Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details
I am sick of excuses to avoid responsibility
and I am, today, sick with excuses to avoid responsibility
with "I'm just a mortal human. I make mistakes.
I judge situations and relationships,
assess potential risks to care and nourishing choices
I do. And so do you.
At the same time,
I applaud mutually transparent accountability
to always do our best,
to apply Golden Rules as broadly stretching out across time and species,
until no moment escapes our WinWin ecoconscious
to totally sharing accountability for
for both positives and negatives.
Yes to sharing accountability for my/our environments and cultural climates,
my/our choices of entertainment and amusement,
my/our realities and imaginations,
my/our judiciary system,
my/our Police Officers
and potentially useful WinWin ecopolitical leaders
and, of course,
co-mentoring breathing in
as breathing out together with both ears nondually co-arising Basic Attendance.
doing the best I can each moment,
mindful behavior choices
are nourished by low-stress environments,
and their wise and good-humored caretakers.
When law enforcement is culturally more important
than peace enforcement,
When the criminalization of humanity is culturally acceptable
ecopolitical harm through coldly-calculated bullying,
then we are all entrapped in mutually-paranoid terrorism and LoseLose scenarios,
correctional strategies guaranteed to bring the worst possible outcomes
about which absolutely no one is really better than miserable.
Criminal-prejudice is no more politically, economically, ecologically healthy
than is racism.
In fact, for many U.S. people of color,
racism feels a whole lotta like presumption of abusive/neglectful criminal-intent.
Paranoia is this same presumption, writ large,
across our entire BusinessAsUsual cultural climate of pathology.
and the full balanced ecoconscious humanization of this species
require us to accept what we might see and hear
and feed ourselves,
in positive healthy ecopolitical days and nights
as positively incarnated Reality Shows
where everybody actually wins what they most need in the end,
or at least more than they had,
where there are no real losers needed to make a good wholesome story,
positive youtube videos are for every mind and body's WinWin future.
and the nihilistic further commodification and criminalization of humanity
does not nourish well-rounded healthy regenerations
to build up who we ecotherapeutically are
and where we are headed together,
like cynical negative Reality Shows,
and sociopathic social media messages
of violence and mayhem begets more of same.
We have positive Selfies and social media stars
and there are also negatives.
But, we hope our political leaders
and police officers
and judicial systems
are feeding more on the positive
and not frothing at the mouth so much
in actively dissonant mistrusts of collective culturally degenerative paranoia.
We have a profound ecopolitical choice to make,
to invest in positive health assumptions of Golden Rule good faith
until proven otherwise,
not just strongly, prejudicially, and malignantly suspected,
and we too often invest in negative social and eco-political poor health choices,
news and interpreted events
as entertainments and grist for ruminating imaginations
and then paranoid realities,
absence of faith in a more integrative regenerative future.
We can choose to learn our way toward more robust Climate Health,
or go this other way,
with armed humorless paranoids
disguised in peace officer uniforms,
really out to get themselves yet another victim
of their anger and disappointment with humanity's
lack of self-respect and responsibility,
including their own sometimes
when they really are not doing the best they can
in a struggling situation.
Or, are they?
Those who feast on negative media and gaming entertainments,
maybe shouldn't take the lead on determining what is commercially-viable news
about challenging and suffering events and cultures
and economic and political systems,
and ecological systems
still gasping for more positive good-news health
and less sardonic nihilism,
Responsibility meets our levels of accountability
for trust and empathy
and active listening and noticing possibilities to minimize victimization,
stealth and duplicity,
anger and fear,
mistrusts growing into raging distrustful paranoid hatreds
of individual magical fragile sacred people,
and families nurtured by and in and with Beloved Communities,
we have too often reduced to vocational labels
associated with diatribes of prejudicial disrespect,
not understanding victim-creators suffer too,
for what they do and what they have failed to do,
as how they are
in this too-toxic environment.
If you cannot find any compassion for your accusers,
your bullies and fascists and terrorists
for their ridiculous LoseLose scenarios
begging for a good laugh,
rather than satirical character assassinations,
stepping out of WinWin hopes and faiths for health and help and hope,
then you are still looking
for how this that has happened to you
could move further toward WinWin ecopolitics,
more opportunities for health with less risk of pathology,
as am I,
while a paranoid white male Police Officer
continues shouting through my screen door
about my highly over-rated sense of shameless disregard for others.
Maybe he just needs more sleep,
I wish they wouldn't let him out loose with a gun
he's scaring me and my kids
with his humorless lack of hearing
and therefore compassion for others
who probably also could use more sleep,
less negative recreations.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Maxine Jones | Details
So I have some things, that I just have to say,
but please do not take me in the wrong way,
I have this tiny little problem, inside me you see,
and its called trying to live with ADHD.
These thing's that you say, they way you behave,
drive me insane, and inside me I crave,
to tell you your wrong, and look like a mug,
I cant stand the thought, of you being a thug.
If I see you pushing and constantly thrashing,
my friends whom are weak, intending to bash em,
I will have to stand up, and defend with my heart,
Say it to me if you really wanna start!
Ill tell you the truth, don't you threat about that,
I'll never be scared of you, swinging that bat.
I've been through worse times, than you can inflict,
you can laugh and say that I am just a (b)witch.
I've taken many a beating, from one's harder than you,
you're a joke, you're clown, do the best you can do,
you will not like me, cause ill tell you the truth,
it ain't all about being a spoof.
You're a book that's been read, from cover to cover,
Predictable, laughable and not the best lover,
you're as see through as cling film, but before its too late,
get a grip you sad person, before they will hate.
you can change the future, if only you'd try,
stop accusing and blaming, and questioning why?
look around you and see, you have a great life,
but if you don't see before you, lose a possible wife.
So I'll tell it like it is, I wont mince my words
right there, right now, you got an incredible bird,
she loves you and would never hurt you, never make you cry,
but you spit and you hiss, and you don't even try.
You're straight out the book, the tactics you use
we know the next step, we know the short fuse,
The questions, the timing, the jealousy of friends,
its all a plan, for her social life to end.
There's really no need to hate and to follow,
trust isn't really a bitter pill to swallow.
Life and love is really OK,
don't be an idiot and throw it all away.
when you have a good woman be happy and proud,
get on that roof top and shout it out loud.
don't toss it aside, cause your angry inside,
give love a chance, her on your arm bursting with pride.
I'll be honest, and truthful, and hope you will find,
the problem within, ill try to be kind,
but ADHD just makes me be true
I really mean no harm, just giving you a clue.
You can hate me, detest me, I really don't care,
I know what your about, I'll stand and stare,
see if you have the balls, to really be true,
when you stand say 'hello, and how are you?'
Been there, and done it, its really no big deal,
2 faced coward is what i do feel.
thing is it really, you don't need to be like that,
but too proud to say, 'yeah OK I been a prat'
No need at all for the mess that is made,
drag yourself out of that neanderthal cave.
there's more to life than fighting and hating,
you only get on shot, so love and stop wasting.
Let people in, let out your fears,
or cling on to em tight, for another 30 years,
hold on to trouble, grip tight onto hate,
lets these years pass you by, and then its too late.
look at yourself, are you really ok??
want another day marked off, with only hate to say?
we want to make you smile, and assure you its fine,
hold glasses of wine up and clink with ' lets dine'
So I suppose the point, I am trying to say,
with my ADHD, I'll just say it this way,
My words come out 'hectic' and not make much sense,
but I'm trying to help you, I make no pretense.
If you think this is about you, or someone you know,
I hope that this poem will help someone to grow,
Just ask and I'll tell you, I wont hide in the forest,
I don't have two faces, you know ill be honest!
So I bid you goodnight, and tell you I'm grateful,
for Tony, my love, I can trust he'll be faithful,
He treats me with love and respect, don't harass me,
two way trust, with my man, means the world, I'll never judge he.
Shame on you wasters, throwing real love away,
it will spring up on you, you'll realize one day,
you had it right there, in the palm of your hand,
but crushed it and blew it away like the sand.
Copyright © Maxine Jones | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
James Andersen | Details
Traffic backed up. My morning drive.
My mind foggy and cluttered as I ride.
When a crazy thought at once entered my head
And off the main road, I turned instead
To travel down a strange and different route
And wondered at the road as it curved about.
Both lanes were lined with live and leafy trees
The world was a collage of dark browns and wild greens.
Sunlight creeping through the mossy mass
Danced and played behind each tree as I passed.
On and on, down the road, I drove
Until I stopped suddenly at a quiet abode.
An old farmhouse neatly hidden in the trees
Just waiting to be found by someone like me.
A tiny little place in great disrepair
Begging for someone to come and show a little care.
I couldn’t help but to step away from my car
And stare in amazement from the road afar.
I walked closer through the tall damp grass
Past the rusty well pump and to the house at last.
With a heavy sigh, I took it all in.
The rock foundation and the old wood bin
The white paint all of it chipped and faded
Left the old house wind-beaten and nearly naked
Its once stout walls, now grey and old
Let in the rain, the wind and even the cold.
The old tin roof baked orange-red with rust
Bellowed and moaned with each wind gust.
The front porch creaked and bowed under my weight
But, for some reason, it didn’t sound like a complaint.
As I stood on the porch I summoned my strength
And dared to go inside to have a quick peek.
The old brass knob gave easily with a twist
Releasing the latch with a loud metallic click.
The wooden front door slid open with grace
While a puff of stale dust hit me square in the face.
It opened to a room large and nearly bare
Except for a framed picture above an old rocking chair.
A few quick steps took me across the bare room
To that picture covered in dirt and a little bit of gloom.
A quick wipe with the sleeve of my shirt
Cleared the glass cover and removed the dirt.
The picture couldn’t have shown a happier sight,
A tidy little family posing in the clear sunlight.
A simple sight from a simpler time
Brought feelings of nostalgia and a tear to my eye.
With one final glance, I hung the picture back on the wall
And turned and walked down a short narrow hall
That led to a door that led outside.
And I found myself staring at this farm's greatest pride.
A grand orchard of apples and pear;
Not overgrown but tended with care.
The grass neatly trimmed around each tree
And a large Live Oak holding a swaying tire swing.
It was all encased inside a white wooden fence
Lined with wildflowers lush and dense.
But there was no sign of people, no sound but the breeze,
No squirrels in the trees, no birds and no bees.
Nothing in this scene felt quite right
But, for some strange reason, I felt calm not fright.
Though I wanted to stay I knew I didn’t belong,
In this little orchard planted by a family now gone.
I walked back to the house and down the narrow hall.
And took one last look at the picture hanging on the wall.
I stared at the faces of the family in the scene
And smiled when I replaced it wiped fresh and clean.
I walked back to the door and breathed the fresh air
And turned one more time and saw the rocking chair
I stared for a moment barely believing my eyes
The chair was rocking back and forth in rhythmic time.
I watched for a moment and felt a calming peace,
All of my stress and worry, a sudden release.
Overcome with emotion there at the door
I cried for no reason and fell to the floor.
I felt hands on my shoulders and one on my head
I could hear their soft prayers for my soul they pled.
After a time, I stood and looked around
Inside and out they were nowhere to be found.
So back to my car I walked very slow
I started the engine and to home, I drove.
Copyright © James Andersen | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Donn Ronquillo | Details
pressure to the roneom[
pressures of the norm,
going beyond the storm.
branded by the stigma;
persecuted by other's feedback,
judged by the trauma,
hindered by all the drama.
toying with the hurt,
random ego sanity complex.
confusion with reality;
backsliding with habits.
boredome with under rated exploits,
shackled by the struggle and pain.
unjustified secrets and cruel ploys,
with tainted stains.
offering no comfort,
the teardrops that wasn't meant to be compare.
Copyright © Donn Ronquillo | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Timothy Hicks | Details
"You in the military?"
I was confused at first and didn't know why the man would ask me such a question. But then I remembered my recent haircut.
"No... is it because I shaved my head, that you think that?"
He laughed, in confirmation. At the time he seemed good-natured and so I decided to try and spark some kind of conversation. After all why not? I had two hours worth of sitting ahead of me, and I was bored of the silence.
"Do you think it's weird that I shave my head?". Admittedly I'm not the most graceful conversationalist. "Not at all... so why are you headed to Boise?". I told him I live there and that I just got back from Europe. For some reason where I came from didn't interest him much.
"You study at BSU?". I told him no, and he started to sway back and forth. He had a weird habit of not being able to stand completely straight. "What do you do?". And I said I was just a pizza-maker, and thought the description was ample. He paused for five minutes and then said in a low condescending voice "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that. Now what do you DO?".
I was exhausted from almost twenty hours of drawn out sitting, and plus I was never good at clever responses, so I said dumbly "I don't know". He said "What about CWI? You know, coll-ege-of-west-ern-i-da-ho", pronouncing each syllable precisely. Did he think I had mental problems or something? "I don't know, I haven't looked very deep into it".
He seemed irritated with me and continued that annoying sway of his. My shallow side got the best of me and I couldn't help but form conclusions of what he thought of me. Like for instance; this kid probably spends most of his time playing video-games... that is when he's not smoking pot. Hell, maybe he even does both at the same time. Those were the thoughts that came to me and I was helpless to stop them.
He showed me his military ID, saying proudly "See here, I'm in the military." Placing his finger right on his portrait. I said "Cool!". But I really just wanted some peace and quiet. He put his card back in his wallet. But he had this look about him, that showed deep disappointment. He looked as though he was waiting for some profound response from my end. Did he expect me to bow down, kiss his feet, and shout out "Oh you brave man! I'm simply not worthy of your presence!" But no, all I said was cool and continued to look at the giant digital clock on the wall. Will this plane ever get here!?
"C'mon man, you gotta know what you wanna do in life!". His badgering just wouldn't stop, but I was in no mood to breathe any comebacks beside mechanical responses. I could have told him I had a passion for composing songs on my piano, and that I was self-taught; or that I had enough material on my Kindle Fire to start at least a couple books. I could've even quoted Plato, stating "College polishes pebbles, but dims diamonds". But I don't think that would have jived well with him and would have simply caused me more stress. Why should I bother defending myself to someone who knew absolutely NOTHING about me? I just wanted to get home after a month of being away. Not get lectured by this complete stranger who refused to get the hint.
"My son is seventeen years old and has no idea what he wants to do". Was he talking to himself or me? "I'd like to show him brochures of Michigan or Hawaii," he snickered, "Heck, maybe that would get him out of the house!". I mentally rolled my eyes at him - I was simply too beat to do it physically. I've never been so grateful to have a dad like mine. That poor, poor kid! When the plane, at last arrived, I rejoiced that I didn't have sit next to that meddlesome man. I say this in complete seriousness, that he was quite possibly the most irritating person I've ever met.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details
Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.
When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say,
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.
He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.
And, of course, sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.
So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”
“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”
“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc! What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.
But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.
“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.
A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw
Reminded him of his sacrifice.
He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.
As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.
As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello. I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift. I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.”
Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes."
Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.
“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!” Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?
Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”
Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”
Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss? I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.
“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls,
You’ll get migraine headaches.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Shadow Seeker | Details
-The Prevailing Voices-
In early morn – therein nights silent calm -
A voice of truth aroused by nightmares shrieking song.
Awoke in dim-of-dark, my vision silhouetting wrongs.
Still hours left before the voice of blaring wakes alarm.
The eyes wide shut refusing not to see.
Minds lingering torment perceiving all so accurately.
Nightmares shadowed teeth snap and gnaw - tear at me.
I lay thinking, begging, “Let me sleep! Please let me be.”
Evil faces – voices plain - as if in day discerned.
My mind deranged by words of false-conveyed concern.
A trust in life now staved but still a lesson learned.
If not in this, the next, or else – a must to see them burned.
Perhaps if I could try relax – just lie still.
Or if I would not refuse the false of sleeping pill.
Here slumbers chance slips again – more - and toward until.
Then a voice of pattering paws of mouse through heavy darkness spill.
The scurried, flurried, tapping - voice of paws across the wood
spray ‘thoughts’ voices toward the short-and-longs, bad-or-good.
They leave me lying in a dim-lit blind of perhaps, perchance, or should.
Landing then in ‘memories’ voice at a place where once I stood.
Damned the silence of this tic-toc-less clock!
Would it bother some if I get up and walk?
Can my mind endure these voices across this board-for-chalk?
My tangled thoughts with spectral shriek which crafts for sleep a block.
In darkness now I stalk the clock where numbers roll but never tics.
The ‘voice of silence’ pulls the mind from there behind - a vague abyss.
The divider flashing - constant – taunting – playing tricks.
Then my body’s organs, each unique, flaunt ‘their voice’ and limericks.
Exhaustion pushes! Sleep tries again to make a play.
I jerk awake! I’ll not slip to nightmares realm again today.
How can nightmares voices haunt my life both in night and day?
How can the voice of ‘time’ (unseen, silent, peaceful) so quickly slip away?
As I lie awake times blinking twines amid the fury of the past behind.
All provide a voice for budding ‘hatred’ in a future yet to find.
This hypnotic dance of soundless-blinking clock and rolling time – so unkind.
The unseen ‘silent’ voices now irritate my Tic-Toc-ing angered mind.
As the voice of ‘heartbeat’ heard and felt doth rise and slow.
When slurs the voice of ‘blood through veins’ its pulsing flow.
Comes ‘angers voice’! – Into a heap the covers warmth I throw.
Prevailing Voices! Not of all - but most I surely know.
Nightmares all – peace and sleep they steal,
but more is sanity and ‘self’ if haunting dreams are real.
When nary one will listen – not one of who will feel,
grows evermore (unto yourself or them) a ‘desires’ voice to fill.
The alarm now screams its voice of wakeup chime.
As I roll – I voice with grumble, “O’ - to Hell with Time!”.
Perhaps today regain my peace-and-self in secret mental-voicing crimes.
Revenge through sleepless tossing, morbid thoughts, and tormented mind-voiced rhymes.
Through darkness now – unsteadily and clumsily I steer.
I must hit the mark that halts the ghastly voice of wakes alarm I hear.
Can I live one more day of once-voiced-known - now voiced hated/faltered/feared?
Wishing! Pleading! The prevailing voices - would somehow disappear.
Copyright © Shadow Seeker | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Jerry T Curtis | Details
Santa’s Seeing Red
Late one evening up at the pole
Santa was watching TV
He shook his head as he started for bed
After seeing how people could be
All night long he tossed and turned
I guess he just couldn’t let go
He saw a sleigh and watched burn
As it sat there in the snow
When he woke He realize
That Christmas was actually dead
He couldn’t sleep with those sugarplums
Dancing inside his head, Now it’s said
Santa’s seeing red
That next morning, Santa was warming
His hands by a fireside
Someone had set the toyshop a flame
But there was no one, to blame in site
The elves then noticed the deer were gone
Someone must have let them go
But they never seemed to take noticed
There were no tracks left in the snow
That same day they had a feast
But not a single word was said
About were all the meat came from
That was stuffed inside the bread, with Christmas dead
Santa’s seeing red
After dinner Santa stood up
And laid off all of his crew
He said the world was so screwed up
There was nothing He could do
He said that people hearts were colder
Much colder than the Arctic’s air
They're filled with greed, and blind to the needs
Of poor people everywhere,
So Father Christmas will be no more
For the little girls and little boys
They can say goodbye to all of those treats
And all those fricken' toys, Because instead
Santa’s seeing red
So when the twenty-fifth rolls by
You can treat it like another day
Santa’s found a new hometown
And a different game to play
He now sits back upon a beach
With women and booze he likes
Forgetting about frozen toes
And all of those silent nights
So don’t you pout and you better watch out
For that lump of coal instead
You did your part now add to your cart
All the things that I’ve just said, and where it’s lead
To Santa’s seeing red
Some say that giving is more blessed
And better than to receive
Santa will put you to the test
And see what you believe
So pass a man who’s homeless
Without reaching for a little doe
For what you do might follow you
No matter where you go
Now you’re sitting on Christmas eve
Just thinking about what I’ve said
You’ll all miss your shiny gifts
But not the people without bread, so stay bed
Cause Santa’s seeing red
So don’t look at the poor folks
Just look the other way
And Christ won’t be the only one
That’s missing on Christmas day,
Just drink until you’re merry
And feast until you’re full
He knows that you’ve been naughty
Cause he’s not gullible
So when you see him on the street
It’s a sight that you should dread
Cause he knows all your sins
And they're stored inside his head or so it’s said
Santa’s seeing red
Now it’s time to anti up
And dig into your stash
If you want him to stay quiet
Better cough up a little cash
And I think that you’ll remember
Christmas time every year
It’s time to give to Santa
Or live in constant fear
So you had better be real nice
And kick in a little bread
And you’ll better not think it twice
Or your reputation will be dead, like I said
Santa’s seeing red
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Chris Peers | Details
There's a man I know who's dying and might soon be dead.....again.
He's remembering a past life on an island over the sea.
He recalls a life of daily routine, a soul destroying career, a fractured family and unmotivated friends.
He brings to mind a dreary and oppressive town that he once lived in, with grime and crime on the streets. Talking heads on T.V reporting doom and gloom at home and around the world and mind numbing T.V shows ostensibly reflecting real life. The weather seemed like it was always raining, murky, overcast, gray, cold and some days the sun was never seen.....and then she appeared.
They were young, free and eager when they first met.
He was instantly smitten with her deep green eyes that were greener than wet lush grass. She had an innocent and untainted outlook on life. She was petite and delicate and she seemed to float on air when she walked. Her natural aroma was hypnotic and her laughter was infectious. They were naive about sex and love, but they learned quickly and passionately.
Life was good for three thousand days and even better for three thousand nights,
.....and then.....something changed.
One solitary evening with Jack Daniels for company and Pink Floyd playing in the background. He began to have a retrospection of his life. He slowly realized that nothing really had changed in the last three thousand days. His job at the company had not changed, his colleagues were still hypocrites and back stabbers, his friends were still doing the same old thing. The town he grew up in was no longer a friend, it had become oppressive, littered with filth and grime and crime was rampant on the streets. His family were stuck in their barely legal ways and even more demanding and the weather was still dull and dreary.
The woman who had captivated him so long ago had now become a roommate with occasional benefits.
That night, he had stared into his eyes at the bathroom mirror and the glint and sparkle had long gone. Just lifeless, soulless eyes and he believed himself to be dead.
He went out into the streets and looked into his family's, friend's, neighbors and even strangers eyes and saw the same cold, dead, defeated look in them too.
He frequently prayed for salvation and resurrection, but it seem that the man upstairs was not at home.
He was in a kind of limbo. Mind, body and spirit crushed and trapped in a personal hell. He was dead and everyone and everything around him added more dirt and soil to his grave. His modest, uneventful existence had become a dull, boring, monotonous routine day after day after day. He did have intermittent escapes though, he went to the peaceful gentle hills and lush green valleys that surrounded his town. On those infrequent days, he could breathe fresh air untainted by the filth and grime of his town. He could walk all day and not meet any fellow travelers. There he found salvation and resurrection bringing with it a feeling of being exquisitely alive. Knowing that when he went back to his hometown, he would begin to die again. However, he had accepted his lot in life and tried to make it work, despite a sense of futility,
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details
Nature hunts health
to heal those and that hunted.
Spirit healths those and that haunted
by haunting those and that unhealed.
Human nature reincarnates this universal search
of why and why not health, healing, nutritionally confluent intimacy,
lover as content of beloved,
fearer as discontenting socio-ecopathology,
self and other primally identified as hunted haunted co-arising victims.
What meaning could "Universe" have outside our hunt for why
to optimize co-arising healthy hunts
to extinguish co-victimization?
Universe is everything, all space through time,
so could not be contained within any deductive-only label,
closed-set assumption of formed logic.
Universe becomes uni-verb,
universing folds and unfolds our binomial,
bicameral co-arising hunt for conscious co-prehension
of Earth Tribe's dual-transparent Prime Relationship Elder,
as Duelling Destiny,
both hunter and hunted egos searching ecologic
as cooperative economic principles of health as wealth
absorb our permacultured decomposition
of co-arising nondual thermodynamic balance
and sustained health.
Earth is our home,
our communal hunting soil and soul
for why healing nature
co-arises natural health of human nature.
Time's eternal bilateral nondual answer
balances our humane cultural praxis,
regenerating recreative hunters and gatherers
of healthy Prime Relational Universing,
with sole intention of becoming Beloved hunted nurturing entities.
Universe, Earth, bicameral human nature,
each blinking neutral double-dark negative
for every informational synaptic positive,
all one living self-regenerative co-arising open system
of self-creative hunting,
dancing co-weaving hunt-and-gather dance,
ecological stage-cast as hunger for how,
and hunted by why.
Yet if there were no dying or death
no fear of fear itself
no anger about being anger,
no ultimate loss in losing,
no competition outside the double-bond of co-challenging cooperation,
then why and how this universal hunt for healthy life
would emerge transparently self-evident.
Nondual destiny of co-reposing death
recycling abundantly balancing regenerative life,
unfolds fear of fears to refold sustaining love through time.
Fear and anger meet in hated haunted hunting death,
each event a primally significant tipping point,
risk and opportunity to co-develop mutual mentorships
as permacultured hunter-learners
seeking ecotherapeutic co-redemption.
Eco-valent gratitude communes with hunting natural prime relationship,
in and out,
in with out,
in or out,
in as out,
as we globally evolve this comprehension
that love is to spirit is to healthy hunting
as medicine is to nature is to beloved cooperating wealth.
Human nature hunts eternally inclusive health
to heal our self/other-suffering timeless nondual nature.
Absorb only our most abundantly healthy functions, forms, and frequencies
to expel internal, yet universal, pathological suffering.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015