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Gay Yeast Ginger Bread

I know something about being a GLBT Ginger,
the undress and redress of our left leaning politics,
like sacred naked communion
for Therapeutic Warriors.

At my best,
when adolescence urged HisHer ugly ambiguous head
through pubescent tail,
I wondered if other fire redheads
and sun speckled skins
felt this co-passioned love,
desire beyond procreative need
to touch,
embrace,
to smell,
to taste,
but not to own.

How could I have known
difference between my Ginger sensuality
and gay male nervous sexuality
without more comparative communion?

Although,
in hindsight,
perhaps not quite so much commingling
of sacred elements
I invested with integrity
for sorting out these red
and blue-black,
purplish and heated
ultra-violet distinctions
of warm wet rainbow Gay ecopolitics,
with Ginger red-yin differences,
influences,
tinctures seductive and reductive,
distinctions inductive and deductive;
Integrity of wild red unrest.

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Red and Green Christians

Let’s start with a fundamental flaw of fundamentalist fake-Christianity,
a literary flaw within literal non-interpretation of historical creation
and sacred development.

This is true of radical jihadist Moslims as well,
although we both know you think you’re more special
and politically and morally correct,
so, we can stay focused
on Christian evangelical faith communities
in the United States,
especially in Red-dominant States.

True
effective
pure
loyal
faithful
integrated
mature Christian conservators of God’s peace and divine love justice
must stop interpreting the words and teachings
and moral-sexual code for healthy v pathological activities
as if JesusChrist had a dualistic view of Spirit,
of Abba
or of human nature as a whole
separated from Earth’s nature,
and as if He lived within a Trinitarian GodHead metaphysical Universe
without a JesusChrist humane-divine nondual Body.

If you truly have the faith of a mustard seed
that JesusChrist taught and lived
in a nondual humane-divine MindBody,
then this explicitly invites us to consider nonduality,
both divine spirit
and humane sacred
conjoining this interdependent Body of Christ
on Earth.

When Jesus says
Why do you worry about stupid stuff
because God made sacred flowers too
and which of you
is arrayed with that much festive splendor,
that diversity of color and beauty and Grace,
a truly Christian evangelist of this nondual teaching,
would not respond with:

“Oh, right,
but that’s just generic secular natural organisms
and physiological development processes,
but not about how God the Creator Father
arrays humanizing nature.”

That separation of Earth’s natural systems
from sacred humanizing spirits
you will not find in Jesus’ words or teachings
or metaphysical code
or moral v immoral law and order of restorative grace.

Although Trinitarianism,
and the dualism separating
Holy Spirits against secularizing Fallen nature
and patriarchal economic and political aristocratic-plutocratic dominance
against matriarchal EarthMother planters and harvesters,
those annoying motherly nurturing issues,
were alive and well
when Roman Catholic St. Jerome
was playing eeny, meany, miserly moe
with sacred stories
and parables
and poetry
and history of God’s inspiring voices,

And dualistic competitive assumptions were still there,
only now starting to military-industrialize
the entire complexion of intriguing inspiring voices
for Holy Wars and Crusades
when the newer King James Interpretation of sacred history,
literature and stories,
parables,
crucifixions,
baptisms,
violence,
sickness and disease,
floods and holocausts,
wars and burning cities with innocent children included
came into your evangelical dualistic minds
and shared fundamentalist culture of Red.

So what?
you have probably already asked.

With this error,
with this lack of personal
and political
and economic integrity,
you have harmed me,
and you have probably insulted my evangelical Christian mother,
who raised me to love
as deeply and widely
as Jesus nondually loved all Earth,
all Earth’s polycultural and multicultural diversity,
as part of one already redeemed
interdependent Body of Grace.

Grace is for those who just say Yes to love
wherever we see love invited,
one arrayed with God’s love,
with CreatorGod’s relationship with each hair
on each head,
with constantly counting all those drab, yet sacred, sparrows,
and wherever hairs are to be even most inconveniently found.

To believe otherwise,
that this sacred reign of God
on this Earth
in this time of Great Transitional Climate Change
is to interpret the words and teachings of JesusChrist
as if He did not mean them literally
of nature as spirit
and spirit as nature.

That he did not literally mean
He invites us to replace addiction to deadly blood sacrifice politics
with a cooperative economy of grace,
Earth as nondual gift,
life as fundamental gratitude
for those natural and spiritual arrayed gifts
available for eyes that see,
ears that hear.

As available as universal baptism of living waters
flowing through our veins
feeding and nurturing even the flowers
with their most festive arrays
and those drab sparrows
and all that inconvenient hair,
even when teased and bleached
to near extinction.

You have harmed me
in a way that forces you to see me
as a person who chose to become sinfully gay,
while actually having been born sacredly heterosexual.

I know this is not true about me,
or about any person with a gender preference
I have ever known
well enough to ask them:

Did you choose to be, whatever?
When did you choose to become, whatever?
Would you still be you
if the prepubescent you
had chosen to become otherwise?
Did it ever even occur to you
that you had a choice
of whom to find attractive
in either an erotic or agapic way?

If you had been given a choice,
If God came down from Heaven
maybe even in a dream
and said,
“OK, it’s time to choose,
those hairs are about to emerge from new places,
Who won this battle?”
How could you choose
to exchange the gifts you were conceived with?

So now,
if you’re following this most unlikely hypothesis
of gender identity choice,
If I didn’t choose this,
then I was recruited
by my very much happy heterosexual
evangelical fundamentalist Christian parents.

Even my evangelical Christian older brother and sister,
and my Unitarian Universalist younger sister,
who agree on not much,
will all tell you
that this recruiting thing
did not happen to me.

My older siblings
are in this sad position,
Either I chose to become homosexually perverse,
deliberately choosing a life of sin,
ostrasization
criminalization
victimization,
despite all persuasive evidence of everyone I trusted and loved
during my pre-adolescent years,
or there is a dualistic interpretation of JesusChrist’s words and teachings
that they have assumed was actually there in scripture,
but in fact they falsely believe is there
because they have been religiously indoctrinated
to deny their own spiritual-historical experience
of grace.

To deny our own histories
and herstories of truth,
loyalty to sacred integrity of our internal natural
and external spiritual
sacred climates of loving healthy love
with hating pathologically competitive hatreds.

Restorative healing grace
invites economies of polyculturing love
and these are not to become confused with
retributive justice politics
of dualistic injustices and war-
and hate-mongering.

Imagine growing up in a world
where Jesus taught you must grow up into mature polysexuality
and this was accepted and presumably experienced as true
by all you loved and trusted
except you,
hopelessly heterosexual only.

We would sing
“Onward Christian Soldiers
marching off to war…”
and you would worry
how you might possibly stay under range
of our automatic rifle fire.

That is the harm you have brought to me
through not believing in the nonduality of Earth’s Matriarchal Nature
and God’s Holy Spirit
as per the literal nature-spirit teachings
and parables of JesusChrist.

And this is the retributive monotheistic harm
you have brought into this Nation’s sacred patriotic commitment
to protect and conserve grace-arrayed beauty and health
of this Mother Land
and all of Earth’s sacred interdependent multicultures
of internal
and for external
climates of health
through less competitive dualistic pathologies.

All are invited to restore justice and peace
to turn away from OldSchool retributive injustice
and not-so-divinely inspired violence,
to vocations of healing
and not for judgments against others,
as if any one way of becoming
were not replete with multiculturing truth
and polypathic nondual sacred loves.

Imagine you were born into a RedState
where only you could see in full color,
but you have read experiences of GreenStates
in full polycultural glory.
Would you believe God is calling you
to punish all those who could only see in black and white?
Or inviting you to restore your RedState
to GreenState Traditional Arrays of Grace?

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PolyBoxes of Tradition

I faced alarming paradoxes
as I headed toward puberty.

First,
my King James Bible-belting parents,
extended family,
and all-hopelessly-WHITE farm community
taught me

God loves me
and all the children,
red and yellow,
and black almost as much as white.

That felt good
but then I learned God hates me
because I became queerly obsessed
with hot guys,
and not hot girls.
So, God created me
so He could hate me.
That seemed like poor planning to me,
and I was still in fifth grade.

Then I learned that God had given me two extraordinary gifts:
Possibly unmeasurable intelligence,
and so,
my grade-school principal warned
my evangelical farmer parents,
we were not to be surprised
if I was and saw this Earth
in a somewhat different way.

My second gift
was the envy of all good Bible-belted teenagers.
I could sing with the angels.

So,
the God of Infinite Love
is my Creator
and I am His Frankenstein Queer
with a mind and singing voice to soar,
full of Grace.

You and I might both be surprised
how long it took to figure out
Something is very wrong with this picture,
and I don’t think it is just me.
It was merely everyone else I knew and trusted
in that Bible-belted time.

So I sang for them in full voice
but gave as little voice to my sexuality as possible.
I wrote papers and test responses
in full A+ voice
but told no one
I knew they were asking wrong questions
for me to answer with full-versed integrity,

Free to sing with David and Jonathon
free of magic superstitions
standing in for mythic polypathic wisdom
of Solomon

Not to divide innocent organic Promise
God has conjoined as Love
of and for children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and lesbian,
bisexual and transgender

And, yes, even straight-faced
Bible-belting out Hate
and Supremacist Evangelical Christian Colonizing InBred Correctness,
while continuing to give birth
to hidden,
shamed and blamed queer Grace
of a Loving God
polypathically immense,
deep and wide,
future through past
regeneratively just
and peaceful
and wickedly funny

Because if we cannot laugh at our egocentric stupidities,
then we must cry out for cosmic tragedy.

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Dorm Love

Ours was daily mysterious,
sometimes near mystical,
rapture;
a sensual yet platonic
dorm-mate love affair,
within the only male grad student corridor
at SFSU.

He was the presumably straight Vietnam veteran
southern white good ol’ boy,
athletically studying Japanese,
with a gentle passion for young Japanese women.

Did his all things Japanese culture love
precede his Vietnam War experience,
or was this a response to West-East violence,
inviting vulnerability and compassion?
Embracing romantic remorse
and male responsibility for technology’s aggressive habits,
but,
regardless,
knowing constant passion for peace.
I don’t recall ever asking which came first.

I do recall his first words.

“Hi. Delighted to meet you,”
in a Louisiana-slash-MilitaryOfficerSchool
creolic mashed-up engaging smile
up across and through his raised blond eyebrows,
guileless,
or ruthlessly contrived,
“Ensign Jake Ruford,
Eastern Language student.”

Hi.
just Jerry,
gay epistemology student,
wondering why we are roommates
when I specifically said
“Anyone not homophobic.”
You would think Student Residential Services
at San Francisco State
would know what the word means.
Including probably not a straight Louisiana
military officer
even if he is Navy.

As he turned back toward his desk,
where he had been reading something that looked like a textbook
in an encyclopedic hard-bound scale
of inscrutability,
“Do you agree human nature
must have evolved from a bottom moral line
of eat or become stew?”

It seems we have this old reptilian thing
about eating our young and vulnerable under duress,
overpopulation or starvation
of a struggling to hunt and gather species,
especially before we figured out the matriarchal gathering part.

“I want to come back to those matriarchal parts later.
But why, do you think,
do we continue to see Golden Rule cooperativity,
WinWin strategies,
as contrasted favorably to WinLose
sacred MightMakesRight Traditions
of
Always eat others before they eat you?”

I don’t think WinLose,
much less LoseLose,
Eat first and fast,
because we all fall prey to death
in our not quite foreseeable future,
is authoritatively sacred,
or exegetically scriptural,
or fundamentalistically spiritual,
nor even evangelically Christian,
which was supposed to be about Good News
of a God defined most ecologically,
and satisfyingly,
as love and beauty
and polycultural Eden’s Original Creator.

“So you would give divine grace credit
for why we beg for multicultural Golden Rule self-governance
through WinWin inter-relationships,
rather than continue eating our young?”

No,
I think premeditated organized violence
through conscripting young adults
is how we continue eating our young.
I give God credit for non-patriarchal Golden Rules,
which do not include mutual assured violence,
nor Better Ballistics Bureaus.

But, I give the Sacred Gaia Hypothesis
and matriarchal creation stories and parables and paradigms
credit for existing
and any future
and most, if not all, past WinWin abundant inter-relationships,
rather than Mother Earth
eating Her DNA regenerative
Left and Right BiLaterally Balanced CoIntelligence,
synonymous with EcoLogical,
and oxymoronic as Military WinWin Intelligence.

“Left and Right,
like Yang and Yin.
Which is kind of the opposite
of LeftBrain dominant ideas like
Maybe it’s OK for hungry single Moms
to sell their children into slavery
to invest in better dying
through chemistry.”

Yes, and other xenophobic behaviors,
paranoias like homophobia
and patriarchal “just war” theories.

“How do you feel about Japanese ladies?”

Hopefully about the same way you feel about radically dipolar gay gentlemen
at the beginning of an AIDS epidemic.

“That’s an interesting, but dark, analogy.
Are you coffee or tea?”

I don’t think I intended an analogy.
Perhaps more of a eulogy
for continuing relationship
with much of anyone ever in risky futures.

Coffee.
If I have any idea where this inquisition came from
or might be heading.

“Oh, that’s good.
See, we already have something in common.”

Something.
Yes.

And so we went on from that first moment,
as if resuming where we had just left off,
or last eaten,
with an Ensign I had never hoped to meet,
much less eat,
and would never wish to know a last farewell.

Two travelers
along love’s mysterious,
sometimes mystically ambiguous
journey,
soldiering on.

Better thriving together,
than surviving inscrutable textbooks
apart.

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Summer of ’67

My canopy of early summer sounds
in 1967
was as intimate as adolescent knowledge
might ever become.

My sixteenth summer
sweetly smiled with driver’s permit,
my first job,
economic promise while the Beach Boys
and the Beatles sang a rainbow
of boy band diversity,
sang stories of straight white male revolutions,
evolutions of June firefly evenings
resounding bullfrog and cricket background vocals
on our family farm,
where good Christian Republicans
longed for good old Eisenhower years
when Father was wise
and always knew best,
and Vietnam was no more than an acrid draft
of wasted social
financial
political
environmental
nutritional capital,
not yet fully present.

This summer of 1967
was when I knew both anguish of embodied defeat,
hopelessly homosexual,
an yet poignancy of emerging mystical wonder
about what this could mean
fifty years from now.

I could not help fantasizing
how Paul and Art
might not only sing,
but dance, in poignant harmonies.

And,
as much as I laughed and loved and longed
to hear Stevie Wonder wondering
and Otis Redding wanting,
Marvin Gaye worshiping,
I so wished they could sound even better
with me.

Joni Mitchell
and Joan Baez
and Judy Collins,
like John Lennon,
were compelled to write and speak and sing
songs of love as freedom
growing transcendent
yet deeply fertile
Aquarian promise.

A promise bombed out
by uncivil wars
bound by fear of egocentered failure.
Fear our parents,
and half of my junior year classmates,
found compelling enough to throw away dollars
to build and buy
and transport
and explode bombs and bullets and boys,
nearly oblivious to hundreds of thousands of innocent men
and mothers
and children wiped out
by a mere strategic choice
to cover partisan ass
as the biggest baddest bully
on Earth’s shrinking block.

I didn’t blame him,
but when I called James Taylor
to rescue the Johnson and Nixon White Houses,
he did not come,
as promised,
to rescue me,
to remind us about our friend and family connections
across cosmic time
and Earth’s regenerate space.
A great ballad was just not enough.

In June of ’67
I was singing both “I Believe”
and “Love is Blue”
with equally honest passion
and thriving off a translucent vulnerable cover song
between these two impossibly incommensurable positions,
surrounded by straight evangelical predators,
sniffing for pinko faggot weakness.

I was so guilty
yet so in love with rightness
and ripeness
of my generation’s possibilities
for revolutionary integrity,
drawing together economic health
with political wealth
in some new golden ruling age
of relentlessly cooperative incorporation
and association
and ownership
and self-governance.

In this early summer of 1967
Martin and Bobby still walked with us
and one still dreamed he might see
someone who looked and thought and felt like him
as President one day
and the other I dreamed would become President
while I was still a high school junior.

So much devastation and disappointment followed.
It took at least a decade
and hundreds of thousands of human lives
treated like conscripted fodder
for nationalistic hubris of false pride
to arrive at the very treaty
our Vietnamese opponents had originally demanded.
And long before anyone from the U.S.
had been drafted and killed
for this offensive cause
of nationalistic non-defense.

Other health care and defense abuses
and losses
followed.
Neglect of women’s health.
Pedagogical loss of children’s deep ecological listening opportunities
to nondually co-arise with Earth’s polyphonic voices,
resources of multiculturing nutrition.

Yet I have these summer of ’67 memories
when,
for one diastatic season,
my revolutionary age on planet Earth
stood between despair of guilt
for what and whom I could never become
and celebrating hope for joy
of what we might yet reweave
timelessly singing and dancing
chanting and drumming
revolutioning and evolutioning together.

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Conversion Therapies

I could not support a ban on Conversion Therapy
to change gay into straight,
spirals into lines,
because I believe we should each be free
to pay for any alternative languages
someone might be prepared to make
and write
and speak,
with self-marketing audiences to listen
with therapeutic outcomes genuinely preferred.

If some unhappy gay person,
or lesbian longing to be not,
remains willing to invest in persuasions
to switch teams,
transfer and exchange identities,
then that’s a high risk investment
that will die its own ego-exhausting death
when conversion
levels into diverse reversions
and/or some depriving perversion of healthy cooperating love,
or inversions into repressive silos called despair
and, more likely, some of all
of the above.

But, conversion therapy for unhappy gay to happy straight
only if this becomes equally available
accessible therapies
for unhappy straight toward happy gay,
for if it can work
to teach someone into a different dominant identity,
then it could work both ways,
more bisexually.

And, if conversion therapies can,
they should,
to be fair to all those unhappy
with their current team,
or teams,
preferably multiculturing toward health,
rather than monoculturing toward further climates of pathology.

Then we might invite further Conversion Therapies.
Unhappy Conservatives
becoming wealthier quasi-progressive
Earth natural-spiritual residents again,
and vice versa,
except more ecotherapeutic conservators
of regeneratively full-steamed life.

If all it takes is investing in some therapist
to convert my unhappiest attributes
into those that would make my new best ecopolitical day,
then such therapy should not just be free
from gay to straight
and straight to gay
but equally persuasive
for all now feeling out
wanting more in toward sane integrity.

But, investors beware,
we have had many WinLose Therapists
for unhappy powers to become more capital rich,
yet only few narrow WinWin unhappy rich
to become more simply and contentedly reinvesting
away from larger WinLose anti-therapeutic tragedies.

The larger WinLose therapeutic sector
has best outcomes
only for already full-played out entrepreneurial change agents,
and their larger scale not-so-therapeutic marketers
of further competitions
within and between
our diverse unhappy identities.

Conversion AntiTherapy
would be so funny
if not so ecopolitically tragic.

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Deviating Sisters

One of my sisters believes I chose to be queer.

Did you remind her
you had no more choice about chasing guys
than she did?

Yes.
But her favorite televangelist
says I must be mistaken,
or just lying,
because who wouldn’t choose to be hated
by all the hetero homophobes
like televangelists,
right?

That makes no sense.
She can’t really believe
you would choose to belong
to any repressed and humiliated minority,
especially during early onset of puberty,
when every girl and boy in any culture
is terrified of becoming different,
or special,
or weeded out of the clickety-clak pack.

Well, as she sees it,
she is in a LoseLose double-bind.
Either I chose to be queer, and am thereby demented,
or God graces all forms of WinWin sexual expression,
which would be contrary to her homophobic enculturation,
so it is easier to believe I am nuts
to choose perversely
than to consider herself nuts
not to choose more graciously,
especially with regard to God’s creative capacity for love,
rather than simplistic judgments
which look and smell and sound like patriarchal sexism
more than radical fertility of God’s healthy wealth
of incarnating love for all children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and straight
and shades of grey transgenderal,
each is precious in our multiculturing
nurturing
MotherEarth’s sight.

What about your other sister?

Oh, she agrees.

With what, or whom?

She agrees we’re all nuts.

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Untimely Silence

Most folks I loved
died when I was in my thirties.
Not just people,
but our San Francisco bohemian mecca lifestyle,
our 365 days and nights celebration
turned into an epidemic of waiting
and watching
and mourning our losses,
wondering about possibilities of survival.

What could remain for us,
for me,
for this place?
What could become my purpose
our purpose
for any lonely future of diaspora survivors?

My closest friend,
a happily married matriarch
with two adolescent children,
died of breast cancer
when I was in my early forties.

Perhaps this was my final straw.
I have not reconstructed any friendships since.

This reminds me of my maternal grandfather,
who lived into his eighties
but as his quantity of years continued
his quality of celebrated convivial life shrank
through loss of two wives
and all their friends,
his generation of neighbors,
and then his hearing.

He told me
not long before he passed
he was not sure
if his loss of hearing was a curse
or a blessing,
prohibiting him from cultivating renewing friendships
only to be lost yet again.

My own hearing is not perfect
yet I seem unwilling to listen
for any more friends,
loved ones I could no better afford to lose
than those already gone.

Yet still I wonder
about therapeutic reasons for my survival.
As fertile celebrations fade to dusty memory,
my capacity to comprehend why I still breathe,
yet my generation of intentional families has long passed,
shrunk to incomprehensible mystery
as did my revered grandfather’s hearing.

The best I can hear,
through this epidemic distance,
I rescued by adoption
then by love
four hurt children
no one else wanted,
and each continues teaching me how to love hims and her,
when I listen well,
in their distinctive needy ways and broken means.

Yet even here
with these final four
I night sweat in guilty worry
about how they could best thrive
when I can, at last,
no longer hear them,
nor they me.

Most folks I loved
died when I was young,
leaving me to wonder
severed prospects for survival.

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On Christian Evangelical Charismatic Republican Futures

I grew up with rural Michigan white red-neck evangelical root systems.
These did not always feed my multicultural self/other liberation of the GLBTQ subcultural root system
for regeneratively healthy instincts,
yet I learned to survive within this fundamentalist-alien-straight Christian White anthro-culturally supremacist climate of heterosexuality
not understood as a fully regenerative multiculturally organic sexuality,
most certainly inclusive of GLBTQ,
among full-octave color rainbows of exegetically trusted truth
with beautiful ecopolitical dynamics.

My staunchly farmerish fundamentalist-nutritionist Christian parents
would no more know what to do with a Donald Trump as a Presidential Republican National Party Candidate
to become a White Male Republican Christian Preferably-Rural Fundamentalist EcoPolitical President of the United States,
running against incumbent General Dwight Eisenhower,
however I think he probably would not even have been an appropriate topic for polite, much less nutritional
as integratively-spiritually appropriate for healthy developmental conversation.

Despite these agrarian Republican root-systemic memories
during my ecopolitically developing GLBTQ adolescence,
not a lot of people have asked
what I have seen and heard and smelled
within the approximately 200 years of tension
between a Republican/Elitist-WinLose NatureSpirit EcoPolitical Conservatism,
hoping to win for ego’s embodied nature
even if they must thereby lose our multiculturing spiritual-experiential Salvation,
thereby a dark anger/fear mark against WinWin regenerative ecological health.

Today, I see this continuing Republican tendency
to distance economic and political elites
from our more humble,
yet somehow not too fearful-angry,
maybe touched by paranoia,
especially about the natural supremacy of heterosexually ecopolitical parents,
refusing to see possibilities for multiculturally ecological parenting as more optimally spiritually-nutritionally rooted in Jesus’ Creation Story TimeLine.

By unremarkably co-arising dipolar contrariness,
the currently prevailing Democratic national through local nutrition strategy
of looking for opportunities of and for multicultural trust-building,
to permaculturally broaden a shared ecopolitical ecology of health
becoming together ego/eco bicameral-binary empowering
in a more dynamic healthy kind of GLBTQ thru Z kind of way.

While the historically unthinkable Republican Nominated Choice
labeled Donald Trump,
represents a remarkably not-Christian fundamentalist conundrum of a non-choice,
his own sense of supremacist entitlement
to interpret and prophecy fools of self-condemning hypocrisy
carries some resonance
for those premillennial die-hard evangelical White Republicans
where ecopolitical faith
is rooted in becoming stronger
than those who disagree with us,
while Hillary Clinton’s embodiment of Democrat
cultivates co-empathic trust
among constituencies feeling disconnected from multicultural promise
of healthy democratic inclusion of diversity
as an intrinsically therapeutic positive
for ecological climate-healthywealthy outcomes,
more ecotherapeutic
than the more anthro-elitist monoculturing ecopolitics,
LeftBrain way too Male TestosteroneThymine Dominant elitism
of Old School Rural White 1950s Michigan Republicanism.

Today’s Republican has upstaged Fundamentalism
with more excessively climatic Rabid Paranoid Terrorist
WinLose-politically and economically preferred proclivities,
but not quite a full-blown climate LoseLose death-wish rabidity
searching out invisible Climate Win prospects for regenerative health,
while nakedly investing in
further dissonant discomforting cognitive-affective suboptimally degenerative suffering multiculturally rainbow-rooted DNA/RNA ribonucleic systems.

Donald Trump was chosen over other nutritional-enspiriting alternatives,
chosen to lead through condemning those unlike him
as false prophets of hypocrisy and cunning
toward unhealthy liberating multicultural power-sharing intents,
sometimes vengefully judgmental
of us lesser non-elites,
now both evangelical White non-elite would-be farmers and feminists
on around the growing rainbow of multiculturing margins,
on through the cystosine-nurturing more LeftRight ecobalanced half of the U.S. adult nature relations,
and just as oxymoronic to be an Evangelical Christian Republican
as it is to be a Transgender Republican.

For Jesus of Nazareth, the poor and marginalized,
homeless and hungry,
and especially their children,
were more sympathetic comrades than Monoculturing Elitist Pharisees
they were sadusees, too, like us right now,
having been robbed of our parents’ Republican Supremacist paranoid-competitive belonging,
nurturing ecopolitical as ecological longing,
no longer deep learning paranoia
for interior and exterior ecopathologies of YHWHGod’s unkind impersonal
lack of omnipotent love,
our unresolved theological problem of evil NonRepublican NonChristians,
and why similar rainy outdoor wedding crappy days
fall on fully invested Republican Christians,
who never quite fully believe in the power of a personally-invested God the Good Father
in exactly the same unreflected way
from that nightmare’s dream on through death’s dualdark portal.

What happens now that our Republican EmpireBuilder
has become seen with too-naked vulnerability
to collectively hide our own egocentric predative paranoia from ourselves,
fear and anger about radically full-speciating inclusion
of ecopolitical Democrats,
regenerating empowerment’s healthier climates of pronoia liberation?

Perhaps positive psychology
as therapeutic ecopolitical judgment
on behalf of mutual help
rather than continuing to seek power
through mutually condemning judgments,
competitive WinLose ecopolitical choices,
rebirthing faith in higher WinWin power
optimizing Earth as Tribal Home,
no longer anawim of our own optimally organic Body of Christ potential.

Christians
truly believing in Christ’s continuing empathic trust  in eco-redemptive physical/mental health.

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