Short Matriarchal Poems

blue amnesia vibe
consumes me to Forgotten
Matriarchal Thoughts.......

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Which is the truest measure of a life,
the leaf's annual departure
into Earth's compost pile?

Or the tree's root system
of timeless regenerational reforestation
slow-growing interdependent organic species?

Yes.
Both short-flowered leaf and root flowing systemic,
Left-patriarchal
with Right-matriarchal....

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paradox ignites inquiry
separation of miles
simultaneous expression
heart, diamond, seven
sympathetic origins
obscured talents revealed
matriarchal lineage proffers
activation of decoded language
awakening old ways, water ways
path ways of vainglorious movement
ebb and flow of awareness
inquiry satisfied...

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I am the sum of the ages
beginning before my mother,
before my grandmother,
and before my grandmother's mother.

I am the product of their matriarchal choices,
the quotient of their actions, reflections, and self-images.
I am the difference of their generations.

And I bequeath the equation of this inheritance
to the matrices of my living legacies....

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If life's sacred meaning
is found,
or perhaps never even lost, 
through active multicultural regenerativity,

I hope love's secular purpose
might find me,
and us,
through Earth-responsive recreation,

Like white patriarchal privilege
recalling
compelling matriarchal herstories
of dualdark degenerativity,

Like healthy green spring
is to winter wealthy snow....

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We care for our cooperative
incorporated Community
of health and safety faith
by caring with
and for sacred
regeneratively hopefilled
Earth

ReMembering
fertile orgasmic Earth
and serene Water
shared EarthCare
to bare our mammaled sensory
sexual
sacred emerging intentions
born of EarthMother wombs

Incarnating matriarchal eggs
and patriarchal sperm
into safe
and healthy aging
EarthTribal caring minds
with trusted bodies....

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A minute to make a moment
the instant to endear
A vow to make a marriage
more committed year to year

A ribbon to make a bow
once the tie is fastened right
A hope turned into wishes 
wrapping tidings ever tight

A man begets a son
with his legacy passing on
A matriarchal mother
making lullabies of songs

All time forever timeless
past—future in default
As fate unlocks eternal
the Muse inside your vault

(The New Room: June, 2022)...

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Drying under a sleepwalking sun
after a long swim
up and down
back and forth, steady, lazy strokes
until her body felt sleek and silvered
by the bright water.

Not bad for an old gal she thought
letting the warm air caress her mind.

There are appreciative busboys here
she is admired
as a matriarchal figure, an ancient goddess
a beautiful crone?

She smiles under closed eyelids
a thousand adoring hands
tingling her sacrificial flesh....

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