Long Proprietors Poems
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My disillusionment with organized religion
came as a result of my realization of its
ambivalent nature.
Church clothes clothe hidden judgement;
secrets ingrained in button downs,
sinners treated like cash cows,
and knees sore from repeated attempts at repentance.
You were not like that.
Though you suffered the stings of persecution's arrows,
your humanity,
the morality you possess from the altered reality we commune in,
was ever more human than the prized proprietors of the pulpit.
Our lives entail getting used to
the ground moving underneath our feet,
for we are immune to inertia, my love.
Hold me once more as you journey onward into fragile memory.
Goodbye Bible Camp Girlfriend, goodbye.
Twas the night before Christmas I went shopping suits,
As shoes looked rat-eaten, needed also warm boots;
Sales girls, in malls displayed suits in variety,
Blown up cost and lean purse grew my anxiety...!
Malls are looters, I thought, like the fox and sour-grapes,
Have proprietors, owing greed, have become apes?
In cool colors and satiny shine they sell soul,
Counting cash at the cost of the poor is their goal...!
Textile showrooms, as less showy, could be better,
They might not put me a perpetual debtor;
Varieties, there could be more, in cost less,
After all, to grace all seasons I need good dress...!
American Giant; Peter England; Rouje;
All internationals seemed like dagger and gouge;
Fashions so funny; rough and gunny; yet the cost,
Summing my few notes repeatedly, I was lost...!
Settling to try local stores, I slowly walked,
Shops were numerous like swarms serially stocked;
Each had limits in my sight; in brand or in grant,
Grade low if price less and vice versa if looked grand...!
Some smiled; some giggled; some, like friends made me convinced;
Some, like hooker-women luring actions evinced;
All these shops and show-rooms, as I narrate, not bad,
Within, I know, lack of notes is what made me sad...!
Street textile vendors will help me out, I believed,
By such sure sincere folks I will not be deceived;
With such thoughts, like an athlete I ran to each street,
Challenges like pain and perspiration, I did beat...!
You are late - they said, they pack up by twelve at night,
On Christmas they feast; though fiscally they are tight;
I went back thinking of suits within my wardrobe,
Though they have many holes, they are best in whole globe...!
25 November 2022
The Night Before 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
I look back to the halcyon days
When Mrs Johnson,
A comely widow, ran fruitful
Errands for the new railway, and for
Our undeveloped district.
A frail, little maid in green cardigan
And sable wool hat for new mourners,
She read the New Testament
With zest, from Matthew to Revelation.
And she battled with the stress of inheritance
At the foot of her husband’s death in a
Civil war.
Her only son had died in civil stress. . .
Before then,
She was a merry image of festal seasons,
Full of godly gap-toothed mirth.
Her inheritance, from the ceremony of death,
Were mere effigies
With hearts of calumny —like cruel
Neighbours who gossip from dawn
To dusk, speaking no iota of truth in
January, nor bearing good witness in
December.
Among them?
Divorcees, viragoes, astute harlots, and
Celebrated proprietors of bordellos.
Mrs Johnson laments the presence
Of a blinding yellow equatorial sun.
Says she, ”Misery in equator courses
Across the waist of here;
Stress and agony have built adobes
Among us,
And the Harmattan has departed with her
Cold . . .”
In the pall of this agony,
Snakes!
Now, shadows of floods rise high,
Like the tsunamis of restless Asia,
The height of disconsolate mountains.
Grey elephants trumpet in trepidation
Sallow, ululating leopards break the skins of
Their drums while summoning their kinsmen
For a hurried parley before the sun sinks . . .
Poor Mrs Johnson is in the midst of it all —
Like an eye in its own storm!
Duncan Hines
Long before homemade peach clobber
Just after apple pie and before fruit bowl in melon rind
Restaurateur Duncan Hines
Birth in 1880
His dad a confederate soldier
Mother died when he was 4
In his late teens attendance Bowling Green College
Later became a traveling salesman
For a Chicago salesman
Just doin fine
Duncan Hines
later, correlated compiled list turn to book
about locally neighboring restaurants around the country
a book called Adventures in good Eating
Hines wrote and cook mission completed
Ahh! more somethings to eat
Next was Duncan bread
With Durkee bakery proprietors
Later sold to Nebraska Consolidated
ConAgra, Omaha Nebraska
From bread to developing cake mixes
In the early sixties purchased by Proctor and Gamble
Mmm!! boy taste great
Let them eat cake
For a Chicago salesman
Just doin fine
Duncan Hines
At the time
Duncan Hines
12/06/17by James Edward Lee Sr.
The pet store is a strange location
Where snakes run around legless
They literally run the place
Hissing is a form of foreign communication
Translations come at a cost to life and limb
Discounted by the new proprietors within
Turtles don't speak at all
They mind their business but not the register
The human stretched out on the floor is useless
With two puncture wounds in his neck he looks adorable
Not vampire cute with all that blood and guts
Foaming at the mouth he gurgles “poison poison”
I lay down next to him to whisper in his ear
“Pet meow”...”comprende?”
The new owners hate my racist remarks
Not in so many words but in the hisses
They too do not speak in meow
That shop is down the street
Where they speak English
merciless genocide
slaughter of native peoples
wrought with (super) wanton zeal
feeble ability to thwart
"discoverers" rapine wicked onslaught
merely ratcheted wrecked webbing
wrenched tribal unity,
violently rent asunder
vibrant indigenous linkedin weave
rendered sacred weltanschauung
decimated "noble savage"
woke wretched nightmare,
sans pock marked worsted weal
the Native American holocaust
shrouded in whitewashed veil
tragedy trampled truces
triggering tearful trail
scoped scattered remnant
snuffed out via surveil
futile sympathetic remonstrances,
viz rant and rail
hermetically sealed
dirty deeds done dirt
blunted, cheapened,
and deadened
lance armstrong to quail
most definitely coloring faces
of captive
American Indians deathly pale
into figurative coffin
got hammered
rusty nine inch nail
subpar critical population mass
for survival, plus storied "red man"
bereft of ample potent male
off limits to original proprietors
forced to hightail
happy hunting grounds o'er hill and dale
becoming desiccated bleached bones
devoid of awful, pitiful,
and sorrowful fait accompli
and roaming spirits
like banshees bewail
grievous shadow a blot doth cause me to ail!
A few kids rushed for food;
The seller-proprietors had gone
Away from the ref
Into secret places;
They hid their breathe
From the vagabonds:
The mob in intellect guise!
Food was eaten from the pots;
Those huge canteen pots, full of hotness!
O, water was drank from the taps!
Now, Sir –
The road to the forest of pantology
Received the huge flaming barricade;
It was like that flame
That bore the mark of Cain’s sacrifices:
Roaming across the earth
Evading the sacred faces of heaven –
Then, Sir –
This very road was polluted
By the roaring flame of fire;
Of course, every voice is heard,
Heard in the confusion of Sodom!
This flame burnt beside the gate;
Of course, many faces flashed in terror;
Night arrived in that day,
In this forest of pantology:
The flame and smoke reached
The shrine of old Idemili, the sacred one.
Sir –
More hailstones are hanging
Above the cracked zinc;
More flame may also blaze
On the road polluted by the smoke.
Form:
A mackerel sky fillets a fish scaled village,
an ear clapping, full sailed, fog
moors itself to the rooftops,
then hides all in a breezeless blear.
Rheumy eyes peep out from nets,
damp noses sniff abaft trawling drapes.
Cloth in hand, potbellied proprietors
battle the splatter and spray,
dabbing at mildewed shelves,
warding away slopping waders
and salty puddles.
On the sightless sea
far beyond the shore and shingle,
fog horns are lowing like lost cattle.
Later, misty reeks will be scoured
from groggy docks,
hauling hands will rope together
the tide-tossed salvage
by and by, squeaky boots
may trudge to taprooms
where codgers and callow alike
can be well oiled
and duly quenched.
Permaculture Design
is the opposite of Agriculture Resigned
to unacceptable short-term financial risks
and long-term health and nutrition disasters.
Permaculture Design
is a hybrid of Agriculturally resilient health-climates
and Landscape Architecture,
Design and Engineering
Planting and Harvesting economic cycles
to create not only beautifully interdependent properties
but also nutrition optimizing systems
for human proprietors, ZeroZones,
and also for healing exhausted soil
and water,
air quality
and fire management,
cooperative enlightenment
of ego/eco
left/right nondualistic
health/wealth systems,
Perpetual networks of nutritional
nurturing
nature-enspiriting
polypathic
and metaphoric
Golden Rule
and Golden Yin/Yang Ratio
double-binding non-zero sum emergent
polyculturing resilient outcomes.
As such,
Permaculture Design,
like Restorative Peace through EarthJustice,
invests in Elitist claims
for Truth/Beauty optimizing outcomes,
AND equally co-invests,
Left with cooperative Right-hemispheric,
in radically inclusive feeling-thoughts,
Win/Win experiences and bicameral aspirations
for optimal health/wealth-care outcomes
through compassionate ego/eco-therapeutic intention
for universally integral care-giving and EarthTribe-receiving
between individual proprietary creatures
and interdependent EarthHabitats,
seeking equivalent win/win NonZero-Sum CoPassions,
emergent, yet already integral
synergetically co-developing.
Permaculture Design experiential
prime relational
bilateral mathematic calculations
for Golden Health Ratio output
abstracts from Win-EliteYang /[OVER]
Lose-NonElite Yin
power analysis to grab hold of
NonElite-RightBrain Yin is co-operatively win/win integral awareness
through double-binding
co-arising relationships with
Elite-LeftBrain Yang,
So Yin=Yang
because YinSquared=Yang
(both Left and Right co-equal neurologically dia-logical consciousness)
as ZoneZero=ZoneOne within ZoneTwo within ZoneThree.,..
An interdependent
intersectional
poly-metaphoric Ego-EcoHabitat multiculturing history
Where and if and when
Permaculture Design brings healing neuro-psychological experience
of Left OneZone identity
co-arising Right integral cooperative individuation
for and of Earth's Win/Win
bilateral thought/felt
ZeroZone.