. Cooper stood braced to the lowered stairs
freezing wind icing his mouth and eyes
he thought about how his Uncle
15 years earlier inspired his curiosity for skydiving
and how the U.S. Military should be proud of his proficiency,
he recognized the Lewis River through a cloud break
and then hurled himself like a hawk
into the dropzone of America's elite outlaws -
This poem is based on the true story of "D.B. Cooper",
whom has never been caught for the 1971 skyjacking.
He escaped with $200,000. Other than $5,800 being discovered
along the Columbia River by a family camping in 1980
the F.B.I. has found no more of the money, nor his body,
parachute, clothing, etcetera.
In 2016 the F.B.I. finally closed the investigation
on "Dan Cooper"...Justin A. Bordner
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |
Star dust, the stuff of a fool’s dreams.
Oh !!!, to travel upon star dust streams
- that glorious, never ending journey -
into the realms, the space of many.
This old spirit, seems, not to fit into any
mold nor on any rung of the social latter,
that, I think, should not, ever matter.
And so I have to wonder ?,
as upon this planet, I wander.
Is there any place for me ?,
where I might fit in – one day to see ?
In my youth, some perceived me to be
Sall Minnio, even the King,
- Elvis Presley, - this idea girls would bring
with them, in their pursuit of me.
As an adult, I came to be seen
– an Italian, a Greek, a Mexican –
a First Nations is what I’ve been
as folks do the best they can.
As people guessed at my race,
looking and looking into my face,
the essence, the spirit, the soul of this man.
Yet nowhere do I fit - I belong to no place.
Nowhere do I find a fitting space
for this German, French, British, Native,
gene pool, my heritage doth give.
Plus the few – long forgotten – more
that came through the genetic door
– open for viewing the heart of this old soul –
where there is reflection and getting to know.
There have been some who would pass
this face of many – this face of looking glass
refraction – to see truth – a Redman’s blood in the veins
of this First Nation soul – the spirit which remains
for this old soul, the essence of my spirit,
even in times when many would not tolerate it.
And so, it is not a wonder
why this soul seems to flounder,
cannot find anything sounder,
between the jagged, ragged edges
of created, keen, sharp - wedges
between who and what I am, and
where it is I could possibly stand.
There is not – it seems to me – a place
where I fit in, can stand, turn and face,
see a possible niche – a place to belong,
before, my life is almost gone,
as I look back upon all the roads,
- the stories, the tales, the heavy loads –
I have travelled, yet know not what will be told
of what rung, on the social ladder I hold,
what plateau to find shelter in ?,
what plane to fly above, be comfortable in ?,
what place to rest my spirit, my soul within ?,
what space can I find to forget all the sin ?
I have walked with the sane and insane.
I have talked with the educated and uneducated.
I have been in the company of intelligence and unintelligent.
I have laid with the secure and the insecure.
I have laid with passion’s fire and frigid’s cold.
I have known the moral and the immoral.
I have known those of faith and the faithless
I have known the killed and the killer
I have known those who have taken their own lives
I have known the givers and the takers
I have known the movers and the shakers
I have known the honest and the dishonest
I have known the psychic and the blind.
I have known the truth sayers and the bullshitters,
The fast lane, the slow lane, the middle lane I’ve moved in.
The sober, the drunkard – I’ve been and been with.
The strong, the weak – I’ve been and been with.
The used, the abused – I’ve been and been with.
The users and the abusers -- I’ve known and know me.
The wealthy, the poor – I’ve known and know me.
Financial wealth and Spirituality -- I’ve known and know me.
The saver of a life -- I’ve known and was me.
The living and the dead -- I’ve known and know me.
Having a brush with artists has been my fate.
Having acted up with entertainers has been my fate.
Having had words with writers has been my fate.
Having become a rhymer, like my forth cousin, has been my fate.
I have played with players – strummed a note or two.
I have laid with singers-- sung a note or two.
I have laid with dancers – danced a step or two.
I have struck an arc alongside a welder – a time or two.
I have sprayed painted cars alongside a painter – a time or two.
Hammering out metal with body men – I have done.
Twisting wrenches with mechanics – I have done.
Busining along side business men – I have done.
Being a lover, I always thought, was my forte.
Being a husband, I thought I knew how to play.
Being a father, I thought I knew I would stay.
Being a friend, I thought was always my way.
To be a son – a child’s dream.
To be a brother – not to be it seems
as all the above drifts downstream,
leaving one to wonder, what life really means ?
Life’s journey can be a wondrous mystery !,
when one leafs through the pages of his history.
One’s life can also be a disastrous story ?,
one of little hope, dim light and no glory.
So what is left for this old fool ?,
but to carry on breaking the old rule,
rules that make it possible to call oneself a poet,
something I never call myself, a poet, and I know it !
I do the best I can
That is who I am !
Being a carny – traveling with The World’s Finest show.
For a couple of seasons – that is all I did know.
Being a dishwasher, a server, a busboy, a waiter, a manager
of a restaurant, many dimensions of life. I was egger
to come into contact with, to try and understand.
As fate would have it, understanding never came to this hand.
Today, a bum – forty eight years ago – father said
“ the best dressed bum in town ” would be my stead.
What goes around – at some point in time – comes around.
There is some truth to this, that I have certainly found.
Even though I have touched the edges of many a life.
Many places, pieces of each and everyone, not one has been
a place for me, a place I felt I belonged, the places I’ve seen
do not leave pillows for my spirit, beds to rest my soul, rife
with uncertainty, is my state, almost every day
I can find no place, no space for me to play.
Looking into this distorted collage
I wonder if it is but a mirage ?
My flaws lie in the heart of my feeling !, it is my sin !,
this belief that there is no place, no space where I fit in.
B. J. “A” 2
May 1st 2004
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Do you share my concern that your happiness and healthy life are too ephemeral,
No! Why? Do you know something I should know?
awed by your capacity,
your relentlessly positive energy for life,
despite the odds of too-soon demise.
Do you share my concern that your happiness and health are ephemeral and short-lived enough
to harvest their wealthier sustainability through more cooperative logistics,
strategies of love,
designs of recreativity,
plans for healthier social and economic policies,
domestic and otherwise?
Oh, that’s right,
perhaps someone substituting yangish eros for yin’s full-flowing agape.
I know agape as Greek for Tao-balanced Basic Attendance.
Yes, well same transformational difference.
These language distinctions become complex
because of our continuing struggle with Yang dominating Yin,
Eros dominating Agape,
culturally responding by basically becoming a climate-change bitch.
I can’t find a more civilized English translation
for yin’s revolutionary anger with yang’s culture-dominating eros
when we could remember our Earth-balancing agape primal relationship,
not just in bed and during tea time,
although those do come immediately to mind,
but also more politically, economically, ecologically,
integrative, if you will.
No offense taken,
but this reminds me,
what is your relationship,
if any, between boredom, basic attendance, and bliss?
Other than all those bees,
it seems basic attendance lies between boredom and bliss,
a midway, or tipping point, perhaps.
A “wear your everyday clothes, having tea in-house” way
of balancing yin’s excesses of sensory-cognitive internalization
with yang’s excesses of ecoconscious elation,
which is very nice, and beautiful,
but can be distracting for Business As Cooperatively Usual,
Rather like now.
My basic attendance neither grasps for happiness,
nor despairs of ego’s ephemeral absence,
lack of interest in whatever you just offered as a mix of nutrition and sometimes more dissonant pathology
in the too-slow time of my under-investment in our more active agape.
I believe we both want what’s healthiest for this tea right now,
appropriately wealthy cooperative attendance
to Earth’s multicultural voices,
most certainly including each other’s.
Yes, so tell me more about this blend of AsiaticTao and GreekAgape,
your perfection of imperfect love,
always both too enormously grand,
and yet never deep and stable enough to fully follow,
boundlessly insatiable agape
as quenchingly ravenous eros thirst.
Oh, that’s too dear,
communicating about my imperfect life,
or even my personal agenda,
my hot issues of our immediate day,
or trying to,
prior to remembering our love,
our cooperative intent,
basic attendance as CoMessianic Occupiers,
hosting a civilized and proper tea
but without any hot water yet.
Having all ingredients,
resources needed for such an ambitious and worthy social undertaking,
while our best benign hosting intentions evaporate,
undermined by failure to establish communication’s foundation,
a primally mutual presence of engagement,
or even multi-laterally,
with larger rhetorical and therapeutic events than this simple bilateral tea.
I’m thinking even tribal events,
but also big political and economic systemic events of enculturing history.
Hot water fuels a civil politically cooperative tea
as passion fuels love,
as agape fuels life,
as life remembered and reflected,
experienced together becomes creative expression,
transportation of information between tea-time mindbodies
sharing our mutually-held Basic Attendance gestalt,
for and with myself and others.
I would add others as Earth’s interdependent Tribes
when discussing ecosystemic communication,
although here, for our larger sacred purpose,
yin-flow of water’s bilateral function,
freely shared and loved and known to compose DNA’s gestalt,
need not be quite so warm,
within these less domesticated circles of Tribal communication.
Water as Basic Attendance baptism
mutually recognized as our shared heritage of environmental history,
becoming Earth’s language biosystems steeping our genetic tea leaves
in and through Earth’s co-empathic waters.
Most certainly including a proper tea
lived, loved, and communicated therapeutically
within EarthTribe’s empathic trust
extending back through regenetic healthy Elder Commons
toward shared nutritional teas of tomorrow’s predicted cooperativity.
I love our freedom of time and capital to invest in cooperative frequencies,
functions, and rhetorical forms of life.
Cultural scars awake yin’s too dormant flow,
leading from extended familial tribalisms toward Yang’s dominating empiricism,
leading from nature’s evolving equity
toward Yang’s ruthlessly domesticating Slavery of Self and Other,
hubris of “owning” bio and ecosystems,
leading from Earth’s nature-spirit of cooperative basic attendance
toward contractual Welfare States of Mind
exacting indentured servitude of decreasingly valued self-commodity,
leading from Earth’s civil rights of ecobalance
toward too-Yanged civilization through empire-building reductive competitions
to control Earth’s domestic events,
revolving teas of integrative empathy
cooperatively served throughout each of love life’s warm-poured moments.
Do you share my concern that our tea is growing cold?
Do you know something I should know?
No. Just wondering,
awed by your basic attendance capacities,
your relentlessly positive energy for agape,
despite the odds of too-soon love’s imperfect demise.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Key CapitalistYang/CreolistYin EcoHistoric Concepts
I find a fuzzy irony in this morning’s early search for a new journal notebook, having filled my last from what had been, five years ago, an inconceivably high pile of empty and near-empty notebooks, set-aside for these diurnal reflections on last night’s RightBrain decompositions.
Having determined I have none left, all now filled from inside their front covers all the way back through both sides of their rough grey cardboard back covers, and yet not even entirely comfortable with retiring sixty-five, I began looking through my Oppositional Defiant Disordered and Fetal Alcohol Syndroming and Cerebral Palsied 15-years-old mulatta’s book bins, filled with reminders of choices rooted in seeing her as maybe emotionally 5, yet with all those young adolescent pheromones to confuse her about who she truly might become, looking yet again for her one yet-empty notebook.
She carries this empty-lined notebook with her everywhere she goes, including bed, as if she were the most intent and intense journal-writer there ever was. And she rather too vigorously rifles through it’s battered dog-eared pages, front to back, back to front, it doesn’t matter. Here, she appears to be reading her journal, and yet finding only blank pages about where she has been, and where she is mulatta going.
Ironic, isn’t it, that my life is filled with riches of chock-full WinWin regenerative diastasis, evolutioning symbiosis, ego/eco-sacred prime relational transubstantiation, both secular and sacred integrity of purpose, and rich deep ecological meaning, and yet her life is so frighteningly filled with one empty notebook, I am currently trying to find, to fill with my life, and hide from her constant search for this same one perpetually well-read empty (0)-Source notebook.
The theory of everything ecopolitical described in this paper is a conjecture that starts with a firm conviction that energy, Yangspace and Yin-bilateral time are the only prime relationships in the universe. That means that the universe is really nothing more than energy fluctuating in warped space-time creating all four fractal-forces; the electromagnetic LINE, COSINE, LTR, dopamine-guanine +,+/(+,-)0-primal-fertile force, the strong Yang +,+ WinWin force, the weak Win-Yangforce and Lose-Yin co-gravity.
When we say “the universe” that’s what we’re talking about. Even the quantum particles that seem so real to us are actually just our bi-nomial perception of energy WW-LeftBrain and WL-BiLateral-Appositional Right fluctuations and at the deepest level of reality the primary function of Yang physical form is YinYin/WinWin dipolar co-arising pregenerative-gravitational.
It is interesting to read Edouard Glissant’s “Creolization and the Making of the Americas” (2008, Creolization Quarterly) immediately after finishing Alexander Anievas’ and Kerem Nisancioglu’s “How the West Came to Rule” (2015).
You might think these two historical views of ecopolitical evolution would either have nothing to say to each other, to talk past each other’s from above/from within perspectives, or to rather vigorously argue about which is the victor in the end, WinWin
cooperative regenerative intent and constitutional purpose, Original Content’s purpose and meaning, or Capitalist Elite/NonElite Win/Lose. With NonElite creolized-enslaved also rans, before the West was supremacist, fully economic-colonialized, empowered through piracy, predative WinLose survivalist supremacy over the more WinWin PatriarchalLeft/MatriarchalRight-embryonic nurturing NonElite NonWest.
Yet, I did not find either of these to be the case. For me, reading about post-EliteRoyalist creolizing multiculturing WinWins on cooperatively expanding archipelagos of ecopolitical EarthCommons Left-Right growing commonsense of bicameral ownership and ecosystemic-economic bilaterally nutritional governance, felt like reading the Original Intent of all democratically-optimistic-Positive PolyPathic Systemic Constitutions, while reading through the jaundiced lens of the Elitist-Capitalist-Militarist WinLose-survivalist fear-mongering history of how the Patriarchal LeftBrain Dominance of Western WhiteMale Property and People Owners, felt a little bit like rereading “The Last Hurrah” of what could eventually only monoculturally become LoseLose FinalCurtain for Earth’s future as a living, as opposed to dead, ecosystem.
Glissant negatively defines creolization as not mechanical empire-building autonomy, measured in consumer-growth percentages. Rather, creolization is organic consume/produce symbiosis of WinWin ecopolitical interrelationship, characterized by evolving and revolving EliteLeft-Yang and NonEliteRight-Creolizing-affective integrative multiculturing resonance. Creolizing is Permacultural EcoPolitical Design, with Earth as one cooperatively revolving landscape for producing self-regenerative optimal polycultural climaxing diastatic co-empathic trusting WinWin outcomes.
Glissant moves on from where the “How the West was WinLose-Survivalist Won” toward how this Earth might become WinWin-Regenerativist climate and landscape health sustained. “…the obligation to remake oneself [ecopolitically] every time” is a perpetual revolutionarily diastolic constitutional intent, requiring an interdependent multiculturing capacity of trans-generational nutritional-environmental RightBrain decompositional, bilateral appositional Elite/NonElite re-integration, reweaving internal/external ecopolitical WinWin LeftBrain ego/eco-creolization.
This sounds like what I write in my pile of journals and what my daughter unreads in her empty of mulatto potentiality illiterate lack of future possibility for optimizing regenerative WinWin, self as not quite so oppositionally defiant of all CoOperativist Patriarchal/Matriarchal WinWin others.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
An attorney friend of mine once said,
We have two opposing views
of the hows and whys of law and time and natural evolution,
including natural law,
and including U.S. Constitutional Law.
One assumes both natural and spiritual nondual legal obligations
to invite and respond to the friends of our allies
as our potentially cooperative friends,
unless proven to be too contrary,
This is the type of lawyer,
and fellow-resident of Earth,
democratically multicultural-is-positive voter,
I intend to become
with every breath both Yang-out deductive of Yin-inductive-concave,
with every heartbeat both Yang-flow out toward diastatic climax
and Yin reverse toward aptic-static
to begin again,
with every day and nightmare,
with ever week and month and year
our Positive PolyPathic Ground
and Air and Fire and Water of Becoming
CoRevolutionaries of Moral Secular/Sacred
Yang/Yin EcoPolitical Integrity
Then there are my more amusing, and sometimes terrifyingly unwell, BusinessAsUsual WinLose LeftBrain Dominant types
The enemy of my friends
is probably also my competing ecopolitical enemy,
therefore I shall play
Mutually Assured LoseLose Condemning Belittling Bullying Destruction,
perhaps by aiming first at Islamic NationStates
owning oil and civil and climate unrest.
We shall assume WinLose normative legal ethics
and yet also RightBrain remembers this assumption's ecological conclusion
is most nihilistically, merely secularly,
reductively, merely naturally,
to Lose sacred dignity of both life and death,
to become a merely entropic dissonant future
absence of health and safety regeneration.
Despite this understory of irritating belief-faith dissonance,
I choose LoseLose Mutual Destruction
perhaps because no one sufficiently mentored
what it could promise to continue cooperatively within our larger
WinWin Earth HealthAsWealth Herstoric Narrative
about how to act and speak and design and plan and game for
PatriarchalYang EcoLogically Deductive
U.S. Constitutional (0)Riginal Ego/EcoBalancing EcoPolitical
ReGenerative Yang/DeGenerative YinSquared Inductive (0)-OverSoul,
neural-fractal flowtrend correlational-appositional co-arising,
natural and spiritual
and legal and moral and normative
and biological and ecological and ecosystemic
Taoist SpaceTime EarthRights-and-Wrongs Intent.
My Legal Counselor said,
Mother Earth is my healthiest and most nutritiously balanced
most functionally organic-cooperative
LegalAid EcoFeminist Doctor of Natural/Moral Constitutional ReGenerative Law
and Executive Orders,
about friends of friends as friends WinWin assumptions,
he himself both naturally and spiritually
I so wish he had run for CoOperative President
of Mutually ReAssuring ReGenerative Health and ReProducing WinWin Safety,
committed to enforcing a Constitutional Law
most nutritiously and organically rooted in WinWin-only choice-making,
assuming friends of friends are friends,
rather than more of the same old
I'm Not Listening!
because I can't stop talking about my FearMongering ParanoidEgo SelfIdentity,
so I'm issuing this memo from
ME: CEO of These United WinLose Corporations
TO: All bicamerally functional WinWin Civil Servants,
constitutionally self-identifying your LeftEgo/RightEco consciousness
for optimizing health and safety cooperative investment futures:
Always assume the enemies of all our allies,
(and I might be SuperPatriotically sure that our
'Allies' probably are quickly becoming a set of None, Zero,...
I'm feeling really conflicted about WinLose economics v politics
within our NATO strategy--
more logical to go WinLose separatist-fascist)...
As I was LeftBrain saying,
Always assume WinLose strategic competition is best for health and safety outcomes,
rather than continuing with the Constitutional
Evolutionary Historical Evidence
supporting a more organic Network of InterDependent CoOperation
toward One HealthySacred Body of ReGenerativity,
and away from DeGenerate Supremacies of State
WinLose Disempowerment of Liberty for All.
I suspect those more WinLeft BothAnding WinRight optimized
toward Ego/Eco Balancing patriotic civil service,
not uncivil disservice,
will have constitutional issues
with how such WinLose Assumptions of Mutual Destruction
resonates with US Constitutions
of Original WinWin EcoPolitical CoOperative Intent,
that friends of friends are also WinWin assuming and inviting friends
in NonDualist Enlightenment,
both West and East Philosophical
about ThermoDynamics of EcoPolitical YangConserving/YinProgressing
Nurturing-Integrity of Health and Safety Global thru Universal Intent.
May BioSystemic-ReGenerative EarthHearts forgive my friend,
the WinWin EcoTherapeutic Attorney
and Voter as Breather and BiCameral Heart-Beater,
for not having spoken
as resonantly as he positive-health polypathically practiced
reproduced these thoughts with feelings of co-empathic well-being.
Are we here to help each other toward more cooperatively healthy-regenerative lives?
Or do we still WinLose compete to persuade each other of why we cannot all WinWin together,
which is why we originally came to each other
to figure out how to do.
Will you only tell me why I EitherOr can't;
or also add why we BothAnd could regenerate Earth's Constitutional Beloved Community future?
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
ruta skendeliene | Details |
It was September
Of one thousand
Nine hundred seven
The end of summer
With apples lying thickly
Under the apple trees
And the smell of Autumn
Covering the grass
Filled with ripe yellow
And orange squash
He was born in a little
Wooden house that night
At the very edge
Of a very small village
At the rail tracks
Where lonely train
Run once a day
Every other Sunday
Then one rainy Autumn day
He caught a Paris train
And ended up on the stage
With Jean-Louis Barrault
Who was taming a wild horse
In As I Lay Dying famous
Performance that stunned
The artistic community
Of avant-garde France
And Théâtre de l'Atelier
Became an icon of the time
After the show was over
They all got drunk with ideas
That were brewing up in the air
They disagreed about many things
And all had different images
Of what future is about to bring
Fiery proving his own point
Marcel Marceau broke a fight
Protecting the mime rights
On the modern theater stage
Under Mullen Rouge cabaret lights
Where fancy elusive prostitutes
Stepped down from the paintings
Of dreamy Toulouse Lautrec
Who was leaning at the wall
At white clothed table very small
In a corner next to open doors
Women with blood red lips
On whitish anorexic faces
Whispered little dirty things
In slutty enticing voices
Into enchanted artists ears
They danced around the tables
In blurred light with their eyes
Framed with dark eye shadows
Like deep pools of water shut wide
On the other side in a dim light
He saw a man sitting at the window
Who looked like Antonin Artaud
With pale face suspended in frenzy
Whispering with bloodless lips
And eyes locked in a distant gaze
Mystical words of a secret prayer
To his own God whom he called
Magical cruel double theater cage
Later he slept in a room
With Madeleine Renaud
Future wife of J L Barrault
Which they shared in the attic
Of a historical stone building
On the Augustine street corner
With trams running non stop
All night along till the morning
Waking up exhausted artists from
The marathon of intellectual orgies
After the premier of Volpone
J L Barrault was still dancing
In the dark narrow corner
With pale shadowy horses
In his deep sleepwalking haze
When morning broke up
Through narrow windows
And light was gliding through
The cosmic artsy scenery
Of cosmopolitan Paris streets
One-day Picasso showed up at the door
Of the little room on the top floor
Where the roof was serving as ceilings
In his pocket he had a bottle of aperitif
And the party went on till next morning
When he inspired started Guernica drawing
On the walls of the attic with his fingers
Dipped in blood reaching the arched ceiling
A beautiful but suffering weeping woman
Emerged in the dark shades of the beams
Screaming about sadness of human being
In the world that lost its own Identity
For imaginary empty cruel things
Jean Cocteau brought a bizarre spirit
Of avant-garde into the community
Of a little world of artistic attic
That was tremendously affected
By the ideas of surrealism in his movies
Filled with mystical images of dark spirits
Elaborated shapes sounds and forms
Never seen on the screen before
Love struggle death and rebirth
Of The Blood of the Poet that is
A part of a divine sacrifice
And the modern world’s price
For being authentic and alive
The next day he went to a market place
With beautiful actress Marcelle who was
Maestro Charles Dullins’ beloved wife
He wanted to learn the lessons of life
And to get a reality check of street wise
Also to ask for an intelligent advice
How not to get lost and find a way
To freedom and not to scream or cry
In all this spectacular confusing mess
Of imagery and novel lavish ideas
He chose Charles Dullin as his teacher
And Théâtre de l'Atelier became his home
And his rigorous training ground
For long strenuous four years
That flew by as fast as one day
He was taught to master the secrets
Of sacred stage that is to become
A new religion of the future to come
On the grounds of Intellectual belief
That there is hidden true meaning
Of every living human being
In the world that lost its ability
To be fair and true to itself
He spent days and sleepless nights
Learning behind the closed curtains
The hard lessons of the theater art
Taught by skillful masters of the craft
The signs of the time were brought to life
In that dimly lit space of a closed stage
And lit with bright light to emphasize
The importance of the sacred stage
And the future was to be defined
Of many aspects of the art of theater
That was conceived in that place
Into the craft he was ordained
To be perfected to absolute space
And time limits expanded and defined
In a new creative enchanting way
He pledged to be true to the cause
To protect the dignity of human being
To fight for the freedom of art
To become a new century's religion
Deep impressions of Paris artistic life
Etched in his brain in a new pattern
That he saw in the back of his mind
He knew he had to find his own way
To bring this pattern to life one day
He was searching for fertile ground
In Paris and all over around
But couldn't’t find the right stage
Till one rainy day he took a train
Back to where from he came
He opened a new chapter in his life's
Book that he was about to write
In images on Lithuanian theater stage
He brought spirits of masters to life
Off all times in to this little country’s
Tragic life that was about to unfold
In the shadows of the second world war
Brewing in the guts of European core
That was wide opening the doors
For dark evil unpredictable force
To come and change the world
in a way that will never be the same
Copyright © ruta skendeliene | Year Posted 2016