To be truly, fully present
Of consciousness and
answering why we are here,
These studies are a promising field of research
Yet by powerful backlash
research has halted
For severe depression and PTSD
Universities use micro-doses of psylocibin
Derived from mushrooms
It lowers stress and doesn’t
cause hallucinations
Follow up studies show dramatic improvement
of conditions not previously responsive
to conventional medications and therapies
This chemical is still widely banned
Except for a few controlled studies
Underway at accredited, renowned medical
and psychiatric departments
at major universities
When popular conventional
therapies prove ineffective
the 60’s and 70’s proved a fertile ground
for those seeking help
New age treatment called Primal Therapy,
When religious cults such as love Guru’s
Hare`Krishna mantras, Buddhist chants
of Nam-Myoho-renge-kio or being shakabukued
or Hollywood fix its— for anxiety’s
mental illness failed,
Came the psychotherapists
and the latest Primal Scream Therapy
new and experimental, so-called Hollywood therapists
took it to levels unimaginable and a bit too far
and should have never been licensed!
Can old thoughts of hurt that we shun
Cancel life’s gifts wonder and fun?
If anger must stay
Within brain’s array
Do we run with pain in the sun?
To digest bad memory’s lunch
Chop stick therapies help us munch
And chew on old pain
So our bad chow mein
Will taste sweet like a Nestle’s crunch
Although it seems weird and so strange
If current behavior we change
Old things we found bad
No longer seem sad
As memories do rearrange
Thought patterns that left our mood scarred
That colored the present as marred
Yield to a changed script
Where wounds from the crypt
Appear like a kind greeting card
Forgiveness is really for us
It adds onto life like a plus
Anger’s not treasure
But cancels pleasure
And deports good times on a bus
Though, a time ago, I thought you were a mystic
Turns out that your only real magic is your solipsistic
You think your a gift that's so explosive
But your deep as an acid shower; just corrosive
Once upon a someday, I might feel like I did before
I hope what rained that day is not lost; I miss the petrichor
That's it; I'm done being so hopelessly pessimistic
Re-manufactured are my thoughts by therapies implosive
Remove the plastic; I'm brand new as I walked out the door
Life has been filled with holdbacks
not easy to overcome, feel little hope
especially in the early days growing up
it took so many years to learn to cope
Every school day was a dread
tension and anxiety were in control
had hatred of every school day
free, was not for it was so stolen
All of this made me stammer
every word was a battleground
even after school and at work
struggled socially so hard to sound
Now reached my seventieth year
look back on all I've come through
many ups and downs but still sain
God was there spiritually made me anew
There's been many kinds of therapies
to tackle my problem through the years
all helped a little but no transformation
still, no way to cast away my fears
I've been married on two occasions
very happily with a lovely life for support
this has been to know what's true love
to keep me going, not want to run short
I've found contentment to accept life
no matter what comes across my way
speaking slowly is easier to adapt
thanking God for His strength every day
A beautiful pink Himalayan crystal salt cave
Residing in Santa Barbara, California
features zen therapies in the form of
massages and facial treatments,
come without expectations or intentions
ooze your way into the comfort of our capable hands
let us show you what relaxation and meditation can be
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered as
my nicci levels plunged and dropped.
no nicci patches,
no nicci chewing gum,
no electric cigs,
good enough for some,
no therapies to help,
they just didn’t exist,
all those placebos
i so sadly missed.
so i went cold turkey mates
mainly through short cash
so why do i still dream of
lighting up, crashing the ash.
i dream i still smoke,
enjoy every single one
memories flooding back
from years long gone.
every single pilsner
accompanied by a ***
nothing quite like a grosse
and a long deep drag.
its sad really;
just a sick joke,
because in real life i just can’t
stand the smell of ciggie smoke.
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered
as my nicci levels plunged and dropped
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
PROGRESS
To improve win/win therapies
for past win/lose trauma events
and their degenerative systemic lack
of conserving organically healthy,
well-nurtured,
good-humored
and celebrated sacred joyful
integral
sensory-neural root systems.
CONSERVATION
To protect existing animated systems
against critical trauma events,
chronic stress,
and degenerative,
dissociative
Losing Global Wealth Conservation
AND
Losing Liberal Health Progress
root systemic mortality,
genocide,
ecocide
Tragically possible
while denying sacredness
of healthy polycultural
resilient life systems
like Green Gaian Paradise ReMemories
and RedBlooded Peak Ergodic-Erotic CoGravitating Passions,
panentheistically eco-progressive,
monotheistically win/lose wounded
ego-conservative anthrosupremacy.
Social
economic
and political
"EVOLUTION
is driven by progressive ideas
and policed by conservative sensibilities..."
"Progressivism
and Conservatism
each worry about one half of every issue,
and together,
they make sure we're paying enough
attention [etc.]
to everything that [bilaterally] matters."
Tim Urban, The Story of Us, 2020
There still trying to figure it out
How you make another year
No doctors Pills Aseptic techniques
Or Answers
Just tons of Books Strong Coffee
And Sunlight
They say it's in the "genes"
And of course the "therapies"
Where you hash
Your past
Confront your demons
And for a future
Stay stuck
While people find themselves
Lose their habits
And remain the same
You work on
Loosening yourself
Please
"The Longevity Factor"_
Alex Nelson_
Early 90's_
as if the body destroyed
endure the decline you try to mend
when entering and exiting appointment
and pharmacies and bandages
and palliatives and medicines
and therapies and hopes
and absurd bets
after the unsynchronized years
the age and the intercurrence of the discomforts
as they say putting velvet over the thorns
silently waiting for something wonderful to emerge
from the left end of the brightest star
or else already giving up
sure it finally comes from the distant valley
a warm and fragrant wave
sedation like a fog
cozy and comfortable
that embraces all spoils
of the tortured organic machine
the skin tattooed in the pain of bad days
and drive friendly
in conformity with an almost joy
to the security of nevermore
D r i f i n g
observations from faraway places
dreams drawn from Beta born curios
traveling through limitless faces
distant glow of conscious realities
from here I see
wedding rings around Neptune
sleepwalking awake
weightless again
the ebb and flow
of Light year therapies
meditative monologues
threadbare Thetas
my return Home
Alone----together
in the corridors of this endless labyrinth every corner hides the abominable, like your last sad diagnosis, crumpled up and thrown on the old sideboard, or my pale face in the embarrassing portrait, still scared of the storm that made the sunflowers disappear from the city, because this is a suffering in thick drops, it descends slow and bad through the cold walls and within all the medicines we find no solution, even trying to corrupt happiness with false therapies or keeping and forgetting the tickets of our trips to illusion, but now not even the broken armchair misses of our pain while it rots quietly in another dark corridor, in the abandoned house a mummified grasshopper lies beside the little boxes with padlocks, as if we could keep the screams of the wind that toppled our world, or if we could still see and follow in the footsteps of who we would never be again, it was you who tasted the sour void, you who saw the exit sign that time swallowed, It's really good not knowing who we were, because if we've lost each other forever and I'm no longer allowed to remember, the mirror of memory did well when it broke
Sacred EarthMother and Child,
bearer and born
to win together,
to not sin apart
No less true for elephants
and dolphins
and humans
and undemocratic sycophants
than owls
and solvent wolves.
Child rightbrain nonverbally born
to hear before seeing,
to internally feel
before externally touching,
to smell before tasting
sometimes win together,
sometimes sin apart.
For what purpose
MotherEarth and EarthMothers
but to deeply learn bilateral Winner,
prime composting compassionate health
equally codefining
ego/eco co-refining
co-acclimation,
Earth's perpetually regenerative celebration...
Green cultural opposite
of red fascist nihilistic
wealthy multicultural life denying
Sin/Sin
Lose/Lose nihilism,
climate change cynicism,
unhealthy womb denialism.
We fight this powerful plague
A plague that devours our true selves
Ravaging our bodies and minds
Like a flood of fast-moving water
We put up dams to stop the flow
With treatments and therapies
Praying we are spared another year
While fighting this cancerous devastation
We need help from others to fight
Our ammunition is scarce at times
We have to rest, take breaks to refuel
It’s often a long, emotional battle
We become battle scarred warriors
And fight with our weapons of
Hope, faith and strength...
We will be survivors
Because my own behavioral issues,
and my own public political and economic issues,
follow my own vocal trauma communication concerns
and bad-health memories,
It seems my most effective management therapies
usually begin more cooperatively
more quietly spoken in vocal kindness,
and then move on to behavioral mindfulness
to focus on expressing active compassion,
as needed
and invited,
verbally and non-verbally.
If I can leftbrain need to articulate cooperative intent
and rightbrain feel compassionately active hope,
then healthier integral behaviors tend to follow
by seeking co-acclimation
in-between these self/other needs with co-arising feelings
affluently/effluently communing.
I do not conclude
from these experiences and memories
that behavioral therapies are misguided
or misdirected.
But, I do both want and feel
behaviors are non-verbally and verbally communicated,
with or without aggressive competitive intent,
and usually somewhere ambiguously in-between
interdependence and fragmentation,
regenerative and degenerating investments
spent and dynamically returning.
Little voices … in my head
Telling me - “Go back to bed!”
“This crazy world is better off without you!”
Little voices … in my head
Warning me with what they said
“Don’t you know that everybody doubts you?”
I hear them whisper in the gloom
As night hangs heavy in my room
When I’m alone and in my own seclusion
Sometimes it makes me laugh out loud
Despite objections from this crowd
Of ne’re-do-wells who live … in my … delusion
I AM THE MASTER OF THIS MIND!
(No matter what the doctors find!)
Despite each daunting, dismal diagnosis
Their therapies are just a way
To while away another day
In this peculiar, paranoid psychosis
But if you think my story’s sad
I must admit – It’s not that bad
For life is not about well-being only
Those little voices carry on
When everybody else is gone
And, bless their souls, at least I’m never lonely!
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