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SuperEco’s Silent Revolution

I belong within writing
speaking diastatic silence;
ringing resonant rising revolution,
enthymematic with round revolving reach,
risk relaxing
full-octave riot,
quiet content consonance,
storming streams of confluently invisible systems,
sentient string
adventing SuperEco’s
TransIt regenerating story,
advent’s stealthy camouflage adventure
deep despair diving,
then diastolic drifting back and up
and out beyond sonorous super-surfing seasons
sweeping flight to gather night might,
speaking slyly depth dreaming
down steaming volcanoed channels
reaching vortex roots of listening,
Earth,
Core,
Chi-Soul,
(0) superational
informating
universal
metasystem
Tao.

Way-Speak!
Truly and Justly shout diastatic enchantment
beloving contention churning
charring future’s compost of content-ment,
informating reason seasons
fine and far purposed meanings
boiling trim prime channel tipping
turning spinning dissonant waves
spilling bipolar surf of Tao balancing Yang/Yin icons
revolving temperamental Cross
examinations and analysis
strategies and games
trans-actions
TransIt
prime relation
ecological economy.

Straining Yang TransIt from West toward East
reversing Yin SuperEcho sweeps back
eco-ing East through West
like longing lingering eternal binomial entity
loitering leisurely languish within belonging,
becoming being,
TransIt’s SuperEco,
Yin’s right spins left-absent
good’s eviL entropy
wrestling Live organic voices
murmuring co-intelligence
pulsing resystemorphing,
messaging massaging rhythm’s blood flows
flying nutrient prime nucleic frequencies
echoing past IdEntities
of stormy still-dancing
through memory’s operatic veins
and rivers swan swollen,
Spring’s raucous
raw-cussing roaring
songs singing
silent ringing.

TransIt ring belongs
writing spoken diastasis,
Balance Beloving SuperEco.

Binomial Balancing
Being (0) Tao

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Tao Calendar

Where did we come from?

asked winter, of gratitude.

Who and what are we becoming and belonging?

asked spring, of hope.

Where are we going?

asked summer, of faith.

How did we get here, again?

asks fall, with incarnating grace,

winnowing harvest’s climatic outcomes,

regenerative, redeem-and-balance, economic mind.

 

Each life,

and all life,

is a coincidental ReGenesis Project.

How are yours coming along?

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Cooking Up Stories

Why would I care enough

to open your story?

Why don’t I care enough

to fill you in to mine?

 

I love your wild willingness,

can’t say the same for our willfulness

to exchange our belonging

for side-by-side longing.

for being karma’s relentless becoming

when we could more peacefully

become simple incarnate beings.

 

Prime being together

feeds my soul to yours,

organic compost

sublime breakfast

wild beings

with stir-flying nice.

 

Natural nutrients grow strong values

folding our stories with care.

 

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Sacred Pause

What have our children become

that we stand by to not watch them burn

then bury still screaming

shredding skin?

 

What have we become

that commerce doesn’t even pause

no unholy terror of awed silence

horrific wonder.

Voices continue shrilling

keyboards continue pounding

parents continue screaming

corporate minds still beat

industrious rhythms

streaming enculturing strings

of power without

sufficient wisdom to simply stop….

 

 

Silent full breaths of sorrow,

crucifying innocent redeemers

into deaths of ignorant anguish

self-hatred

raging fate

too dissonant to hear

too desperate to bear.

 

 

 

 

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Beauty School

Pupils do not smile;

they do shrink or swell

inviting light’s response,

or not so much.

 

Beauty bursts surprising grace in place and space.

But infatuation,

addictive potential love of beauty,

hope becoming faith,

sustained or unsustainable through repeating peace recovery.

 

Beauty grows through relationship,

the surface of goodness,

wellness,

or even excess.

Creative beauty thrives through time

each moment we return to places

where rejoin our longing and belonging

our purpose with our meaning

our becoming in this being

our function in this in-formation

at this time

and in this relationship of home.

 

Pupils do not smile so much as mutually swell.

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Uncategorized

SabbathTime Traveling

It feels wrong to commodify each day,

means to exclusively reclusive ends.

What mortality?

A night of dreams,

of merging id-entities into insight,

developing,

burgeoning coincidental awareness,

to arrive at co-prehensive moment

in morning’s meditation?

 

It feels right to full measure each day’s rhythm,

to respectfully dignify

our burgeoning story line’s

middle,

then commencement.

Each day a place of pilgrimage,

reauthoring our journey,

resting in rich place of gratitude

for gift of this eternal day’s promise;

fulfilling transition.

 

It feels wrong to commodify each moment,

means to ends.

What end?

Each life’s potential integrity

flows right and true,

radically replete song and dance,

engorged sustenance;

mindful,

graceful karma,

resonant resolutions.

Choosing rich eternal life

toward next moment’s transitioning abundance,

from prior moment’s integrity;

fulfilling

within time’s envelope

this day’s gifting economy.

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