Long Thereby Poems
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The times of forewarnings whereby recipients within close proximity of retiring may have to keep on working as a possible solution and thereby embolden the faltering and weakening future, and the eventual collaspe of the Social Security System that fundings will be depleted and thereby deny Americans their blankets of secured perpetuity.
Based upon the timings of the DC's outcry and imminent danger of the Social Security's abilities to stay above water and to maintain a stalwart opportunity without deviating needed resources to accommodate the lacking. The numbers of retirees have stabilized, meaning that less people were retiring.
The effects that the government had enforced on Social Security, changing its parameters and basic concepts and ideology of exacting quantum knowledge -- later is better.
Eureka, it worked. Social Security may not be fully secured, but numbers have proven the buffers are laxed enough to accommodate the retirees who are presently those who waited and this happens to be their retirement that they had put off till later, becomes their now for they could have been first in queue seeing the changes, and becoming the better you, the adherant crowd who off retirement for later. This product of revamping the system of "do or die", frightening outlook. Message loud and clear, that initial phrase was to get the truth matter methodlogy was the phrase, "Later is Better."
The massive campaigns put forward concerning America's Social Security System ensuring all Americans, particularly the wrokers of America, and a special message to those close to retirement: Your check will be in the mail or deposited in your Financial Institution, Well-earned, RETIREE.
One answer to Patrick Deneen's question,
Why Liberalism Failed,
not necessarily opposed to Deneen's own
more LeftBrain position,
yet considerably shorter,
is:
Profoundly democratic liberalism,
like Christianity,
has failed because it has not been multiculturally tried,
to paraphrase anti-colonizing
and non-violent communicating
Mahatma Gandhi.
Strangely,
this may also be a kind of corollary
to respond to a different title,
How the West was Won,
which would thereby postulate
How the West was Lost
by Win/Lose capitalist pretensions
to overpower Win/Win resilient integrity.
Great sins of omission
are not in anyone's book of
What I Plan To Do When I Grow Up.
Henry Ford,
his automated
and then incorporated
financial investment company,
did not intend to emancipate us
from family farms,
Thereby disenfranchising
our sense of secure
and fertile wealth health,
interdependently sufficient
organic homes,
silent rhythmic rural memories,
Fading views and feels of cannons
pulled by slow-marching horses,
mules,
plodding oxen,
ghosts of elders past
monoculturing aggression
at slower blade-drawn pace
Sometimes domestically violent.
Sometimes military chronic stressed
LeftBrain against Right's longer kinship memories.
And sometimes more polyculturally enriching
rural WiseElder tree memories
of nurturing ponds
and domestically peaceful milk cows,
curious cats,
tribally defensive,
and embarrassingly rutty, dogs,
horny yet happy crickets,
Flirtatious cycling
recycling moonlight
and radiant enlightenment of daylight
and dualdark co-relational resonance
of night play.
To sustain Original forested home
and extending family
we need parental and school support
for cooperative resilient communities,
secure and healthy homes,
habitats,
wombs.
Whether rural
or suburban
or urban
But mindful
that rural tribal homesteading
and cooperative diverse economies
and multicultural politics of healthy nurturing,
solidarity with home place
and wealthy polyculturing kin,
mutually share one
humane-divine ZeroZone Planet
Inside calling us back and forth
toward Polyculture Zenithing EarthSoul
embodied within
GaiaEarth
Ecologically gracing nutritional homes
poly-theologically re-membering health within.
Trivializing grace of WinWin commission
co-arising global communion
is not in my book of
What We Have Hoped To Become.
Or even in my textbook studying
What I Missed In School
“surrender requires a surrenderer ...
meditation needs a meditator ...
the child exuberant, a wonderer!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spoilt
for choice,
there being
multitude paths
to connect with God,
for in truth, He does all,
thereby all paths illusions,
in as appearing as practice
comforting mind that we are doing
whereas all the doing is done by God.
Fret not oh hermit! All paths are equal
or rephrased, devotion is the way,
wherein we choose to surrender
ego borne fears and desires,
which is to say, all thought,
merging by melting,
thus becoming
the essence
of Gods
love.
06-December-2020
Another meeting for the important elected procedure,
attainment and its necessity for the believer.
Those trivial suggestions by all means to please,
to the sympathy of the dutiful ear, like the chill of a morning breeze.
Controlling manipulation changing direction,
arty serenade with confusing conception.
Smitten confessions as tangible bribe,
like tinkles of repeated mono chords that have something to hide.
Cannot change the fallible structure regardless its loss,
the hammered maze charmingly with strokes of fate to toss.
So many ‘ifs’ that must do thunder,
sparking the ideal of burden to take under.
Questioning liberation with more questions chiming the gasp and moan,
while superior compassion providing the free buffet as tone.
The imprisoned alternative cries in many hearts,
the orator voice still conducting his inspiring sacrificing arts.
Those marches of the all experienced brave,
the nerving monotone at the edge, by the martyrs cave.
The caffeinated beverage becomes the inner hug with little release,
leaving conceptions so pale in forethought to please.
Countless compartments of wasted attentions looking for the door,
when the same same mounts to the erected surprise on this floor.
The hypocritical day with dreams to sell,
while the conscious metaphor rings another bell.
Are those wisdom pearls from life’s ocean the crown?
or is the slave of the never meeting ends holding down.
O convenient comfort and loss of love thereby as melody,
the ends of being and ideal grace the ultimate remedy.
The living game of chess, where figures cannot be at same place,
the protection of the king are the square schemes of the trace.
I can never comply with fastidious hygiene
Try as thee most persuasive person might,
he/him, she/her,
they, them... can never wean
yours truly always objected
being told when to bathe/shower
particularly when puberty
found yours truly a tween
and my mother (deceased eighteen
plus years - sess her bowl),
she exerted authority
and told her "take a bath,
or no supper"
analogous to a queen,
strict disciplinarian to boot
who wedded her king
(my late father) at age nineteen
the latter (day saint) quite keen
nevertheless both experienced
love towards each other
and tricked out their progeny
(myself included) with halloween
getup, I vaguely recall Amelie Beth
(their eldest daughter -
older sister of mine)
donned as an angel
lighting up night sky, an empyrean
permanent heavenly fixture
popular through Byzantine
epoch, which blinded
her brother (me),
cuz yours truly, the devil in disguise.
Here I sit scores of decades
now edging closer to the edge of night,
and approaching those twilight years
remembering protesting vehemently
(way past the bewitching hour)
not wanting to wash myself
in the tub (water frigid cold), I write
how mother dearest,
whose presence I wanted to smite
this puny progeny
grappling as a neophyte
whose Lilliputian stature
(when a prepubescent)
a over five feet in height
who when constantly
teased courtesy bullies
ran back to ma mommy
whose son totally affright.
If employed in social services field, why
the above might justifiably
smack of insubordination
hashtagging me as Pigpen thereby
wharf fare prompting me
to cleanse myself diving off a Quai
in an effort for Peanuts gallery
to accept yours truly well nigh
but unfortunately
getting mistakenly captured
as a prisoner of war
forced by Japanese to construct
two parallel bridges spanning
the river Kwai
as part of Burma Railway,
also called the Death Railway,
for the many lives
lost in its construction,
but my daring do,
(and boyish good looks)
found yours truly
whisked away to the island of Hawaii,
where hula dancers
choreographed, entranced, and finessed
their seductive routines
a native lass smitten courtesy
one wily word wizard
whose courage bucked up
after munching powder milk biscuits
taken as mistress
helped beget our daughter,
who became apple of mine eye.
Bhishma Pitamah, warrior fierce and monk exalted
An ascended ascetic, whose life could not be faulted
Granted by Gods, boon of immortality, of death by wish
Yet so deep became his anguish, life he chose to relinquish
How all this came to pass is depicted in the epic, Mahabharata
Suffice to say, he could not bear to see his soul defiled by stigma
Thereby voluntarily choosing to suffer upon a bed of arrows to atone
Karmic consequences of injustice by ego identity sown, he alone did own
Quest for immortality, in effect a seeking of our ego identity to unify with soul
Encased in this mind-body, feeling limited and bound, we wish to be whole
Thus we yearn for life eternal, bliss ineffable and wisdom unimaginable
We already are that who we so seek, ego veiling cognition spherical
Deluded that we are this organic fleeting form, fear spirals arise
Imaginary identity hypnotises soul, resisting joy and surprise
Oh weary pilgrim, know we are immortal but this body not
Divine aligned, bliss suffused, exit narrow thought slots
Shrouded by fears and desires, ego flounders hither and thither
Whilst soul luminous has no questions, itself being the answer
18-July-2021
IMMORTALITY YES OR NO Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
So far it has been fun
Mostly with past conditioning to be undone
But if we truly wish with God to be one
Our flow of awareness must be unbroken
Through waking
Dreaming
Deep sleep
Turiya where bliss seeps
And finally turiyatita
Samadhi nirvikalpa
Such is what the practices asks
Even as we in childlike trust bask
Within the magnetic current
To which we are ever sentient
Slipping from waking into slumber
At which instant falls the tumbler?
Within the dream state what is our response
Do we lead or simply react in a trance
Likewise from dreaming to deep sleep and the fourth
Identity vaporised how does our awareness spring forth
Such are the questions
In this practice mentioned
With the remedy too offered
To awake us from our stupor
The steps involve both a focused mentality
As well as breathing with sound in physicality
The mental aspect requires a shift in our orientation
Taking all states of being as a rehearsal enacted in elation
Meaning thereby that we take all states including waking
To be in effect a practice session for before God performing ...
One day
Any day
Today
We must first take our time to reorient our awareness
That viewing all states as a dream is instinctive responsiveness
Will this take a whole lifetime?
Who knows save the divine sublime!
Next the physicality of breathing with noise
Gently ensuring that we never lose our poise
It may perhaps be substituted by the inner sound current
In case we are to the everpresent inner hum sentient
The trick being that even during the dream we retain focus
With the sound or hum we choose as the central locus
It is preferable
Some sages say even essential
That the sound be within the void of the Vishuddha
There being latent dangers if we choose Anahata or Ajna
The posture too should be while lying down on our back
Straight as a rack
We then practice this secret technique for as long as it takes
To be ever awake
Unbroken awareness
God connectedness
20-August-2020
I’ve come to the place where I can see the bigger picture and can truly say; My Journey? God allowed it! I would not be heaven-bound Today if...He hadn’t allowed...the roads that I took Yesterday. It really is that simple. You see, God waited (Isa 30:18) for me a long time, and now I’m totally grateful and so aware; our present relationship did not at all depend on me, it was He…Who First Loved me! Pressing-on…
I’m so past the faulting and denying
so over… pointing fingers of blame
I’m making my way to my eternal home
but not without some trials and pain
And I don’t care anymore who’s right…or wrong…
I’ve no interest in whether they ...pay
who really cares if they say ...sorry?
for, revenge got lost…in heaven’s overlay
I mean, really…
there have been times when I’ve gone…there…
to that miry and profuse place…
of loathing and despair
There have been times
when life handed me some things
that brought me to my knees…
where to me ‘holiness’ was a joker’s sting
So…yes, decisions I have made
haven’t always been for the right reasons…
thereby I and others were grievously affected
as I willingly wallowed in those dark seasons
However, of this I can attest…
when my filthiness was scorned…
with the odor of my carnality pervading…
and my self-worth scattered and torn…?
When my very presence was detested
and every step I took…was to some a liability?
when I didn’t even…try…to do better
with my selfishness…a gross reality…?
When I wore my sexuality like a badge
and I was desired…only…for that…?
when, over time, none wanted me…for anything…
but turned….and gave me their back…?
There was…One…who reached out a hand to me
who came declaring His Love…without a condition…
who embraced…all…that I was not, then waited years…
to hear…my words…of an honest contrition
So, why do I Love Jesus… like I do?
Why do I flaunt His Salvation, yes...fanatically?
Why will I never turn from following Him?
Because He was that…One…Who First Loved me!
Rom 5:6-8, 1Jhn 4:19
copyright;jmsbell/1/5/2021
an interlude
of ecstasy
clings&
possesses
the eternal
with love&
inflames
thereby
to enslave
the wonder
of the unknown
helps fathom
faith
&fashion
tnoughts' gown
into
a
truer way
vanity's eyes
quicken
&yet
fleeting
sorrow
aware of the stain
of dishonour
declines
a choice breeze
of mellow
breath
drowns
dull misery
calls
for a response
to douse
the flame&
proclaim
a warning
to the unaware
distress
appears
with unease
to
mutter
a lament
&to mock
the living soul&
adorn
the gloom
vigour
arrives
upon
the flowering tide
on
the shore
of delight
to acquaint&
throng
this sweet place
to
please
&
dream
once more