Long Shriven Poems
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Some had bank accounts taken t'was on the news this
Situation'
Though some reasons were given.! That these people were un-ruly
Un-shriven?
Yet that turned out a misnomer? Or a lie.? Maybe
Just a stumer?
Let us trust in the passage; of some time, all can't
Manage, thats.Just fine.
Will there be a retribution? On these operatives of
Institutions?
Social steerers; cheerers of default changing, who appear
Mostly as changelings'
Should the cohorts of a feather? Get some tar as per
To the letter?
Will the emails be 'flying?' Will many pundits be vying??
Is there any reality?
Can there; be? some countering of such insanity?
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Impenitent, sky rains ash blackening the night.
Fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land,
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Fire eats: the air, snuffs man's breath; highlighting their plight,
all hands on deck, the Captain calls, out his command.
Aflame, aflame, tall ship burns, see their masts ignite.
Hell's inferno comes calling on this sun lit night,
foul winds blow, fire roars, and so the flames are fanned;
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Without their ship, crews are lost to a debtors blight.
Up the went like scarecrows shriven by the brand,
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Cinder shower catch the dock; workers run in fright.
Pain and heartache fill the wharf; still, they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Keelmen Heaving in Coals by Night' by Turner
Published by Dual Coast 2014
HINDSIGHT 20 20
It was Atlanta, and not many years ago
With the world crashing about my ears
Pledges made and encouragement given
Smiles and kisses seemed natural to me
It was only selfishness and a cold heart
That reason would finally tear us apart
Was it just fake and never meant to be
And such little chance of being shriven
The only genuine things left were tears
But it taught me lessons I should know
From then on, I’d be a lion not a lamb
Not letting any hope give way to fear
And resume my once purposeful path
Toward those rewards that can satisfy
Your expectations were way too much
I’d felt like a pet rabbit kept in a hutch
But I never did meekly curl up and die
I was more than a keeper of the hearth
But it’ll not be like that again, my dear
As the script said, I don’t give a damn
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
Unpenitent the sky rains ash blackening the night
the fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Fire eats the air, it snuffs man's breath, death maybe their plight,
yet, all hands come to the Captains call, his to command
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
Hell's inferno's come a calling on this sun lit night
a foul wind blows, the fire roars, and so the flames are fanned
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Without their ship, the crew were lost, debtors they'd alight
they went up like straw scarecrows shriven by the brand
aflame, aflame, the tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Burning cinders catch the dock, the workers run in fright.
Pain and heart ache fill the wharf still they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
See About the poem
'Tis in a manner far from thrasonical
That I come to you in full canonical
What I chose to do was to instill my love
On acolytes below while I was above
When the holy Church I entered in my prime
I, the Church,entered many, time after time
Those altar cherubs whom I picked out to spoil
I anointed warmly with my sacred oil
How could I resist faces so innocent
Wreathed in the swirl of the thurible's scent
To hold them close tightly and their soft flesh feel
Made my whole self dizzily tingle and reel
How truly uplifting was my fierce,fierce joy
When I had communion with a chosen boy
They knew our closeness was clearly God given
And that in confession would I be shriven
For all the worldly good I did on God's earth
Then entry to heaven is my deserved berth.
Alas,your Grace,you cannot in all conscience enter here
Too much dark concupiscence on your soul sits,I do fear
Too concentrated were you on carnal desire
That leaves you to roast now in the eternal fire
Begone! For scandalising the young
Round your neck must a millstone be hung
And into the depths of Hades will you descend
There to endure your torment without end
Seeking to find serenity is a task I cannot take
for most of all it seems to me a mindless missing mandate.
Buddha has achieved serenity, at least that what some say.
Yet, in my mind dear Sylvia* found death in a similar way.
To not exist, to cease to be, will bring the sought for feeling,
many find this door to out, but, it leaves my head reeling.
Can I not change, the path I'm on, can I not choose another?
Will I blame an omnipotent God, will I blame my brothers?
No, I'll accept, live and breathe, the form which I've been given,
and I'll forgive myself each step, and so, I will be shriven.
For I've been made with God's own seed, a God am I so born
I'll not blame another man or take credit from the unformed.
*Sylvia Plath (10/27/32 – 2/11/63) was an American poet,
novelist and short story writer who commited suicide.
Y/our relationship with ecology and economics
incarnates polypathically,
multisystemically therapeutic,
like positive human relationships
and richly fertile sacred dreams
between DNA's biological unfolding and Vitamin D's
absorbing ways.
Our actively cooperating economic design,
political intent,
power assumptions,
love,
light of truth,
beauty,
multisystemic refueling therapy
for ego and ecohealing community,
Appositionally driven
shriveled by exhausting lose-lose practices
feeding shriven anger,
silos of fear and suffering,
haunted by monopolistic
monochromatic
mindless monocultural nightmares
of Black Hole entropic proportion,
socioeconomic pathology
wilting and suffocating purgation
monotheistic punishment
pantheistic imprisonment.
Black hole reverse-eco-normic competition
never ends with enough,
timelessly continues longing for infinity
of heaven at hand.
Ecological cooperation soon builds diversely inclusive sufficiency,
together,
healthy warm kinda wealthy,
but just right,
pricklygoo co-invested
muse amusing culture.
If we don't fly apart first,
we might learn to fly
and swim
and breathe together,
drinking from the same aerobic/autonomic fountain of knowledge,
in bull-bear fueled nutritional flows and ebbing markets
polyculturally optimized self-with-other resilient design.
EcoTherapy practices peaceful Earth development,
proactively nurturing
co-passionate bipartisan
notBully/notBear balanced
therapeutic EarthTribal nutrition.
I have a lot of questions
questions
questions
he repeats
slowly creaking
and dancing
on our screened porch
peaking swing.
Radiant
in fiery ginger godliness,
mind centering omnipotence
He is so far ahead
of answers,
I feel embarrassed
to share them.
But, in not sharing
I become lost in caring
what he might think of me,
feel about we
without sufficient daring.
He swings **** retentive
in a whole new light
of previously unrepresented delight.
Ah! that could not be my question.
A hypothesis, perhaps
meriting further research;
new questings.
It feels important to me
this questing
for high and deep best male alert
dessert thick
and creamy,
dreamy wave of carnal delight,
absence of fright
or fight
in last and long dark nights
on seas of swings
just f.....g right.
I want to squeeze
these pulsing questings
out of this maleness
female mess
so quickly
complexly asked
and chaotically given
Shriven
of clothes
but not masquerades
of closet questions
questing answers
not yet hard
and widely embraced
formed
invited graced gay notions
Of motions
and emotions
just right
and left
bilaterally in-between
bicameral lusts
and bisensual leisure
to swing all theories continuous
polypathic
polyphonic
polyvagal
polymetric
polyamorous ways
Of in
and out
and rebellious shout
for Earth's most carnal freedom
of re-connecting
polycultural con-scientific re-ligioning
questions about straight and narrow
meets wide and deep
Why 1
slides so sexily
through 0
shape-shifting chakras
of natural
spiritual co-empathic pole
and holistic energy
like nuts
round bolts
and male
inside female bipolarities.
So many questions,
he gloriously proclaims
in majestic awe
meets lusty wonder
As his bi-gendered feet
gently invite
our graced swing
to sweep and seep defeat
with co-passioned
revolving Earth
back to Spring
and forth to Fall
One late summer morning
on our screened porch
secret secreting swing.
To the soul that is proud, dark demons appear,
Whispering lies—that it’s holy and pure,
Or they plunge it in deep despair,
Saying salvation will never be there.
Who prays with a heart still sullied by pride
Sees demons arise where the saints should reside,
Taking bright forms, as if clothed in light,
To drag down the soul into endless night.
Without humble awe, none may approach God’s throne,
Without tears of repentance, no heart is made clean.
Without holy fear, no love can be known—
Without love, a slave or a hireling remains.
Without purity, never the Eternal Light shown.
No contrite heart ever sees Truth’s radiant glow,
And none shall be saved but by Grace freely given,
Dwelling in souls by His mercy made shriven.
None shall enter the Kingdom above
Who did not first enter through faith and love.
Once soul from body is torn apart,
Too late to seek God—too late to start.
Too late to weep, too late to pray,
Only to wait for the Judgment Day—
For every thought, for each hidden deed,
When all that was secret shall rise, revealed.
Keep your mind in hell, yet do not despair,
Count yourself worthy of torment untold,
Worse than all creatures, demons, and men—
And God’s mercy will hold you then.
Raining down emotions,
darkly enlightening
interior memory re-experiences
of exterior impassioned imagination events
Nonviolent win/win images
enlightening darkness
of win/lose competitions
darkly fighting
lose/lose violent de-nihilism
of ecosystemic becoming healthy roots
Fertile draining images,
sensory neural outlooks,
feeling verbal projection projects,
raining rejections,
reigning alpha injections
Conjectures of codependent
health/wealth interrelationships
Intersectional storms
connecting/disconnecting
emerging/hiding nonzero/zero-closing zones
compassion/dispassion
full/empty raining disclosed systems
Draining sensations
being not merely alive
but also regeneratively thriving
health and democratically inclusive safety
Harboring against becoming dryly dead,
degenerating unhealthy and unsafe evaporative dwindling
Losing wealth of ecosystemically driven
individually shriven
naked ego-lifetime outcomes
Splayed out on a dying anthro-rabid Earth
where one species reigns
committed to anti-ecological
macroeconomic
disempowering
and unenlightened de-nihilistic ecocide.
Healthier draining systems
are not about unchanging purity
and StraightWhiteMale privileged safety
so much as flexible diversity
and courageous messy curiosity;
Wealthy economic rainstorms
and darkly ecological interior inter-relationships
provoke and evoke resonance
of robust polyculturally interactive
floating stardrop ships
Silent worship
in dynamic dripping stasis
slow prequel,
inclusively diverse reveal
of sensual intricate beauty
memories cross-pollinating integrity
raining down complex feelings
Unveiling monocultural supremacist purity
of a 100% crabgrass landscape,
100% drenched in concrete
recovering from 100% saltwater
with no above water pre-historic landmass
between pure rock
and humid
stultifying steaming fog,
An oppressive
deep degenerating humid atmosphere
inviting a more cooperative breeze
win/win health restoring
wealthy reign of multiculturing
indigenous
ecofeminist EarthJustice.