Long Obstinance Poems
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III.
Some claim that your sex is all in your head,
that you can change it at any old time,
gender is not bound by our biology,
it’s nothing more than a sure state-of-mind,
and so we see them, dressing up all weird,
demanding that we go along with their claims,
trying to say this will make it all better,
but nothing ever seems to ease their pain.
And given that forty percent of such folk
will eventually attempt suicide,
does it make that much sense to enable them,
or are we just setting them up to die?
And given how often it fades away
is it wise to encourage a change,
to watch someone mutilate themselves
when there’s a good chance it’s a passing phase?
Plus messing with hormones is a big risk,
what know we of the long term effects?
And when they’re given to confused minors
who the hell knows what will happen next?
How can we even let our children decide
to forever bind themselves to this fate,
children are stupid, their minds not yet formed,
different people at six and at eight.
With no experience of the real world,
no understanding of what is to come,
to throw in hormones and harsh surgery
To such a mercurial mind sure is dumb.
What happens if the ‘girl’ at sixteen
grows out of it and sees that ‘she’s’ a man?
Can you undo the hormones, bring back his parts,
or to that confused state is he damned?
It all seems to be a dumpster fire,
obstinance when the truth is too strong,
and you nobody even wants to ask
what will happen if we’ve got it wrong?
I have often seen perfidious faces
wandering through dark hallways
without showing any human resemblance:
ah, is it envy, ah is it jealousy;
or an unquenchable absurdity
that doesn't admit their open obstinance?
Unrestrained hate can turn us into unrecognizable monsters,
and these demons must carry out the plotted massacres
to be satisfied with the vengeful evil inflicted upon the strollers,
no pity is shown while the flesh gurgles with blood and shivers!
What should be the right penalty? Face death, or remain chained?
Before pulling the trigger: are we aware of the consequences?
Each person is responsible for their behavior: it's an ample hatred
never quenched by vengeance to feed its atrocious thoughts!
Unrestrained hatred can turn us into unrecognizable monsters,
who loves others never commits horrible acts of madness;
hey, do you love your neighbors? Hey, do you say, " Good Morning "
to them and wish them joy through the day with a happy feeling?
I rise from deep within the earth
out of pressured lavas
I rise above the level into
breathable realms
I rise following the risen
He who set my path and
monitors my lift lovingly
tenderly, yet such pinions
given of steeliness unpluckable
I rise for the grace of the Father,
for the loving sacrifice of the Son,
for the Spirit, all Powerful, Ever-present,
All Knowing – I rise from man's mental
coma...from delirium of his lesser ego,
from estrangement of his physical-obstinance;
climbing higher, into loftier, far brighter reality
of being...
cleanly exalted, my consciousness purified –
I rise on frequencies of heavenly choirs...
throngs of worshiping angels welcoming, wings
fanning my once fuming soul – all the while
singing Praise to Christ, man's Conqueror Lord:
The slayer of Death; the Subduer of devils
and their throngs of whispering, shouting,
deafening demons;
I rise from out under the Master Liar...jealous possessor,
once Arc of God's Most beloved till Fallen...
I rise on a divine swell of compassion and forgiveness –
carried yet higher, on upward, surging tide of greater purification,
resurrected with Divine momentum...a soaring sea of expanding
spiritual freedom...
It is Easter,
as The Risen One anointed, so shall we follow
and rise!
“Glory to God
in His Highest!”
"The Flipside"
We write
our hearts out
we pull
the catch back in
slowly,
they read,
we think,
too fast
swallowed
in the hollowed out
hallowed hearts measured
ounce per ounce
we write
our hearts out
stamping footprints
obstinance turning
ourselves
inside, out
stone washing
ourselves
inside
out
written on
lines
wrung out,
expelled
pegged left
hanging
right
left
without
missives,
no doubt
on the flip side
of eternity
gravity
grounds us
toes
touch the ground
neck and face
upwards
downwards,
still life
breathing
eyes watching,
reading, waiting
the mystery
we believe,
or, we sit still
debating
the earthly
volume
a boulder
pulley drawn
backwards
forwards
backwards
in quarters
we are quartered
like poetry
we are,
washed
in clouds
inside
out,
we are
on the
flipside ;
waiting
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
My name is Walter Eddington,
live in Maine with my wife and son,
own a growing timber company
way up north with vast tracts of trees.
My son’s name is Bruce, and one day
at age fourteen he came home to say
that cutting trees was an ‘evil’ thing,
what in the hell are these schools teaching?
I tried to explain how it all works,
how we must balance needs of the earth,
how we rotate where we harvest,
and then replant seedlings in mass.
That we were really big tree farmers,
that was how me made a dollar,
made no sense to cut it all down,
no future profit in barren grounds.
Told him of our thirty years cycle
how when trees grew that land was wild,
that managing lots kept out condos,
thought he’d think different if he did know.
But it’s black and white at age fourteen,
nothing but an emotional scene,
he held to the nonsense he was taught,
but his obstinance gave me a though.
The next day, while he was at school,
I did something some would think cruel,
went to his room, a point to prove,
all wood and paper I them removed.
All his posters and his bed-frame,
pencils and books, boxed that contained,
his night stand and desk, and paper,
when Bruce came home he was lost for words.
I smiled and said,”It’s as you like,
nothing made from a tree inside,
in truth, son, you should be thanking me
for saving you from hypocrisy.”
Now maybe I was a bit extreme,
but it can be hard reaching a teen,
needless to say, after all that
he never again gave my job flack.
Consequences stirred his growing mind,
he would think things through next time,
reason would balance out the young fool,
if it doesn’t, then time to home-school.
We never engaged in the pleasure of love-making,
they banned us from giving embraces and kisses:
how belief shaped the naiveness of our minds...
making us fear and keep us from sweet giving!
We longed to tremble, giving a passionate kiss,
we looked around and we saw stern, watchful eyes;
sweetness slipped out of thoughts, turning to bitterness...
they controlled us to impose the strict rules of obstinance!
We never dreamed of ecstasy, always showing a longing
for becoming one soul anchored by nightly loud moans;
we were deprived of sexual thoughts, never drifting
and feeling free from glances: religion bans and kills!
We were lonelier than children reading bed-time stories,
not frolicking romance to incite desire and awareness;
we missed on our youth for their concept of shining grace:
wasn't sex created by God to increase the Human race?