Long Refilling Poems
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I am reading
"Democracy in Black"
by Eddie S. Glaude, Jr.
but continue reconstructing this title
"Hypocrisy in Only White."
Because
when I let my memory
look back to my own self-interests in history
as archaeological digging and prying and discovery,
adventure and curiosity
of my internal ecological development,
I reweave back
through still on-going matriarchal lines
that include,
are shared with,
anyone capable of reading
and comprehending
these words of regenerating memory.
Back
to darker
denser
richer genes and memes
of cooperative to still thrive today,
saving competitions for survival moments.
Back to
better to prey together
side by side
as neanderthal brothers and sisters
than to grow predative
against each other.
This Golden Rule
of dark Afro-Eurasian
equatorial resonant depth
of historical origin
in normative play
at least until we substitute capitalism's
supremacist agendas
for rationalism's ego-ecocentric
reweaving memory
of this original Earth Mom
magical and mysterious
then worshiped and danced
ritualed and cooperative ownership co-governing,
then more modern radical eccentricities
forgetting our shared matriarchal
regenetic
memory of dualdark
hypocrisies of merely white inferiority
complexes
disease
dissonance
despair of remaining fully
who we together are,
where we have been
predating history
where we could return
each morning
with greatest polyphonic joy.
To paraphrase David Holmgren
(Permaculture, p. 113)
Containers were one essential organic innovation
necessary for this cooperative agrarian revolution.
Opportunities to refill organically produced bodies
are enormous
transitioning into recycling energy descent
for shared cooperative memory.
Reimaging full organic containers
is far better than sending us
away and down and out for recycling.
Most official ecopolitical waste reduction strategies
place little emphasis
on organic reuse refilling re-educating
deep ecologically learning containers,
or confuse WinWin refueling,
reweaving,
with capitalism's WinLose recycling,
switching productive containers
into merely consuming eventual empties,
bleached-out white-washed faded hypocrisies
of purest supremacy against nothing
deeply densely
richly resonantly valued.
I wanna tell you a story about a little girl
A beautiful sweet little girl
who enjoys living in her
own world of recluse
hopscotching to the beat of
her own drum
She's a dreamer and boy let me tell you
her imagination loves to run wild
You may find her gazing at the stars
envisioning the birth of an
ORANGE MOON
while love RAINS DOWN
Once gray skies dissipate
Heaven then opens up
as the GOLDEN LIGHT OF THE SUN
sticks to her skin like HONEY MOLASSES
She imagines taking A
LONG WALK to admire
the beauty growing
from the branches of
an APPLE TREE
reminding her that she too
grew from her family roots
to become BEAUTIFULLY HUMAN
She is CROWN ROYAL
BLESSED to have witnessed God
line her journey with FOUR LEAF
CLOVERS to impregnate her
with luck in the form of strength
It empowers her to move mountains
and dismantle walls 20 FEET TALL
Fearing no DANGER
she marches ON AND ON
like a SOLDIER pushing through
rivers of obstacles GETTING IN THE WAY
of her purpose
The SPRING SUMMER FEELING
leaves her SO IN LOVE
as she quietly confides in the flowers
by telling them
"the ancestors are WATCHING ME"
all while dancing to THE EARTH SONG
wearing peace and
blessings on her feet
while basking in the
manifestation of gratuity
He mother nurtured her
with food for thought
refilling her with infinite wisdom
She can hear her mother's gentle voice
telling her "GON' BABY, DON'T BE LONG
TIMES A WASTIN' and
be sure to pack light TODAY so you
don't hurt your back trying to
reach your NEXT LIFETIME"
The sticky sweetness
of an EPIPHANY rest on her mind
She levitates amongst the clouds
to swing on a rainbow
She don't want nobody
next to her on this journey
but the good Lord
guiding her beyond the ROLLING HILLS
and the valley low
holding her hand
until reaching her destination
to the woman she aspires to be
In her possession she has $3 and six dimes
a bag full of scribes
and a book filled with PENITENTIARY PHILOSOPHY
written by Mumia Abu-Jamal
I am proud of this beautiful sweet little girl
who enjoys living in her
own world of recluse
hopscotching to the beat of
her own drum
She's a dreamer and boy let me tell you
her imagination loves to run wild
©5-11-2020
10/2/12
-------------------------
Reveled through the world His words are cherished
Many read the peace of His words, yet works be perished
We see the problems without the power to cure it
Lacking the wisdom we need and God’s Holy Spirit
The Feast of Tabernacles calls many to action
And with it comes happiness and endless satisfaction
Five aspects will lead us closer to the mind of God
He shows us a clear path though our ways are flawed
The paramount action is respect to one another
To be present, formal and kind to each other
What we wear physically and spiritually is important too
To be humble and dedicated in all that we do
The second call for action is the call to rejoice
To enjoy physical food and drink—the desire of our choice
To stimulate the mind with gladness and cheer
And be thankful for our trials as we ponder the year
The third act is important and it is to recall
All the blessings and promises of the coming Kingdom of God
To read back in scripture to the great men of faith
Allowing your mind to rest from the wreck of sin’s ache
As we recall we find it necessary to recommit
To be re-awakened in His life—to make something of it
We may want to acknowledge where we have fallen short in the past
Not dwelling in the desires of physical life—the things that won’t last
The last course of action will help us toughen the shell
We must recharge to build—keep refilling the well
By the Spirit of God we are quenched in barren terrain
Releasing sheets of merciful, cool rain
Many will suffer before the peace begins
But continue we must until the very end
I wish all could know just what is in store
God will reveal it eventually—just knock on His door
Encouraged by the Spirit we become the light
Defying worldly governments—refusing to fight
Shortcomings are inevitable and mistakes will be made
It is not difficult to fall—to be easily swayed
“People can be free, but still enslaved"
But in the end, all will have the chance to be saved
Look to the Bible and try what you read
Perhaps you’ll discover where the narrow path will lead
*inspired by David Hulme*
Break of day, silence glistens on the petals
pensive dew adorning the daisies,
roses breaking through the sun’s gaze
gesturing to the azaleas with all their blossoms
lost beyond the hues in hesitation,
a song plays as the birds serenade the dawn
and endless memories of a gardener
fall over the soul who God Himself nurtured
planting, growing, pruning…
winds hesitate on the maze of reflective plants,
from the naïve, immature stems
leaves glistening with hope for the days
when laughing sunrises and twilight
erase the darkest dread, restore the joyous
sensing the need for endless grace, serenity
washing away the dust from the past
and refilling the empty days with life’s tears,
the wishes raking back the leaves of last year
the earth’s decay, the grief of yesterday…
while my heart races, taking chances
love becomes more than the distant hope
it glows on my thoughts, it abides
inside my heart, glistening in the moments
teardrops and dewdrops mix together
in the garden of my faith, where He lives
always welcoming, always listening, forgiving
even the sins that I might not see,
the sins that were birthed inside me.
sins who silence me with a shame that bleeds
through my life – oh, but for His sacrifice….
still as the summer’s light,
flowing on the distant skies
a music, melody of glorious life
sent to us by the One who is –
everything, all that we need
the reason for our peace
the cause of our belief,
the purpose of each destiny
He is the reason that I can see
- though I was once blind,
His love frees me, so I can see…
Inside the heart, there lives and breaths
Love so beautiful, so still, so sweet
A gentle that I always seek
Wonder of love who grieves
for the light who grows each leaf,
in the garden where He plants
love that enriches souls
with hope and faith
that forever knows…
In His Garden, love grows and grows!
Compassion wears an overwhelming,
mountainously exterior face
Filling
and refilling outside
while emptying inside
ego flowing focus,
co-passion concavely felt
known valleys of contentment
wealth woke
health awakened
empathically safe embraced interior
Connected,
often without conditioned
encultured
articulated
verbal content
In-between integral ego/ecosystems
inducing and producing individuation,
MeWe co-relational identity
bicamerally felt communionation
bilaterally known
primordially contextual
full of mono/multi-culturing words
and empty of unmanifest feelings
NonZeroism,
like Taoism,
and Universally exterior
co-passioning Unitarian interior,
seeking
and reseeking,
deflecting
and reflecting integrity
of inside meaning
for outside purposes
co-empathically peaceful
restorative
therapeutic
healing
Viral
vital
vivaciously curious
intelligence
YangOut
and YintegrityIn,
Above
and below,
Wide compassion
and deep co-empathic
passion,
universal
and unitarian,
conserving strength
and liberal flow,
immigrant colonization
as also emigrant creolization,
convexly bold
and concavely untold,
Mountain
and valley,
transcendent monotheism
and immanent panentheism,
sacred
and secular,
mono-divine
and poly-humane,
Sun enlightenment
and Earth empowerment,
Right
and Left,
As above
so below
West
and East,
North
and South,
Spectral
and NonViolet,
healthy political spiritual culture
and wealthy economic natural climate,
Hierarchical monotheistic
dominating pole
and matriarchal panentheistic
full/empty primal [w]hole,
1
and 0,
Universal AnthroSupreme wealth
co-binding Unitarian EarthTribal health.
It’s nothing but desert for kilometers, nothing as far as you can see.
Not even the sparse brush to keep you company
Wondering further and further
Wondering if it was all for not
Hours turn to days
Then slowly days turned to weeks
Must find where it came from
It came from this way, I’m sure it was this way?
Plague and famine have ravished the towns in the basin
Nothings left with the droughts that hit
There should be something out here, a river, if gods be plentiful, a puddle if they can at least be gentle…..snakes if their more devils than gods
Lips cracked and moving as though joints were filled with sand
I see it, the oasis
It’s said to only show in times of desperate need
But there's also a curse
If your to take from the gods, even if it is to save
You must leave something dear
Hesitating, I clutch my last piece of my lost family
A little wooden block with teeth marks
It’s not just the block that must be left
It’s the memories tied to the item that must also be left
What a cruel joke
What cruel salvation
Taking the last few steps to the bubbling little river
Right up to the stacked stones
Tears run hot and ragged down my face
As I raise my hand, gently placing the block on the slab
I don't understand, there's nothing here? Just an alter
My face feels wet? Why was I crying?
No time, must hurry
I lead my horse to the water, refilling packs, loading the wagon
All while tears just streamed down my cheeks
I hope this helps them
That little town, I know no one there, not even from there
But they shouldn’t suffer like home did
But…what happened at home?
Where is home?
I don’t remember
Must have been part of the price.
I use to be and might still be
completely dedicated,
chasing a better feeling,
I needed to, I want to.
Constantly running from the silence,
that is deafening.
Every day is the last time
I will motivate myself,
I will feel in control, till the feeling fades
and dread will once again fall upon me.
Wishing I can keep my promise to myself,
but soon I will convince myself it's okay,
this time will be the last.
My best friend is the night,
that loyalty and safe feeling,
Everything second is welcoming.
A little bit to keep the feeling in place,
my mind will play tricks my thoughts so abstract
and my reality will start to play.
Awake, so awake
into the early hours, talking to myself.
playful to make a blanket fort,
and i will disappear in an imaginary world.
sometimes wishing for a child-like imagination,
again to create an imaginary friend.
But most nights I wanted to be a freak,
concentrating hard to lose my mind,
the madness
the total loss of control,
will make space
in my mind.
Thoughts overflow
like too much popcorn on the stove.
I need a pick me up again,
chasing a better feeling
I need to defeat this dread.
It’s my fault for letting you get to me,
it’s my fault for not letting go.
I constantly waiting,
watching, thinking of ways to fix it,
constantly refilling my thoughts,
wasting my time with of you,
disguised as something amazing,
so intoxicating.
the tempary confidence
and motivation.
I am tortured by my mind
and uncertain constantly.
A little more will keep it away.
I am drowning while you smile
enjoying your masterpiece of distraction.
July 11 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 138-143
Key Verse – Psalms 138:8 The LORD will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O LORD, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR PERFECTING US
Praise be to God for perfecting us with His:
Trial that trains our toiling
Triumph that turns our travail
Truth that teaches our tactfulness
Tenderness that trims our timidity
Test that touches our transgressions
Psalms 139:3 Praise be to the Lord for
searching us while:
Exposing our progress
Examining our pretensions
Evaluating our proud personality
Expressing our pursuit’s powerlessness
Encouraging our performance productivity
Psalms 140:1 Praise be to the Saviour for
delivering us and preserving us with His:
Sure security
Secured salvation
Scriptural standards
Settled sanctification-seal
Steadfast stabilizing strength
Psalms 141:1 Praise be to the Almighty
for giving ear unto our voice of:
Prayerful plea
Persistent praise
Purposeful plight
Peaceful promises
Pensive prompt proofs
Psalms 142:2 Praise be to the Creator
for attending to our supplication that:
Cries for His care
Cleaves to His cause
Calls for His comfort
Clings to His clemency
Clamors for His closeness
Psalms 143:10 Praise be to the Holy Spirit
for teaching us to do His will by His:
Restraint toward sin-repentance
Restoration toward service-revival
Replenishment along supply-refilling
Rejuvenation midst salvation-rejoicing
Righteousness for sanctification-refueling. Amen!
July 11, 2024
Said the sacred green EcoFeminist
to the hard
and carnal red EgoPatriarch:
If one's only ego-weapon
is a hard erectile key
then every perennial trauma
will seem to be a locked
and toxic
traumatized
closed up tight
back and forth shut down
with all his might
anti-bright
Black Hole.
So it is
in monocultures,
where spirited nature
abhors a well-rooted YangWoke vacuum
As if pregnant enculturing wombs
were a personally disempowering
contradiction
of indigenously natured
panentheistic
naturally sacred inside
open hole systemic outside
root chakra Yintegrity
For resiliently optimizing
multiculturing cooperative
integrally copulating
co-impassioned
opening poles for otherwise
empty closed-out binomial hole
Metric bicameral systems
positive 1 through not negative 0
systemic yang/yin mediation
for wu-wei natural-ego inside
eco-spirited outside environments
AnthroSupremely
monotheistic privileged worship
through worn out right-hand jobs
nurturing compulsive 1's only tool
to relieve a LeftBrain dominant
verbal keynote loud overspeaker
So every not perennial
impulsive non-0 zone
win/lose deflowering problem
looks rationally Either/Or
and sounds Mine/Or-Thine
and yet smells potentially fertile
Refilling a locked-up integrity
integral womb
of polytheistic potential
compassionately awaiting princely One poles
fulfilling Holy win/win systemic Peace
with wellness Zero wholes
compassionately co-investing
zen souls.
When I was slain in the spurit I was mostly surprised.
Dehydrated and dizzy, clenching the lids on my eyes
Blood refilling the arms recoiled from a flourescent-lit sky
None left supporting my legs after Blackburn had squeezed me too tightly
So I descended - relaxed, expectations unmet.
Quelled my instinct to get up and just laid there instead.
Conscious, biding my time like I'd seen others do
Outside Principal Greenlee's office in elementary school.
And so I came back to lie; said he got me real good,
but the doubt was throughout. I'd been caught stretching truth.
And in the dark of the van, coming back from the Trio
The Devil'd caught me again, this time all filled up with Jesus.
Took my spirit and honed it, blood now sprung resurrect,
To be betrayed by the Passion that had sworn to protect.
Despair exceeded the guilt as I sucame to the thrill.
If the Lord didn't touch me tonight, by God, somebody will.
Graced by girl or by guy, my fervent righteousness renewed
Dead set to enliven these hormones if it’s the last thing I do.
Refractory bites out my brain, has innocence lapsed because I'm evil?
Or was I simply a product of my id's superego?
When you suggest that I'm just angry or pointing at the wrong guy
Ya minimize my effort dismantling intrapersonal lies.
And you can live with the assumption that my conviction went moot
Or bother entertaining my hold-up, that your predictions weren’t true.