We’re absorbed
by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
tired brains monopolized
by the clutter of the meal tray,
numbed by hours of jiggling -
the carting of torpid bodies
through interminable distance,
wedged into
a restricted boredom.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls,
if an engine fails
few will find the strength to panic,
we’ll keep decanting small bottles
of vin de table,
studiously apply hard butter
to soft buns.
As the aircraft plummets earthward
we’ll continue to struggle
with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers,
with small, molded cruets,
glad to be occupied
and totally blanked out
to what comes next -
or whatever.
I lay to waste
Earth-centered
omnisciently questioning life,
overindulging Anthro-preoccupied
questing enlightened faith
Wasting Anthro-centered
wealthy sacred life,
overindulging Ego-preoccupied
hunting haunted organic lust
Wasting Ego-healing opportunities
for Earth-centered yielding trust,
greedily grabbing for immortal identity
Laying to waste
Earth-centering communion
omnipotently questioning mind re-imaging life
unconditionally extending
body remembered love,
overindulging Anthro-monopolized
power questing infamy
Caste abolishing
Anthro-decentering
wealthy organic EarthTribe
healthy sacred life.
mixed bag of misgivings misconstrued Mrs. Mulligan’s miscomprehensions misunderstood. Miserable Mrs. M. mistrusted Minnesota moderators’ misuse of mockery and mimicry. Monkeyshine mix up, monopolized moronic mood, a monumental mortiferous mistake made by many.
Sit with us!
Have lunch with us!
They are eager for me to sit in the teacher's lounge.
I rarely want to, so I rarely do.
All because of Curly Sue.
Lunch conversation is completely monopolized.
By this spoiled girl who was cannonized.
By parents who forever pushed her to position prioritized.
Her thoughts and ideas are often by them glorifi-zed.
We’re monopolized by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
absorbed by the clutter of the food tray.
Numbed by hours of jiggling,
the carting of torpid bodies through interminable distance,
we’re wedged now into boredom, uncomfortably numb.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls, few will scream.
We’ll keep decanting small bottles of vin de table,
butter buns.
As the aircraft plummets
and drops like a stone to certain death
we’ll still be struggling with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers, with small, molded cruets
oblivious now to anything less important.
Critical of when
The true and righteous meaning
of something is overtaken and
monopolized for nefarious means
or end
When
God is given a bad name
By
Dogma
Dogma
Gives Dog's a bad name
As dog's are man's best friend
Inherently born to protect love
abide provide company and loyalty
Nothing more,
Nothing less
There are no bad dog's
Only bad misguided owner's
Who indoctrinate preach instill
and impart their own hate and
prejudice upon them
And in so doing
Weaponize them into a
self serving army
Of dog's of war
"The Mortal Wound of the Civilized World"
Shift upwards
speed fast
the choice, Is
Gears chosen by the
energetic heart
fuel the freedom
The point of attention
the “I Am”
an expression
of the same
consciousness
that you are "Is"
we are living
yet contained economies
numbed and played circadian
pinned and
framed
to our walls
day in
night out
repeat
by remote control
thinking we are free
true ignition evades us
until the game is over
We are caught up
in the mortal wound
of the civilized world
humanity
monopolized
bored we are
we are
the board game
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
We are monopolized
by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery;
absorbed by the clutter
of the crowded food tray.
Numbed by hours of jiggling,
the carting of torpid bodies
through interminable distance,
we’re wedged now into boredom.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls,
few will scream.
We’ll keep decanting
small bottles of vin de table.
We must butter those buns.
As the aircraft plummets
earthward,
we’ll continue to struggle
with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers,
with small molded cruets.
For Christmas I got half a glass of Coke; nothing else was given.
If I wanted something else I could spill it and get a spanking in addition.
My parents washed my underwear for my birthday
That’s all I got, and I liked it that way!
My slip-n-slide was a roll of trash bags and a hose
There were cinder blocks to hold the rolled out bags down at the end of slip row.
So we had to slide carefully and roll off fast.
We put shampoo and soap on it so it would double as our weekly bath.
My four sisters and I had one pair of boots to share,
And if I was lucky I got a boot to wear.
My bike had no pedals, no handlebars, and no seat,
But it had two wheels I could push uphill both ways through the snow, at least.
We had only four channels, and when the President spoke he monopolized all four.
And I only wish I was your age once more.
Pregnancy is constipation
enjoyable and admirable
monopolized by women
never sharing by men
no bribery to get one
a cool sickness it is
no bacterial infection
In nine months of constipation
victim replicates happily
own piece of wriggling flesh
and the constipation vanishes
Constipation comes with choice
but can be imposed as well!
eating through test-tube it comes
the potential patient feels good
asking for more, more and more
But when the time comes to rid it
lamentations, curses, regrets are heard
patient weeps without tears
when done, celebrations erupt
"The world is now a comedy
Human beings are the comdians
Oh I see I see in this life
Oh I see I see in this life
Human beings is the reason why
Every human beings cry
Thank God men are not God
It could have been worst
If men where God
The world would have ended so soon before now
If men where God
The air will have been privatise
The Sun will have been monopolized
The rain will have been hidden from
So many
Our forest will only be for the rich
Our land will be for mafians and their kabals
So every day I wake up
Only one thing so strong
I hold on to
The supreme above all men
Above every human being
Thank God men are not God
Yet I see I see I see
"The world is now a comedy
Human beings are the comedians
Oh I see I see in this life
Oh I see I see in this life
Human beings is the reason why
Every human beings cry
Thank God men are not God
It could have been worst
If men were God
We all are going to be nothing but skeleton and
The world will be a horrible paradise
According to Truth As Beauty EarthOccupier Rob Brezsny,
the original intent of “virgin”
unfolds as “complete unto herself.”
And so it is,
I pray and primally celebrate
waking into each of Earth’s days
a virgin,
once again.
Holonically complete,
one of Earth’s human language seeds,
bowing down as notnot up, yet
east as not yet completely Western red sky dominated
by fears and angry climatic stressors
both internally complete
and externally consuming and producing
ecstasies of Earth’s great transitional
epic re-ligioning intercourse
including, yet not monoculturally monopolized,
culturally creolizing
humane transliterations of organic
trans-parent transubstantiations
polypaths toward holy polymorphic symbiosis,
erotic lover days toward night
greeting exotic fragrant virgins
of Earth’s deep learning erotic
mindful body re-ligious incarnations
growing into full sacred virgin maturity
Then decomposing to rejoin Earth’s virgin trusted soul,
revolving hope’s fully active EcoOccupation,
complete unto EarthMother re-associated
panentheistic virgin
AnthroMind Truth/EarthBody Beauty
passionHere and pleasureNow.
The Seven Deadly Sins held a conference deep within
my fragile, mortal soul with destruction as their goal.
Pride took the role of lead, but was monopolized by Greed;
Sloth paid no attention; Anger interrupted the convention;
Envy held a jealous hunch; Gluttony moved they break for lunch;
Every member knew they couldn’t trust, any suggestions made by Lust.
As the sins hemmed and hawed, Faith and Hope built a wall
around the deadly caucus, among all the raucous;
Love put a lock on the door, holding the sins in evermore
as Empathy and Charity, planted seeds inside of me.
Even though I know that they’re there, and I carry them everywhere,
As long as I remember lessons I’ve been taught, their discussions will come to naught.
Written and posted on 1/23/2016 for the Deadly Seven contest.
Falsified and hypnotized.
Broken.
Monopolized.
Incurable and in need.
Overpopulated;
And alone.
Aggresively ignorant.
Proud.
A world full of:
Tattered sincerity.
Ambushed happiness.
Hot tears and cold smiles.
Hollow people looking for....
Something..
To feel alive;
Sometimes I feel like
we're already too dead to find it.
-James Kelley 2011©
You won’t find it in your local mall
It is nothing that can be bought
You won’t find it in your school text book
It’s not a thing that can be taught
You won’t find it through a telescope
It is not on the horizon way out far
You won’t find it with a highway map
You can’t drive to it with your car
You won’t find it in any church
Or in whatever bible you choose to read
It is not monopolized by religious folk
Or the property of any creed
You won’t find it hung on a museum wall
It’s not a piece of art
You can only find it deep inside
Of a happy person’s heart
It’s love for your fellow man
And not the kind confused with sex
It’s kind and pure and non-judgmental, too
The one thing I’ve found to be the best
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