Uncategorized

Climate Work in RolePlay

I know this sounds like theater
of the absurd,
but I wonder if healthy role play
might be left-brain’s work ethic
inviting right-brain’s first and last impassioned word.

We might pretend our LeftWing
loves to play
irresponsibly back and forth repositioning
while RightWing
is crazy busy with win/lose economics
and disempowering politics
of arduous fragmentation,

Where God would paradise play
with roles of humane-divine
mutual infatuation,
cooperative ego-deferment
unto obsequious giggles
of “Oh no, you first.
I gracefully and divinely insist.”

AntiGod does hard vocational work
to teach pagan pilgrim players
and idle, irresponsible nature worshipers
to get back to harvesting souls
to be drained of daylight hours
manufacturing need and greed
to build our deadly war machines
and our ever higher and mightier towers
of anthro-hubris Babel.

Babel sounds like a healthier place to play
with natural sounds
and spiritual languages
for hide and seek with God
as scriptured, sure,
but also unscripted role play
between too autonomous to be realistic Egos
and too interdependent to be ungooey-theistic EcoLogicians.

I hear lose/lose ecopolitics
of hard work polarization
sounds dramatically absurd
while I continue to listen more imaginatively
to ego-eco
inside-outside
co-passioning play

Muse of RightWing stern capitalistic vocations
underplaying Win/Win co-arising
LeftWing wealthy health creations.

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Uncategorized

Poetic License to Kill, or Heal, or Both

I recently read a politically incorrect prolific poet,
or so I thought at the time,
or more felt than thought,
more truthfully,
integrally,

Who said, If poetry is politically correct,
it cannot be poetry.

So, if he is politically correct
in this statement,
is he thereby also not a poet in good standing?

An enigma to which I respond,
If so, then politically incorrect messages
also cannot be poetic,
but tragically disempowering.

Meaning that poetry has power
to change how we feel,
and sometimes listen
and sometimes speak about our relationships.

What are political relationships
if not correctly co-empowering
and incorrectly fragmenting
and disempowering–
without healthy reason
and without wealthy rhyme.

But, now I see this poet’s concern more intentionally.
If a poet’s intent is merely political correctness,
orthodox dogma of some monoculturally dangerous variety,
with no faithful participation
in change,
in our ongoing collective integrity,
potentiating,
developing,
shifting
co-relational organic powers for healthy communicating minds
still hoping to feed and feel healthy bodies,
then wealthy empowerment
becoming metaphorically richer
on Earth’s universal meaning together,
not accessible by apartheid and absolute supremacy,
with synergetic beauty
become mere utilitarian truth,
LeftBrain propaganda
politically severed,
and thereby RightBrain incorrect.

WinWin bicameral therapeutic intent
is politically correct,
empowering,
as seen in narratives of healing
and epic poetry
of time’s co-relational passage
musing into Paradise/Hell
nutritionally/toxically becoming

Where time
celebrates/ignores rhyme
and natural seasons
speak with/without spiritual co-relational reasons.

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Uncategorized

Nursing Home Rapper

In the multi-racial nursing home
to bent and broken bodies
in broken bent back wheelchairs
longing to free roam,
said the black lives matter rapper:

When your woman leaves you,
and your man is gone
without a reason
or a fare thee swell season,
Getting mad at life
ain’t so deadly wrong

You go ahead!
Let’s get angry.
That’s your right.
Let’s swing this fight!

Take your meds,
the ones prescribed
And not those others
Steal your might.

Eat something right
and drink your water,
Go on outside
and play spin the bottle
and see some sight
that helps you maybe feel more right.

Find your music.
Tunes long tried
You’ve memorized
Until they had to die inside.

And when you’re tired
you sleep,
Take a nap
Join those voices
heard long gone before,
Who never knew
you lost most choices

To want to wait,
to stay awake.
Don’t want to miss
what might not happen
without your last blessed kiss.

But don’t worry
We got this,
what you’ve not yet used up

It’s not a lot
but I promise you
Although we’re young
and only think we’re smart,
We’ll do our best,
We’ll take our part

To forward march
to your grandkids
at least as much
as you’ve left us,
a little parched.

That ain’t much
but it’s my promise
To share your music,
To take our rest
when it’s our time
to worry less
about who sleep takes
than who’s just pretending
to stay wide awake
for further mending.

You go ahead!
Let’s not get hungry
We’re inside right,
so let’s end this trite
and tired unsightly
RightWing fight!

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Uncategorized

Black Life Shatters

My oldest son,
one of the few Earth-mattering
Earth-shattering
Black lives
I was made to protect
to guide
by eco-righteous WinWin acts
and co-passioning words,

Felt, and therefore was, disempowered,
worthless,
like helpless prey among predators
who listen to the same rap,
same urban Earth writes,
same multicultural performances,
When a gun was dispassionately pointed at his head.

This was only tangentially about an economic exchange
primal, personally and politically, targeted.

He felt violated,
and threatened,
already home and identity invaded,
when forced to hand over his car keys,
and the back door
and front door
keys to his home.

He knows these guys,
where to find them on Facebook,
at the casino,
in the dance and rap clubs
where he invested
infested
while still in high school.

Urban night school, unEarthly,
earthy
darkly sensual.

He does not know where to find them in church.
Gospel music is for grandmothers.
Liturgical dance,
sacred rituals,
are for outside romance
on warm wet wombed erotic nights.

He felt naked
exposed
terrified when they demanded his last dime.

This is his biggest and baddest bully,
his most deeply echoing “LOSER!”
His darkest dirge
speaking of suicidal revenge.

Or prison,
where Earth’s great white patriarchal State,
will put a gun to his head
and force him to remove his clothes
and bend over
to assume the even more lost position,

Raped of any future hope
to rest outdoors
after an ecstatic liturgical dance
under a romantic full moon
rapping
and dancing
ultra-violet variations
on a warm wet wombed
bright delight.
Not So Bright Delight

You talk our talk
like Black Lives Matter,
but you walk your own walk
as Black lives shatter,
Brown lives stutter,
Green lives splinter.

What’s a-matter?

You want to want
all lives to splatter?
Might hear to hear
RealTalk ain’t chatter,

You eat to eat
friends heads on platters.
We taste to see
your fake get fatter.

Your act is tired.
Your allies scatter.
You need to feed
on guns’ disaster.

Come on now, Felix,
What’s a-matter?
Where’s your commitment
to Black Lives Matter?

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Uncategorized

Touching With Kindness

Some parents and cooperative school teachers
and classroom and bus aides and drivers
are discussing government regulations
restraining transportation providers
from providing therapeutic touch,
because of an over-compensation
for emotional dysfunction behaviors
leading to appallingly irreverent touch.

Toxic touch critical events
predict long-term non-lifegiving,
non-wellbeing consequences
in young
vulnerable,
transparently frustrated learners

Typically,
healthily born with WinWin internal/external co-relational cognitive assumptions,
confluent expectations,
positive neural receptivity is therapeutic
while negative interceptions are toxic,
pathological.

We discuss our unhappiness
about current administrative restraints
on giving healthy therapeutic touch,
but no such caring restrictions apply
to receiving healthy
appropriate
therapeutic touch
from our wounded,
Win/Lose fragile,
fragmented,
cognitive-affective dissonant disarranged
kids.

We seem to be heading in a direction
that would more positively hypothesize,
Despite past risks of exposure to toxic touch,
and apathetic untouch,
we do not want to restrain therapeutic touch
with our arms and hands,
our feet walking and dancing in cooperative solidarity,
stepping out rhythmically, together
with our voices of kindness,
mouths speaking and singing
with ringing patterns of kindness,

Integrity fully-embodied
to support resilient WinWin therapeutic touch relationships.

One of my daughter’s school transportation providers
learned therapeutic massage from a yogi,
Who began their first hands-on learning class
by reassuring those about to receive a student’s touch,
and those about to give their first intentionally focused massage,
that there is only one mistaken choice to avoid,

Massage, any form of verbal or non-verbal touch,
turns from therapeutic default
through toxic abandonment of communication, untouched apathetic restraint,
and also when too aggressive, much more so when actively violent,

Toxins,
nonverbally and/or verbally non-communicating counter-therapies
are Win/Lose neural neglect,
lack of therapeutic mindfulness,
to not touch by therapeutic intent at all,
whether with our WinWin intending hands
or solidarity voices
or any other of Earth’s neural receiving and giving
eco-therapeutic receptors.

So, I remind my daughter
of what the yogi message therapist said,
We only want to touch with kindness,
With our hands
and with our voices,
with our preferably dancing bodies
and our more therapeutically singing mouths
and signing hands
and signaling feet.

Her transport team listens,
laughs,
maybe a touch more relaxed
about possibilities for therapeutic WinWin touching
wounded Win/Lose dis-encultured students
on their often too-neglected journeys
in well-being life-skills
for enhancing healthy wealth resilience.

While us caregiving adults
continue to cooperatively talk without touching
among our comparatively privileged selves.

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Uncategorized

Dear Ivy

Dear Ivy,

I am sorry we did not receive even just a moment to say goodbye
and thank you to each other
for all those school bus rides we took together,
you in your harness,
and me in my wonder
about what’s coming next
from your talking head
to mine.

It is time for me to move on
to another student,
but I am happy to leave you in Miss Josie’s care.

I know she will enjoy your time
invested in each other,

Listening and taking turns speaking kindly with each other,
Singing and maybe even a little dancing together,
reading and drawing as light and bumps allow.

Maybe you can teach each other
some new KnockKnock jokes.

KnockKnock.
Who’s there?
Sandi.
Sandy who?
Sandy sandwiches
are not good for you.

KnockKnock.
Who’s there?
Josie.
Josie who?
Jo see for yourself,
Open the door!

I am grateful to have so many silly and lovely memories
of you
to take with me.

And, the greatest farewell gift you could give me
is your reassurance
that these same warm and happy memories
of us
are what you will carry with you
throughout your great adventurous journey
into well-being.

Warmly yours,

Sandi

Sandi who?
Sandy snacks
are not so good for you.

Note:

My behaviorally disordered ADHD and fetal alcoholic daughter, with abandonment issues and deep-seeded food anxiety issues, suddenly lost her long-standing school bus aide, probably to compassion burn-out.  Ivy can be a profound motivator of impatience in those around her, even with deep and widely developed caregiving and receiving skills. This is the farewell that I think Ivy would have found more therapeutic than the isolating complexities of disappearance without explanation or expressed gratitude for what did co-relationally work for so long.

To be clear, not saying goodbye was an administrative decision from above; not what Ivy’s aide wanted for herself or for Ivy.

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Uncategorized

Therapeutic Tinted Thoughts

Therapeutic thoughts have feelings
of resonance and dissonance
as healing behaviors have internal beliefs
motivating
inspiring spirited resilience
and passions for love
surpassing anger,
compassion
conquering all dispassions,
positive attraction
reconnecting past negative revulsions.

Feelings have internal colors
compassionate green health environments
and narcissistic snarky red hot interiors
and radiant blue light
and absorbing yellow warmth,
and many multiculturing other hues
and cries for resonant ultra-violet peace
with black and white and brown restoring justice
not so much grey-scaled punishments
for too liberally
compassionately coloring outside
proper eco-political WinLose lines,
social walls of propriety
against impropriety of full-scale wildly imaginative colors.

When I heard Caillou’s white-speak mother
inform her son,
Red is the correct Valentine’s color of love,
I knew this could not be my whole virtuous enculturing story
because red is also the color of bloody fraternity
and viciously escalating anger,

Healthy passioned red
or short-flaring diseased fear
of overpowering betrayal,
losing power to overcome
threats to green therapeutic self-portrayal,
regenerative esteem
virtuously red-blooded,

Surrounded and benignly invaded
by green nature,
yellow absorbing internal blue heedfulness,
caution,
discerning nurtured feelings
attributed by more dissonant color relationships
said and sung in virtuously harmonious major,
and viciously dissonant minor, keys,
round co-relational octaves of color
revolving rhythmic qualities fueling flow,

Morally affluent yang prescriptions
with ethically effluent yin descriptors
of exterior green sanctuary natures
with interior red-blooded
DNA ultra-violet
communicating nonultra-violent
recycling nurture wheels
of resiliently felt therapeutic thoughts.

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