and dearest Cinderella StepSister,
I regret ways I have failed each of you.
From today’s view of memory clips,
frames as farms of teaching-learning times,
my Great Lover Eldest, yet perpetually unfulfilled,
AfricanAmerican black male urban Thug,
driver of van repurposing other’s grateful loss,
transporting toward highest and best
ecologically healthy use.
You needed me to choose to continue bedside reading
just a little longer,
you wanted me to choose family-no-phone daily dinners,
just a little longer,
to choose not to add StepSister
to your adolescent chaos.
Your challenges with reading
other people’s emotional verbal rhythms
and rhymes with reasons,
speak to me of missed opportunities
to invest more eye-to-eye and same-room time,
rather than those other more nutritious monocultural choices,
the kind my dad made without me.
You needed and deserved more time invested
in revesting what it could mean to learn together
about muse and music,
about rhythms with natural rhymes,
cultural songs and political sounds and rapping economic voices
of poetry as temporal rounds of time’s seasons
investments in political
with cooperative economic treasons.
My middle shy wilting flower
MidWay Fluent Son.
Co-empathic gifted and cursed,
and therefore often suffering
through over-heated bright,
you needed more shared sun-screen time,
a partner in your fascination
winning cooperative relationships
competing team strategic outcome choices.
Life Game Outcome Values
Cooperative Economic and PolyCultural Political WinWin
PolyNomial Objects with PolyPathic ReGenerating Objectives.
I always love our mutual WinWin
cooperating “both-and” cultural opportunities to share,
avoiding our competing “either-or” risks of wrong presumptions,
encoding Game Theory versions of Golden Rules with Natural Ratios
applied to all golden-natural ecosystemic relationships,
transactions bilaterally light and dualdark,
Tao-Soul Revolving RealTime,
BiLaterally Revolutioning LeftThink to RightFeel
to Left sadtry again.
My youngest son
who has no bodylanguage filters,
who cannot voice his temperate words
with languaged rhythms and icons,
to you I leave a human race
that has already paced too fast
to be sure we can sustain
a future that could support
your incubator and medical needs
in your own future’s less viable infants.
Who will sing with our damaged children in their own keys
of rhythm and joy and laughter,
where will your song be heard
as cherished elder-music memory?
Who will remember to tap your shoulders and back
and bounce your bum to the beat
of gospel and rhythms of blue light
speaking through your skin
“I hear it too, as do you?”
Who will hold you through
rolling across inside neural plates
seizing chaotic rhythms,
waves of seismic volcano rebirth,
surfing up and down
in as out as in again…?
You I leave your mindbody
as your beautiful song
and daily liturgy of dancing sounds
in resonant colors
of your warm love of light and scents transcendent
echoes of singing voices past,
ringing flowers singing
flowing through your veins,
beating your thumpthump heart,
breathing your in-out balanced flying mind as body
that could not walk.
My struggling StepSister Princess
baptized in embryonic toxic chemicals,
mixed slyly with MotherManna,
you are born to Yang monoculturally through
as Princess or Ugly StepSister,
your moment by moment,
hour by hour,
day by day choice.
For you there can only be one Sun Goddess
for whom all others were divinely sole-vested
for worshiping your Cinderella feet.
You vigorously want
and expect Prince Charming
good and beautiful and truly healthy
loving and good-faithing,
listening and fulfilling each hope
whether for more or critically far less,
to have sole control of all you know,
exterior robotics serving interior ego-manic,
to Yang about by day,
and struggle against all night,
playing WinLose games of confrontation,
when both-and are so obvious
with more bicameral-temporal-neural balance
than you could ever become.
I have given you all I have to invest,
all my Zero-interest EgoLeft/EcoRight MindBody
could think and dream of
to play and sing and story
in our puppet fable rhythms
of superheroes and romantic witches
of hope as a shared magic smile
over humor that is most certainly
not politically correct.
You sing up,
I dance down.
You say smile,
I smile frown
You say yes,
I say notnot.
You say why,
I say forgot.
You say did not,
I say you caught me,
our co-elating truth,
StepSister don’t now how
to give a shit,
to return our opposite
with her own,
economy of survival
in her made up
why dogs eat cats
dipolar dissonantly dialected
neural challenged world.