Long Intelligence Poems
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My long-winding EcoTherapist began:
Dialectic Behavioral Therapy sees Stimulus/Response
both forward and backward in time,
to look for thoughts and feeling tipping points
toward more harmonic confluence,
resonant and requisite proportional behaviors
and imaginings
of what may be justly and non-violently discerned
for future reference.
Meanwhile,
Compassion Therapy looks within these same S/R behavioral events,
reconnecting "SuperEgo" role as eco-logical teacher,
to evolve and mentor our mutual invite cause,
to respond with equivalently effective compassion,
react with mindfulness of each Ego's holonic
cooperative
and ubiquitously coincidental Prime Relationship
with EcoTao-centered Reason, Intent, Wisdom,
word choice,
feeling,
optimally receiving LeftBrain's Natural Logic deductive principles
of Right-At-Home compassionate ecotherapeutic empathic/inductive
co-arising/co-gravitational orthopraxis.
Between collective manically competitive hysteria
and suicidal absorption toward depressive self-intent
Lies Tao's Wisdom Midway,
bicamerally balancing between
schizophrenic bipolar reiterative-compulsive self-absorption
with "Other"
into the godhead of Universal Intelligence,
and paranoid messages from Evil
that "Ego" is at grave risk
of both short- and long-term economic
and bi-0-logical bionic extinction,
in one paranoid mythic form or another.
Between these way-too-polypathic extremes
lies polyculturing compassion
for human natural systems
both within--YangEgo,
and without--YinEco.
Fair trade cost for ecotherapeutic outcomes
is the ecojustice we redemptively invest
give-forward, fore-give
within ourselves,
each Other,
and Solar Systemic Earth's regenerate destiny,
as teacher,
mutual listener,
and Beloved EcoPresence,
iconized in sacred DNA/RNA regenerative-Tao
4D revolving RealTime rich resonant
full-octave as double-gravitational wu-wei
MidWay balanced Tipping Point
bio-geo-ecosystemetric regenerative therapy
v. degenerative pathology
health and safety permacultural language,
or at least syntaxed ecological restraints
on the dipolar dynamic function of bicameral appositional
Win-LeftEgo = NotNot Lose-RightEco.
my x has been boxed
Stations have been played
nine ten do
switch
my reality virtualised
my intelligence artificialised
escaping fear in evil
residently near
Trevor smiles
as his stole car
switch gears
Of wars i am well versed
Honoured with medals
Never smelt the Battle field
Duty always called
From mist
filled silent hills
screaming megaphones call
Half my life lived
Fi-fa-foo-fum
I smell the blood
of a lego x-man
Mind my craft
Spy with row
Crash the band
i could
Assassin hid by hood
Redemption read
Dead rise and walk
May i cry ask the devil
Raid the den
The division with which her
smile has changed
wonder if these days
are the last of us
At age twenty I had made it to Earls Court.
The rented room was seedily solid
having been for decades
filled with wine and cheap sunlight.
Until then I had not read a thing
apart from: ‘The Ship’ by C.S. Forester
and ‘Arms and the Man’, by G. B. Shaw
both part of a school curriculum.
I liked Shaw for his wit and intelligence
No one told me then that he was, in fact,
a fascist of the worst kind,
I thought he was an erudite old Irishman
like my uncle Sean.
A pink girl with huge eye-glasses, moved in.
She was studying Geoffrey Chaucer
in the original middle-english.
I hadn't a clue.
I bought a book of poems by D.H. Lawrence.
I forget why, but I liked his name
and my uncle Sean often talked about his poetry.
Turns out Lawrence had written a pile of books also,
but back then I was just into his poems.
I read ‘Grapes’, and I read ‘Figs’.
I read ‘Medlars and Sorb-Apples’, I read ‘Peach’,
I read ‘Cypresses’.
Back then I don't think I had ever seen a cypress,
a ‘medlar’ or a ‘sorb apple.’
I read: Snake,
Baby Tortoise,
Turkey-Cock,
Kangaroo and many others.
A few years later I found out
that the poets that were considered
to be good poets, and the critics
who were thought to be good critics
didn't think much of his poems.
I tried reading the poems of the good poets,
but after a while I felt nauseous.
Then I discovered Dylan Thomas.
The pink girl did not understand his poetry,
neither did I much,
but I ate up his words like a starving man.
Turns out Dylan Thomas was a drunk
and a mean bastard,
just like my uncle Sean.
Like a garden of roses,
Her appearance is elegant.
She’s full of confidence
With a mind of intelligence.
The sweet aroma of her perfume,
Exposes my dimples in the light.
There’s no reason to hide,
The feelings I have on the inside.
I want to know her better,
Simply spend some time together.
Escort her on a date night,
Affirm her all throughout the night.
She’s the special one tonight,
I hope she feels like a queen tonight.
There’s no one more important,
Than her at this very moment.
Since I listen to those,
Whom raised me right.
I know how to treat my lady right;
And have a sweet Valentine’s night.
Are we going to be pruned now like limbs left exposed naked to the elements?*
He is just a simple man
born and raised in middle America,
loves God, country, family and apple pie,
but raising his voice in public,
in Constitutionally protected
free speech, to protest Marxist idiology
taking over his government
has labeled him a potential
domestic terrorist.
The edict has gone out
from those on high to alert the minions
in Intelligence- FBI, DHS
(isn't that what the Patriot Act
is all about).
Any who disagree with "progressive" thought will be pruned from society.
Citizens do not speak out,
do not question
Socialist/Communist/Marxist
maxims infecting every thought
from Congress to school boards
to neighborhood stores!
Inflation, shipping disruptions,
illegal immigration by the millions, Afghanistan debacle, kiddie p*rn in public schools,
abortion on demand; zero through the day of birth.
Terminate the employment
of un-vaccinated nurses, doctors,
flight attendants, pilots
mother's-to-be and those with natural immunity.
No religious or health exemptions.
Keep them out of public places.
While the President says
"No worries, all is well, all is well."
Just embrace the Great Reset!
Woe is me!
"Show me your papers please!"
Arrested and thrown in jail, without bail
for daring to repeat this thought:
If freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.”**
*Victor David Hanson
**George Washington
This poem is the result of damage to neurons in the frontal and temporal lobes of my brain. My intelligence deteriorates daily – By Poet.
Through my inner being,
I grasp my primal consciousness.
Where thoughts are filtered,
The deepest seem hidden even from me,
Only accessible to my subconscious,
The misted screen defies entry.
I yearn for the clarity within.
Do my dreams simulate this awareness?
Do they lift the veil of protection?
Or do they serve to create this confusion?
Searching my tempestuous mind,
I reach the intangible.
I strive to procure a sieve,
That will once again release awareness,
To my demented mind.
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Contest Screen of Awareness Poetry Contests
15th May 2023
Two days ago, the curbside stack of trash was shaping up.
The maximum size of 4W x 8L x 4H was just about done.
About this time, a friendly homeless man suddenly showed up.
He walked toward me and said, "I just lost my apartment".
He said his name was Sky, and I thought, "How interesting".
I offered him food, called a Mercy Pact, that I keep in my car.
He was grateful, but noticed two lawn mowers out back.
Yes, he was a little challenged but of adequate intelligence.
He knew that I was cleaning out the trash, but not that I was moving.
He wanted to look at the lawn mowers. So, I allowed him to investigate.
I offered him the older smaller green mower that ran well, but his eyes
and heart were set on the larger red and newer one that needed a part
and did not run. He kept trying to make the red one run but to no avail.
I suggested the part it probably needed and gave it to him and put $7 in
his hand. With food, a warm blanket I also gave him, a lawn mower, and a few dollars, Sky then departed. He was very happy and said that I made his day. I tell you; Sky made my day.
Everything I did was an effort to demonstrate the love of God, to lead him
to the knowledge of Jesus Christ as his savior. With words yes, but words
accompanied by deeds.
Before he left, I informed Sky that 'our meeting was no accident but a Divine Appointment'. I encouraged Sky and prayed with him. Among other things, I remember praying that God would resurrect Sky to a new life and allow good things to happen to him. My last words to Sky? "God loves you".
010722PSCtest, A Strand (1047), Brian Strand
2nd contest entry: 081322, Your Second Chance 1ST Poetry Contest
Sotto Poet
Insatiable - Quest For Perfection historically
From The Republic of Plato's Socrates
Offspring with high intelligence, comradery
Athletic, science minded, co operative
Tailor made 8 cell diagnosis selects finest
Anxious embryo developer keen to accelerate
Pleasurable reflection held in liquid nitrogen
White gold filled syringe holder operates
Selective patronage of top notch chromosones
Sought out the prestige of Nobel Bank of Sperm
Files boasted outstanding bio father credentials
Mothers maintain reputation of ability to discern
Nobel's demise came in failure to maintain stock
Eugenics launched acceptance of IVF technology
Petered genius imput, deposits from general flock
Duped recipients faithfully awaited tiny prodigies
Varied outcomes, 215 proclaimed, now adults
Demonstrate unclear connection between elite
Genes giving invincible humans as sure result
Driven by nurture to thrive, rationale incomplete
9th September 2020
Kai Michael Neumann, Sponsor
Clutching At Straws
Today marks a milestone
Highlighting life's style shown
A classy, sophistication few women have ever known
An aura shining brightly that is all her own
No longer a child, into a woman she has grown
All the beauty, grace, & intelligence she has shown
Prepares her for the day she must stand on her own
Does she realize she will never face this world alone?
A mother's love is a strength that is written in stone
Forever, will a mother's bond remain a skipping stone
Guiding her daughter as she journeys into a world unknown
An elegant lady transcends from the childhood she has outgrown
Like a mighty Queen sitting atop her ornate throne
Anywhere is everywhere, captivating all places through which she has blown
An Angel, she rises above the challenges out of which she has flown
On a pedestal she will forever emanate radiance outshone
Destynee, an alluring beauty the world has never known
Let the final countdown begin
Proxy war in Afghanistan
Saudi Arabia vs. Iran
India vs Pakistan
Sunni vs Shia
The 38th divide of Korea
China taking over the sea
As the US debt is skyrocketing
Militaries expand
Droughts and famine in farmlands
Christian exodus from the middle east
Refugees from the lack of peace
Annexations by Russia
No one screams in hysteria
Pocket nukes are ok to use
Mankind has a short fuse
One, two, three, four, five
What to do to stay alive
To simplify, put your head between your legs
And kiss your *** goodbye
God, please hold our hand
The world is sinking in quicksand
Angry, greedy statesmen
Sounding the drum of the horsemen
Artificial intelligence
Climate change and mass surveillance
With two minutes left to midnight
Listen for the sound
Drop the beat, hit the ground
Dynamite as bright as daylight
Signaling for help with a flashlight
Playing the rave, igniting the night
The blasting wave, in the grave, later love
Smitten with the fireworks above
The nuclear deterrent is gone
Nothing but an oxymoron
The plight of mankind fight
Cockroaches become the spotlight
As they write what happened at midnight
February 7, 2018 - Updated 5/14/2019
For Emile Pinet
Contest The doomsday clock 2 minutes to midnight
Form: