Long Traumatizing Poems
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Some of us,
diversely theistic
and atheistic,
are still,
to this traumatizing partisan day,
committed to a multiculturally inter-religious
and ecologically healthy
democracy.
We are suffering
an anxious sense of deeply felt loss
fueled, inflamed, ignited
by RightWing MonoTheistic
and ATheistic
and Agnostic Theistic?
trauma,
fear- and anger-mongers,
weaponized hate-predators,
ideological dogmatists
propaganda influencers.
UnChristianRight MonoTheists
are also LeftBrain verbally dominant
anthro-privileged
patriarchally plagued
by win/lose partisanship
0-sum devolutionary economics
dualistic YangPassion v YinPleasure
dogmatic ideation.
Both Left and Right Wings
failing to feel depolarizing sides
of our comedic-belonging
v tragic-longing
Bicamerally common
cobinary
sense of faithful humor.
About some of us,
diversely theistic
and atheistic,
still,
to this traumatizing partisan day,
feeling shared passion
for a multiculturally inter-religious
and pleasure within
an ecologically healthy
organic democracy.
If we are not,
is this always the opposite of
when we are?
If we are negative,
is this sometimes appositionally
in creative tension with
when we are becoming more positive?
If we are a noticed absence
is this sometimes appositional
to we are not yet fully perceived?
And is this more oppositional
when we are an unnoticed absence?
Defying hostile misperceptions
we need never become known
appreciated
positively regarded
Or a newly observed absence
merely appositional lack of connecting
integrity waiting curiously aware
we are not yet seen
known
regarded
appreciated
cherished
And yet,
or not
still surviving
where and when
we once together thrived
Or still reviving
why
now and then
Earth once healthy thrived
wealth of positively co-relating
co-empathic
co-regarding not retributively just me
as also animatedly spirited
more positively
restoring restorying eco-we
multiculturally natural outside
multigenerational history
of inside trauma
and outside therapy
If I am not
merely the opposite
of who we are becoming
together
more than appositionally apart
Reconnecting egos
oppositionally
defiantly unhealthy
unwealthy
indigenously unwise
anthro-supremacist upstarts
and elder tarts
cuz I can't say old -arts
Here and now
pestering parents
and teachers,
nurses
and preachers:
If we are not feeling
physically sick,
is this merely the EarthTribal opposite
of when Others are thinking
spiritually ill?
Plotting, may not be planning
designing, may not be re-creating
maligning, feels unaligned
threatening, couldn't be encouraging
aggressing, feels spectacularly unkind
regressing, not impressive
dissociating, cause for not reassociating
divesting, feels like lack of co-investment
excommunicating, simply not communicating
colonizing, sounds like a malignant tumor rumor
punishing, seldom is rewarded with compassion
traumatizing, encourages self-stigmatizing
marginalizing, chronic traumatizing
terrorizing, critical drama events
Wandering uneased
wondering if we are anthro-healthy
inside,
is this ever the diseased opposite of
when we are feeling EarthTribe eased
outside?
We are petals of marigold
In our innermost soul
Whether young or old
If the petals still in fold
in the buds are singed
or shouted at violating
the integrity in making
Maladaptation is obvious
Flowers are obnoxious
Parents and teachers
Priests and preachers
Be kind nurturers
Of the saplings and plants
No traumatizing no rants
Love of beauty and life
Husband and wife in step
Pep drive with love
For the tender buds above
Let us be poems
In the social page
Healthy gems
Birds uncaged
“The world is a stage”
You directors will decide
If the spectators would hurl
Brickbats or
Throw bouquets
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 7, 2016
It shouldn't hurt to be a child- Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Becca aTeagan
What you see and hear must be traumatizing
For you and your devoted staff —
Defending souls accused of horrors
Against the very children they once were.
Children bound over as adults,
With minds still reaching for the light,
Unable to measure the gravity
Of the darkness they’ve entered.
It is Sunday morning, and you have chosen
Coffee over Wine or a Bloody Mary.
The phones are silent, the city hushed,
Sunlight soft across the files.
The bleached blonde attorney, weary yet steadfast,
You shoulder their sorrow, their guilt, their silence.
Justice is never clean,
Yet your heart remains unbroken.
There are cases that shatter belief,
And nights that deny you rest —
When innocence feels like a story told
By someone who no longer believes.
But mercy hides in your labor,
In each word spoken with care,
In the smallest gesture of grace
That no one sees but God.
Even when verdicts wound,
Even when truth feels blurred by fear,
The soul that still weeps for the broken
Is proof that goodness endures.
And on this quiet Sunday morning,
As light spills gently across your desk,
You are forgiven for your weariness —
You have chosen love disguised as law,
And that is holy work.
Respectfully,
Nobody talks about this.
Nobody talks about after you finally heal from a traumatizing relationship.
When you have taken the time to concentrate on yourself and you are finally in a place where you're done healing and you are ready to step out into the dating world again, it's nearly impossible to find someone because you see the red flags in everybody.
You see so many things you're not willing to compromise with because you actually trust your intuition.
You can see when things are an issue with people, and you know you won't be able to get over it later on in that relationship.
So you don't allow your feelings to get in the way of logic and just cut it off before it even gets to that point.
Then you realize how many people aren't actually working on themselves and are just seeking a shallow connection.
They aren't even looking to improve themselves as a partner in a relationship, and they think their perfectly fine the way they are.
So there's no room to grow into a relationship together because they are already set in their ways.
It's a little exhausting at times because you also feel lonely during all of this and that sadness can take a toll on you but you have to remember one thing .....
It's better to be single with high standards than in a relationship settling for less.
I remember when I looked up into the night sky as a three year old
My mother held me saying these words with passion in her voice
Dear God, I wish for my child to grow strong and grow old
Always look fear as a good memory to guide my children to safety
Dear God, I want you to feed their soul with empathy that I have
Always give them what they need not what they want
Dear God, Lead them to better health and a warm heart that cares
Always keep them near each other, and give them enough to grow
Dear God, I bless thee to hold them tight in your warmth every night
Always whisper my kind voice to them when they have doubts
Dear God, when I leave them please protect them with all my heart
Always give them the patience to keep on the right path
Dear God, let the pain of loss be not so traumatizing for these children
Always pick them up on your shoulder through droughts and storms
Dear God, let them see a new world and let them decide on their own
Always making sure a hint of remorse is in their eyes
Dear God, Please forgive me as I leave them to you in a cold summer day
Always remind them that life is always a journey of happiness
Dear God, I say this prayer to them, as it would be heard from my heart
Always remind them of who they are and where they come from
Dear God, Thank You! For all you have done, as the words flow into my sons
Amen….This prayer is actually some spoken words from what she would say
I am adopted this prayer would never change with my new mother
Even if we were to win
these hunting
and killing
and fishing
and devouring
and gathering
and hoarding
and victimizing
and offending
and criminalizing
and punishing
holy wars
and zealot causes,
We would lose
our vocation
to mentor and facilitate restoration,
ego and ecotherapy reforestation,
healing,
health,
measured in polycultural health outcomes
by all democratically respected
and trusted to remain interdependent
species.
Extended even to the vipers
and poisonous spiders and ivy
and choking evangelical fake-Christians
and jihad self-terrorizing fake-Moslems,
and fear and hate-mongerers of all bad faiths,
even those Pharisees and Sadducees
rich and powerful capital hoarding
already too aristocratic
for their own healthy extended family care-giving
and receiving love
and cooperatively owned and managed grace
and positive synergy and karma.
Deniers of NatureMystic Messiahs
and Bodhisattva PeaceCircle Witnesses
are rabid wolves.
Those who choose
to Lose
at shallow capitalism
to Lose
at deep ego-ecological wisdom
are fake-redeemer sheep,
with retributive justice discipleship ways,
concerns,
Hellfire issues,
and over-invested in Win-Lose means
to successfully deny
their intrinsic bad faith in the reverse of evolution.
Those who defer to WinWin evolution
toward
mutual good faith polycultural expectations,
Those who defer to Win-Lose
anger and fear management
through self-perpetuating postponement
of Win-Win commitment.
Those yet to eventually succumb
to denying Lose egocentric body,
then Lose anthro-centric mind,
then Lose ecological multigenerational
DNA-enscribed cooperatively organized Soul,
organic meaning,
synergetic purpose,
sacred vocation,
regeneration,
restoring sacred ecological climates,
Lose reforesting evolutionary Win-Win history,
reweaving spiraling 4D RealPrime
SacredTime.
Stuck back in pre-history,
before traumatizing others
became a Golden Rule offense
against all WindNature-WaveSpirits.
If we were to win
all our anthro-centric capital-hoarding games,
we would lose our ego/eco-centric
Win-Win revolutionary
NonZero-Sum Infinite
PolyPathic Soul.
Incorrigible Recalcitrant - Doppelganger (mine)
Ala Goofus and Gallant
highlights my diametrically
divergent alter egos
always the reserved
obedient docile boy
afeared to stray outside narrow
circumscribed comfort zone
figuratively tethered
extremely short leash
choked me like yoked oxen,
albeit non red dually bullish
under bated breath
otherwise submissive
internalizing fury and rage
relentlessly lambasted
daily school bus ride
analogous highway to hell,
thus envisioned monstrous physique
linkedin to superpowers...
whereby giant beastie boy
within scrawny nerd
visiting jocular comeuppance
bopping "jocks" on their beanies
with rotten tangerines
(Tom Lehrer would be proud)
knocking senseless nasty brutes
gleefully pummeling rapscallions
casually, heroically avenging
purging immediate threat
while smugly jauntily
relishing carefree blessed awesome
fistpumping air joyous ride
duplicating bad ass daring
do dexterously doubling
(wishful) dream come true
one prior pipsqueak - yours truly
punishing pestiferous classmates,
who sadistically doled
out daily dose,
non USDA approved
cavalier fierce injustice
taken aback when mine knuckles
compress hoodlums opprobrious
wicked yakking (actually silenced)
fountainhead spewing toxins
exuberantly effusively ebulliently
cleaning principle ringleader's clocks
at long last
traumatizing measure for measure
antagonistic arch nemesis
inflicting insufferable torment
once passively quaffed ruffians threats,
now all's well that ends well,
no matter yours truly expelled
forever pleasantly humming
merrily merrily, merrily,
merrily, imagined life
tis but a dream.
HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS
(poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).
How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.
Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.
Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.
I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.
Form:
So, I guess a 12 year old
American brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
is outside your boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Well, I can see why you would need
to draw your boundary
for healthy rationality
outside his grassy field of fire-armed play.
I can see why we need to draw this line
of "only predictably SWM domesticated life matters"
the way we do
to look our friends and children in the eyes
while saying,
"I can accept this loss
as one caused by an unfortunately timed
dual act of accidental wildness;"
But is it not significantly wilder
to fire ballistics at youth
than for youth to fire only ballistic imagination?
I can see that we need to doubt
reasonable risks of public recreation
for some lives
differently than other lives
and times
to gaze into our social-cultural mirror
with both eyes
fully comprehending compassionate integrity:
"We accept that Black Adolescent Lives Splatter
loss across our leaking shared loves and livelihoods,
thereby wilting our collective mental health,
starving our social wealth for future regeneration,
and yet hope we still dream
of somehow re-transposing,
All Lives Matter
in current US ReligiousRight culture.
Now that is egocentric mendacity;
not even Anthro-centric integrity.
We each and all must hunt our way
toward facing our fear of ourselves
our lack of empathy
and mind positive passions
and body healing pleasures
surpassing our neglectful lack of fully activating
Win/Win panentheistic wisdom.
Some hunting ways bring further AnthroSupremacist
Business As Usual
cognitive-affective dissonance;
further failure of Earth's polycultural integrity,
further degenerative ego-traumatizing stasis.
Some hunting ways promise more co-operative co-arising ballast
for culturally active hope.
It is this ballast we seek
between our self/other-reflecting eyes,
hoping to discover peace within as justice without,
and not more enslaving reductive addiction
to ballistics of overly-automated violence
Silent souls
full-will impassioned pleasures
without sufficient time to assess full-intent,
responding to fear of fear ourselves,
right between our blindered eyes
So it becomes challenging to see
a brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
as well within our mental health care boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.