Tag Archives: blues

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The DT Blues

Not so dear DT:

Many voices have avoided asking you
obviously challenging questions,

Like, “Why?”

I have a different
but related choice question:

Ten years from 2020 revision,
would you rather be dead
or a silently cancelled mystery
rightly left behind
by a more resilient
blood red
healthier EarthClimate
history?

This is my rightful
red-blooded
Earth patriotic question
for not only unjust you.

The entirely apartisan U.S. Senate
comes immediately to what’s left
of my right mind,

Especially those egregiously unclean
unrepentantly ungreen,
which seems to clearly exclude
no one
from blue penitence
seeking more red hot hope
for ecological salvation.

Better off already dead?
Or still breathing
but more left living behind,
out of over-invested
nemesis light?

Why, AntiUncle Samson,
Why?

What in degenerative
dogmatic Hell
was our bad trip all about?

The journey toward forgiveness
is a long one,
short on patience,
bankrupt
for culpable slack,
publicly mediated lack
of green clean curiosity.

Redemption begins with:
Hi. I am DeToxifying Donald.
I am part political fascist
and part economic fool.

I’m sorry.

Let me make reparations
by donating what little is left,
not yet self-righteously destroyed,
to Earth’s Feminist Future Gardeners
already permaculturing peace.

Then, cancelling
my monoculturing
“DT right is only red”
brand,
I choose to disappear
into a transgender nunnery
to clean ungilded toilets

To clean the pots
we marginally pee in
for myself
by myself
swiftly cancelled
by unplanned climate change
like everyone else.

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Earth Momma Blues

Momma
don’t help me
grow up to love CowBoys,

The ones
who can buy you
or sell you at will,
or tell you
they don’t care
whether healthy or ill,

The ones who know good ole’ boys
were born
unredeemable pills

Smoking up weeds
or stoking up stills,

Klanish threats
to the cattle
without sufficient
commitment
to armed forcing kill will.

Momma don’t help me
grow up to hate CowBoys,

Grown tired of their noise
their boys will be boys
armed violating toys
dark win/lose ploys
most trust in just goys
red true white blue
patriotic employs

Momma
don’t buy me
another white cowboy,
they just don’t work out
they leave with a pout
I just wanna shout,
What’s it all about
when your Alpha’s a cowboy?

Who has no clue
what he’s to do,
which side to chew
in red,
white,
and true blue
blues.

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Winter’s Time 2016

Winter’s time
and the livin’s not easy.
Snow plows humpin’
and my mouth is too dry.

Well, well, well, well, well
your daddy ain’t rich
and your wallet’s not cookin’.
So sleep little baby,
don’t you,
don’t you cry.

[Insert your own scat blues here. You didn’t think I was going to do all the work did you?]

One of these nightly days
We’re gonna’ rise up singin’;
We’re gonna’ spring our wings
and fly to the sky sky, sky!

And on that great gettin’ up mornin’
there ain’t nothin’ gonna’ stop us,
with Mother Earth
an Father Sun
standin’
and spinnin’ bye….

Ba-duh, ba-duh, ba-duh,
Bu-Dah…..

 

Dedicated to all the SADs, especially those working through Advent 2016, trying to keep your winterish cool about TrumpAdministration 2017.

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Sandwich Blues Generation

Sometimes it feels easier to throw my younger generation
in with my older generation
and walk away,
as quickly as possible,
without drawing undue attention to my own eagerness
to disappear into blues of love’s last kinder memories.

I wonder why
it seems they either want to kill each other
or they can’t eat up enough of each other.
Nothing too much in-between,
which is more what I get
in-between these past and future generations.

In my own situation,
this older generation has become all too relentlessly white,
while my own kids are more of a brown sepia rainbow
of polyculturing color mix
of browns and whites with ruminating blues.

My kids are sure their white grandparents were aliens,
possibly benign,
but never known,
too far away.
But, their brown skin grandparents
speak with fluent nourishing food,
good-news song and blues
of love and hated mistrust,
wariness of violence.

They sing brown stories of blues
fogging up from steamy love,
for without love’s heat,
no blue-souled warmth
to sing and scold their bratty grandkids,
cherished as whom we have become together,
contentious in this time
in-between regenerations.

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Sappy Greens Sing Bloody Blues

Nature unwraps in color
as culture’s evolution decomposes
interior dualdark black
as metaphysically trans-parent white light,
grayscale DNA/RNA high performance syntax,
full-octave seasoned
nutritionally reasoned,
regenerating time’s issues and opportunities
to remember our RNA cousins
also speak in full eco-resonant
WinWin evolving octaves,
harmonic rhapsodies
and deep ecology blues
greet reds
to spin more ultra-violet dipolar confluence
of EarthTribe health.

Sappy greens sing and dance bloody blue
rich veins fertilizing permaculture’s
regenerative informing strings of history
and science
and myths
told in iconic languages, numerals,
and seasons,
forms with developmental functions,
two dipolar Yang-out/Yin-in-bifold eco-cultures
coarising Earthtime’s bilateral prime-relationships
of emergent nutritional-soulful octave-balance
and
notnot-regenerate co-balancing/struggling dissonant
blues of distemperate natures.

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