Uncategorized

Golden Rule/Ratio/Elixir Upgrades

Not just do to; do with:
Do with others as political and economic you expect and hope with others.

Not just do with; do with each Eternal Moment,
as has always been done with you
and your Elders still flowing within you,
as always will become done with
throughout this eternally regenerative DNA/RNA-solidarity moment.

Sustainably do with others,
as political-economic eco-logical you
expect and hope with others.

Not just others; but all others,
living and dead,
and future generations,
regenerations
of not only our species
but all species living on and in Earth’s Promised Permaculturing Garden.

Sustainably do with all co-arising others,
as poli-economic encultured you
expect and hope with all Earth’s Tribes.

Not just expect treatments, relationships, transactions;
but expect co-empathically inclusive trust evolving healthy truths with grateful beauty,
optimizing cooperative and peaceful relationships
of mutually appreciative intent
and practice,
expect gratitude to articulate our holistic co-ecology of multicultural grace.

Trustingly do with all co-arising others,
as poli-economic holistic ecology encultured you
trust as positive healthy integrity,
active cooperating peace on and in and for and with
advocates and occupiers also from Earth’s ReGenesis Original Intent.

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Uncategorized

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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