Long Theoretically Poems
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Before we get to the practice number three
A few words to reside in clarity
The triad or trika
Para, para-para & apara
Lowest the apara - we as in-form consciousness
Aligning with (para-para) Shakti to get to (Para) Shiva Oneness
Or we may say our journey from ignorance to luminescence
Relying upon energy as vibration in octaves of innocence
The path being pathless there being no coming or going
Yet awakening from amnesia by simply re-recognising
So no doing to be done erect without support
The Sushumna ignites vaporising the maya fort
Or we may say bypassing the Ida & Pingala
We cajole the Kundalini to ascend via Sushumna
Thus theoretically this practice is known
Yet execution feasible only when fear has flown
So what does the practice actually entail
How may we rudderless sail
Resting thoughts imaginal
As also theories conjectural
Our focus on Sushumna when breath ceases
Possibly is a childlike prayer that Shakti pleases
The practice also speaks of Samadhi like meditation
Which if enabled grips Sushumna in bliss elation
Which it always was & is
Though we were oblivious to its fizz
As such this practice is for those who are so qualified
Having partly awakened with lower mind vaporised
Epilogue:
The practice narrated
As stated
Yet it may be affirmed
Confirmed
That indeed the Sushumna is the rod of initiation
Luminous with radiant bliss throbbing in elation
Preceded by fusion of polarities in the Anahata
Whereupon bliss in permanence abides in the Sushumna
11-August-2020
A Republic or Democracy
By Franklin Price
8/26/2016
A Republic or Democracy, you may think they're quite the same.
You can see not by the spelling, or the meaning of the name.
Though neither has a royalty, has neither queen nor king;
Representatives are voted in, by the people, that's their thing.
In Democracies it's everyone who has the right to vote
In Republics voters law defined by representatives of note
Theoretically, as time moves on, Democracy remains unchanged.
Republics, through the powers that be, are often rearranged.
Voters changed and methods too to keep the powers there,
To resist all change, if going well, by representatives who dare
A Republic is The U.S.A. not a democracy,
It really is quite evident by the actions that we see.
If not for the Constitution, that our founding father's wrote,
Only the rich and powerful would have the right to vote
The masses would be serfs and pawns; I'm not so sure we're not,
For some are given all they have by the working ones who've got
The rich pay very little and keep the working taxes high
To keep their thumbs upon us, to control us 'til we die.
Many workers are so foolish, think their votes don't mean a thing.
They stay at home on voting day. In their heads, alarms should ring.
By staying home, they have no voice. The rich have less to do
For change will not be coming; surprise!, surprise! there's nothing new.
If you care about this country, and the Republic that is here,
Vote, when the polls are open,. to have a voice, I hope that's clear.
Yond the Book of Judges, uncover the smudges,
Samson and or Shimshon, a Nazarite vowed, son,
Delilah deceptor, Philistia's daughter,
The lipstick was preying, weight lift also praying,
The black widow spider, spun her web of desire,
Weakness met the Stronger, Judge o'er his souls--weaker,
At night, just half on fire, the other half conspire,
The turning half plotted, the burning unspotted,
Samson's made of muscles, Spider stings turned mussels,
Spider's stinger retracts, eight-legged scissors hair hacks,
Samson was made a fool, Philistines grad high school,
Graduates assemble, alma martyrs temple,
Philistines filled--pagan, Samson don't see Dagon,
Flunkies built the Temple, protest those assembled,
Chants "Tie him 'tween pillars," "psst--same dream's dreamer!"
... and the rest is biblical history (theoretically/archeology, unchallenged? HM? Methinks misconception partial with Kansas ...) *Philistia was originally via Egyptian hieroglyphics as Sea People mid 1300 BC. After losing the war with Pharoah Ramses III, was banished to southern Canaan. Oddly, archeologists do not support this resettlement claim via the hieroglyphics. Then known as Pelesets popularly became Philistines The Philistines were brought into notoriety via the Bible during the days of Abraham and Isaac as King Abimelech was then ruler of Philistia. And of note, Sarah and Rebekah, as well. Seranim's or Lords ruled Philistia. They fell under the swords and arrows of the Babylonian Empire ruled by King Nebuchadnezzar II. And of further note, Arabically, Philistine is a derivative word for modern-day Palestine.
Why do such travesties happen and
continue to occur
To living human being people such as us
As loss , loneliness , misery and pain
For what exact purpose and who's gain
If God was and is truly meant to love us
above all other's in his name
Well maybe that was always his intention
and end game from the very outset
As seeing God is the sole creator of each
and everything the beginning and the end
God also therefore wished we knew this
emotion fully as well
What exactly is was like to experience
and feel something as deep and personal
As painful , miserable as loneliness and loss
Because as God is the one and only Creator
The only thing in fact God could not not
would be ever possible to be able to do
Was ever experience or know what it
was or would be like to be in love
To know what it was like meet and find
the 1 your 1 and only true love
Made especially and created just for you
to love and make and give your life purpose
and meaning
And perhaps one day get to become
and discover what it may feel like to
be the creator of a new life oneself
And as to the reason why maybe he
created us in order to watch vicariously
and voyeuristically and over us
In order to both entertain keep and
provide him company and companionship
As God maybe in some ways seeks solace
in witnessing how we come to terms
and deal with it
As God hypothetically logically
and thinking along theoretically line's
Only God in fact will ever really and
actually truly knows
What it must feel like to be all alone
Knowing also full well there is and will
never ever be or is
That certain someone out there laying
in wait hopefully one day made or created especially just for you
But what the hell exactly do I know or
right do I have to comment on or
speak of about love
As i myself have as yet to find or meet
my one and only true love
And therefore the reason why I place
nor have no faith or belief in love but
much more rather in
Loss , loneliness, misery , pain and grief
And why it is I constantly choose to
question and search and seek for my
own individual personal answers
As to what exactly is God's plan
And why God works in such mysterious ways
Now that I have gotten that over with,
Being straightforward as a piss-ant on fire,
Telling you it just is what it is,
That behind all the frizz,
Is a beardless fake whose heraldic bearings
Are the arms of a sickly snake,
And that all this derogatory self-derision is decisively the result
Of a disease smitten assault by a prodigal bug
Whose virility is known to create sterility of poetic taste-
Oh what a waste to find oneself in such a caste,
Outcast in a landless mire of sea,
Where there is no Sea king to lead back to land,
Where seeking leads not to seeing
But only to being the miserly plot written by this poetasters hand-
Now, to repeat, that I have gotten that over with,
I can really try,
Once and for all,
To really get it over with.
Like really really real.
So here it is,
In medias res,
The big ordeal:
Merde! Merde!
J’ai oublié on this very day,
To have taken my ressurectine,
The nectar which this fool requires with some dismay
To not forget his pointless points.
Where is my medicine Edison?
Where is my pill?
How shall I cart this over the hill?
O’sir,
Dear sir,
For in the middle of this rabid petri dish of sheer excitement,
Close to moiety’s shribble,
With voice shrill,
Ready to take aim and avoid all shame,
I was, I was, I was, I swear
Almost there,
But alas,
I am,
Now out of gas,
With nothing more to gain,
A timid loveless swain,
A witless poet with no further words to amass,
A neutered puppy in a jungle,
Without a rumble,
To stumble upon just the right word,
To close off looking less like a turd,
Then this early morning bird,
Preferably one day,
Could theoretically mumble.
Did I mention that between finding Absolute Knowledge,
And miming Absolute Knowledge,
I would like to find myself snuggly ensconced in the arms,
Of not only Winnie the Pooh,
But surely Yogi Berra too?
I pack the backpack
then empty it
count again what's needed,
discarding the unlikely.
the unnecessary.
Remember to add a pocket edition
of 'North American Birds'
adjust the straps,
shove and pummel the overstuffed kit,
try to balance the weight,
smooth the angular,
tighten the loose.
Once again
I open the backpack
to add a small survival kit.
I forgot to pack a rope
or toilet paper!
I remember just in time
that I have left the instruction manuals
for the battery-operated can opener,
the outdoor fire lighter,
the camping stove,
and a high-tech sharpening tool
on a small folding chair.
I gather the manuals up,
pack them,
try to pack the small folding chair,
decide I will have to carry it separately.
The camping chair is in my left hand,
in my right hand a sturdy hiking stick.
A tin pot, cleats and folding iron skillet,
dangle from a rolled-up pup tent
above the backpack,
they jangle loudly when I dare move.
I lumber to the front door to leave.
I can’t pass through the door,
too much gear
I will have to squeeze out sideways,
but now I can’t turn the door handle or lock,
my spacesuit-like, all-weather jacket
won’t bend at the elbows.
A light rain is falling.
My hand-held GPS is low and needs charging.
I forgot to pack a camera.
Something is beeping under my coat - can't reach it,
my fashionable 'Everest' climbing hat
has toppled off my head -
can't reach down to get at that either.
Being no longer limber enough to shrug,
I proceed to unpack previous expectations
and all outdoor plans for today.
Theoretically, I will have to unpack myself
just to enter the house once more.
I wonder if there are Elders
wise
or more perennially surprised
who, looking back at their youth,
regret all their erotic time
invested in having peak
experiential sex,
And wish they had, instead,
done something, most anything,
more left brain dominant,
more theoretically
politically correct,
more economically prominent.
I so hope not.
Better off, I feel sure,
invested in abundant splatters of messy,
sometimes musical, health
Than overly divested
away from EarthTribe's gloriously peaking race
carried away by abstemious matters
of more disciplined pace
for securing capital infested wealth.
A beautiful,
radiantly pregnant,
lady liberty
swings back and forth across this Left to Right predominating stage
of political history.
As she recesses toward Left stage climax
she recedes from LeftBrain audience's co-evolving view
for one ecstatic, yet intellectually ambiguous, moment
sweeping a revolutionary change
away from monocultural history,
to re-emerge in royal blue skirt of virginal regenesis
and full-breasted naked multigenerational torso
laughing with us
at how hilarious this bicamerally polytultural opera
has resolved ultra-violating dissonance
and nuclear divisive fears
of nature-spirit fertile fusions.
This pregnant lady sings
in full-octave resonance
with us
as we become HerStorically ReStaged,
degenerating unwoken hypnotic LeftBrain trance
to once again regeneratively engage
nondual co-empathic stage presence
Swirling swings of spiraling inside/outside
mind/embodied-consciousness,
as day invites dream
dawning yet another radiant
singing,
liturgically dancing
Gaian evensong.
We're not even theoretically together
until this humane Lady Liberty sings
co-operatively with us,
globally togathering,
consuming and producing full-octave resonant resolutions,
resolving swinging spirals
Left to Right to regenerate Left again
toward Crown/Root
Sage/Muse eco-dominantly resonant circles
away from YangLeft dominating over YinRight.
YinRight inductions reconnecting
religioning toward more transparently empowering operas,
replacing patriarchal economic terrorism
with matriarch/patriarch musical-comedy
agapic feelings leading erotic thoughts
Cooperatively owned economics
with bipartisan co-governing politics,
no longer waiting to conjoin
this synergetic singing
pregnant Gaia's
laughing full-term compassions
Beautiful,
eternally pregnant climax promise,
liberated lady
swirling to and fro
with Left and Right winged stages
of Gaia's political history.
When I die
will the sky be rhetorical,
will it still turn red at eventide
or shall the world die with me?
I think it may become
a hypothetical fur-ball,
just an idea
I had been anxious about
for neigh on 74 years...
...a theory now caught within a dying throat;
just a little furry representation of the world
that will pass away with me
into the next imaginative realm...
...all of which would be convincing evidence
of an afterlife ---- except
that I will have left all my earth memories
in a leather suitcase full to the brim
with assorted junk
that I had lost, mislaid, or discarded
over a lifetime
and so ----- theoretically
I may have to dream-up a new red sunset sky
and begin again.
Here we are huddling together,
not yet our collective nightmare
nor our communal wetdream.
At our best,
struggling compassionately together
in-between future and past
polyculturally climaxing health
and monoculturing deep valleys
of dark pathology
At our worst,
competing against each other
unscientifically inorganic,
resenting what our elders too liberally exhausted before us,
and what our children and grandchildren expect us
to conserve for them.
Here we are,
re-imagining what becomes theoretically possible
for power of unmerited, and unmetered, light
and not brightness of monotheistic power
Re-creating multicultural serenity
re-storying nutritional economic pursuits
re-deeming MotherNature's political passions
scientific and religious
organic and sacred
pleasures
While finding ever new positively healthy variables
to reproduce multi-regenerational soul food cooperatives,
savory economies of polyamorous healthcare
for geopolitically accessible win/win compassion
Without snapping food from each Other's future mouths
like rabid wolves
Without commodifying
plasticizing
militarizing moist indigenous values
of EarthMother's sacred living water
with rivered freedom to flow out
and rise again,
as we once valued gold
and salvation.
Here we are,
dry-humping Earth's healthy win/win
poly-empowering potential,
huddling against past traumatic win/lose
unenlightened mono-colonizing retributions
Praying SkyFather will not collapse
before we have raped
our sacredly rapturous MotherEarth
irreligiously raw.