Long Utilitarian Poems

In Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"
she paints a nationalistically wealthy saint
where also lives a monochromatically utilitarian narcissist,
sucking on attachment to fame and power
for bought and sold ZeroSum accounting Souls.

If the perfectly powerful pure patriarchal patriot
were your...

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I began reading Jane Anna Gordon's "Creolizing Political Theory"
from the back toward the front,
as usual,
because if I appreciate where this narrative journey will end,
then I probably will find we start off with similar questions 
of...

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Glory to thermodynamics in general...

and generation of heat in particular
cuz yours truly 
spoiled with trappings 
of Western Civilization.

How ideal I imagine 
to dwell in a self sufficient domicile,
where thrum of the central heater...
automatically activated 
upon...

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We’re (Lisa and I) back in Athens Georgia (hometown USA), where it’s the halcyon days of summer. The south used to be the home of summer heat - not anymore. Now everyone has their little...

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and spoils of Western Civilization.

Thrum of the central heater...
manually activated upon advent of twilight
(since yours truly not resident within "smart home"),
nevertheless warm cockles and muscles
appreciate basking, and luxuriating,
within climate controlled environment,
whether bone chilling deep freeze...

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Oh my dog, another yesterday (May 23rd, 2020) spent inside

Anomalous earthling inhabited 
mancave quarantined
cocooned gamesomely 
knowingly protected travesty
impossible mission sidestepping, 
thwarting, zapping
eventuality, inevitability, 

opportunity utilitarian death
crowning glory fêted within 
netherlands immortality
granted courtesy biological 
proliferation offspring...

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Dark cultures of irritating dissonant pearls,
pearl persons,
perelman,
decomposing zero-souled wisdom,
nondual dark beauty
wherein peace reigns beyond fear
of transparently codestined lives 
with deathly thresholds reflecting new moon delight,
dancing and singing bright bachanal
through fading dramatic
epic operatic
dreams 
of future adventurous...

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It was a nasty war.

To call it an UnCivil War
is to avoid an obvious oxymoron
as embarrassing as Military Vitriolic Intelligence
through lack of Anger and Fear Management,
violently over-industrious absence of mutual civility.

We were too optimistic
about democracy's...

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Atheistic beneficent credo,
dogmatically evokes fundamental
gnostic humanistic invocations,
joyously kickstarting literary

métier, native oeuvre
pulsating quintessentially,
rudimentary schema
traversing utilitarian vectors,
winsomely xing yore zen.
*     *     *     *  ...

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Misshapen limbs of the Palo Verde trees add an artistic touch to the landscape. While 
Honeysuckle twine about the old rail fence and the spiny Ocotillo flash scarlet plumes. 

Mesquite trees, older than the homestead,...

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My healthy right mind 
is not one likely to retain left brain
disparate details
more than elastic and interconnected trends.

So it has been with U.S. religious history recall.
I live immersed in impressions of indigenous communities
without investment in...

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notification of fire evacuation 
     slated to occur 
April 12th, 2018 (between the hours 
     of 9:00 am and 12 pm) did spur
me to validate Google asper,
 
that direct object heave ving, 
     pro noun sub bull,...

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Word Association List – Q & A

   QUESTION                         ...

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It's difficult to imagine
a liberal hearing "capitalism"
where a conservative fears too progressively individualistic
ego-investments in "liberalism,"

It may be difficult to imagine
too liberal with win/lose secular commodification
of fragmented life,
choosing majority rule democratic process compromises,
sacrifices of disorganized rabblish...

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I

Ah what thrill’s life if guts we’ve to get lost!
To lose way once in a while is no sour sauce—
But way to live. Lose way haply pay cost,
A stone that goes about gathers good moss.
Let...

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For many people outside the Myanmar poetry, it may come as a surprise that there is such a thing as language-oriented poetry contemporary poetry scene in Myanmar. The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art...

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I recently read a politically incorrect prolific poet,
or so I thought at the time,
or more felt than thought,
more truthfully,
integrally,

Who said, If poetry is politically correct,
it cannot be poetry.

So, if he is politically correct
in this statement,
is...

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The cadence of the knell on the wind Lord
Has folk peering from windows and doors
A reminder of fickle mortality
Peals forlornly, for whom the bell tolls

The screams of the Angels, are deafening
Those with the conscience to...

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Where does nonviolence begin?
Take root?

What is compassion's fertilizer?
Especially in a fast-paced
utilitarian
capital acquisition and extraction
competitive monoculture.

Does nonviolent intention,
within and without,
not arise from positive health experience?

From a sense of remembered safety,
well-being,
co-passion,
unconditional regard
for mutual peace,
for breathtaking beauty

Within a...

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A temporarily useful illusion,

like Wall Street knows something
about inevitable climate pathology
disvalues of anthrosupremacism
worth illusive core investment value

is not necessarily
a merely utilitarian delusion
about timeless principles of value

like human dignity
and organic integrity
and profoundly polycultural beauty.

A temporarily useful...

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It is Labor Day
I am paid not work
but what am I to do
the festive trimmings are not attached
so the perk is an useless quirk and
my boring schedule quickly fills in the gaps
as usual, my alarm...

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America, the land of the free, catering to the wealthy and pushing the poor.
Blacks are all but exempt; they are seen as property and nothing more.
California brought into this nation by gold, as a false...

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Compassion does not speak in judgment;
at least not before sufficient listening
on the emerging edge of gratitude.

Therapeutic sciences now speak
as one with inter-religious mystics,

That kindness
is physically and mentally therapeutic
for those who receive
and especially those who adeptly...

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They laid and built a new road;

in the heat of the day it looks
like a stretched curved spine 
along which newly planted trees 
grow their skimpy wishbones
as they file along the verge.

There is no shade...

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Majestic sparkles dot the salty sky like Cubic zirconia.

That would be the wet sky on your left...
no, dear child, your other left...
yeah-yes, that's the one, 
The one placed just below the real Mccoy, 
the one...

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