Long Terrifically Poems
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I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by a young fellow
whose name is unknown
When in full regalia a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
adding beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she had weathered many a storm,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood defiant in their wake,
she stood her ground,
refusing to be brought down
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then came along the worst she had ever seen,
throwing at her winds over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside,
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over onto her back,
her foundation ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once her majestic crown
If you listened closely when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak,
a miniature shoot now free of the land,
reaches ever higher
Interesting
that Christian theologians
have traditionally agreed
God is unchanging
Because steadfast in love,
loyal in omnipresence,
faithful to omnipotent powers,
all with regenerative intent.
Yet Eastern philosophers
look at these same healthy
safe
empowering traits of Earth's complex
cooperative
regenerate nature,
and see,
and/or hear,
organically sense,
this universal enlightenment
unveils a metaphysical reality
of sacredly relentless Change.
God is as unchanging
as transient thoughts
and feelings of complex compassion,
responding to Nature's strength
through flexibility,
unconstant evolution
through constant revolutions of Earth
and all Her interdependent Tribes,
Forms,
Functions,
Flow.
Western patriarchal
capitalistic concern
about a changing God of love
and retributive justice
and unEarthly peace
in a rapturous Heavenly future
may include issues of confusion,
miscommunication
between Nature's complex cooperative Relationality,
and secular Theories of Relativity.
If everything is relative
to everything else,
then morality,
health,
safety of unchanging natural
and spiritual principles
become shifty,
unreliable,
unpredictable,
potentially dissonant,
evil,
degenerative,
pathological,
dissociative,
terrifying,
terrible
more than terrifically co-relational,
cooperative,
loving,
uniting through mutual flexibility
more than uniform
through unchanging orthodoxy.
But, Eastern nondualistic theory
is rooted in multicultural nonviolent experience
of fluid Relationality,
compassionate cooperativity
of constant win/win healthy natural change
which does not suggest nihilistic chaos
of space v time
or mass v energy
Instead,
constant nuanced regenerative relationship
of time-cubed equals 3D space proportionality,
Zero polyphonic energy
regenerating One
polypathic co-relational Universe
Naturally within
and spiritually surrounding
Earth's constant/correlative
enlightening co-empowerment.
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I'm vexed not because of
Personal issues but because of the
Morbid, abstract canvas of life
I'm subjected to witness, where
Groups of so-called righteous men
Drop indiscriminate bombs
On fellow humans ripping
Homes and families apart
Shedding the blood of the innocent
Then simply labeling it
Collateral damage -
Collateral damage of War
Shelling babies... collateral
Damage of war!
Then pluck out thine eyes
With two bold fingers
For I cannot bear witness
To the dislodging of families
Fleeing wildly wherever
The cold wind blows
Crossing rough seas
None with the ability of
Jesus to walk on water
Nor faith to part it like Moses
Water ...swilling with red blood
And saline stinging tears
Mothers wailing bearing
The agony in suffering
Petrified twisted faces pressed
To their wet bosoms
Fathers gnashing teeth,
Raging, panting, feeling
Like a poltroon
Powerless. Gray skies depicts
No rainbow, no promise.
Strike me down
I refuse to bear witness
Beseeching before I meet my demise,
Obliterate borders, these
Man made borders
Us with our Jingoistic attitude
Jingoistic ... flag waving
Entitlement ... displaying
Utmost xenophobia
The mantra mocking
Go home, go home, go
Home - face your fate
On your homeland soil
Drenched and soaked in blood.
I shiver terrifically in my skin
What if it was me ... you
In those weathered skin
Under the moon and stars
Branded a refugee, worthless
Vulnerable, famished, weak
Motivated by hope to
Overcome barriers and borders
And when pruned fleshed
Feet imprint the coarse sand
There's no child in hand
Swallowed up by the gluttonous sea
Let hell's bells drone on
When dastardly Superpowers drop
Nasty bombs on the innocent
Butchering, maiming ... moribund
Then labeling it collateral damage
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I will go stark raving mad.
© 2015 Denise Morgan
Both paradise and hell
have their detractors.
I find some exaggerated truth
in this belief--
one person's paradise
is another's hell.
An eternity
of worshiping an unchanging
omnipotent
omniscient
omnipresent
mono-egotistical god
is not my idea of healthy re-creation.
I have never heard this
in reverse--
One person's hell
may be required
for another's paradise.
Heavenly Capital Adoration
begins to sound like sexist
and xenophobic
and anthropocentric rationalizations
for rampant capitalism
Sublimation as extension,
perhaps a corollary,
justifying capitalism and slavery,
violent settlers' colonialism,
systemic racism
and straight white male
and left brain deductive domination
over who is empowered
to define
and refine
and confine
and double-bind
winners' Paradise
v losers' Hell.
If paradise is a healthy
wealthy place to freely live,
And hell is a pathological
divested
infested
under-invested
patriarchal chested
rapaciously unbreasted
place to not be
ecofeminist sufficiently,
Then losing bad humored,
terrifyingly rumored,
anti-organically tumored
hell is a dualistically shocking way
toward winning good humored
terrifically enamored,
organically amored paradise
of integral win/wins;
Economic and political
Neurological and biological
Ecological and geological
Egological and theological
Secular and sacred
Natural and spiritual
Space and time
ZeroZoned and TaoBalanced.
That said,
I doubt
we are without
universal Paradise
as absence of Hellish attributes
Such as autocracy
and kleptocracy,
fascism and racism
are multiculturally known
and felt as hellish.
Healthy democracy
may not be
a monotheist's Paradise,
Still,
democracy's win/win potential
for cooperative ownership and management
speaks louder than capitalism's win/lose reductions
of ego's participative paradise
in omniscient multicultural theocracy.
America
Let's all hate it?
Sorry, I don't understand.
All countries have problems!
One can always leave.
That's an option we have.
But, other countries have limits.
and qualifications.
And no, you cannot just walk in.
To me this country belongs to
God.
No group claiming, they were
here first.
Or by placing a foot on our
soil, you are automatically,
American.
Try that in Canada..do you
really think that makes you
automatically, Canadian?
Reminds me of Israel, a truly great
and auspicious nation.
With various groups killing Jews
to own that nation, with knives,
bombs and rock throwing.
Posing a deceitful history and
provoking death and bloody
confrontation.
We, here, stab our own country and
each other!
Such is the result of PC history,
the younger set was taught.
Give professors a book and
all they teach is never questioned
...just one hundred percent bought?
And the news media pedals this
same, far left thought.
As one person of color said
with great humor yet pathos,
too:
" I never thought I would see
the day, when white folks were
going around apologizing for
being white."
What terrifically, pathetic irony!
June 23,2019
11:38pm PST
Poet's Notes: I was not going to
post this, but am appalled by
Americans in particular who hate
this Country as a Constitutional
Republic, drool for Communism
here, and even worse, laud the
killing of children. We give much
to other nations for protection.
And the response?
The "finger" and total ungratefulness.
Add arrogance, too.
June 23, 2019
11:45 pm PST
Vivian, my eighty-years-seasoned neighbor, called Vi, is a mystery only to those who did not return her first cheerful “hi”.
She is an open-book person, ready to love and accept everyone. I met Vi the first day I was out in my yard building a rock garden, two days after moving in. She came roaring down my driveway in an older model of a car, something gray, with long seats. She stopped about a foot from me and got out. I turned and smiled, and so did she.
She was here to offer her son’s tractor services to me for free, tried to talk me into letting him come over here and mow down the trees and bushes that traveled along our mutual wire fence line from the road to the back forty. She called it a “mess”.
We love it like that, I told her. My husband in particular loved it because he is a natural guy, who enjoys sitting on the porch in his boxer shorts on a summer night, catching the breeze, without any gawkers.
But I kept that quiet.
She told me a funny story about catching her husband and his newest girlfriend at a motel. She waited until he paid, and they were walking to their room. Then she fell into step beside him and said “What are you doing, Eddie?” The girlfriend must have known who I was, she said, because she screamed and ran off.
I spent a lovely forty minutes or so politely laughing my head off at Vi’s funny stories. Then she asked again if they could mow the mess away. Which would have given them a clear view to our yard if they had a telescope, and I figured they did. In spite of her terrifically funny stories, I stood my ground.
Godly Wisdom, knowledge, and understanding
Is the precious Purpose for mankind
Don’t give me lies and sugarcoated remorse
Meandering in my mindset — let’s be kind cuz I’m left behind, my mind…
There’s a divine sign above the doves align
Love of mine…love of mine…love of mine…
You’re doing fine in my utmost design
You’re my type of shine…shine…shine…
The Holy Spirit and the word of God
Satan the devil is quite a fellow so odd
Witchcraft warped my wretched mindset
I regret everything and I’m hella upset…all farewells met…to a hello in debt…I bet, now…somehow… I’m wet with unregret…
My heart of ripped-apart from the start calls to me inevitably
My art of broken spirits and all acquaintances unconditionally
God’s Kingdom come…
What have I become? So numb?
Slit my wrists of rapid warmth
Of blood dripping in a swarmth
Coagulate crimson on my tongue
Rung the song sung from my tongue
I want to be put to death to enliven my soul again
I want to mend me all over again — where you been?
Then again,
I cower in my den
My stomach is sour with remorse…I need a guilt divorce
Of course, you’re happy — you galloping, swirling horse
Pride and humility and envy mix in one pot
I am but a robot…I am giving it the best I got
Trials and tribulations give me five frustrations that funk my brain up
Shut up and listen, my medicine
Let your eyes and ears aglisten
Where the hell have I been?
Am I willing to forgive again?
Have mercy upon my good-luck trails
Have mercy on my terrifically terrible trials
Wow a party having a discourse. Now that's a very proud time isn't it? When passing a glass don't wave at a passing wavelength as hair can often disguise a taste. So be careful on the floor then. A lunatic with a rhombus shaped torso. Spinning shouting singing sailing ship shout. Boom. And all moves around and around. And waves wiring waking watching wreaths. And bowl. Idiosyncracies of oxen with beer. Playing marbles on the B508. Lincolnshire perhaps? Hmmmm. Vagrants don't gargle so don't spit in a bag. And when and if a triangular barge passes it is merely a sleeping bag for a tidal wave. Want not a favour from a mystic pie? That would be rather fantastic said a stone. Talismanic traditions taking trade trailers terrifically. Wow. The breathing of a potato plant portrayed in a custard sauce can be felt by even the smallest of the mice particularly when chewing cheese has bright red lipstick. Like a tyre surround. No greasy mud guard then. Cleanliness. Good. Wow. The semi multi layered auric field is most accustomed to working in a shroud. Whilst the peel of lemon spins and spins and spins. Accusatory atomic atoms atomize around areas. And now to peel a grape in a gown not a graph. Good. For tonight's egress is a plain which carries 890 buffalo jiggling to a nineteen sixty picture disc. Label not a lamb then. Query no question mark in a silky kimono. Broom broom broom. Sputter spat sitting situations. And now to post a lot of cutlery sets. Great. Xxxxx deviant deviation device xxxxx insectivorous Z g y r t q p Z
Form:
what I wouldnt do to get you in my clutches, crack a couple eggs, break my own legs to smoke a dutch with my duchess, through hazards ready to duke, Ill puke up a ruckus, refute a succubus and pay for a million knuckle sandwhich lunches, punch the paper until its vapor for that proper sustenance even if it shuts down the whole government, im thinking how am i gona date her
cause love conquers, drives barbarians bonkers, berzerk over that twerkin, some booties deserve sponsors but more importantly its what her minds offers, attentive like attendees at a concert as nina simone saunters like an unstoppable monster, packing bowls of sugar, she aint going for that oscar, truth hurts sometimes lies are softer
every dream fostered, ideal and pristine, christened with caramel and ice cream we scream, for these things cause sour grapes might need sweetening, id rather have attempted and lost, then walk off wondering, into that bitter sunset, spending eveings upsept and alone thinking of you wishing youd hit my phone no time for me might mean for someone else, or your over it all and time is for yourself
rib cage pressin, bars of bones mufflin my internal percussion, tho my flow can sound like timpani typically im feeling terrifically, heart beat bumpin, like kids in a bouncy house on steroids jumping, *****cats click the mouse for all types of assumptions, tho this night i was punked by her junk, vacant spaces need stuffin
Penetrating the window the moonlight casts onto my desk wheyey cream of gleam
Bypassing the door ajar extends afar my reminiscence in wee wisps of waft,
Ferreting out your memo and dusting dog-eared pages before sallow lamp shaft,
I telepathize myself terrifically to wonder whether you are right in your serene dream
weaving the warp and woof of our romance that away from remontant has yet stayed.
Gazing at the ink trace set on papers into which condense and crystalize the bygones gooily gaunt,
and missing my line of thoughts between the lines from which spill and spread nostalgic titbits that haunt,
Could I recover the complete imagery of your sensuous sentimentality from splintery pieces frailly frayed?
Should your memo mirrors my heart, the first to fade in my sight would be your eyes glistening in tears.
Should my heart hearkens to your memo, ne'er to fade out of your ears, my sweet nothings day and night.
anxious to teleport myself before you to get an eyeful o'er you, my eyeful, a fay wanting knight,
I set out to indulge both of us into long overdue snuggles and osculations, up for which my everything gears,
Only such blue-sky scenario fails to take off, transfixed by the moonlight peeking into the memo so soon,
Where would I enshrine your solicitude of old, which seems to seep out of the lines while crooning toward the moon?