Long Sufficiently Poems
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How can you say
with your not quite straight face
that you neither know nor care
anything of God, or gods,
or exotic goddesses
or ghosting holy spirits?
That's like saying you don't care for any love today,
or believe in rain during a drought,
yet feel gratitude for sacred Earth's holistic medicine,
all the grace-filled rain that came some other place and day,
even if not this dry and cracked today.
Like saying you don't believe in music
and dance
and sex
and pleasure
and passion
and red and purple and pink and yellow bruised violet sunsets.
How could you not care about creative becoming?
Regeneration of interdependent life?
The future peaceful home of our prospering grandchildren?
Health care and assurance?
Social and environmental securities?
Anti-social anti-ecological irreligious insecurities?
AnthroObscene LoseAnthroMinds/LoseEarthBodies
mutually assured destroying war games
and re-creative multicultural sacred/organic gardens
pantheistically loving
peace-thriving fragrant and beautiful Beloving Communities.
How can you pretend
with that half-smirk
that this Earth Goddess
we democratically garden together
is no one you could wisely know
or deeply care about?
To co-redeem a master gardener's wildest dreams?
To love into integrity's holy nature/spirit wealth
by divesting of manmade hypocrisy,
thinking we could sufficiently name,
much less commodify, God
without re-creating passions
and pleasures of organic Paradise.
Why would you take a pass
on digging into Earth's co-passionate
fully humane mind/body divinity?
This could not be true
not really you
not the Self with polyculturing Others
past and future right now within
and without your own,
but never owned, passion
to prefer sacred cooperative pleasure's
indigenously natural wisdom.
How can you know
we're not gods and goddesses
in our health-gardening integrity?
in our potential for harvesting regenerativity?
economic and politically fertile
sync-tensegrity,
love of full-stretch multi-colored jazzy soul livity.
You know you want to dance in cornrows
and sing with bird choirs
as god and goddess
within and on,
for and of Mother Gorgeous Gaia's
embryonic wounded womb
elationally awaiting Golden Ruling garden bliss
Or, did I miss something
in that twinkling
of your somewhat straight-faced lie?
Am I a waiter or a warrior, a visionary, or wall watcher?
Am I a strategist or fighting activist?
Sometimes, I feel that I'm just a nesting dove.
Perhaps at any given season, I'm all the above.
If we care enough to share in the intimate places with
God, we must dare to breathe that great and rare air of God. .
Come with me to a world of questions and mysteries.
Allow me to muse my way into some unpleasant places;
Places of craving for the face of God but finding no trace.
I speak not of people wearing holy halos or holy Joes.
I'm talking about Ordinary Mary and Everyday John going about
Their routine lives with a longing desire for a God-centered life.
You may not concur; yours may be a different world,
Or perhaps you've never ventured into the murky waters
Of your soul as have I. Anyway, this place is real.
On occasions, my soul longs to see, to hear, to feel,
To touch and be touched, to sense and taste God
In unusual, yet Biblical ways. That longing, that deep
desire of which I speak is not always or should I say, is seldom
reciprocated. It could also be that I get distracted and fail to
recognize God's reply. Am I making sense so far, or am I stranded
On an island alone? Anyway, the sign I long to see is a 'no show',
And it seems that God hides himself from me, for my good of course.
It's when the voice, the sounds I expect to hear are not there or so faint
and distant as to not be useful. Or when God is silent, or so it seems. Or
when I do not feel Him or His Presence, and/or in fact, none of my sensory
faculties are in tune sufficiently to benefit. My best guess is that we are in "a trust only zone" where we feel at our lowest, but in reality, there is that side
of us being informed that we are experiencing our finest hour. I tell you, this
present muse was inspired by a conversation last night with close friends.
We concluded that we, whether dove or warrior, are always benefactors of his love because God is faithful, and in His time, he makes all things beautiful.
092720PSCtest, Completely Your Choice(33), Brian Strand
Contest entry11220, HM's and NA's October 2020, C. La France. 2P
Judged and NA on October 26, 2020 by Brian Strand
As a writer, people are my vocation.
As for humanity, men, women
And other abstractions,
Their interests constitute little more
Than my hobby; I can only deal in people.
As soon as I start dealing in sects
And sections, I am either an insider
Or an outsider, and I feel lost as either
And as soon as I feel lost,
I make no attempt to find myself,
But simply retrace my steps
And return to the people.
You can call me detached if you like,
But you see, the only way
I can remain sane as a person
With such an all-consuming instinct
For attachment, is to be detached.
The world of subjectivity
Holds no sway over me,
Because it is paradoxically impersonal,
Being affiliated to partisanship,
Sentimental causes and other such abstractions.
I couldn't possibly belong
To a school of orthodox thought
That accepted me as a member.
I don't believe in myself
Other than as a crystal clear container
For the freshest cream of human individualism.
When I was younger,
I ached to be famous for the sake of it,
But now it occurs to me
That anyone can be famous
Provided they are sufficiently audacious
And thick-skinned, and I desire fame
Not so much for the vain satisfaction
Of being seen and known and heard,
But in order to guide others
Towards a happier way of being,
The only precept for celebrity,
Indeed for being in general, as far as I can see.
Adversity seems to be my fate,
As well as fortune.
The meek ones gravitate to me.
I'm the prince of the hurt ones,
The damaged ones.
I resent all success and authority.
I'm so affectionate one moment,
So icy and evasive the next.
I'm in love with many people at present.
I over-accentuate my individuality,
Because sometimes I look at myself
In the mirror and I say:
"Who's that pathetic wreck?"
The more complex you are,
The less you like yourself,
Because you frighten yourself.
The more I find myself liking someone,
The more I doubt us both.
Liking someone negates them for me.
("An Aphoristic Self-Portrait" was based on a series of teeming informal diary entries made in various receptacles in the late 1980s. "The Compensatory Man Par Excellence" originally formed part of a novel written - at an estimate - around 1987. Its fate remains a mystery. "Self-Portrait" may also once have been part of it.)
I have been counting the days and nights,
23,427 so far,
no two exactly the same
just as no two snowflakes
precisely duplicate a common design structure.
Having received over 23,000 days and nights
to get my act together,
this day, right now,
culminating my entire story line
about how I came to become
communicating
and miscommunicating
and sometimes discommunicating here
and
now as mindful organic bodies must
intend sacred integrity all along
somehow.
Each of those thousands of days
invested in what cannot be purchased
or demanded.
Therapists call this investment in health.
Mom called it love.
Spiritual guides know re-ligious
regenerative
reconnecting integrity's communion intent
as deep mind/body listening wisdom
and divine grace.
Evangelists praise this multisensory thrival experience
of organically sacred communication as goodness
and righteousness
and not unnatural atheistic leftist mess.
Artists name it Beauty
and indigenous Muses
nonverbally
and nonviolently communicate
EarthMother's primal empowering relationship
with FatherSun's enlightenment
as unboundaried
fearless ecological co-relationship
peace-fulfilling re-ligious
SacredMind/OrganicBody trust
in peak communion experiences.
Philosophers call authentic communication Truth;
which is not irreligious discommunicating False.
Economists call community-inclusive win/win co-investment
abundantly resilient cooperative wealth,
what cannot be sufficiently earned
yet can never become overly reinvested,
gifting compassionate communication
pro-actively forward.
Through thousands of high purposed
well-sung days
and deep ecology drifting sifting
wellness dancing nights
no more or less ready for final down payment
than that first invested breath,
23,427 nights ago.
Perhaps a more mature love communication
would prefer I stop counting my impatient
lack of peaceful EarthTribe belonging days.
To stop counting the cost
of irreligious discommunication
at least sounds like a more generously evangelical co-investment
engaging this actively curious
peace-seeking SacredMind/OrganicBody
in perennially recycling love life
No longer counting the days and nights,
no two exactly the same
just as no two mind-full neurosystemic bodies
precisely duplicate a divine design structure.
I hope I would
find a difference
between cooperative masturbation
and making passionate love
if I could
I wonder if I should
recognize ego's fulfillment
as more leftbrain secularized
and the other
as Old Green EcoSchool sacred
and red-blooded.
I hope a brief career
as a prostitute
was brief because I could not produce
a sultry fascinated look
for commercial leftbrain purposes.
I would not
because I could not
and perhaps it is not a flaw
in character
that the issue of should not
never co-arose.
I also wonder about my brief career
as a model.
I could not produce
the gift of an impassioned smile
for commercial purposes,
or at least not a smile
photographers found resonant,
nor sufficiently resilient
for longer term consumption.
Again, I would not
because I could not
force what my rightbrain felt
should co-arisingly
responsively flow from wealth
of safe and co-relational health,
secular and sacred.
I had a not brief enough career
as a commercial writer
for human development,
childhood
and young adult
and cooperative community development
agencies
for more warm than polite
politically empowering agency.
I could not fail to notice
how commercial professional fundraisers,
also known as competitive Executive Directors,
could not resonantly replace original founders
whose hearts co-empathically arose
with compassion to serve
and live in personal
and familial,
even tribal and global, solidarity
with all poor in spirit
disenfranchised from Earth's sacred nature.
I retired
when I could not fail to notice
I was a white male privileged
commercial writer
for a straight white privileged
corporate culture
no longer even dreaming
of non-commercial solidarity
with those we were white privileged
to serve with increasingly secularized
mediocrity
of indentured servants
rather than rightbrain co-empathically committed
to robustly co-relational
co-passionate
cooperative attachments
Within EarthTribe's unprostituted
organically whole
yet spiritually open
co-empowering relationships.
I wonder if I would
find a difference
between codependent political masturbation,
between Trumpian self-serving administration,
and founding democratic Fathers
making passionate non-commercial love
multicultural compassion
if I could
and should.
Merely personal green salvation
is necessarily incomplete,
All by myself,
sure to face sinful defeat.
Yet universal climate redemption
cannot become sufficiently replete,
to help my heart feel
less ignorantly stuck on re-delete
For monocultural remediation
we historically
and culturally at least try
multicultural mediation,
nonviolent communication,
polypathic emancipation,
polyphonic optimization.
Personal comparisons
and interpersonal companions
and ego/eco-bilateral
environmental habitual passions
can be divisive
dismissive emancipations
Competing religiously dogmatic theory
and natural/spiritually felt experience
schizophrenically competing
bipolar dissonance
empowers secularizing
minimizing
separating
dividing
unnatural desecration
anti-religious negativity
supremacy
missionary zeal
evangelistic violently prophetic communications
of natural environment mortality
and sinful conspiracy theories
and other bipolar forms and fields
frames and functions and flows
of dissociative bad news.
And,
internal spiritual v natural external contrasts
can yet distinguish analogical resemblances
between nurture and nature
Complementarity of open holistic religious systems
can become complexly unitive,
integral
negentropically cooperative
Rightbrain polyphonically prominent
redeeming our children's healthy climate
through mutually cooperative
communicating positive wealth
of bicameral energy
Suggests leftbrain dominating
disempowering negativity
About rightbrain polypathically more prominent
actively working and playing for green redemption
of healthy bilateral positivity,
So,
Merely personal salvation
is necessarily incomplete,
All by my leftbrain dominant ego-self,
sure to face sinful defeat.
Yet open, whole Earth climate redemption
cannot become sufficiently bicameral replete,
to help my heart feel resonant,
less ignorantly stuck on sinful
short-term profits
unresilient
compassion re-delete,
permanent social-cultural distancing
experienced as eco-political apartheid defeat.
For pathological climate remediation
we historically
and culturally at least try
multicultural health mediation,
nonviolent communication,
polypathic emancipation,
polyphonic optimization
restoring green ecofeminist pacification.
I remember a riding pony I had as a lad which was born blind. A filly she was born during an
Arkansas blizzard and we did not know that she was blind at first for we kept our horses in our
barn for several days because of the winter storm. We all had fallen in love with her by the time
we learned she was blind and could not bear to put her down. I remember training her to ride
after she was mature enough and I named her “Pet” for she was my riding pony.
We spent many happy days together riding inside the green pastures.
I remember she never refused to let me ride her even the first time. And she learned very
quickly to respond to my voice and she trusted in every command that I gave her.
I would say, “easy Pet” when we would come to rough terrain or an eroded ditch in the
pasture. She would slow to a careful walk, in response to my voice.
I would ride her down into the lower part of the pasture to the creek in hottest part of the day.
Pet could of course smell the water and when she would come near the bank of the creek I
would again say, “easy Pet” and she would respond by slowing to a snail’s pace down the steep
bank.
Pet would wade out about belly depth into the water where she would drink her fill of the cool
clear water. And I would use her back as a diving board launch and swim to my heart’s delight.
After she was through drinking I would climb on her back again and give her head to her and
she would trot to the barn where she knew I would give her treats, such as carrots, apples,
sugar cubes and so on.
I remember I never did have the heart to make her run full speed as
I supposed that her blindness was burden enough in her life for her to bear.
It is said of truth that one gets to keep in heaven those things of this life that were loved sufficiently.
I know that my beloved Pet shall be my precious playmate again in the heavenly ethereal of the Spirit.
Pet lives on even now in the depths of my childhood memories. Her loving low neighs as she
approached me by smell, and her nuzzles into my pocket for the sugar cubes she knew would
always be there for her. In heaven I shall see my Pet again, and this time she will see me,
maybe for the first time.
For and in honor of Carol Brown
and Contest.
I heard today
a corporate goal
"To free the world of cancer."
What I heard, instead,
"To free the Earth of human toxic nature."
Often rooted
in feelings of not belonging,
not being good enough,
not even fitting in sufficiently,
too toxic,
unbenign,
too loudly aggressive
and/or quietly sinister
to be known and appreciated as I am,
as we are
and can deeply learn to love.
Feeling unappreciated
and excluded
can easily confuse discrimination felt effect
with explicit intent to discriminate against
one-self
Can confuse left-hemisphere deductive cultural privilege
with Straight
White
Male
middle-class through filthy rich
Militaristic-Capitalistic-Fundamentalist Supremacy.
I worry
our left-hemispheres invest too much
in from-above theologically-driven
retributive justice for sins of our Fathers
and anthropocentric analysis
Before noticing possibilities
for win/win economic/ecologic prime relationship
co-passionate empowering bilateral feelings
responsible ego/eco wants
ecofeminist needs,
longings to win by others losing their patriarchal sense of belonging,
longings to win with EarthBound Others winning,
longings to not lose too awfully much more
while over-privileged
over-fed
over-watered left hemispheres
And emotively under-educated
right hemispheres continue to lose hope of safety,
to lose faith in economic/ecological co-investment
through resilient/resonant cooperative thoughts
and feelings and actions,
non-violent communications and co-educations
featuring GoldenRule energy democracy
listening before performing,
acting and reflecting,
regenerating positives and degenerating negatives
Which generally involves
a great deal more curiosity-driven listening
for win/win neglect,
And a lot less brazenly proclaimed shaming
and blaming
for past win/lose abuse,
like a cancer
rabid and viral Yang
overpopulating living Earth
while not worshiping Her
Right hemisphere
sacred flow of yin-time
dipolar co-arising
ecologically co-relational
health-resonant
warm-latticed womb
of energy democracy motions
more win/win empowering
benign
organic peace,
ease supplanting disease.
where one fist is thrown
another will see the knuckles displayed &
with each connection the rage from one
primate to the next comes spiraling downward---
there is a visceral reaction that brings the
onlooker back & if they are not sufficiently
distracted,
the cycle turns in motion like a perpetual machine
wherein the verbal fight in the workplace becomes
steam driven in the car to the pub after work wher
a skirmish ensues over the inability to release
stress through the affection of a sexual partner to be
discovered there,
instead, out into the parking lot,
with muscles thrusting, teeth gnashing &
all the feelings of the day sharpened & honed
right down to the tip of a needle---
where these bolts of distress & ferocity come from,
so buried deep inside, so much of our shared
animal state,
be it whatever way the energy bursting inside needs
to come out,
it will, without permission,
without cessation.
the pounding of another’s face,
the violence brought down like a hammer to a nail,
bashing relentlessly,
sends off lightening inside
erasing all consequences for a moment &
if it doesn’t go away outside,
it can be brought home---
in the illusion of comfortable peace found in the
american gothical bliss,
a maniacal jester laughs to itself
just behind the eyes &
the terror comes again.
this time, between two who once praised each other
in love,
now with tables turned comes the beating,
through only words or physical abuse,
the nature ripens & to any onlookers in the house
(primarily family), the destructor grows.
in destroying those around one, the claim is made
that the self is breaking down as well,
that the chaos in such a world is simply self-replicating,
something that will not die &
instead, will only blossom,
like the eggs of a cockroach spreading out to
create more cockroaches,
when the foot slams down to squish.
so onlooker learns the trade from onlookers
who stepped out one night to paint the town with
beatings & harsh words---
round & round & round the wheel goes &
where it will stop
(one would have to believe that it can in fact stop,
in order to finish this piece with the clichéd greeting
card-ish rhyme to be expected).
To be a true and pure and faithful evangelically zealous fundamentalist,
whether of good faith religions
or bad faith hatreds of other cultures and races and genders, etc.,
fascism and fundamentalism
are rooted in pre-linguistic literalism,
stories built from feelings of sacred orthodox senses
and secular notnot nonsenses,
But you should not need to be an anti-radical hater
to grow and nurture a rooted in fundamentals progressivist,
activist,
farmer,
colonizer,
missionary,
an over-zealous weed with monoculturing leadership intentions,
a xenophobic polyculture baiter,
or anti-pagan predator,
PostMillennial Crusader
for Christ or Allah
for Divine Totalitarianism or HateMongering Fascism,
for anyone or anything you truly believe
could become omnipotently healthy and sacred.
To become radical
requires going into pre-linguistic roots
of spirituality
as also embodied naturality.
To come from story-tellers and mentors
of the fundamentals for,
speakers and listeners to,
ecological parables
written in divine sunlight
and ultra-violet radiantly cosmic
octaved love-evoluting voice.
To become a patriotic loyalist
of and for,
by and through,
was and saw
We are not sufficiently acceptable,
not restorative agents for true justice and loyal peace,
not self or other optimizing ecopolitical outcome developers,
when we confuse patriotic with remaining prehistorically anti-matriotic,
anti-feminist WinWin Principles
of NonZero Sum Earth
as Fallen Eden
broken promise of Allah's ConJoining Paradise
of and for,
by and through,
saw and was
Polypathically polycultural (0)-Soul
nondualistic sacred through secular
multi-paradigmatically
developing cultures of sacred ecological health
which are also PostMillennial EcoPolitical CoOperatives
of and for
by and through
saw and was
This fundamentally sacred
radically secular
Prime Relational
bicameral as bilateral as binomial
You and Me
from the same co-incidental tragedy/notnot comedy
WinWin DoubleBound Appositional Tree
of (0)-SpaceTime
(0)-Tao RealTime
of and for
by and through
saw and was
Ego/Eco-Infinity.