Uncategorized

Cannabis Culture

Already an apology is due,
which is only better
than one already overdue,

Yes, I know cannabis
is a place of multiple
and diversely celebrated
subcultures,

And, yes, I realize chaos
and complexity may be civilly sipped
and thirstily gulped
from diverse alcohol
subcultures,
pedigrees,
castes of enumerated strength,
weakness,
risk,
opportunity.

Even so,
although it may feel peculiar
to follow this bi-cultural thought experiment

Let us explore
what we might heuristically mean
by a Cannabis Culture (CC)
versus Alcohol Culture (AC),
as we might pursue a feminist
versus patriarchal history.

I have two CC sons
in their AfricanAmerican 20s,
both politically and economically at high risk
of lifetime failure to thrive.

To mental light
and physical power survive,
younger son is dominated by dark fear;
older sun by redhot anger
burning against an ecopolitically punishing system

With win/lose
hostile
white privileged
lack of good and healthy
RightBrain
interdependent networking manners

Oblivious to CC dense
possibilities
for healthy
cooperative
multi-therapeutic intent;

Stuck in blood poisoning
AC self-traumatizing medication
worthy of a patriarchal
capitalist
straight
white supremacist wounded child
traumatized by Fetal Alcohol Syndrome

Hostile
oppositional
defiant
aggressive
curiously threatened by CC organic-fed
and clear watered
bicameral awareness
of polypathic climate anxiety

About outside degenerating subclimates,
faltering public, global healthcare systems
and concomitant inside struggling
polycultural CC values
for multiculturing ego-health
encountering empathic eco-wealth.

It interests CC biased me,
and causes grave AC concern,
that RightBrain prominent
younger son’s disenfranchising fear
wishes older sun’s angry hot potential allies
were more LeftBrain curious
about therapeutic values
of nonviolent communication.

Angry-CC suns are often under-
and unemployed, in part,
because their trauma medication
is a hiring barrier
to securing a secular job,
and to attracting a sacred vocation,
while their AC former friends
and learning peers,
more white and patriarchally privileged
pass with patriotic fervor
their blood
and uncriminalized background tests.

Angry-CC solar flaring suns
demand their Fear-CC brothers
and timid sisters
aggressively demonstrate empowering eco-political courage
to erupt CC hegemony.

Yet all the CCs and ACs above
behave as if we suffer less
because of our employment marginalizing,
and potentially criminalizing, choices

And feel as if we win more
when we suns and windblown daughters
recognize and appreciate each AC/CC
bicamerolling Other

When we organize deep CC nonviolent listening circles,
open to our patriarchal
capitalist
straight
white AC
LeftBrain degenerative nemesis.

Alcohol-natured and Old Cannabis-spirited
indigenous nature/spirit wisdom
among bicameral polyculturalists
could synergetically co-mediate global thinking
and feeling

Bilaterally rebalancing internal
external co-passion communions

Globally conscious
Ego/EcoSystemic CC
politically resonates with
and for
and of public health solidarity systems
reconnecting all bicamerally co-binary
eco-wealthy EarthTribes.

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Uncategorized

Waking Up Lumpy

Wake up grumpy
tired
much older than yesterday.

Day fifty-seven,
an irrationally
not nice
non-round number,
since defiantly challenging daughter,
with the contextual right-brain unhealthy intelligence
of a sociopathic alligator,
last came home from school
or anywhere without me.

Remembering her school’s response
when I suggested her six-hours-per-day aide
five days per week
not be switched out every week
or two.
She doesn’t do well with transitions
including interpersonal change,
lack of power to control
a significant Other’s time
to stay
and go.

While aware this is an issue,
their larger concern was burn-out.
Aides couldn’t tolerate the intensity
of her hostility
and constant need
need
need for attention,
for food,
for distraction,
for action,
for…

Wondering how the best of her school supporters
would feel after 228 consecutive
six-hour shifts

Without any supervisor
capable of reassuring me
or him
or her
or them
or us
of how many more to go
without adequate social distancing
within our lumpy quarantine space.

No possible reassurance
or warning
we’re just getting started,
about to end,
over the hump,
or not so much,
actually.

Perfect.

Definite only about feeling humped out
and jumped in
lack of ease,
sucked out potential for unguarded rest.

Feeling sorry for myself,
yes,
but also for her,
and for all of us
who have taken risks
to give long-term care
where receiving care in response
is not a reasonable
or compassionate
expectation of hope-filled ways,
faithful truths,
loving lives

Quietly waking up grumpy
in unsolidarity
unsolitary confinement.

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Purple Princess

My eighteen yeared daughter
living and dreaming with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,
As she grows up and out
hopes to become

“An old princess
with long purple hair
living in a GroupHome.”

I’m not sure if this indicates
I did a shockingly good
or alarmingly bad
job as a thirteen-year dad
with positive therapeutic intent.

Until she smiles,
looks up at the blue-grey sky
with unimagined delight.

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Uncategorized

Listening for Sustainability

My daughter,
with Fetal Alcohol crippling emotional intelligence damage
and Cerebral Palsy perpetual TerribleTwo
“is too many,
because Earth is all about ego-defiant me”
has taught herself
to attach her lips,
and sometimes her wet licking tongue
when she is feeling particularly needy
and/or playful
or maybe just hungry,
to my male dominant capitalist-head
when she needs to feel noticed
attached
connected
invested in
better.

This Saturday morning
she commits the unpardonable sin
of waking up before seven a.m.
Eleven is closer to her business as usual.

After bath and costuming,
both accomplished with as little support from me,
autonomously distracted, as possible,
she goes to our kitchen
to watch her favorite animated song and dance loops
on It’s All About You
Tube.

I am hanging out with my son,
also with cerebral palsy,
but unable to walk without balancing assistance
and unable to talk in either direction,
talk back or proclaim forth,
which is more his sister’s favorite skill set.

After a few minutes
of only slightly compromised peace
this sunny summer Saturday morning,
the daughter comes in
to demand her support staff (me)
prepare her royal breakfast (immediately).

I invite her to self-serve.

She says No!
repeatedly
while I remind her
she is capable of going to the freezer,
extracting one microwave pancake and sausage
on a stick,
wrapping it in one square of paper towel,
opening the microwave door,
placing it on the rotating glass plate inside,
closing the door,
pushing 1, 0, 0,
waiting for the ding,
and removing her breakfast by holding the stick,
waiting for it to cool,
removing the paper towel,
and devouring the pancake,
then the sausage,
as usual.

She responds
I want you to do it.

I respond
I want you to do it.

“No, Help me!”

“I am helping you!”

“No!
You do it; not me!”

“Why?”

“Because I”m watching my tablet.”

“And I’m trying to meditate
and write!”

“No! Help me!”

So, I ask for a time out.
We have been at this same impasse countless times.
It’s a ritual,
obsessive and compulsively lose/lose.
We are both not listening
while we are also not meditating
and watching
and writing healthier song and dance stories.

What’s happening here?
You know you can make your own breakfast.
Is this about not wanting to be alone?
Do you want me to show you
how crazy I am about you?

“Can I have a kiss?”

And then we do the “my lips on your head”
And “my head on your lips” ritual.
I give her a back and shoulder massage
while she has her therapeutic attachment breakfast.

My daughter smiles,
leaves the room without further demands,
goes back to the freezer,
pulls out a Blanketed Pig
on a stick…

I go back to writing
about resilience
and remediating potential lose/lose Earth climates
and emotionally cooperative reparations.

My son goes back to sleep,
having had a good belly laugh
at our curiously outspoken craziness,
reminding me
Curiosity is a more effective left-hemisphere tool
than working hard to feel right-hemisphere patience
in the face of apparent weapons
wielded by alien win/lose forces
in an otherwise win/win potentiated
interactive ego/eco-system.

He sits up,
groaning
repeatedly,
until I re-emerge
aware
He needs a diaper change,
on this peaceful sunny summer Saturday morning
riding still-revolving climates of Earth
re-creating green-blue-red
ultra-nonviolent win/win living systems
of actively communicating co-enlightenment.

Maybe we’ll have lunch on the backyard deck
under our barn red umbrella
as the Thames River continues to flow downstream
from northern stars
toward southern sun sustaining states.

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