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Three Colored Pigs

Once upon a ZeroTime
we suffered great terror and loss.

People,
animals,
and plants
refused to speak kindly with each other
because of a Big Bad Wolf
named Ms. Climatic Change
by her delightfully demented transparents.

Most all credible scientists in that day
were prophets of falling timeless skies,
flaming forests,
failing aquifers,
fowl winds from Big Bad SheWolf’s breath,
both bad
and way too Yangishly big.

Meanwhile, most bad faith people could not believe
in this SheWolf blowing Ms. Change
until on their own doorsteps
they saw and heard Her
violently colonizing threats
to feed and birth more rabid cubs
with ravenously monotheistic intentions,
confrontations,
engagement in violence
on behalf of past and future peace.

The first little pig Blue
is a democratic optimist
especially about scientific law and hopeful order.
Her pen is made of goddess straw
and entertaining tinsel tin
because that’s all her Sacred Owner could afford
while shopping for better whips
at the repurposing station.

She had the supremely democratic displeasure
of attracting predator Wolf’s initial advances
of a most unfortunate climate event.

Her house blew Blue away
before bad WiseElder wolf covens deciphered
We’re all feeding this Big Bad SheWolf together!

So little pig Blue, reborn baptized plutocratic
by recycling fear and terror,
ran all the way to her new climate grieving home,
penned up to couch surf
with or against prickly republican fundamentalist pig Red.

Red pig called out to the Big Bad SheWolf,
Declaiming God’s punishment
for sharing too much herbal tea
and probably THC,
with eastern and southern idolators;
Calling down God’s own retribution for hugging,
and otherwise worshiping,
sacredly creative MotherTrees,
rather than begging Owner Patriarchal Sun
for next Paradise
promising a better nutritious life.

A better Red wealthy life
through normal stick-built single family
Great Economic McMansions
fenced and moated sanctuaries
from Big Bad SheWolf’s growing blowing threat
and bitter bite.

Shutting out ultra-violet nightmare rabble,
if not Big Bad SheWolf problems
of Earth’s discomforting demise
while all God’s true orthodox children
move on up to timeless Red
BusinessAsUsual Capital Paradise.

But stick-built autonomy
and boot-strap conservative sanctuaries,
for monoculturally superior pigs, metaphysicians
of intelligently systematic sacred story
and orthodox fundamental theology,
did not save Red nor Blue pigs
from Gaian love for ClimateHealth
even more powerful than God’s just punishment
through SheWolf miseries
named Ms. ClimateChange.

Even gated stick-built McMansions,
and missionary fishing boats,
and carts for shipping and shooting people
and blowing other species up
and off to dungeons
burn or flee
as Big Bad Wolf
defeats quickly fading second chances
for restoring happier make-love endings
restoring ego’s wanton piggish longing
for healthy eco-justice.

Third little pig Green
built her home of natural clay bricks and stone,
with front and back yard gardens
filled with organic edibles
and chickens
to share with Big Bad SheWolf
and all her hungry cubs,
Neighbors longing for healthier water
and soil
and divine Blue secular
and Red sacred cooperative air
for breathing in climates of matriarchal courage.

Curious SheWolf extended family courage
invited outward cooperative climates
of nonjudgmental inquiry,
spoken and non-violently mentored in WinWin organic strategies,
freedom from colonizing WinLose motivations,
filling gracefully in
as active organic creolizing vocations
to retire pandemic ClimateChange tsunamis
in favor of green international ClimateHealth
for wolf and pig,
people and planet
cooperatively self-owned EarthTribal Future Investors
in ham
and bacon
and other porky products
suitable for great-grand cubs and piglets
to never think of eating their young
and old.

All these self-producing piggy products
lived with their restoring projects together
with SheWolf and Cubs
happily ever timeless after
climate acceptance
of interdependent risks
through WinWin opportunity,
scientific ZeroSoul revolutions,
humanity metaphysical evolution,
theological non-racist systemic experiential volution,
gently knocking on open doors
for ecological solutions
and resolutions
and better organic SheWolf endings.

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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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HiStory Times

Once upon an evolving time
we were a great first nation,
or second nation,
depending on your historical perspective,
but definitely not a third nation
although some cooperative economists
thought we might be competing ourselves
in that over-invested and ego-inflationary direction.

This first and second nation
had grown tired of electing puppy dogs,
with bought and sold kennel cough
and regurgitation,
as Chief.

Living within this mighty nation was a Big Bad Wolf
who campaigned by shouting “Wolf”
and cheerleading for BigBad Woolfacism,
and the sleepy and bored people
found this exciting as if more entertainment
must be a change for better
rather than almost unimaginable worse
and so nearly half of them
stumbled into dog-eared polls
and elected Chief B.B. Wolf.

B.B. Wolf took his wolfish degenerative promises somewhat seriously,
thinking, sort of, and both reasonably and unreasonably enough,
this was why he was new Chief Wolf,
but became frustrated
as he learned the larger half who had impudently voted for Other
were more hoping for a Big CoOperative Wolf
which he considered more of a Big Bad Bitch.

Tired of hearing “Wolf!..Wolf!”
and “Come hither Bitch!”
twittered and beeped and compressed across every media outlet,
this battered tribe began turning off their radios
at mere mention of B.B. Wolf,
stopped choosing to read his anti-potlatch tweets,
boycotted every paper and editor and blogger,
story teller and poet
who dared mention Chief Wolf
and his campaign of blighting promises
and threats
and competing WinLose compromises
and fake news
and non-events
and non-plans
and non-design
and non-cooperative
and non-trust
non-sense
non-sensed
non-sensing
non-sensual
non-sensical scrambling politics.

This went on for near a week
before B.B. Wolf’s press secretary
called a Briefing
to which no one came but him, or her,
depending on which secretary drew the shortest straw that morning.
No one even briefly bothered hearing for sure
which came to represent
further dissonance and dismay.

By afternoon
even B.B. Wolf heard his own empty echoing chambers
and twittered “Never mind.
I’m the first and best Chief
to ever hold a Brief without pressing business anyway.”
Then announced he would be happy to try something new,
to mindfully listen to questions and comments
and concerns
to see if we might together become smart enough
to come up and down with some well-planned feasible answers,
somewhere this side of more fake non-news,
non-events,
etc…

Someone
way in the back of the smallest press room
in the smallest town
in the shortest State,
some BBB, no doubt,
as the Chief would later say,
asked him what Saudi Arabia
might have been willing to invest in
with less toxic outcomes
if he had offered wholesale
on trees and organic edibles,
wind turbines and solar panels,
natural construction and organic gardening
and nutritional militias
armed with our best good regenerative seeds
and permacultural nurturing designs
for care-giving and -receiving
and global cooperative health insurance
and mutual wealth of resonance assurance.

Still, he had promised to think about it
and so he did the best he could
within his echoing silo.
But the next day
all this nation’s media
on- and off-polypathic communication lines
that spacetime 4D regenerative mattered
twittered and tweeted
blogged and editorially bleated
mindful questions
and cooperative “Yes…and…” responses
listed blisteringly out loud
like positive organic healthy yeast
far too deep and rich for B.B.. Wolf to hope for continuing control
much less to actually nurture and manna lead
like a Big Good Wolf might have started,
and then watched what we together might have remade.

He “Wolf!”ed to agree to disagree
and did so endlessly
but all the larger half not in his fan base
and at least half of his smaller half of former followers
were much too busy
refilling all his negatives
with their WinWins
“Yes that healthy choice,
and how about this nutrition too?”
instead of their old degenerating
WinLose
anti-climatic ways.

This remained such the larger gospel reweaving story
B.B. Wolf had no one to rant at
and, frankly, not much to do
other than playing golf
and counting his money
which were his trump cards anyway.

And so it is this story began
with selecting Chief B.B Wolf
and ends
with everybody living happily
and healthy wealthing ever after.

A moral of and for this story:
That’s what big bad wolves are for,
to show you what is best
to more relentlessly ignore.

But,
I’m sure we can, together,
think of both…and nutritional more.

Our Beginning:

Once upon an evolving time
we were a great first nation
and second cooperatively matriarchal established state,
co-depending on her-historical perspectives…

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