Said the caste abolitionist
to the privileged preservationist
What Earth needs outside
we both feel inside
What people want inside
fills and spills outside
Following polycultural
polypathic
polyamorous
polytheistic Golden Rules
Ways
Means
Golden Ratios.
Caste abolition,
like anthropocentric constraint,
and unlike narcissistic complaint,
engages transformative potential
to recreate an organic civilization
in which every sacred body
has what is needed
and every polyamorous mind
has what is wanted.
Every neurological system
well-trained
and peace-making empowered
to recognize
and responsibly self-correct
any dissociative dissonant differences
between body nurturing needs
for kind touch
and mind-care wants
for compassionate communication
Spoken
and unspoken,
saged
and mused,
crowned
and rooted,
mountained
and valleyed
FatherSunned
and EarthMothered,
LeftBrained
and RightBodied,
enlightened
and empowering,
polished Win+Win
and abolished Win v Lose.
seed
sprout
unfurl
into curls,
a tender spiral~
petals placed within patient rings,
each bloom a Fibonacci pattern that nature keeps
each one revealing spiral truth, echoing the ancient ratios written by God.
Nutritious is Nancy’s diet, not nigh naughty
holistic homely ~ fruit, grains, coloured roots
she jogs, practices yoga daily, beautifully suits
knows body is Spirit’s temple, not high haughty
Into blue sea she dips frame, pure water sips
consciously serving cells new start unfolds
Sun shining vit D steady all right, light holds
temperance becomes her norm, chaos flips
Deep breathing clear air a habit to comely care
work play rest, due ratios for adventurous year
clarity, decisiveness with peace positive dear
Nancy will so attain desired plans fabulous fair
Surrender outcomes of goals in tantamount Trust
to God's Will ~ Reverence be holy Just
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Honorable Mention (Contest : Jan.26
New Start : Sponsor : Miranda Hurley)
if tears of the sun were the metaphorical keys
to unlock twisted trinkets of the searing sky
would you feel the festering forest~
homing arctic orchids within these veins?
or am I to remain detached and numb;
caged in a cursed collision
like an evanescent epiphany
of a misled marionette ~
screaming for a cathartic elixir….
tonight my intuition is a passive-aggressive gaslighter
manipulating the inner voice ~ like a pathological liar
freezing the floral clairvoyance…
while curiosity keeps crawling
amidst crestfallen opium
I ponder: do frost and flame, as I breathe in bleakness~
transcribe how the echo
within the fog filters reality
curated in the midst of melted angst
fluctuating like stone-blind blackness~
a drop-dead delirium kissed by the darkness
of a silent sepulcher?
I’m a prisoner of splitting supernovae
caught in polarized pyretic disruptions
for everything feels like exaggerated deceit
when truth seems like a mere dot above~
a hyphen of irrational ratios
carved from calculated confusions,
betrayed by the violent strings
of my violin heart…
Through closed doors unable to open
My yesterday’s that came at the moment
Tomorrow ended with conclusions full of illusions
Dreams of reality on the nightmare line tormented by disturbance
Reasoning and instances
Illustrations of compelling thoughts
Darkened shaded curtains
Mysterious lurks
Timeless space journey’s
The equation of substances of ratios unequalled
The unexpected
The occurrence
Twilight unseen
Trapped in my own twilight zone
Ratios golden and sublime
By Michelle Morris
06/07/2023
All the pretty petals
So soft and pink and light
Reflections of nature's magic
Perfection in every cell's might
Fibonacci and all mathematics
Ratios golden and sublime
Flowers remind us of each other
Our souls are infinite and divine
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Don’t do the math/s
Don’t look at the ratios
Don’t do the sums
Don’t consider the odds
Don’t do the math/s
Don’t let the algorithm conclude!
Don’t let the median compute!
You’re no average, you’re no middle of the road.
You’re not a number and no number is you.
Soma ratios
Stimulate simple sublimes
Socrapotentiates
*Image of Animals Noah by Pixabay.
Think Big, Worry Less
The day hath appeared as all creatures met,
they hath parted themselves by groups of twos,
as they slid, crawled, march, flew without a sweat,
onboard the welcomed vessel of hope cruise.
Arranged by alphabets all unafraid,
like the two ants who hath boarded the ark,
both fully aware but were undismayed,
with namely, Mr. & Mrs. Aardvark.
Nickname is their telltale like their diet,
ants knew the alligators follows them,
thereon, anacondas slide while quiet,
the ark, passengers all tight as a drum.
Yet small, they lift multiple times their weight,
ratios, alphas help, those ants ARE great!
2021 July 30
lines
through the past
confront
the
eyes
a hidden reality
a revelation
of simplicity
an essence
of purity
geometric parallels
vertical
horizontal
diagonal
graphic contours
of
the unknowable
in
balance
pure minimalist
in
form
yet
structured
blocks of conception
networked
ratios of the rational
liberated
White is fundamental absence of color,
as is evangelical black.
But, white is colorless
due to emptiness
while black
because of good news fullness.
Transparency is presence of visibility
as is not darkness
but transparency is void
where opaque is dense.
Life is absence of death
as death is absence of life.
But, death is empty and void
while life is full and robust
Promising evangelical integrity
of all motions and emotions
actions and reactions
ratios and reasonables,
presence and co-presence
in-between radically sacred
and fundamentally secular
cultures of dualistic meaning
evolve courageously purposed bright
with loads of curious light.
Why don't poets write poems about stocks?
Well, they're unromantic for sure, like the innards of clocks
Ofttimes stock prices rise or fall on the strength of company reports
Which most poets can't make hide or hair of, be they long or they short
Then all those myriad ratios investors are so good at flaunting
Price to Sale, Dividend Yield, Price Earnings, they all seem so daunting
And when they published that book, "Stocks for Dummies"
Literati like you and me felt really, really crummy
So, to sum up the reasons why there are no poems on stocks
They're as aesthetically appealing as a high tech black box
The order from above
in my country
when you are hold up
in the hands of the
law makers
guilty or not guilty
in most case
don't matter
once there is
the order from above
the order from above
in my country
when two hands
becomes one
with the iron lock
banding them both
like a victim
you are not expected
even just to speak
especially when it involves
the order from above
the order from above
in my country
when one is
hold down
beaten blue and black
eyes swollen with
the sight of darkness
by the laws keepers
that never want you
to retaliate or even
has a say to the very
brutality they impose
on you
is a pity you can't do
nothing
absolutely nothing especially
when it involves
the order from above
the order from above
this order has killed
us in high ratios
this order has destroyed
a lot brave one
who truthful stands
for true justice
of the poor masses
who are the innocent
victims of a brutal
regime
this order look like
the orders of the devil
cos it always rains
brutality on our life's
we always have no say
and we are nothing
especially when it involves
the order from above
Tribute to Teachers - Constanza
Upon my soapbox I protest
that teachers schooling young and old,
be honored like they're made of gold.
How small in payment we invest
with expectations raised sky high,
still, underpaid we can't deny.
For educators, my request,
to legislate to change the laws
for student ratios just cause.
In government we do divest
to raise the bar in public schools;
give teachers much more needed tools
and raise all pay at their behest!
Without these changes I do fear
few will want a teaching career.
Upon my soapbox I protest
how small in payment we invest
For educators, my request,
In government we do divest
and raise all pay at their behest!
6-20-2018
A poem with a message ' Poetry Contest
Sponsor stephen pennell
Constanza Contest ~Second Place~
Sponsor Emile Pinet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Without surfaces
we'd not know where
the rain'd been...
Without surfaces
her
surfaces
we'd not know where
my lips'd been...
The edges, the rough
edges; the torn ones, too.
The edges, the curls;
the tendrils hiding ratios
both shadowed and golden.
The curves, the crests...
Her surfaces and I plunge
beneath.
Her surfaces and We
surfaces.
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