Long Westerners Poems
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Chicago to the North;
East of the Great Divide;
New Orleans to the South;
and South of The Mason-Dixon.
It's 8:20 PM in The Central Time Zone;
two hours earlier in my prior time zone,
and I'm 2000 miles and 4 months removed.
The language is no longer 'you guys but Y'all'.
Whether here or there, the best season is Fall.
Currently, I see things often not seen for many a year.
The once heavy sites of brown have turned to green.
No smoking skies, and the cars are not required to smog.
This rural setting is more subdued and tamed, it seems.
I'm now retired, but I think the wages are much too lean.
I miss my lemon, peach, and pear trees, but I hasten to add that I never cared much about the two tall palm trees.
My young Rose of Sharon is about 5 years old, and it saddens me that she will have to grow old without me.
I don't think the new owner will keep the nectarine trees.
I pray that God will send more rain to the Westerners.
Here, it seems to be either raining or getting ready to.
I think the bean and corn crops will do wonders this year.
Multiple clouds of white fill the beautiful blue skies, and also, white clouds with shaded greys abound.
It may come with a different melody, but
one's life needs never be without a song.
I often hear pleasing whispers of the wind, and I
feel cool breezes, presently, with low humidity.
High humidity will soon arrive, and that's a promise.
Presently, it's pleasantly calm and warm in late May.
I pray the soon coming hurricane season will be mild.
These bits and pieces of muse have been my expressions
about my new home where I recently came to roam.
053022PS
Grandmother Everest caresses clouds
with her diamond-studded, silky crown.
Westerners come to conquer and boast
Sherpas wish to provide for their loves
and must always bear the heaviest load.
Shaman chants echoing from base camp
The mountain tourists are not listening
They're having a toast and chewing granola bars.
Prayer flags dance and quietly chat
Snowflakes are dreaming in avalanche.
Shaman chant from base camp
They're still not listening.
Today is the push for the summit.
The rich. plastic-dipped mountaineers.
Pickaxe the icy apron of Grandmother Everest.
The weather shifts-windchill dips....
The fog and wind perform their wicked tricks.
The reaper is the death zone storekeeper.
Shelves lined with broken axes -blistered faith.
Empty oxygen bottles, the last prayer of a mate.
Grandmother Everest is the keeper of ego and bones.
At base camp, the shaman chants
The prayer flags whip
Only the dead and dying are listening.
I always dreamed of being Western born.
Then I got in my Mustang to go far.
I drove my car through plains, desert, and more.
My Western boots are adorned with gold stars.
I ride with joy that stirs my spirits.
Because excitement makes the westerner.
From Texas winds I flow to California's shore.
In my heart with joy for being a rider.
Moving west.
Moving west.
Moving west.
With horses, Cowboy hats, silver belt buckles gleaming, This cowgirl rides the range,
Tirelessly dreaming
Starry eyed with star-bursting cowgirl boots!
There are so many types of Westerners.
And there's much about which they don't agree.
But they love the USA, and they're free.
Furthermore, they've stylish commonality!
Horses, Cowboy hats. and silver buckles!
Ridin' free on the range, rough and lucky!
Moving west.
Moving west.
Moving onward.
With horses, Cowboy hats, big silver belt buckles gleaming, She rides the range,
Tirelessly dreaming,
Blue-sky eyed with star-bursting cowboy hunks!
My shirts are simple. denim jeans well worn.
Frugal and thrifty, steady as the plains!
I love my denim jackets, strong and true.
Love the Bald Eagle, golden hue, that flies!
So glad I am to be a true cowgirl!
To ride the range, to explore this bright world!
Ever wonder why you are here?
Your non existence generates fear.
How'd you get this body, this life,
While millions suffer in strife?
Meaning is so illusive,
Answers aren't very conclusive.
Some notions might be comforting,
From a faith lessening suffering.
Buddhists believe you see,
That you'll always be able to be.
Honoring insight, reason, not myth
A suitable mindset to live with.
Your beliefs will be torn,
But don't be forlorn.
Rebirth is the term gurus use,
That religious Westerners confuse.
Simply like rocks, trees and seas,
Fooled by mythic gods you like to please.
Fourteen billion light years across,
When will this universe exhaust?
One hundred billion have lived here before.
Sizeable number, too big to ignore.
Your uniqueness is a matter for mirth,
Helping others is what challenges our earth.
If artificial intelligence can be conscious,
The future of humankind is dauntless.
Combining humans and matter expands thinking,
Our world will no longer be shrinking.
We are all only one,
Under this wondrous sun.
Just a speck of carbon I guess,
Nothing more, nothing less.
If your goal is to find nature's order,
Seeking meaning surely is broader.
When you discover the inner you,
You'll know exactly what to do.
All white Westerners and Western ideas are inherently evil
Indigenous peoples are all naturally kind and good 24/7
White Western governments are all systemically racist
It is biologically impossible for a black person to be racist
Only whites murder blacks. Black men never kill other black people.
White males should be permitted to exist only as an underclass
Abraham Lincoln was solely responsible for 639,000 deaths, the murderer
Fidel Castro's regime oversaw a dramatic increase in literacy in Cuba
Zionism and Judaism promote apartheid and the murder of Palestinians
Police departments must be eliminated the world over
Prisoners everywhere must be released, their prisons destroyed
The Western model of the nuclear family must be eradicated
These are all eternal truths
They replace Mao's little red book
I have burned Mao's little red book
The lines above are my new bible
(July 03, 2020)
Month Two of the First Year of the Republic of CHAZ/CHOP
"...we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned
in the distance by a invisible piper."
Albert Einstein
Einstein's inner mindscape view is intense
all of which for believers, makes some sense.
Everywhere one hears the Perfect Piper;
enchanting and also hidden cipher,
invisible messiah who would care,
in the sky, in the soil and in the air.
Feel his presence, trust this piper's ditty,
we will not always see true reality.
He who dares to challenge the universe,
the gods of Abraham and bible verse.
An ineffable maestro stands in stead
who plays that cosmic music in your head.
This is the realm of the Perfect Piper,
sparks human emotions ever hyper;
mysterious force that we cannot control
as each of us hopes to fulfill our role.
He exerts his power over all things,
one wonders what quantum quests this then brings.
18 Lines Couplet Rhyme 125 Words
Westerners tend towards anthropromorphization of gods
and characters from Michelangelo to Dr. Suess. This somewhat
secular speculation poem on the Perfect Piper (nee Invisible
Piper) uses a famous quote of Albert Einstein on god's
existence to comment:
"Everything is determined, every beginning and ending, by forces
over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as
well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust,
we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an
invisible piper." The question for the ages.
Pen illustration by G. Gaul
Carmena was born in Bolivia
but left that place at seventeen,
after three years of waiting for the chance
to live out an American dream.
When her folks finally got their green cards
they moved up into old Santa Fe,
Carmena finished out her high school years
picking up on all American ways.
She’d known some English before she had come,
but her vocab expanded real quick,
immersed in the tongue every day
her accent softened and became less thick.
This helped a lot in her father’s new shop,
he bought a gas station in a franchise,
Carmena waited on all walks of life,
and the experience opened her eyes.
She’d chat with truckers and travelers
from all over the fifty great states,
lefty Californians, southern good-ol’ boys,
northern Yankees and Texans hauling steaks.
Mid-westerners who were so crazy nice,
New Yorkers who always sounded pissed off,
good-natured rednecks looking for more beer,
even some Yoopers with their funny talk.
Learned more of her new home on that roadside
then she did in any public school,
what would divide and what would unite,
but the one thing that really stuck her as cool
was that Americans, the better ones,
made everything subservient to choice.
Culture and skin, ethnicity and faith,
you had the freedom to ignore and avoid.
These facts struck her as how things should be,
had not every person a claim to these rights?
Here force of law was meant to make free
people to be the driving force in their lives.
And best of all, she heard all sides of things,
good for thought, both the grease and gourmet,
when seven years passed, and she took that oath,
she became American in so many ways.
But then something happened she didn’t expect,
it came about in an election year,
talking with her friend Sue about the vote
she was greeted with anger and fear.
Carmena was confused,"Why the harsh look?
I was just sharing the thoughts on my mind.
I believe in gun rights, and low taxes,
My father’s shop has been having a time—”
Sue interrupted,”Do you hate yourself?!
Don’t you know that you’re a Hispanic?
You’re betraying your own kind, voting this way,
colored people should vote Democratic!”
Carmena was stunned, struggled to reply,
“But I see nothing good in their beliefs.”
Sue just fumed,”You’re a damn race-traitor,
or brain-washed by fascist enemies!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
WEST WIND 2
Be willingly wise with worthy ways as us Westerners
cos winter wind of woes wanders about
like a wandering Wolf windsurfing in wildlife.
Winter windup waves of weird wonder
wondrous enough to bring back Wayne Wonder
and wheeled at will the whole world with wows
which pose pridely like a waddy,
a wacko walking within waves of woes;
Whatsoever west wind wagged we wandered
as we become wanners, wearing wan expression,
warmly staring like a Wagga Wagga wading-bird.
Welcome was the words of windy west
as winsome breeze wapped my window and
wafted her sensuous witty wet perfume,
into my wide Afro-Western nostrils
waving wheats and weeds at will,
twas a whopping war wafture waxing souls warmly.
Why would wingless wild west wind worries
yet still, wags us with it's wondrous waves,
withdraws our eardrums with her windy drums
and whithered the plantation of peace
from the furrow of the fainthearted?
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Alliteration/Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April 2021.
Purple and black bird
Dropped the cowboys a pigskin turd
Telling a tale with heart
Playing the dramatic part
Preventing extra time
Dallas didn't mind
But the lone stars were declined
When the loop was sealed
Closing the deal
Making the Rippleys highlight real
Pulling off the steal
Disarming gunslingers' shooters
By using Tyler's powerful booter
Seconds it took to set up the stage
Creating festive rage
When odd looking ball took flight
Through the three-point designated upright
What a sight
North westerners went home lesson learned
About how they got burned
You may want to listen to Mister Poe
Bagging the Arlington's deceased head to toe
While enjoying the Rio de Janeiro show
Home it is time to go
Say good night
But lights
Should shine bright
Exorcising any Brazilian frights
Since the 90s my teachers
taught me, gave me the tools
since then, I've learned
Tibetan Buddhists have no rules
Some Karmic life-changing practices:
Tame my ego
Place others first
Give unconditionally
All this thinking is intertwined
can't be separated, you will find
Karma's much more I've found
than "what goes around comes around"
Karmic consequence means higher rebirth
notice the Buddha, he's touching the earth
grounded intention to do the right thing
is the way to liberation good acts bring
Westerners think individuals breed success
easterners foster Karma "loving kindness"
dissolve the ego, meditate, look within
you end up "awake" but it's tough to begin
My life has been changed in every which way
living Buddhist principles through each day
if you could choose a practice to possess
it might well be Karmic Kindness