Long Neglectful Poems
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I heard echoes of scurrilous snarls,
from my conscience as it spoke
contemptible remarks aimed at me.
What shame those words delivered.
"Fatuous one, why does your hand quiver,
mimicking the trembling lips of a child in fear?
You dare call yourself a poet,
but you're nothing more than a joke."
Guilt is the culprit that tunnels my mind
as my passion for poetry shrivels on its vine.
Withering like a flower, my empty heart
has stripped my soul of its craving to write.
It's my own foolish notion
that causes me to shiver.
I weep over my planted seedlings.
They thirst, and their mournful cries I hear.
Abandoned by their mother who begot them,
and for this I'm filled with remorse and regret.
That mocking voice invaded my aching breast,
when again, it ridiculed me as a fool...
"A self-proclaimed bard who gives up the task.
You should put down the quill and live in disgrace."
There is no saving grace for me.
No nourishment for my verses to thrive.
My heart is broken, drowning in memories.
Without the will to live, how will it survive?
It only drums in rhythm to keep me alive.
Rows of sprouted thoughts have withered.
Parched and dying, drying up in a field of grief.
While I, their neglectful sower, helplessly sit
as time elapses and I watch them expire.
I’ve fallen between the gaps of missing lines
into an abyss, my fingers charred in a fire.
I can only water the seeds of self doubt
with salty sweat from my furrowed brow
and over fertilize them with tears of frustration.
I do not seek salvation or redemption.
Damnation will out.
My ink well of impetus has sprung a leak
or maybe it's a new watering hole I seek.
I have not a drop to quench their thirst
no morning dew, nor afternoon shower
to give my wilting buds reprieve, a relief.
I've tried to save them all, or was it just
a half-hearted attempt made in vain?
Not one more rhyme can I rescue from pain.
I'm suffering from loss. All hope is gone.
My fear is that I cannot express myself
in what was once an emotional voice.
No wonder my pages remain barren and blank,
except for the blotches of spilled ink.
My parchment lies in a state of immortal decay.
I relinquish my quill to a better hand than mine,
setting it free and praying that I be forgiven.
For the folly, I've only myself to blame,
this pillaged poet.
People can be so judgemental
And I am lost and sentimental
I would cry a river for you
Even a beautiful ocean too
I am so insecure
But, I will endure
I know I was in the wrong
I know I was in it all along
Why are so many people so mean and spiteful?
Why is everyone acting negative and neglectful?
I should be happy in my own skin forevermore
But, people talk behind my back and don't know what for...don't know what for...don't know what for…
Why is my ongoing life shattering piece after piece again?
Why can't we all be at peace with each other? I'm a failure...
Why am I still wondering where my horrid mind have been?
Why is strife getting in the way of the light? I'm so unsure...
The devil has caught me under his spell
Where do I dwell? Up there or in hell?
Sinister spirits sound their trumpets in my brain
Am I going insane? I feel so much pain…
The pain of giving up is making me feel hopeless inside
The drain below me is where I go to hide...to hide…
Satan has deceived me again and I fell apart
Where do I begin? Will he take kind heart?
He frightens me by his lightning of the deep
He's extremely harmful as I prayerfully speak and my spirits and heart will leap
Satan frightens me and haunts me without an end
He smothers me and taunts me - how can I mend?
Where do I begin?
My life's full of sin
I can't go on anymore
Feeling so restless and sore
Nothing seems good enough to me
Will He set me free from my captivity?
Will God see me through my worries of obscurity?
Will He see me through my weaknesses and negativity?
Two penguin parents and their chick
Are bringing people ‘round
To ogle at their lifestyle
And the happiness they’ve found.
Australians are delighted
At the airing of this tale
For the parents, Sphen and Magic,
Are both penguins who are male.
Their obvious affection
Led their keepers to decide
To entrust them with an egg
Neglectful parents did provide.
They built a nest and alternated
Sitting ‘til it hatched,
Each spending near a month, a time
No other penguins matched.
Though humans often battle
Over whether gays should wed,
They should look to Sphen and Magic,
Seeing what their love has bred.
I hold your letters in my hands,
The words wrapped in swirls of trembling, yet vivid, lovely, handwriting
Bits and pieces of yourself, of your life, the precious life, that you shared with me
Telling me such little details...of the dress you bought, or perhaps the squirrel in the yard
or a brief accounting of the rain that came one morning...
Snippets of a life that went unnoticed, seemed unremarkable
Until......until you were gone.
Until I began to realize that I wouldn't have a second chance...another day
to pay closer attention, to ask more questions, ...to show more interest
to look deeper into your wisdom, your eyes, and see the clarity that comes with age...
Your caring,...your patience....your understanding...
That in my neglectful ways, I thought would always be there...
These letters I hold in my hand...ending with words of love....that perhaps I didn't deserve...
You would have said, "I understand"...."It's all right", ..."I forgive you"
But,........ can I, ...will I, .... forgive myself?
.(This is a fictional poem)
The school counselor told me that you have Aids.
You didn't come to me because you were afraid
For years I yelled and neglected you, I wasn't a good father.
When it came to trying to be a good parent, I didn't even bother.
I know that I've been a lousy dad but I'm going to start being there for you.
I'll climb a mountain or swim across an ocean if that's what I have to do.
I'm not sure how much more time we'll have together.
But i'll be here to help as you go through the stormy weather.
You're in pain because of this illness you have to endure.
I'm going to hold you in my arms and pray for a cure.
Form:
The cut bashed from a hike in the woods , and the roll down the
Hill and the wound if not washed and dressed with the proper
ointment will fester and have a malodorous odor. The wounded
hiker should as duty calls rush home, head to the closet , seize
the first aide kit, and wash the laceration conventionally as a
nurse would. And apply ointments and gauze to avoid problems.
But left untreated one part of our anatomy is unseen and forever
hidden of the prying eyes of X-rays, ultrasounds and surgeons on
operating tables or exam rooms. Its even hidden from the one
whose body it was given to before all ages. And we know this
because the Holy Spirit has given us our soul to enrich and
enliven us. I can talk to my soul by telling him I love him and
listen for responses and welcoming guidance.
What can I do to my soul after years of wounding. Addiction,
sexual exploitation, lack of nourishment of prayer to God,
neglectful adoration of God and degradation of my soul left
alone imprisoned through indignity after indignity until the wound
festers and my very being lingers on the verge. No ointment or
gauze or bandage may be of service to the substance of my
being. Alone the body moves as the soul watches a silent
tear ,gradually, and slowly gushes out of the heart of mine own
eye as he lingers crying.
Those lasting words pour through my lobes as with each gasp,
reaching further inside of me for something hidden, I see a
shadowed face tear struck and wanting, reaches and pulls me
forward.
So, I guess a 12 year old
American brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
is outside your boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Well, I can see why you would need
to draw your boundary
for healthy rationality
outside his grassy field of fire-armed play.
I can see why we need to draw this line
of "only predictably SWM domesticated life matters"
the way we do
to look our friends and children in the eyes
while saying,
"I can accept this loss
as one caused by an unfortunately timed
dual act of accidental wildness;"
But is it not significantly wilder
to fire ballistics at youth
than for youth to fire only ballistic imagination?
I can see that we need to doubt
reasonable risks of public recreation
for some lives
differently than other lives
and times
to gaze into our social-cultural mirror
with both eyes
fully comprehending compassionate integrity:
"We accept that Black Adolescent Lives Splatter
loss across our leaking shared loves and livelihoods,
thereby wilting our collective mental health,
starving our social wealth for future regeneration,
and yet hope we still dream
of somehow re-transposing,
All Lives Matter
in current US ReligiousRight culture.
Now that is egocentric mendacity;
not even Anthro-centric integrity.
We each and all must hunt our way
toward facing our fear of ourselves
our lack of empathy
and mind positive passions
and body healing pleasures
surpassing our neglectful lack of fully activating
Win/Win panentheistic wisdom.
Some hunting ways bring further AnthroSupremacist
Business As Usual
cognitive-affective dissonance;
further failure of Earth's polycultural integrity,
further degenerative ego-traumatizing stasis.
Some hunting ways promise more co-operative co-arising ballast
for culturally active hope.
It is this ballast we seek
between our self/other-reflecting eyes,
hoping to discover peace within as justice without,
and not more enslaving reductive addiction
to ballistics of overly-automated violence
Silent souls
full-will impassioned pleasures
without sufficient time to assess full-intent,
responding to fear of fear ourselves,
right between our blindered eyes
So it becomes challenging to see
a brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
as well within our mental health care boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Where there is malnutrition, let us provide basic human resources, for the poor and the destitute. Where there is insufficient: clothing, shoes, water, housing, education, and job opportunities-let the world community take the necessary actions.
Where there is talk of: ethnic, religious, sexual cleansing, let us hold those responsible accountable for their crimes against humanity. Where there is talk of warfare among the nations, or ethnic groups; let us preach and practice world peaceful harmony.
Where there is sexual and human trafficking; let us put an end to such human miserable mistreatment. Let us provide freedoms to the captives. rehabilitation, moral, ethical and spiritual guidance. Housing, education,and employment opportunities.
Where is talk of domestic violence against people, and property; let us provide the necessary intervention, legal action, and restoration.
Where there is talk of warfare, and violence between hostile nations; let us hold out the olive branch of reconciliation and peace. There are no winners or losers in the game of warfare, only its hopelessly defenseless victims.
Where there are crimes against the natural world and the animal population, let us be a voice to those who have no voice. Let us defend a world unable to defend itself. Let us not just fold our hands and walk away. Let us not fail to acknowledge the problem. by the failure to take affirmative action. Let us not follow in the neglectful footsteps of the current United States' presidential administration, of Donald Trump!
There are so many issues facing the world community, they are not all addressed here!
Love as always!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
RoxyLea1954
June 27, 2017
Religious,
and perhaps all pedagogical traditions,
are variations on a creation story theme,
both rooted in, and feeding on, multicultural evidence
of faith in polyculturally expanding
mental-crown/physical-root
therapeutic resonant wealth/resilient health-integrity
Fruit of Holy Spirit/Nature co-arising love/life outcomes,
actively loving trusted truths
with peak experienced sacred beauty,
and or diverse
more monotheistic Truth v polytheistic Beauty
fundamentally monoculturing,
monopolistic,
colonizing
abusive and neglectful
demonically dispirited
dissociative ideation,
irreligious actively distrusting trauma,
unnatural,
dis-organically disorganizing
rabidly anti-womanist
homophobic
racist
and anti-spiritual idolatries.
Metaphysics,
religious and scientific and aesthetically woven creation stories,
are bicamerally reconnecting
mindful trust and sacred body beauty
of humane EarthMother
indigenously polytheistic faith
in FatherSun+EarthMother
prime enlightening+empowering
ego/ecosystemic
inhaling/exhaling
informing/exflowing
positive wealth/health co-relationship.
Faith evolves an external landscape cultural projection
of an internal co-empathic landscape
empowering neurosystemic inclusivity
and economically ecological
re-connecting
co-arising peak inter-religioning gratitude,
and degenerative dissonance therefrom.
Gratitude
is a Basic Trust
aptic-empathic response
formed through the experiential praxis of agapic love,
tribal integrity,
RNA/DNA synergy;
the Holy holistic gestalt
of becoming ReGenerate Issue-Identity Awareness;
original intent of deeply enlightened co-gravity's bicameral listening
for healthy WinWin self-identity nutritional opportunities
with diminishing LoseLose risks through decomposition of WinLose networks,
internal and external.
Sociopathology:
My problem is that I am not the center of my universe.
Sociotherapy:
My solution is to perma-multi culturally reintegrate
within our shared universal (0)-soul center,
each moment,
each thought within time,
each relationship between times,
each resonantly resolving development
of EarthTribe's ecologically unfolding time.
Some would say,
although not LaoTse,
and maybe not the Lakotae,
certainly not Animae,
or my Aunty Mae
on Mary Jae,
Egos just wanna fight or flee
or something strangely Other
than with or against
ego-viral identity.
But Taoists
healthy-Yang with wealthy-Yin display,
In-between fight and flee
lies our more ambiguously WinWin transubstantiating Way,
already there,
for those who Left with Right see
what we could be
with actually quite a bit more integrity.
Synergy between opposing Elite/NonElite emotions
need not necessarily end in quick-sand
UnHoly Spirited chaos
of alien ambiguous Other,
mere positive or negative or not-not double-boundup intentions
hiding on Other side
of ego fragmentation--
Integrity remains Earth's original eco-interdependent
RightMind intuition
of and for creative dipolar apposition
between active fight and passive flee
non-abusive
non-neglectful
non ego-narcissistic
non anthro-hubris
WinWin RealTalk communication,
too non-violently curious to fight,
too non-aggressively courageous to flee.
Sometimes,
between fight and flee
and you
and me,
I prefer to listen to divinely majestic mountains
and whisper through Earth's HolySpirited valleys
promising to return
to our originally democratic
blue-green surfing sea.