Tag Archives: culture of health

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Waking Up Despair

Waking up to despair,
sadness,
bone-tired at war with a beeping alarm clock,
an alarming list of immediately urgent responsibilities
without an opportunity in sight,
or at least not this first despairing fright,
at end of night.

If this sounds familiar
as at least your normal Monday through Friday,
you probably need a better way toward bed
the night before.

Most likely, earlier.

But also,
even for many with mindfulness practices,
disciplines
with their own short and long-term rewards
for both natural and spiritual health,
remembering gratitude
is our interior face
of grace’s exterior face,
or karma’s exterior influences,
or love’s potential winners winning
full circle in theory,
yet too anemic during this dreaded alarm clock time.

If yours is solely a morning contemplative practice,
after you wave the kids off to school,
after the gym or the run,
after the personal hygiene,
it is already too late
to optimize your opportunity
to wake up with least claustrophobic despair
and most expansive hope
building toward faith
that this day just might be even better
than yesterday,
as utterly remarkable as yesterday appeared
as you were mindfully drifting off to sleep
perhaps even before greeting GrandMother Moon’s
new through full repeat performances.

She’ll be here all week,
visible and sometimes invisible,
guarding your restorative rights and responsibilities
toward regenerating tomorrow’s realistic gratitude
for renewed opportunities
to brush your teeth,
and greet each child and significant other,
to notice if these wake with a smile
toward this day,
or with a scowl
for lack of sleep
or a good dream interrupted,
and recognizing how this is two ways
of saying one important not yet thing
which can build toward despair,
and further lack of more therapeutic dreams.

It is an important personal and also political choice
to prepare for sleep
repairing for tomorrow’s grace
or in dread against our memories of grace’s lack,
apparent absence,
persistently stuck issues
too overwhelming to think or feel our way out of,
through,
beyond.

These are important items for evening contemplation too.
But, when I am making my lists,
I start with minuses,
drift off counting my appositional pluses.
They are both there
within us
if we can choose restorative faith
after our lights turn out.

In this sense
we can choose our karma,
our awareness of positive and negative grace.
Love’s tones of restorative therapy
and retributive punishment,
if not yet quite overwhelming gratitude,
also not awakening to further despair
from chronic days of self with other abuse and neglect.

I continue having a dream
that the night everyone in military-industrialized cultures
drifts off feeling graced with opportunities
to become and do every cooperative thing we can
to guarantee Earth’s future of healthy exterior climates,
that is the night before our first morning
arising together
without overwhelming internal competing despairs.

Faith that this restorative therapeutic day
could unfold no less grand
than this dream we shared
our polypathic
demilitarizing
dis-industrializing
less exhausting night before.

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Red and TrueBlue Family

Red and Blue Estrangered Families

Dear Siblings Three,

I was reading a story
in which some siblings became estranged
after their parents died,
while others moved toward greater solidarity.

This is a variation on a diaspora story.
But, here growing physical distance
is seen more as a geographic effect
than a political cause
of growing estrangement on one side,
and solidarity on the other.

Emigration out toward others of like faith systems
and re-immigration of siblings back toward each other,
circling our tribal wagons,
for now it is our turn
for that Great Transition
into mere grandparent mortality,
to go out toward this night better informed together
than estranged alone.

I thought of how true this is for me,
with my three siblings;
an older brother Mike
an sister Connie
from whom I feel estranged,
and a younger sister Kerry
whose mind and heart,
spirit and nature,
have always been
and yet still become
as one.

If I used speed dial
on my smart phone,
Kerry would be first on my contacts list.
My husband would be a distant second.

By contrast,
if Mike or Connie ever called,
my screen would only show
Michigan or Texas
because I have never put them in my contacts list.

That is how I define estranged
as contrasted with
solidarity.

Why we are as we are
we have never discussed.
And I wonder if I will regret this
should any one of you fade back into MotherEarth
before I do.

I suppose this sibling divide
may have to do with competing faith systems
rather than exploring cooperative,
and mutually appreciative,
multiculturing faith systems.

But I have no idea whether Connie or Mike would agree
with this hypothesis of prime cause,
or might include this
in a larger bag of history and enculturation
I have not thought of,
or perhaps have not yet learned to see.

So,
when I was compiling a list of Republicans I know
well enough to ask who they voted for
in our most recent Presidential selection,
and how are we feeling now
about those choices,
two of the four people I could imagine asking,
and yet not without some fear and trepidation,
are my own estranged Mike and Connie.

This leaves me wondering
how we will grow healthier as Earth’s
#1 consumer of fossil-based dwindling energy
and #1 producer of global climate pathologies, per capita,
if we don’t even talk about this
as families estranged from each other’s faith systems
yet sharing one national,
and preferably civil,
citizenship.

Faith systems, if they are about good faith,
should produce our own lives of growing integrity
and faith in healthy futures
for our children and grandchildren.

So it is, I am asking
Mike and Connie, but also Kerry,

Who did you vote for President last year,
or who would you have voted for,
in case you didn’t bother?
And how are you thinking/feeling
about that preference now,
approaching one year later?

I’ll start,
and invite each of you to respond in kind,
rather than writing in response to my story,
or to each other’s.
We can get to compare and contrast later,
as a second stage in a national dialogue,
if we each survive this familial first.

I would have voted for Hillary
if I had found the new polling place
before it so rudely closed,
right after I finally wrestled Ivy into bed.

During both the Obama and Clinton administrations,
Hillary was the primary architect,
or at least one of just two or three,
of diverse attempts to actually pass what would ideally have become
universal health care legislation
through a typically constipated bicameral Congress.

It also seemed to me that she extends her economic
and political investments
in health care
and receiving
to environmental health care
and receiving
issues,
concerns,
and ecological opportunities
to explore WinWin bicameral solutions
for both Republican conservators
in defense of humane physical,
and mental,
and spiritual health;
and Democratic libertines of equal health and thrival opportunities
of and for all species.

I erroneously thought the Republican candidate
was unlikely to win
because he ran against all of the above,
so at least the large majority of women voters,
traditionally strong on family and community health care issues,
would find Donald to be anathema,
both ecologically
and sacredly.

So, how I am feeling now,
as a Blue Connecticut State resident,
is angry,
and terrified
that what was Presidential campaign promised
continues to be my nightmares of cosmological disaster and threat,
and therefore compelled to do everything I can
to facilitate all of us
learning as much from this economic and ecological and political mistake
as possible,
as quickly as possible,
seeking 2020 critical certainty
before 2020 reaches its ultimate November selection.

We are a two BlueState,
two RedState family,
although Michigan is more ambiguous,
I doubt Mike’s Michigan Republican experience
is peculiarly ambiguous.

If we can talk about this
in a mutually appreciative way,
with gratitude for this opportunity
which can only last through all four lifelines,
perhaps we can help set a more harmonic bicameral tone
for and with our other increasingly estranged States,
and families.

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Uncategorized

Columbian UnCivil Allegiances

It was a nasty war.

To call it an UnCivil War
is to avoid an obvious oxymoron
as embarrassing as Military Vitriolic Intelligence
through lack of Anger and Fear Management,
violently over-industrious absence of mutual assured civility.

We were too optimistic
about democracy’s therapeutic capacity
to heal still bleeding racist
and sexist
and anthro-supremacist wounds.

Meanwhile,
First Nation truth-tellers
predicted we newer natives must harvest xenophobic fascism
as we supplanted lock-step European royalists
to merely replant their WinLose colonizing intent
without creolization’s more slow-grown WinWin grace
to begin and end each day with resilient gratitude
for polycultured unity.

To avoid mid-way
one right-way rallies
for ever more uniform allegiance
to a patriotism defining
who is healthy favored inside
and who best remains pathologically inferior outside,
bought and therefore sold through God’s most obvious neglect,
bred and bled at ego monoculturing will
by those more sacredly sustaining
inside this most perfect Union’s
not truly mutually enfranchising multicultural folds.

Donald Trump is U.S. President,
the hopefully last exhaust of UnCivil Wars,
because he is not alone in unresolved conflicts
about economic and political lines
drawn between north and south,
now blue against red,
like diastatic and diastolic competitions,
where cooperative co-delineations are
hands-down
essential to healthy organic circulation,
Tranquility of Preambling Promise.

Blue would restore uniting ecojustice
as both sacred personal
and secular public
ecological vocation.

Overly commodifying utilitarian Reds
would return retributional revenge
against those threatening sacred restorative lines
of matriarchal equal with patriarchal rights
of eco-stewardship

To give up competing against hosts of alien nations
to invest more nutritionally
in cooperating with and as SkyWoman’s Original Native
EarthTribes,
long before Eastern sightings
of Nina,
Pinta,
and SantaMaria.

This larger unresolved Civil War
began renewed with ballistic forces
when Columbus Day colonizers
assumed European superiority.
Yet was,
at best,
midway unfolded as North America’s Great UnCivil War,
then after-shocks of contested cooperative enfranchisements,
advocacy and advertisements for mutually marching markets
toward consummating eisegetical pledges
of new-found allegiance to FatherLand
while laying waste to anciently permacultural nutritions,
kneaded and rewoven through Thanksgiving Resilience
MotherEarth Exegesis.

Together,
we close each warring violent chapter
with renewed opportunities to now,
again,
become of one united natural-spiritual mind;
not mere monoculturally competing allegiances toward uniformity,
but preferring instead
both Blue with Red polyculturing cooperative unity,
civilly NonViolent,
more perfect,
Unities.

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Threatened Organic Economies

“No federal agency should ever…declare war on any sector of our economy”

says EPA chief Scott Pruitt.

I wonder how uncomfortable Secretaries and Parents of Health and Human Services could be

with any Protection Agency

declaring war on all sectors of our human health ecology.

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Boundary Issues as Revolutionary Opportunities

I wonder if everyone
has a most dreaded dreamed
nightmare worst
way to conscientiously drop wrong dead.

Mine is claustrophobi-recallish buried
half alive at best is worse
in a wooden rough pine crate.

I’m feeling angry with those who raped,
then buried me black in here,
because I no longer have commercial value
in a WeWin
so YouLose
ecopolitical market,
and then return to becoming panic terrified
because I can no longer half-dead breathe!

My air is right exhausted,
and I can’t quite left remember
if I am more afraid to die angry-conscious
at ego- and anthro-anticentrism,
or more afraid of losing untotal consciousness
while being raped inside this claustrophobic crate
where eco-consciousness can no longer erupt another breath
remembering active history’s preconscious hope.

Honey. Really?
You have to go all sarcastic on me
just because I gently asked
if you had a nightmare?

So, yeah, there’s that.
Which feels profoundly sad
and despairing,
at least about wombs of ego-hope
buried in rough pine coffins
within Native American
sacred ecological injustice
as collateral damage
for WhiteMale rule my own damned eco-forest!

Some nights more deforesting tenuous relationships,
testing mutual WinLose capacities for patience
for Ego’s time to be both here and now,
some days,
without my half-dead buried while raped pine box
of RightBrain duarldark suppression,
I can reach toward reweaving
polypathic
more polycultural outcomes
reforesting
restoring ego’s peace
with MotherEarth’s ecojustice.

That’s nice, honey.
What shall we have
for our ecojustice deep rich breakfast?

Nightmare identities
have LeftBrain transparency problems
and boundary issues
and strange feelings of vulnerability as weakness
of inappropriate scale and speed for revolutions,
temporal flow-stream concerns
conjoining back and forth
across timeless time,
as dualdark Witness of 4-Dimmed RealTime.

Although not necessarily imagined in reverse order,
appositional,
oppositional bicameral,
dipolar not quite so bipolar
Left with Right not so much
Left against Right
communication,
dualdark information.

Angry monoculturing atoms avoiding fake ecopolitical good news gospels
and fear-emptying waves
of ego-thinned-yinned-out,
LoseLose playing out,
divesting backward
rather than investing forward,
RightBrain degenerative suppressions.

Perhaps you might hope for a bit more restorative honey
in your chamomile tea, dear.

No longer personal hope
for future active restorations,
installations of ego-peace
with ecojustice for EarthMothers and Allies,
Left with Right,
Yang with Yin
rather than waving hostile competing flags
of internal self half-allegiance,
back matriotic and forth patriotic,
like some kind of bipolar confusion
as cognitive-affective
self-perpetuating
anti-enculturation of stressing dissonance.

Yes, I hear the dissonance, dearest.
Hang in there.
I’m sure it’ll all come out OK.
Don’t forget to flush.

Oh my God!
Mother Earth’s
climatic health womb
is in pathological over-shoot!

Supreme violence of
“I Win,
so you are…

Raped,”
then buried claustophobically half-dead,
deforested,
unlivable,
without co-redeeming value,
LosersLose
DualDarkisms
DisUniting Entropic
Yang v Yin
cosmologically dis-culturing
DisGenerating
Outcome Strings
of YinFade-Out History,
Black, Out and In Double-Boundary
NightMare Issues.

Yes dear,
that’s right,
your hazelnuts are especially protected by double-boundary skins and shells
before becoming hopelessly buried
in MotherEarth’s compost
to rise again
a bilateral
at least somewhat balancing
nut tree.

When I consider
restoration to sanity’s ecopolitical standards,
mutual climates of healthy cultures,
and not so much pathological nightmares
of underslept
and overpopulated
and raped
and buried half-dead paranoia,
I also hear an invitation
within myself
and with my local through global community,
EarthTribe as my family of cousins,
our nations and states and incorporated estates,
to be less quick to only identify ourselves as victims
of crimes against nature and nurture,
without also more fully identifying
diverse levels and stages and frames of perpetrator responsibility.

We are invited to see ourselves
as both the aborted and pine-box buried baby,
but also as a community
which has given birth
to both of these EarthMother victims
and our own perpetrations,
violence,
revenge,
reiterative injustices,
lack of restored peace,
absence of cognitive-affective dissonance.

And we are part of both
my DeForesting Retributive NightMares
and our most polypathic Mother Earth
ReStorative Justice and Peace
for and of ReForesting DayDreams.

Speaking of which, dearest,
I’m off
into my EcoTherapeutic Day.
Sounds like you need a nap,
and probably more organic exercise.

Righto.
Don’t forget,
we’re picking out our healthier kids today.

That didn’t sound exactly right honey.
But I think I know what you mean.
Bye!

Bye-bye.

Now, let’s see.
Spiritual Ecology:
The Cry of the Earth,
Thich Nhat Hanh,
The nurturing bells
of nutritional mindfulness
are calling out to us,
trying to wake us
nightmare nuts
up,
reminding us to look deeply
at our restorative and retributive impact
on this matriarchal and patriarchal planet,
and have more compassion
for my own internal ecopolitical nightmare nights
of dualdark bicamerally ecological cosmologies,
both healthy
and pathological.

 

 

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Uncategorized

This Is UnFinished Feminist Us

It’s peaceful here in my backyard.
The crows sound happy
with warm October sunlight.

I just read about a deadly gathering in Las Vegas.
Absence of sun-drenched peace.
Inconvenient this time of lost loss.
Death is always inconvenient,
even when invited.

A veteran,
about my age,
this shooter.

I feel like it took more than one
to hold and fire this mental illness rifle.
In a sad and guilty complicit sense,
we have collectively achieved what we bought
and sold
and settled for.

This malformed soldier
is a remnant of what most believed we needed to create,
back in the 60s,
brainwashed into believing
we were protecting wives and kids, somehow
by killing Vietnamese husbands
and many times their wives
and napalmed children,
trees,
forest.

Not exactly breeding ground for growing healthy minds
and well-armed bodies.

I dimly and darkly recall
a much earlier disagreement
with the new commander of the U.S. Navy’s
Officers Candidate School.
A first woman commandant,
something atrociously surprising to men-only militia violence,
similar to Medea
planning an angry hostile life.

This earlier time also started peacefully alone,
but inside,
waiting to be called in to her office,
at the beginning of her second week
in her new exalted position
over new violence-empowered candidates.

I had just completed a gratuitous violence first week of abuse
and militarily precise neglect,
as ruthlessly systematic as racism,
in frigid first week of January,
Rhode Island.
We were so close to the Atlantic
it felt like we were in the ocean.

We had also been frigidly outside,
and hotly inside,
yelled at,
systematically starved,
force marched in gusty zero-degree 3 AM darkness
without coats or hats or gloves,
in fact I think we were in our boxers and Tshirts one night,
due to someone’s sin of omission,
whether contrived on schedule
or spontaneously erupting
from pneumonia reduced and disabled minds,
I do not know.

The hardest part for me
was less than two hours sleep per night.
Industrially guaranteed to reduce oneself to crazy.

When I was first ushered in
for my early exit interview
by none other than her Military Medea Mightiness,
she took one look at miserably civilian dressed me
and asked why would I think it appropriate to disrespect her
by not bothering to show up in uniform.

I started to mention that I had never been issued one
when she told my keeper
that we needed to do an about face
and try again when I looked right.
Or at least as righter
as I might become.

So, he had to go out among my now-former classmates
to beg and borrow,
hopefully he didn’t steal,
boots and belts and pants and shirt and hat.
Later that same long and tedious day
I was once again summoned
for a second shoot.

She wanted to know
why I thought it was OK
to be the first to go
from this new class of officer candidates.
Did my recruiter not explain about this first hazing week?

Well no,
in fact I thought he told me hazing is illegal
in most States.
We develop soldiers;
we don’t grow bullies.

I understand you didn’t make a total ass of yourself.
So if you want to change your mind,
now that we turned the heat back on
and keep the lights off all night
and have turned the verbal abuse down a notch,
or maybe two,
I might be willing to listen
if you beg me nicely to stay here
with us in Navy Officer Paradise.

No thanks,
said I,
I’m already quite disgusted enough
by your shocking lack of even militarized intelligence
to see this as a navy not invested in preserving,
much less protecting,
real live humanity
hanging onto some semblance of sanity.

Oh but you see
this is not true.
Our rules of first week operationalization
are to save your sorry ass
because,
as we all know,
teamwork builds through ego assassinations.

Well no,
actually,
your own recent research on these issues
lies at my fingertips.
Required reading for psych and communication majors,
attitude change and persuasion students
where I hail from in Michigan.

It is a clear and present common threat to survival
that most quickly grows cooperative trust and teamwork,
cooperative co-investments,
especially among those who have learned to trust and respect each other,
including for our recognized
and understood and
appreciated diversity
of talents.
and shared sufficient simplicity of sleep
and active co-listening for harmonic voices.
Or maybe that was just for choirs
and military orchestras.

Well this is fake news to me!
she exclaimed in her sternly patriotic face.

I believe you,
which is why
I want out
of this absence of healthy care
and any semblance of sanity,
disloyal to my family’s investment,
my nation’s rational self-governing future,
and anathema to Sacred Mother Earth.

Are you Native American,
asked she,
as if she couldn’t care less or more.

No more or less than you
I would surmise.

It came as no surprise
when she eagerly accepted
my request to be relieved
of further dishonored service
and cast aside my various borrowed parts
because of ecopolitical leaders
confusing noble grace of unity
with bare-knuckled
bare-headed
frozen uniformity.

I wonder how the Green Beret shooter
in lost loss of Las Vegas
might have suffered from this same sad loss
of militarized teamwork disabilitization,
chronic and critical climates of constant stress.

When the enemy is down
and out of sight,
we cannot afford to have disaffected grunts
sit on angry-fearfilled butts
rethinking who is truly in my ego team’s best interest
and whom we might agree to take out next,
because healthy mental care giving and receiving
has nothing to do with formation
of militarizing violence.

In this same way,
a Presidential God Bless You,
twittered to victims of our own militarizing violent formations,
feels so empty,
fake as the blesser
would do even lesser
mental health care and receiving
for all God’s militarizing
and industrious We Win
So You Must Lose
soldier candidates in deformation,
but also neglected children
and trees,
and starlight
which could bring us together
in one mind of great thanksgiving.

 

So I was feeling badly,
sad,
because I share our mutually complicit status
for my compatriot’s difficult terrorizing
chronic stress disordering
time.
I too have been there,
lost there,
to a more moderate extent.
I just walked away.

I wish I had done more at the time
in the Navy’s January frigid spaces
against cooperative ecopolitics,
about being of more general use
if fascist critical events of the mid-seventies had been recorded,
freezing dark military-academic preparation time
industriously repeating
away from deforesting further virgin ecofeminist Vietnam forests
and their matriarchally cooperative villages,
to become watched on YouTube
by all prospective soldiers
and NRA advocates,
by patriotic nationalists,
thinking about possible antecedents,
before Bad Ol’ Daddy’s Country-Western Concert
went so very wrong.

I wish we could have recorded
this matriarchal confused and frightened patriotic
loyal commandantish face
when I shared with her
I felt ecofeminist disgraced
by her
Bitch!
Shoot at me again and I will Take You Out!!!
defacement,
in a most homophobic frozen officious place
of mutually inflicted terror.

So then I was feeling a bit more glad,
but still sad
I had not actually said more,
done more,
so I began trimming my twining tendrils
enveloping what’s left of uprooted deadwood trees
malingering in my back lot
and having a rough go of it
as my hedging shears
are no longer what once they were.

As usual,
I tend to speak with my plant recruits
and candidates for future flaming victories,
and felt required,
“I apologize
for this jab
and grab
and pull
and pushy ecopolitics,
but Mommy needs sharper,
and probably newer,
scissors for shutting up her
RightBrain EcoFeminist Diva Voice.

Apologizing to the entire human race”
of potential soldiers and ballistic deadwood downsizers
for your not yet having seen
that anti-feminist patriotic face
glare me back into space
with timeless time exclaiming
BITCH!
Shoot your GLBT EcoFeminist mouth OFF AT ME?
I DON’T military anti-ANTIfeminist THINK SO;

but I wonder how I feel about being this predator
in this eternal frame of egopolitical ignorance,
lack of cooperative military research
and economic-educational-formational intelligence gathering.

As I continued with hacking scissors
and played-out ecofeminist sawsall balls off
and the big manly Yang chopper offer
with their underdog heads!
I kept going back to those January freezing eyes.

IF LOOKS COULD KILL!!!
BITCH!!!!!
YOU DO NOT KNOW ME
and think you can punk your gay white ecofeminist butt
in my guest chair
and think your MidWest Academic BullCrap
will even so much as reach one
WinWin Ping of inspiration
aspiration
hope,
YOU DON’T KNOW ME!
I might have majored in BullDike Fascist Terrorism!
YOU DO NOT KNOW ME!!!

and maybe I don’t either.
Who wants to be that angry lose-lose antagonist
of military industrial absence of intelligence,
would you?

I wish this imaginary spacetime scene had played out
in RealTime frames just that audio way,
but even without sound,
with just her
I AM NOT YOUR BITCH!
but you are not going to be mine
either.

She could not sign those exit papers fast enough,
continues visual only images
of how I still feel,
more or less
about these tangled vines
and tough deadwoods
hanging out in my wanna be ecofeminist backyard.

I will chop them up
and paint them
into diva totem poles
and frames
in which ecofeminists
always play in YouTube Blue and Green Estates
of most polyculturally
matriarchal peace in this back lot solitude,

Although occasionally the patriarchal husband
makes a cameo appearance
for a few All Lives Matter Moments,

But usually just me,
in an early October day
preferring to forget dark frigid January anti-feminist nightmares
of militarized neglect
of basic health assurance and safety
delivered by angry matriarchal commandants,
and hedging shear divas,
depending on which lens is in play,
the full-staged historical tragedy
within my more personal back lot comedy.

 

It’s still peaceful here in my backyard.
The crows have flown off
warning descent of warm October sunlight.

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Restoring Cooperatively Owned Education

When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one EarthTribe
with integrity’s richest bilateral potential.

When the last competing retributive jurist and counselor
and parent and ecopolitical leader
sees past his WinLose ecopolitical assumptions and theories
to find sufficient WinWin cooperative mercy
for bilateral yin-squared equals yang-fractal enculturation,
then
(0)-Soul restorative bilateral justice,
for both propogandist perp
and pedagogist victim,
reweaving 4D RealTime peace,
as Tranquility already repletes our deep democratic team learning
through village reforesting designs
for short-deductive through long sacred-inductive
non-violent and yet resilient terms
of and for ecopolitical re-education
restitution,
love’s restoration
as also grace
as also karma
reweaving (0)-Sum educational synergy
convexly co-arising secular space-here
with sacred time-now’s concaving bilateral co-gravitation
back through Yang/Yin co-listening bicameral strength
erupting notnot Yin’s timeless present double-binding flow,
you can’t go back again
nor forth
without ego’s eco-geo-bio-imaging whims
of reverse-RealTime 4D polypathic imagination,
polycultural folding/unfolding/refolding/prefolding instructions,
regenerative forward,
degenerative back through space as time’s co-gravitational balance.

When WinLose learning competitions end
endless reiterative notnot polynomial repetitions,
WinWin education cooperatives can,
will,
already do ecopolitically restore climate regenerative health trends’
our left with right-full place in WinYang-WinYin Gaian Principles
for your/our Department of Education’s
ReVolutionary ReForestation.

When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed holistic pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative secular/sacred educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one PolyPathic EarthTribe
with integrity’s richest bicameral potential.

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Tying Up The Second Coming

I was tying up her second shoe
when the second coming came.

The first had been the night before
when the bus demons dropped her off
to say they might be back
but weren’t exactly sure when,
while I tied up her second right foot shoe.

I asked her why she throws right shoes
and socks
and pants
and fairly stinky pullups
at the driver
and she tells me these are her second amendment rights
to blast or not
to throw or not
as she so whimsically pleases.

What shall I say
while tying up her second shoe
during this unexpected second coming
of her bus
to take her back to school?
Teaching through a culture of gratitude
where each personal right
also grows a political responsibility,
each right a gift of well-tied shoe gratitude
to be paid back with an avalanche
of positive attitude
for each unexpected second coming.

This second coming comes and goes
and I turn to my good news day
living in a sacred matriotic patriotic land
with property rights of responsible gratitude
owned right up to
but not extending past
the launch of MotherEarth’s second shoe
now flowing downriver
to tumultuous seas beyond all rights dominating FatherLands,
without waiting for this second shoe to drop
back toward any bus of positively responsible attitude.
Cultures of seasoned gratitudes
are also cultures of healthy wealth
for second comings
restoring matriarchal justice
overwhelming patriarchal retributive punishments,
reiterative angry rights
of First Shoe responsibilities
for freedom’s speech and active expression
with Second Shoe rights and responsibilities
of liberty’s gratitude
for restoring it’s original intent
carrying responsibility for protecting
this First Shoe’s positive gratitude potential
through responsible attention to this second coming time
to release MotherEarth’s second independent shoe
from further ballistic harms and fouls
and violent intent
to irresponsibly not address
a rightful culture of gratitude
for unexpected second comings,
as both feet,
right with left,
race together cooperatively gendered and re-aligned
for school
on her second coming bus.

Unfortunately,
I was still gratefully tying up her second amendment
gifted rights with pay-back cooperating responsibilities
of gratitude for all well-souled shoes
when the second coming left
without the rights
and responsibilities
of delivering my ballistically naked daughter
back to her well-schooled gratitude for rights
with concomitant responsibilities to and for each other
to never claim them in a way
that would deny their at-least-equal free
and safe
and healthy expression
to and with another.

Tomorrow morning,
there will be no second coming.
No need to tie up rights with responsibilities
for well-souled second shoes,
not intended for marching into militias
of revengeful angry justice
when schools enculture restorative mercies
for well-gifting forward second comings.

But,
that will be next Tuesday,
and right now we face a four day weekend
of restorational mercies
with both first and second grateful shoes
well-tied together, yet apart
rights restored first on right non-violent intent
with lefts for grateful second co-responsibilities
for never marching toward violence
where ballstage dancing to love’s anthems
is also gratefully offered
in home as school.
—————————————————–
Allegory wears an ecological precision
not intended,
yet implied,
here with now co-incidental,
cooperatively double-bound,
like seasonal reasons
for first grateful amendments first,
leaving second amendments
to restoratively readjust
responsibilities toward our first EarthTribe becoming
capable of cooperative speech
before and after all
through cultures of gratitude,

Multi-poly-enculturations of healthy-wealth amendments
all tied up in waiting
for our way too long delayed
first with second coming,
left exhausted then right more cooperatively becoming
untied at last together.

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Uncategorized

Isms Singing AntiIsms

Fascism has grown cancerous maturity
to pathologically enforce
what mere nationalistic military-industrialized supremacy
would patriotically endorse.

Supremacists of race or gender
or metaphysical systems of personal as political investment,
mistake allegiance to icons and idols and pledges
of national privilege
for personal passion and investment in gratitudes of love
for EarthTribe’s WinWin Lands with blessing waters,
Gaian Principles
of Organic Health Co-Governing Procedures.

Against fascist growing cancers
degeneratively unfolding
what EarthTribe regenerative optimization
has more matriotically embraced.

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Uncategorized

The Gardener and the GunShop Owner

Degenerative issues for the gunshop owner
are also regenerative opportunities from the gardener.

Lack of civil civics lessons slacked
for small persons made of evil
is also opportunity to learn love’s live,
is evil respelled backward.

Please stand as you are able
to sing along in your best country western anthemed voice
for more love songs and less unchallenged microphones
feeding fears and angers that some people,
quite country simply,
just perversely choose to become psychopaths
and violently mentally ill,
and thereby wicked evil.

I heard him on the radio
the gun shop owner said
You can’t undo this evil.
Some folks will always think
you and yours would be better off dead.

I heard the gardener
when she said
It must be different where you’re from.
We are taught to feed to deeply live
and stop watering the weeds.

If your kid were at a concert
which would you rather hear?
The gun shop owner’s hopeless evil
so feed us more ballistics faster
or the gardener’s hope to live
through composting root systems
to dig in richer,
warmer schools and families,
nations and estates,
corporations and incarnations
with better healthing vital ballast?

What might we do yet together
if those first two years of school
our teachers taught Make Love Not War
just like the Golden Rule?

I wonder if we’d still require
two years defacing
and refacing
and effacing anger management
through better ballistic bureau owners
recruiting basic training for military violence industrialization
if we simply fed more let love live
to younger generations
so less water for those growling evil weeds.

You can’t talk with a mike to a man
with a shotgun business in both hands
but you can sing and dance
with a WinWin boy
before he’s been watered to want
to fire a gun,
just for self-bruising kicks.

Now our minds might be as one
love for sacred Mother Earth
with our Golden Ruling Sun’s
who don’t make no evil bankrupt children.

Somebody,
please,
turn the gunshop owners microphone off.
Turn off the electricity,
and their/our flooding waters
of overwhelming volume
for mutually accepted hate
and fear
without so much as calculating anger,
not so better managed
with ballistics
should you learn this golden gymnast rule ballastics
of Earth’s yummy rich fed gardeners.

What might we do yet together
if those first two years of school
our teachers taught Make Love Not War
just like MultiCulturing Golden Rules?

Which one is pathological propoganda
and which is nutritional health enculturation?

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