Long Monotonously Poems
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Birthdays.
What a dubious way to celebrate the imminent proximity of an epilogue.
A concept I have found myself familiar with, as I wait for its darkness to breathe my flesh into an eternity of condemn.
It’s so monotonously profound, rousing my revulsion into a cavern of numbing ecstasy.
The hallucination of confetti blinds me in a disdain of joyous vibrancy I beseech for a defrauding.
A joyous vibrancy I elude in a hope of inevitable invasion.
A joyous vibrancy I hunt until the trail of its scorn boils with the distraught of my blood.
The mascara pours down my face; a river of infamy, coercing the heft of my obscenity.
The lipstick smears down my chin; a sadistic endeavour to ravage the dereliction of my leeches.
The highlighter gleams; a grotesque jubilation of a fibbing mockery.
And the fundamental rigour of my perished rot derides in a soul prompting conjecture;
I hope this is my last birthday.
Wealthy thrivers off polarizing put-down strategies
calcify toxic win/lose Capitalization patterns
building up around bicameral governing hearts
of our health-wealth struggling
ebb and flow financial system.
Investment of time and money,
nutrition flowing in established monoculturing directions
tends to stick there,
accumulating ever more fatty tissue,
monopolistic
monotheistic
monotonously chronic issues
of economic heart failure
ensues hardening of political life's
systemic trauma arteries.
More polycultural integrity
of Win/Win co-passion
sustains resonant
ecologically economic enlightenment
and neurologically healthy
resilient political empowerment
where monocultural supremacy,
with stressed-out hardening arteries,
will fail
to optimally thrive,
while sucking in environmental resources
until formerly healthy families
and communities
and species over-consume
and wilt
and fail
faster than our interdependent
systemic healthcare replacement rate.
What do starving and thirsty bio-health systems need from you
with you
of you
through you
to share with you
every nurturing grace we could cooperatively contain?
My answer does not end
with another monotheistic TrumpCard,
or anthro-supremacist
patristic
industrial ballistic
militarized Capitalistic
retributive justice competition.
These are in dynamic opposition
to all reconnecting religious feelings
and thoughts.
Hearts over-flowing with oppositional power-investment
will only further harden current monotheistic death-trends,
traumatically degenerative
EarthCardiac arrest
of panentheistically religious
indigenous
love-life revival.
I’m passing through a bad part of Richmond,
a long trip almost over. Night rain drizzles
wipers creak monotonously,
the blacktop no longer flying
but crawling over my eyes.
On the edge of the city
there’s a liquor store, maybe the last
before the dark interior of Ohio.
I park under its low neon shadows.
Two belligerent drunks
are fighting, both missing each other
in slow motion.
Inside the store
more unsteady men argue,
there arms gesticulating
like broken windmills,
plus one sleazy feme yelling silently
but I can lipread most swear words.
The nightshift counter-clerk is a kid
and he looks like he’s ready to bolt.
Maybe I could slip in there unnoticed
past all the sweaty mayhem.
Maybe make do with a cold beer,
throw some dollars down
make off into the night unscathed
by lashing tongues or flailing fists
More imagined nocturnal scenarios
scatter in my head like dandelion seeds
dispersing on a dry wind.
I still need a drink.
Standing in the heart of this city
in awe of spectacular lights illuminating tall buildings.
Millions of strangers rush to and fro.
Who would've thought I would be here of all places.
But here I am feeling misplaced
in a place where no one knows your name.
I fasten the winter coat tight
to keep my heart wrapped warm,
because this city of strangers is so cold.
People wandering like bad actors struggling
to play their part with faces lacking expression.
Concrete towers seem to imprison me
in a place my soul does not belong.
I walk the same path monotonously,
wondering where it all went wrong.
But here I am feeling lost and alone .
I'm smiling but only to keep the dancing tears at bay.
I can't be someone who I'm not,
nobody seems to appreciate that I'm misunderstood.
And the dream that brought me here today,
now wants me to return home.
As my naked breath freezes in the air,
for a moment tired eyes close.
A smile sneaks through reminiscing Chamorro dreams.
Bathing under a blazing sun whose rays
glow through clear azure skies.
Crystal sapphire seas invite my soul
to immerse in tranquil waves,
peacefully admiring pestrel and
shearwater birds soaring high above.
I can almost hear warblers chirping melodic songs
of home, perched on a parade of paipai and coconut trees.
Scents of colourful plumeria and hibiscus petals
draw my senses closer to my heart's province.
Old foot prints have now washed away.
How I long to walk on sands of my forefathers,
where loved ones await with open arms.
Silent One collaboration with Akkina Downing
12 January 2018
Like fish
for whom water might have transparent invisibility
of an untroubled healthy atmosphere
So too,
our prime bicameral compassionate relationship
is also
our SpiritualMind/NaturalBody Win/Win first love
and last Truth AND Beauty
Passion AND Pleasure hope
For ever-more polyculturing climate health,
and not degenerative Win v Lose
monoculturing
LeftHemisphere dominant
monotheistic
monopolistic
monolithic
monotonously predictable
caste-preserving monstrous pathology.
That being so,
if indeed I have this Left AND Right balanced accurately,
conserve/progress polypathically,
economically and politically,
ecologically,
then health optimization
for LeftBrain ego-caste conservation
AND RightBrain eco-caste liberation
can never settle for tolerating
pluralistic InEgo v OutEco caste-preserving voices,
instead, using these emergent compromised choices
toward discerning WinEgo/WinEco
panentheistic co-passionate pleasure.
This could be true within a humaneMind/diviningBody individual,
within sacred/organic extensive families
living in and on EarthShelters
within natural dynamic-enspirited,
cooperatively-owned and managed economies,
and between politically incorporated governments,
as it is true within any regeneratively trending healthy ecosystem,
explicitly thought,
and implicitly felt,
Crown conserving
and Root liberating our nondualist
ego/eco-arising journey
toward Win/Win healthy inside safe environments,
like fish in ecotherapeutic waters.
Just as "no air" environmental awareness
feels safe for a fish
Just as "no water" environmental awareness
feels safe for human lungs
Just as organic "belonging" awareness
feels Anthropocene safe
from desecrating trauma triggers.
My matriarchal genetic line
of narrative
not quite sublime
resonantly erupts
regeneratively abrupt
Loves repeating
robustly carnal wisdom's long
drawn out song
Continuously unabated
with unconditional
transgenerational regard
something emerging more positively
than simply not not hated
Unlike our discontinuous patriarchal lines
drawn win/lose competitively
dominating lies
across sandy soils, now quaking
under shaking stubborn feet
awaking.
Where Mom will wake
each morn to greet
this life feels glad
to peacefully repeat
While Dad will scowl,
invoke defeat
his love was lost
in-dust-trials
of empty sad
manufactured repeat.
Monotonously monotheistic
monopolizing maniacal statistics
monoculturally atheistic
monochromatically dominating
anthro-supremely
down with EarthRights
hedonistic.
The resonance of love a driving force,
wistful yearning absences abandon
Portrayal parts the push & pull
peels away the body into the pouncing centre
& yonder possessing each other’s essence,
willful surrenders their own
identity, boundary be fully intertwined
Lonesome hunters our hearts desires insatiable
irrepressible is their urge to merge,
an uncanny recognition binds her body
with his body, soul one
resistance melts in rapture's tender kiss
the cruel gods flounder in our desires
never may they rest assure
Love scholar arouse my lustful heart
enrich erotic pleasures
warn me not that a fake potion
held in hands of a sorcerer
brings heartache hopes dashed,
love's meaning cynical, a virus
disappointed lovers of unreturned love
pre-historic, primal expressions
representational archiving in art
an endless timestamp
Salt from the ocean—a portion
petals of roses— plenty
scents of jasmine—generous amounts
an obsession potion still longs
Cannot love too align with faith & virtue?
echoing past passions pleading
to a higher love for one more touch
of carnal charisma, lovers lascivious wink
with every yearnful intent
Memories, momentum lovesick,
a love that’s never been
“O jealous lover a scorpion’s sting
upon herself” warns the erudite elixir
draped in saffron silk, cherry red strands cascade
at the nape of her neck “Why risk the sulk of
undying loyalty should you have
re-echoing of the roar”
rumbling, grumbling makeshift to explore
Crashing waves. blue crush. cream foams
drumming erratic thrumming thick erotica
gripping warm sand, monotonously, till pulsating suds settle
Sorceress or scholar? A spiritualist movement
Azoth hides in all things since beginnings of life
& till end of days, remedy me
O potent solvent sought in the realm of alchemy,
akin to alkahest quest, Caduceus’ crux of ancient
& raised were the chalcedony Buddha stones
Immersed in a poetic mind of love
embraces, oscillates, reverberates emotional
Perhaps love is revived in the afterlife,
where longing is no longer punishment but returned
It doesn’t matter if a droplet falling into a pond is early morning dew born from a petal, rain drop gathered from the misty air on one of those gloomy day’s afternoon or simply a flake of weightless snow. The reason ripples created by such droplets are, not like the surging waters disappearing in a cloud of spray after beating upon the break-water in the air, the commotion of surfs monotonously coming to shore and returning sea disguised in white bubbles left on the sands, come calmly with no affection but simple artless form.
The reason why I like the ripples started from the drop of water on the pond is, they spread as multiple rings come and go without a sound, and therefore, its soundless sound touches my heart as if deep sigh of the long mistreated forsaken men or a pure and clear mind of a man who attained the highest state of enlightenment through deep meditation thereby well understood true meaning of the life and the death.
It doesn’t matter where the ripples come from: an exuviae of
a dragonfly fell on the pond from wanting to return home where he spent his larva days though an imago flew away long ago to find his mate, a colorful petal faded away when the flower withered after its glorious days were gone, or a leaf, though there is no wind, fell in the pond dawdling for a while because it has to leave on a journey of no return holding a grief of decay.
For the water ring moves only forward and, as if it’s the rings fate, vanish away without expressing emotion of any sort when it comes and touches the shore. Since the water ring doesn’t have place to return, there is no lingering attachment whatsoever; since it has no need for plausible excuse to justify its existence or nonexistence there would be much easier to live through its given life and leave quietly.
My life was droning along, quite monotonously
like a tired, worn-out song... drawling endlessly
Then one day it happened- two whole lives affected
a simple letter was penned, something unexpected
The letter said “How 'bout it? Can we write a poem together?”
I wanted to say “I doubt it” and avoid it altogether
But the letter said it's “more fun” to write in collaboration
so I said “Okay, let's do this” despite my reservations
We picked a topic at random, I didn't know where to start
but as soul-fated chums, we wrote complementary parts
I started in the middle, while she penned beginning and end
when put together, it made us smile- and we were instant friends!
That's how I came to know her- yes, this wise and clever faerie
a friend I love the very best, a creative visionary
Poems only our tribe would “get”... our silliness in synchrony
I am so glad that we have met, I'm sure she would agree
Like loving mothers, we watch enthralled as our muses frolic and play
such wild creations- we love them all, surprised by what they say!
This describes how I became friends with my dear soul-sister, Caren Krutsinger... the first of many awesome people I would meet on the 'Soup!
Christians, fundamentalist and evangelical,
Have their own music, which is loud and clear,
But although it’s repeated monotonously every week,
It always excites them so, when they draw near.
Their music stimulates them unfailingly,
I mean, the preaching concepts and doctrine;
They even embrace and trophy dogma as helpful,
To it they are faithful, absolutely fine.
I used to think that strange and unacceptable,
To admit to a dogmatic conceptual model,
And now I consider it extremely weird,
To normal standardised frameworks toggle.
It’s unhealthy to resign the many to hell,
To want to gel with a king who's dead,
To only ever have one conversation aim,
And to desire a book you've already read.
For every such Christian I meet and interact with,
I just remember that they listen to their own music,
And even though they may each be hearing it themselves,
I'm sure that for such twaddle there’s a linguistic.
30/9/2015