Uncategorized

Growing Grace

I can already feel some gratitude
for not having been,
being,
or ever becoming responsible
to heal everything

Casting WinWin solutions
and resolutions
in all fertile directions.

Like you,
I only get one vote.

Still, I do find some mortal hope
in one voice capacity
to mend some broken relationships,
WinLose and LoseLose
climates of relative
and complete
pathology.

I would unveil some wonder
as we cooperatively learn awesomeness
seeing
and hearing
and feeling
and knowing
and embracing multicultural difference

Here with Now co-incident Occupiers
between gratitude sanctuaries of faith
and moments of compassionate hope

Green wisdom to not become incapacitated
by monoculturing differences:

By fear of ungrateful mortality,
of capital disassociation,
of ego-annihilation;

By anger occupying Now,
my own,
and patriarchy’s,
and Earth’s everyday living
at-risk of losing cooperative
organic integrity
through unhealthy collective dementia,
hysteria,
post-Victorian melancholia,
ecofeminist suppression,

Reacting against 2020 peaceful revolutions
for growing green grace,
one vote,
one voice,
in each HereNow Time.

Standard
Uncategorized

Give Me Music

“An’, as [music] blowed an’ blowed,
I often looked up at the sky
an’ assed meself the question–
what is the stars,
what is the stars?”
Juno and the Paycock
Sean O’Casey

Our sacred choir
prepares a new anthem
which, in summary, goes:

I have the deep soul blues today,
so Give Me Music.

This troubles me
because Music erupts from within,
more primal than a commodity to be delivered
upon command.

What is wrapped and presented from outside
we may hear only as voices with rhythm
and harmony
and unresolved dissonance–
but all these together
are not yet our enchanting music muse
fully investing
infesting
musing through us.

Choral inside voiced music,
resonate through all four voices,
sharing our deep-rooted muse,
blues soul longing to speak and dance
music of the stars,

To come home again
where we have always shared soul belonged
inducing peace.

Sacred choirs
do not usually demand of matriarchal Earth,
Give Me Music!

More likely we invite experience
of more resilient inside dancing muses
healing like anciently redundant starlight.

I feel angst in soulful mourning
that cannot be healed through commanding
Give Me Music
or anything else, for that matter.

But, loss does invite deeper experience of resonance
and small bits of creatively digestible resolving dissonance
to feel better
about absence of remembering

What is our starlight soul
but well-sung dance
enlightening solidarity?

If we are asking Earth
to heal us with the Muse of starlight mystery,
then, indeed,
Give Us Music’s full harvest
blowed an’ blowed.

Standard
Uncategorized

Listeners With Power

Messengers
are seldom the most powerful voices
in Earth’s wombed room.

Listeners,
whether intrapersonal individuals
or interpersonal incorporated persons
and both,
listening to the most diverse voices
usually become cooperatively empowered
advocates for Earth’s open rooms
birthing eco/theo-logical Grace
from within God’s re-creating history
as above Gaia’s Paradise
cooperatively heard muses,
colors of vibrant heart music.

Ego sung and Eco-danced
with messengers
solar
and lunar
and in-between
co-arising transubstantiations
gathering revolutionary therapeutic powers
for health of multiculturing happiness

Buzzing messengers,
joy-filled sin-clear angels,
silent but lively superpowers
becoming cooperatively re-invested
in polypathic listening,
then polyphonic speaking,
then polycultural re-listening again
then polynomially re-iterating yet again
then multiculturally listening
to eco-messengers
actively healing ego-listeners
cooperating yet again.

Standard
Uncategorized

Vitamin D

I have a youngest sunny D
an improvising third of four
in third quarter beating maleness rhyme.

He wears the greatest many hats
but only one spirit-timed
Hippocratic
convocation
evocation.

He sings and shouts
C Major 7th inside voices
and outdoor D minor diminishments.

I have a youngest son named D,
improvising three for four
communicating RightBrain dominant
rhythmic looping sound vocations,
invocations
vacations
easier on my WiseElder
matriarchal years
counted in and by and with
AnimaMundi’s
robust
Plan D.

Standard
Uncategorized

April Loves

She worships her western horizon
toward the river, sparkling, hinting of lightning pasts and futures.

Leonardo is wrong.
This seems unlikely, perhaps judgmental,
harsh,
even so, his God clearly reconstructed in his well-owned glorious image,
universal God of Creative Architecture.

But, for her, as she watches bruised red wilt into painfully pale lavender,
over black night’s forest line,
cerebrally alone,
sacredly uniting
nature speaks through Gaia’s full-timed EcoLogos Voice,
sometimes in pastel skies and meadows,
sometimes in relentlessly vibrant green,
sometimes Full Moon, New Moon,…
Rain, Wind, sometimes sublime both on her tin roof, whistling through worn-out window frames.

If God were made in her image,
creation would speak in reasoned fertile seasons of shadow dark, and lightning bright,
synapses of climax, echoing down river valleys
rolling out grand majesty of EcoLogos,
perfect rhythms,
rain beating Earth’s thunderous future.

It would have been more revolutionary
and probably therapeutic,
most certainly lovelier, had Leonardo portrayed God as Earth’s logos voice
swirling light as surf,
tidal river waters gleaming wide at dusk,
narrower in dawn’s first light,
a ribbon flowing light emerging to west
reflecting waters greeting eastern sky enlightenment,
Gaia’s morning river logos
translating Sun’s architectural might.

Standard
Uncategorized

Sound Barriers

Words must wait for welcome
within this sacred green laced vista,
a cathedral incubating nuances of light
and shadow,
of succulent sway
inviting minds and tiny bodies
to come along this way,
then that,
billowing breeze
then soporific tease
lulling silent waves of blue grey clouds
continue on their more steady play,
aloof.

Twilight looms for this day
and life,
more peaceful without ego’s endless string
of intrusive
entitled
arrogant
anthro-culturally enslaved,
words.

Waiting to welcome new winds of time,
noticing this embrace
within Earth’s voracious voice,
vibrant flow
welcoming this time to go,
wordless.

Standard
Uncategorized

Time’s Eternal Consciousness

Time’s natural spaces,
a universe of footprints in remembered places.

Need is a kick in the ass and head.
Dissonance is afterflow,
undertow,
crashing cart with runaway horsepower.

Want is a binomial step into time,
co-operatively left-producing and right-consuming
memory footprints on the beach of time,
some more resonant and resolved
before erasing surf re-emerges,
and some less formed before washing into history’s cultural flow
of confluent wild consciousness.

Time bilaterally surfs
sands of positive place in negative space,
resolving comprehensive consciousness.

Footprints in the sands of time
regenerate decomposing memory
within nature’s wild chaos of flowing rhyme.

As we have no time without space
we experience no yin without yang
we coincidate no perfect vacuum
no perfect bad,
no perfect good
save well-timed balance between these appositionals,
except our potential for comprehensive harmonious consciousness
in mind with heart
and informing and exforming lungs
fueled by nature’s DNA intelligence.

Our shortages of universal intelligent time,
our misconceptions of potentially balancing spacetime consciousness
lead to suicidal
patricidal
fratridical
matridical
tidal footprints into quicksand’s chaos,
revolving karmic grace
for tomorrow’s regenerating beach
awaiting more transgenerationally resonant feet
and hands,
hearts and minds
surfing seasoned time
with permacultural wisdom.

Time flows and folds frequent nature’s voice
for each to hear with dissonant contentious noise
or listen in key of confluent contenting choice.

Time’s permacultural space,
universal footprints in memory’s conscious place.

Standard