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Green Sanctuary Propositions

Who are you most longing to become?

How we answer this is different for an ancient rooted tree
than for a recent immigrant
searching for a niche of stable self-sufficiency.

Who we already have become together
feels more important to thriving groves of WiseElders
than to adolescent immigrants
actively learning creolizing bilingual skills
still coming together for survival.

So too, offering Sanctuary,
becoming Sanctuary,
inviting Sanctuary,
is rooted in Green complex nutrients
for feeding
and warm wet watering
whispering easier
cozier
more accessible nutrients
for everyone–
but especially appreciated
by more recent emigrants
to a new garden of hospitality,
of multicultural cooperation,
of shared cooperative residence
and patterns of safe,
sometimes exciting, new transport
toward healthiest wealth.

A gardener’s intent
to both offer and share sanctuary
may provoke well-nurtured gratitude
in a recent annual immigrant,
but a more sleepy and self-satisfied entitlement
in mature seniority of perennials,

Yet, primordially feeling and speaking,
we are all immigrants newly becoming together
with each new dawn,
and determined to cooperatively rest
in grateful dreams
with each renewing dusk.

Who are we most belonging
by becoming Green Sanctuary
together?

Some guilds of mutual interest
and investment
invite growing a cooperative sanctuary for food,

Other teams choose cooperatively owned and managed shelter,
gardens,
farms,
transporting cars and trucks
and bikes and horses,

Others focus on cooperatively owned and managed soil,
observing that democratically co-invested compost,
like capital,
recalls healthy savings in a nutritional bank
for cooperative food constituents.

And so it went,
whether Republican or Democrat,
Libertarian or Green,
Who we want to become together
is more cooperatively resilient,
more robustly compassionate
and co-empowering,
so less aloof
alone
smug and self-satisfied
about our competitive win/lose economic
and partisan histories of colonization;

When, truth become remembered,
we are all reborn naked
and needy
immigrants.

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How PeaceWarriors Do It

The sacred power climax experience
of holy integrity
is more of a one time
of full-baptismal rebirth
into a depleting orgasmic fertility event
for horny patriarchs
of global monoculturally zealous redemption

Left-hemisphere dominant
West-hemisphere universal either/or commodified
monopoly on value of wealth,
disvalue of poverty, marginalization, abandoned, disowned,
divorced from wealth’s original health regenerative intent
DNA inspired/expired/transpired/OK, just plain spired,

Bilaterally spirited,
bicamerally effluent,
timeless flow-power
wombed and webbed,
seeded and Yin/Yang
Both/And egged.

Multiculturally healthy resonant climates
are more of this slow-grown experiential climax
and deja-vu all over again re-climax
peak and valley wave-linear
spiraling herstoric eco-mythic events
of ongoing MotherEarth reclimax;

More of a communal process
of mini-critical attachment/detachment events
recreating orgasmic fertile climates
for regeneratively cooperative
global forest/local multicultural tree-lover ecofeminists
resiliently co-invested
in intimately local polycultural intersectional frames
for viewing health/wealth creation co-arising processes;

ReCreative tensions
tipping points between
YangUniversal Either/Or thinking
AND
YinUnitarian Both/And dialogical co-arising
feelings of polypathic co-attachment

To resilient spatial EarthPlace
and resonantly polyphonic ZeroSoul
GeoCentric BiNomial Time
for multiculturing
creolizing
local with global
experience with theoretical
felt with thought
touched and listened
right with left
sacred why with secular what
resonant flow with resiliently wide
strong
bold
robust
abundantly progressive freedom
yet non-extractive, non-violent revolutionary
peak peace-warriors
ego/eco-therapeutic
20-20 audio-visual 4D RealTime
= EarthJustice spacetime co-operating
transubstantiating communal interdependent
neurological
DNA-transpiraling
health/wealth
co-arising transportive communion experience

Every leaf
a rhythmic dance,
a multi-colored octave song-singing tree,
seen and heard
by those living in forests for bicameral ears
to hear Earth’s nurturing/taxing
waning/waxing climate feelings
healthy only when wealthy,
wealthy values only co-arising healthy resilient integrity

As radical as dancing energy
cooperatively trusting democratic co-invested choreographers,
MultiCultural EarthTribe communicators.
deep theo/eco-logical listening learners

Speaking in open
transparent
vulnerable invitations:
Listen, my children
and we shall together hear
here and now

Why we know we can walk our EarthLove talk
if we are old enough to sing while dancing
experientially
in warm wet womb memory
or imaged future compassion stories,
operas,
co-operative trust co-investments,
communion days and families and villages
of singing resonant mind Here
and dancing resilient body Now.

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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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Hopeful Whistling Signs

I recall similar signs and notices
of ironic appeal:

“We have a zero-tolerance policy against bullying”
ripped and torn,
and is that a dried yellow yolk stain?

“This is a NO GUNS neighborhood”
surrounded by a lot
vacant except for weeds
mulched in broken shards of glass.

ZERO CRIME AREA notices
as prolific as NO HUNTING signs
in SureWood BeNice Forest.

Me thinks
we protest
too much
to not raise questions
about the wisdom of declaring victory
and moving on,
rather than struggling through win/lose
toward win/win resilient climates of peace.

Perhaps the guns
and their bully keepers
can’t read,
or don’t choose to notice the notice,
or don’t have enough time
in their conflicted day
on their lose/lose way
to making liars
of our best win/win published intentions

Made by frustrated raw spot prey
on some other day
in some other room
they would not
could not
should not feel free to enter
listen
then speak transparently
of their/our own vulnerably exhausted sweet spots

Now worn into deeply entrenched
isolated anger
hate
fear
envy
mistrust
distrust
defensive fight and/or flee choices

Provoked by win/lose competitive environments
cultures
climates
experiences
not bully and gun and crime
and co-related raw spot free.

Universal compassion
is a worthy goal.
But declaring goals already achieved
does not help induce real world cooperative progress,
especially for those not in the room
to help write our negative injunctions.

Perhaps we would healthier
and more effectively begin
with our positive universal aspirations:

We invite Zero Intolerance
Learning to listen with active compassion.

This is a ProPeace place
Cooperatively held active safe space
for growing our ego/eco-managed win/win grace.

We multiculturally and inclusively love co-passion searches
rather than dispassioned hunts
and nihilistic degenerative desertions.

Healthy people
seldom step out in anger
while co-inviting ourselves to step into compassion
with coming peacefully home messages
rather than angry commands to go back
to alien lose/lose lands from which none of us
could ever hope to survive,
much less win/win thrive.

Signs against patriarchal colonizing offenses
do not give compassionate notice
we are for matriarchal creolizing passions.

 

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Following Our Rules

In our Sharing Circles
we have a ground rule
to share a one speaker at a time floor
and unitarian silent listening support

And rules to not verbally share uninvited commentary
suggestions
agreements or disagreements
during, and after,
this formalized Circle.

Speakers are invited to share from experience only,
not from someone else’s story,
experiential and/or theoretical,
parental and/or academic,
personal and/or professional.

This is a Closed Circle
of verbal communications,
a rhetorically autonomous inside job
only silently noting our egalitarian
nonjudgmental
side by sideness
of authority
responsibility
compassion;

Help,
Thanks,
Wow!;

Truth,
Beauty,
Silent Passion…

If we are a composition,
we enter an historic symphony of solo voices
implicitly singing our universality
experiencing time’s nurturing
and severing qualities
and relentlessly insufficient quantity,
except when anyone else is speaking
business as too coldly
or too warmly
usual.

In our Reading Circles
our implicit ground rule culture differs
more in favor of the spontaneous spoken word,
this good news,
extemporaneous,
and bad fake news,
distemper-odious,
gospel we scribe together,

Usually one voice leading
a sustained melodic theme,
sometimes harmonic and splendid,
sometimes dissonant and diminished,
inviting in compassionate responses,
major and minor,
listening for counter-melodies,
for analogies
metaphors
curious oxymorons,
outrageous internal pun fun,
rhymes
and maybe the occasional reason,
held with soft determination
and not hard determinism.

Participants are invited to share
harmonic voices of MeToo
and to gently question why
my own dissonantly deviant choice
traps me in feeling detached,
uncertain,
less certain,
more certain we must be missing
some counter-balancing dirge of risk
and full-circle opportunities
for evolving peaceful revolutions.

We sing in Open Circle rounds
of theory meets experience
greets political philosophy
and primal attachment theory
applications to all relationships
ego logical and unlogical and anti-logical
and dis-passionate,
conscious and unconscious and suppressed consciousness
and more dispassion,
and ecological and ecosystemic
and healthy climate logical
for growing reading circles
into speaking and listening communion rounds
of timeless symphonic conversation,
dia-logos about favored/unflavored mythos.

Cooperative conveners
encourage each other
to speak from felt experience
of belief and disbelief
in some published teacher’s expression of experience
with timeless patience and time-heavy impatience,
of joy and sorrow,
courage and curiosity,
compassion and dispassion,
intimacy and repulsion,
about some subject’s story,

Where it does and does not meet our own time
chosen and not chosen
political and personal
economic and ecological
natural and spiritual
secular and sacred
regressive and progressive
inhaled and exhaled
patriarchal and matriarchal
competitive and cooperative
vulnerable and transparent
longing and belonging

New yet old
wealthy when healthy,
democratic when not kleptocratic,
integral when not fragmenting,
unitarian when not too universally closed
to further sacred gospel co-inspirations,
co-passion,
co-presence,

Timeless unity
yet eternal open university,

Secure rounds
yet within freeing surrounds,

Cultural sweet spots
within historic raw plots.

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Uncategorized

Queer Music

They lived across from each other
on and off the center floor dorm hall,
both on the much discussed
controversial LeftWing side.

Yang perused Yin’s CDs,
“I see you like that queer music,
Elton John
and Luther VanDross
and George Michael.
I didn’t notice that before.”

Yin responds quietly
calmly
amused:

First,
I don’t believe music is gay or straight,
but most everything related in-between
harmonic and dissonant,
diminished and replenished.

Lyrics may be queer or predictable
but usually flow well
either way
telling co-relating creation stories
of nature’s neural positives
and negatives
surfing back and forth
in and out
before and after
here and there
now and then
and yet to climax
polypathic health
as polyphonic wealth.

But, Second,
Feels to me all music,
maybe all muses,
are queer
when I think holistically about it,
us,
them,
verbally thought and non-verbally felt,
internally touched

By a rhetorical moment
we curiously know as music
without noticing how radically unlikely
regenerative processes
compassionate evolutions
could ever reproduce such homo-ingenious sounds,
rhythms,
patterns,
colors,
textures,
stories,
epic original empathic creations
and co-empathic octaved recreations
within such a LeftBrain heterosexual white privileged
RightWing capitalistic
narcissistically greedy
UnQueer Marching Against
the Great Historic/Futuristic muse and prophets
of harmony,
despite dissonance,
resonance,
despite fading resilience of Baby Xers,
polyphonic yin-mused light,
despite polynomial not not
climate of touch and feel dualdarkness.

Meanwhile Yang
couldn’t hear too well
since opening the window
facing spring
listening
to a cranked up RocketMan,
while athletically dancing to hot not unqueer music,
and Yin’s ears swayed tenderly after and before
queer musing
straight talk.

 

 

 

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Timely Death of a Muse

My muse died today.
Although how could I lose
abuse
or amuse
what was never mine to use
as I see fit,
hear fitness,
feel fitfully?

This muse dies tonight
not from old age
as I had long predicted
must be my sad and unread case,
but for a new voice
or vice,
for deeper lyrics
and wider melodies
and globally local choreography
perhaps a ridiculous younger person’s game.

They say
not to write, unless you must;
Not to paint
or sing
or dance
or become a prostitute
unless you would otherwise eco-bust
ego-lust away this lifeline.

If you can live with something,
most anything, else
to occupy your time
and pay the rent,
then do
and be those more civil relationships instead.

It never occurred to me
perhaps because They didn’t say so,
I might do most everything else
so I could retire into writing
and reading
and singing
and dancing

But not prostitution
because no one would pay
for what I can not give away
with integrity intact.

I miss this muse already
but doubt she even remembers me,
a right hand
useful
responding to her labored demands
too ponderously telling,
psychic yelling,
when I longed to show in grace
integrity’s newest face
rhythm pattern pace
divinely humane race
robustly timeless space
without dissonant disgrace

Showing
not telling,
Belonging
not longing,
Dancing
not marching,
Singing
not shouting
to and with and for
tomorrow’s mute muses,
today’s deaf listeners,
amusing to move on
with overflowing emotions
not mere museless motions.

Now I have broken
my only two rules of unself-conscious writing.

1. Never mention the muse aloud
or dead
for She abhors a nonvacuum
of light,
and

2. Never write
about writing,
For the same non-reason
that optimal sexual
sensual
neural experience
cannot happen
if my sole
and sold-out purpose
is this Great Orgasm.
of we-consciousness.

My more retiring amusement died today.
Although how could I lose
abuse
or ever timelessly muse
what was never mine to use?

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