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Eyes of a Dying Wolf

I looked through the eyes of a dying wolf
to see fires flaming out our horizon
as long as this wild wolf had seen.

He saw a time
when seizures
were currencies of sorcerors,
shamen and shawomen
born of supremely loving matriarchs.

Seizure medicine knew its own advent
echoing sources speaking dreams of manna geese
flying home for our first through last
Win/Win Thanksgiving Day
through fire extinguishing night.

Thanksgiving Peace Dreams
after fires and erupting volcanoing
seizures,
and also before peace dreams of hope-fired relationships,
responsible as authoritative Win/Win faith,
respect for powers of multiculturing love
over monoculturing fears
of fires for volcanoed hate
of gun-fires flaming out horizons.

I looked through the eyes of a not yet dead wolf
to see fires of restorative justice
for Thanksgiving Days and Nights of Peace
sweeping all Win/Win full-fired horizons
of Wonder as Sacred Flaming Awe.

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Teaching Integrity of Peace

What is our primal purpose
for continuing this troubling relationship?
asked Yang of Yin.

If you are clueless
then you have not been listening
to us
as actively as nondual times would predict,
replied Yin against Yang.

For me,
this purpose is to enjoy Sacred MotherEarth,
but I preferred to hear yours first,
again,
your speaking grace
where silence contemplatively rules,
replied Yang more gently back to Yin.

As we both well know,
for me
each space is time sufficient
for ecological gratitude,
neither mere secular reasons of nature
nor more romantic euphoria of serene spirits
planting as you harvest what we more cooperatively nurture,
defined Yin toward Yang.

We are
this yintegrity of gratitude
for enjoying MotherEarth’s outdoor Golden Ruling places
Golden Ratio Voices
Golden Elixir Schools for learning sacred ecology,
ecopolitics of cooperativity
as geese form immigration journeys
as co-emigrant bilateral functions of democracy
riding winds back and forth above waters
washing streams of cooperative fertile time,
integrity of you and me
as spacetime wu-wei We,
sings Yang while Yin dances
through mutually enjoying gratitude,
singing grace
dancing rhythms
of EarthMother’s fire-circle ecstasy.

What are primal relationships
for continuing this troubling dance?
asked YinWater under YangWinds
revolving Sacred EarthTime
together integrity.

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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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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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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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Wind Whispering CoMessiahs

Mentors of the BeeTrees

From NorthWinds
come darkening winter
as newborn discontent
waiting to spring forth.

From SouthWinds
come summer’s diastasis
climax of full-born wisdom
of contentment for and from all four directions
spread across sleeping hearts
of each nighttime regeneration.

From normalizing WestWind toward East colonializing
patriarchal harvest
comes abundant fall in grace
of grace
from grace fulfilled in heartier summer,
for grace processing
through deep long winter winds
of (0)-souls abundantly newborning.

From EastWind springs
nondually co-arise
good news as Easter strawberries
full and blood-red regenesis
well ahead of co-redeeming dreams
for other berries to come after white lillies lead
around green connifers
promising full summer’s heat
by learned lighttime
on this first day
of all gratitude
yet to reborn come
leaders of berries
and birds
and baby bodhisattvas
of all four winds,
each with their season,
reasons
rational Tao gratitudes
and irrational Confusion platitudes
of sacred yet secular ecology.

From NorthWinds
winter water darkens
within discontent
newborn,
dreams dawning
future seasons of gratitude
with summer’s fullblown positive attitude.
———————————————–
As I awake this morning
I remember a song I taught my more oppositionally disposed daughter:

I love you
and you might love me
even if I couldn’t
re-align my four B’s,
brain,
and branches,
and belly,
and butt
these four aligned
good government.

If you do
then I will too.

It was part of a dream
as I awoke this morning
I remembered EarthTribe is no longer the same population
living within that song
as when I went to bed
last night.

A few of us have died.
A few have been new born.

And so it goes each morning
since I was that new born
overwhelmed by all the collective Four-B wisdom
of older dreams
awakening each morning
to discover a few more have joined us,
coming along behind,
and a few more ahead
are now beyond any further potential
for re-alignment leadership
or even long-lived Fractal-B hums of silent listening.

And so I will go that last night
now leading those who listen
for a swelling population of EarthTribe Crystal-B Voices
greeting each new born pioneer
who joins us for this Earth training turning journey,

Vocation for wiser co-aligning Elders
as just normal-aptic naptime for others
just now begun
for whom we join our minds as one
in and with and for and of
peace-filling co-gratitude.

I wonder if our purist unity as EarthTribe
is only RightBrain known and felt in dreams
where reptiles and mammals and amphibeans
like beans and corn and squash
all process more alike than separate,
more interdependently than empty,
without distinctions arising sexism,
without separations co-arising racism,
without asseverational appositions causing self-righteous violence
unless we know these as unruly nightmares
begging to grow more restorative mercy
and thereby less necessity for retributive harsh justice,
patriarchal vengeance is ours!
as EarthTribe slowly shape-shifts repopulation
between each daily-nightly evolving frame
roundly rolling along spacetime’s polypathic avenues
becoming not exactly who we were yesterday,
as there is not sufficient time to quite grasp it all so much
in one timeless time,
just as, in RealTime,
unlike Common DreamTime,
we cannot quite get back
to (0)Sum original habitat
of spacetime’s full-blown diastatic revolution,
still home, disappointed yet again.

But,
maybe tomorrow night
this resonant resolution
may yet come to last
for tomorrow’s recast EarthTribe,
polyprotagonists
yet perpetually interdependent underdogs,
(read: bitches, eco-witches, Sacred EarthMothers, and MotherTrees,
no anonymous underdog identities undemocratically meant to be
unpolitically correctly excluded)
depending on your preferred bulldog or the b-word identity
of protagonizing ecojustice dreams
where Paradise Lost
looks more same than different
throughout today’s reborn
post-creolizing,
millennializing,
degenerating still,
then through this timeless multi-speciating dream,
more double-binding than simplistic (0)Sum LoseLose
degeneration with regeneration
for no one wakes up tomorrow
to re-create gratitude for dawn’s newborn delight
in FourB eco-alignments
more interdependently flying together
than degeneratively coming apart.
———————————————————–
Up from NorthWinds
comes darkening winter water
as newborn discontent
waiting to spring forth.

 

 

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Pledged Allegiance to the Sun

Wilderness edible forests,
to hungry mothers,
became wild undomesticated wastelands
to commodifying and taxing FatherLand patriarchs.

Wilderness matriarchs once Pledged Allegiance to the Sun,
and Gratitude to GrandMother Moon
for both interdependent fullness
and new womb emptiness,
grace-filled promise
of future healthy integrity,
pregnant with promising fertility.

We pledge allegiance and gratitude to our Sun,
One Icon of our First Native Nations and Wilderness Tribes,
reforesting and harvesting indivisibly synced
under and within SkyMother Earth
with liberty to not be unpatriotically bullied
to rescind each democratic individual’s right
to equal liberty of mind and heart and body,
and forest wilderness ecojustice
for all GrandMother Moon’s health planting
and wealth harvesting children,
Moon-matriotic matriarchs
and Sun-patriotic patriarchs.

Expressing grateful loyalty within
wilderness edible forests,
to and for hungry parents and grandparents,
becoming wildly domesticated fertile lands and waters
to cooperatively commodify
and sacredly deify
and co-invest Mother EarthTribe
matriarchs rewombing
matriarchs and patriarchs,
born equally of transubstantiating Sacred SunLight,
Love,
Grace
breeding and feeding cooperatively owned Gratitude.

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