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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018
Songs of Oregon: No 5 no general impressions specifically

For the Poets of Oregon, each a unique travel guide

no salt n’ pepper shaker of general impressions for the offering,
for now, ubiquitous generalities means inclusionary which means
likely accidental to be exclusionary,
so specifically,
no ‘all in' clauses

just a few specific eye-sights, hoary words, new birth canals,
to be either eaten, resurrected, van-slaughtered, backyard buried,
all are filed nearby in the seed cabinet or the garage freezer,
or on the C drive of your brain

awaiting ideal planting conditions, and the rest,
a series perhaps,
Songs of Oregon?
Someday

someday, when all the big brief poems are fully formed,
earth ripened, mind fomented; oak barrel aged,
harvest-reading-ready,
green trees shoots busting thrusting through
misleading sandy looking soil,
needy for quenching from
aquifers that are gold geyser plentiful,
a hundred feet deep, needy only for a
“please sir, may I have some more,"
they’l be writ

but for now, these below are,
some easy to be specifics,
reveling and revealed, useful takeaways,
specifics pacifics
for those who might be traversing upon
Lewis and Clark’s Oregon Trail:

them multicolored redneck
full bearded boys
and those of the
vinnie, millennial hipsters and aging ex- hippies, also,
full bearded boys  
are indistinguishable!
many of both wear matching bib jeans,
so be careful who you be calling
a hillbilly in open carry country

the forever refilled coffee mug still exists though the price
is now $2 but the coffee is sustainable (I am evidence)
organic, from a rain forest from Timbuktu,
so it gets planted in your bloodstream and then replaced
in the soil & land,
the loam of the soul
by you

in Milwaukee,
they know how to spell Milwaukee but
not in Portland

don’t be shocked at the town naming,
these borrowers got no  i-magination,
that’s surly lacking in Oregon; mthey’ll steal your
Nor’easter or Indian
town or city’s name
with no shame
or comp-unction,
claiming it’s different cause
they made it organically and
then misspelled it,
correctly

think that pointy poem point well made,
god made only one coast (theirs) and
just forgot to put Shelter Island NY  upon it;
threw it up randomly skyward, landed on some
atlantic backwater body

getting there or anywhere in Oregon traffic
about the same as in NYC traffic, thus
the heavens balance the scales of justice with
dramatic automotive irony

in some counties, the school week is a
four day affair, for the children need to repay
their parents birthing labor, by laboring beside them
in the vineyards, on the tractors, learning from
the book and look of their parents
sun aged faces and hands,
life learning
that man must earn his sustenance
with the sweat of ones own brow
and that word;
week,
can be spelt in contradictory ways
but only one is acceptable
out here

do be careful though Oregonians are very willingly to lam it,
(Willamette) if you ask nicely,
pick up normal looking weird hitchhikers
and drive many a mile
in yours, not theirs, but sure,
“going-the-same-way direction”
if you ask polite with just a smile

and the river salmon have hired their own governmental advisors


like I said,
no general impressions
just a private’s brief recollections
from his first tour of duty
abroad
where he was purple heart medaled shot
through ‘n through with
Oregon kindness

some juicy real specifics to follow eventually
someday
songs of oregon No.5
a malignant cancer spreads
in prime agricultural land
the Santos Company
gas wells ever expand

the waterways and aquifers
sullied with material not healthy
the corporate entity
aspiring to be more wealthy

campaigners outside fences
at drilling locations
wanting to stop the company's
sick infiltration

the fight to preserve the family farm
has been unheeded
company profitability
must be well seeded

a state government not listening
to scientist's info
seemingly it is more interested
in the gas field's revenue flow

as time goes by the waterways
and land will become sicker
all in the name of the Santos brands
noxious sticker
Beneath my covers in the
dark of night,
I felt pulled tight. 
My pajamas and
underthings finding all
the wrong places.

At my time of change,
I was gifted a bed.
I felt freedom.
A space of my own, finally alone.
The eldest, released from the pack.

Revelation of delight,
naked under soft sheets.
I felt the coolness.
My skin alive, fresh from a
warm bath. Feet wrapped safe,
deep within layers.

The Dreams came then...
I felt their calling.
Whispers beckoning me
into flight,
to float above,
observe my simple beauty

Gently slipping towards the galaxy,
I felt no weight.
Nebula's Helix, Saturn and Orion,
their colors became the
pallet of My mind.

Able to soar with the eagles,
into the depths of the oceans.
The whales called for me to follow.

Walking within the beam of
light, I felt warmth.
Crystalline aquifers quenched
my thirst. Grounding  me to the
center of our Earth.

Of an age now,
that comfort has settled in,
I feel whole within.
Naked with my soul.

The sheets still cool
after a long warm bath.


Copyright © May 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Remembering to Remember #2
Julian Jul 2020
Although flummoxed by the gabble of hibernaculum I seethe with the verdant quiddity that is a cross-pollination that spans the gamut of historical memory and owns the usucaption of infrastructure equipping our bootstrapped capacities of literacy tethered to the ecumenical capacity for proliferation through amplified discernment that percolates at decorative gallop into the stridor of unified apothegms that quantify the visibilia of the broadened universe into the nexility of formula bounded by the parameters that equip synergies of space-time to envelope its own reification and magnetize urbane freebooters of coalescence to grapple with the ineffable mathematics of absorbed losses in the human fraternity becoming overlooked because of the providence of shepherded acrimony to escape the oblivion of barely marginal exponential extinctions of impropriety into fast-paced panoramas of expedited dalliance with optimums constrained by the effluvia of hinderbaggle which exist only by domineering mercurial lability of manufacture enabled by the siphon of Promethean reason to catapult the slogmarch of advancement by punctuated achievements registered by canonical gravitas to revolutionize society in longevity and interplanetary awareness that places a 1000:1 premium on a 165 IQ in comparison to a 110 IQ. Although bewildered by the beaucoup of raxed originality the anoegenetic flux of slogan achieves but a petty solidarity in comparison to the galvanized bronteum of registered invention that provides decisively seminal locomotive prowess to the foisons of promulgated ingenuity propped up by the capacity for raltention that exceeds the inherent longevity of humans on Earth into the permanence of memory to achieve radical vanguard frontiers within diminishing frames of a once vapid time recorded only through the lens of finicky preoccupations of crude retention rather than the kinship of the perceptive unity of the authors who remarked on history to share the same vantage with the distant onlookers upon that very history with such a convergence of judgments the photons that trespassed on inquisitive eyes of inquierendo are the very same blueprint for the modern savory traipse with selfsame perceptions embedded in canonical history like the spool of an exact daydream unfurled before inoculated eyes differentiated by context but achieving the same visual footprint of historical lineament provided by the original exemplar. The luxury of our provisional prosperity is the unique ability to browse spontaneously a two-century travail of perceptible records embedded in the same perceptual rudiments captured by the original vetuda thereby enabling the specificity of prowess to vicariously encounter distant gulfs of time with the simultaneous realization of past becoming present tense because beyond the revisionism of the censors the human lineage originates in approximated design tethered to the aboriginal photographs and hallmark expenditures of celluloid digitized into annealed constellation to provide separate junctures in space time with the same indelible percept decontextualized but potent by showcase of the verdure of the generosity of shared perception rather than cleaved faint traces of divergent imagination conceiving junctures by distal lurches of insular harbors of private registries of tact and discretion without the shared raltention of the plevisable entities that populate the fragmented lineage of space-time to achieve full congruence in percept first and abstract eventually as neuroscience slogmarches with the nockerslug of invidious depredation of sanctanimity. Adrift in iconoduly sustained by lambent monasticism of abnegation we were lost widows of insular idiosyncrasies of similar concepts separated by the longevity of imagination redacted into communicable formula to ensure the divergence of impact of liturgies heterodyne by vast distances but linked to archaic designs that formed the paradigms which eventually merged with the wiseacres of Renaissance conserved in momentum over centuries into the information capital that forms the futtocks of the girdle of a womb matrix of society sustained by a newfangled uniformity of exposure that slowly churns the collectivism of memory and the syndication of the cartel into the ubiquity of prominent thorns of perception magnified by iconography of the megalography of historical permanence evasive of censors and embracing the entelechy of coherent perceptions siphoned by different engineers but arriving at precisely the same conceptual imprint thereby unifying the perceptual world with the usucaption of leveraged networking of browsers of antiquity. The finesse of leapfrogs of modern human impediment is to scour the reaches of the troves of the most vivid imagination and expedite the turnstiles of conserved rollercoasters of enthusiasm probed by the cadasters capable of castophrenia to syndicalize the autonomy of human perception sejungible from indelible vivid footprints of abstraction upon an interface of truly hard-won vehicles of transmissible abstraction to win the arduous relish of once a vacuum of infested instinct into an algorithm of an intelligent source that creates the precise conditions of parallax to seed through celestial hosts the flourishes of stereodimensional traces of permanent cadaster into something that elects beyond the ethereal snatches of oblivion the provisional apportionment of sentiment above continence to set ablaze the rarefaction of raltention and quantify the intelligible impact of one artifact of civilization over the constellated taxonomy of all apothegms within the divine grasp of a sublunary eternity revived and recycled into syndicated scrutiny that bows to a convergent entelechy of instantaneous improvisation of perdurable registry into indemnities that litigate the humorous quizzical trangams of vastly outmoded obsolescence borrowing from panspermatism of technocracy to the edgy appeal of scintillating horizons of peerless scope that approximate the ommateum of approximated omniety but never span far enough for the distant riometers to see for deputized galaxies to be evoked in concrete human-alien achievements sempervirent and virulent guardians of the toil of sensation to refract off of its overhang because of redundant upbringing to shelve the incendiary impediments of the chary into the corsairs of revelation beyond gamuts of lurch and bypassing elapsed regress to arrive at ceremonial progress to trespass upon many minds with a unified concrete hypostasized entelechy of a fielded incorporation of organic life into a manufactured cycle of the most prolonged and beatific longevity capable of digestion and implementation from the toolsheds of hubris accelerated by the vainglory of subsidized harmonies that break through the barriers of language to sprout convergence in direct opposition to entropy to achieve oculate ommateum.The opponents to the logical syndicalism of positivism emergent as the verdant drape of homogenized pasteurization of raw lavaderos that capsize swallock and devour consciousness with predatory mobilism is the tregounce of the ponderous imprints of recapitulated stupidity which is easy to quantify in terms of human rarity because the difference between a 130 IQ and a 155 IQ is a difference in ingenuity power than exceeds 25:1 or an even higher margin of liquidation of indebted concatenations forming the flombricks of capitalized language finessed into burgeoned growth to radically shift postulates into abstract precision that observes the flanges of the dominion of inculcation into the filibusters of gainsay that supersedes hearsay in an evolution of the dialectic to exert transformative esemplastic rejuvenation that transcends creed and ingeminates the festivity of spectacle with the alvantage of albenture to such an extent it predicates new modalities of persiflage grounded on the aggressive patented expansion of the noosphere to inherit the instincts of orthobiosis while simultaneously inheriting the flair of redoubled ingenuity swarming with the vespiaries of predatory discretion working to ***** out glaring beacons of sapience so that intellectual capital is a local rather than ubiquitous emergence because of the prizes of urbacity enhanced by systems of masonic creed that preserved foresight with varying degrees of exactitude knowledgeable about outcomes but incidental in creating those outcomes out of the alchemy of the convergent sphere of spacetime to curve to synclastic pancratic refinement realized in the taxation of the most domineering figures of canon to indoctrinate the inkburch of wernaggle while the panorama of peripheral obscurity adduced by the resourceful few provides the progeny for a seminal equation that encounters the quandaries of precise retention amplified by the synergies of language exponentially grown by the depth and breadth of lexicon siphoned through mechanisms of percolation seeded by the convergent progeny of hindsight meeting foresight to a truce in the elected interests of the filagersion of the spotlight highlighting a universe that only exists with self-aware reification rather than plodding animated instincts of a stagnant match with a slowpoke evolution that scrawls the gabble of the vacuums of faint oblivion knowing only pain, agony and brief felicity but never registered into ecosystems capable of enriching themselves with artifices of origination rather than vapid retrenchments of the stale vapor of the exigencies that plague the intellectually bereft with tertiary deskandent perfunctory desuetude outstripped by the parsecs of the 170 crowd who secretly orchestrates the think tanks that run the furtive cryptadia of regional governance with foisons of fruition realized as dividends of exponential bypasses of even a linear route of the streamline by warping time itself to a spontaneous entelechy that triangulates a warped trigonometry that fathoms what can only be mapped on an imaginary flickering plane of fluxed existence that achieves sub-Pythagorean travel by altering the vacillating distances predicated by the theory of relativity into shortened tracts of abbreviation separating the bridgewaters of locomotion from the vast lurking prowess of reconfigured geometries lurking beyond the shadowy grave of reconnaissance into the penumbra of conservatory refinement. The punctual symmetries of thermodynamic decay met with a conversant offset in reverse acceleration of thermolysis converge with the centripetal prism of annulment to make stalemates of atomic precision appear grandiose to the economic principle of leverage acquired by debt because the discounted cost of symmetrical approximations of sentiment, abstraction and the already syndicated unity of perception vastly scale the scope of the reach of the amenable universe to tractions bound more by eccentricity of parameterized volumes of competing hyperbolas of a warped unity of tugging forces spawned by the differential weights of a flummoxed calculus that provides obeisance in ecumenical uniformity that was absent by degrees through the tinkers of time to adjust the orbits of consideration by tilted warbles of the songbirds that swim in abysses reaching sizable celestial tutelage providing reprisal for quintessential crudity mapped into a syntax of evolved refinement amplified by conserved concatenation accelerated into mastery by the coalescence of new lexicon to probe conceptual space unchartered by the nexility of normal human conduct and therefore bound to a different pattern of evolution that is oleaginous to the engines of revved ostentation in intellectual prowess that is selfsame from the majesty of heaven because of preordained populace meeting transitory flickerstorms twinged with the irony of discursive disclaimer and discretion of disclosure of emissary vehicles that power synaptic vesicles to burst with signal strength harnessing the unity of conscientiousness into a coenesthesia that fathoms interdisciplinary bridges rarely exacted by the formulas of a more rudimentary mind demarcated in taxonomies of scope that are taxemes for unrealized entelechy bristling against the headwinds of doldrum rather than zephyrs of accelerated approximations of the enumeration of elaborate sveldtang into seminal traversals of the inhibitory grasp of narquiddity exceeded by the alacrity of provident discretion in apportioned judgment enough to parameterize vast distances with instantaneous wiseacres rather than rippled mirrors of faint simulations of simultagnosia bounded by the regional scope of subliminal etches of harnessed flombricks invisible to most aptitude measures of working memory but evocative of subroutines that flourish because of the cross-pollination of exasperated sapience clambering for a perpetuity of renewable raltentions conveyed widely and succinctly in indelible tacenda broached by the wisest sophrosyne inclinations to survive the onslaught of traditional nexilities that make obtuse minds hardened by slowpoke myelination and hidebound parameters of achieved convention recursive on reiteration but not expansive on the tracts of genius reserved for the asylum boundary between insanity of delusion and bountiful riches of harvested non-conventional imagination which sometimes pollutes the integral provenance of rapid conveyance. True transcendence is summarily defined as outpacing pace itself to visibly outfox the forsifamiliation of events perceived as distance sworn by the ability of the accelerated frontier to understand the vestiges of the outmoded to the extent redintegration can surpass with imagination beyond the tethers of quddity that narrowcast swallock but refine the space that distances itself from magnitude and achieves a limited vetuda that phenomenalizes the redacted plucky perjury of self-anonymity to identify a novel visibilia of characterized clarity only specialized to the extent the vast sphere of retention exerts a gravitas over footloose fragments of disunity to surpass the skeumorphs of the trailing bolides of distant comets to avoid by meteoric trajectory the lapse incumbent to E=MC^2 which guarantees implicitly in the barter of nebbich chalky rigmarole that the energy of refinement is an abstraction limited only by the coherence of marginal dumose decay to estrange inertia as plevisable from motion and thermolysis as sejungible in partition what cannot be summarily be filibustered by the succedaneum of shortchanged shorthand convenience of the credulity of those who perceive dynamism of delivery as an easily fudged quandary not restrained by the logarithmic slowdown of conservatory inseminations of panspermatism of invention. The riddle of the enigma of neuroscience that presides over classifiable qualia is that the outstretched rax of rectiserial reorganization must gradatim invoke spurious prestige to predicate the entrapment of narrative exponentially slower than the impregnated literacy of an integral harpsichord of mind to finesse the octaves so that sublime majesties become superlative ringleaders of seditious conventions embedded more by absorptive brocrawlers than expressive werniques. We must fashion an orthobiosis that is leniency embodied but plenitude outnumbered by the progeny of its sculpted riches for extravagant spools of tapestries of refinement to be the imprints of legacy compounded by the complexities of inheritance in lineaments situated in the context of overhanging specters and domineering prospects swimming by commonwealth acatelepsy in a maelstrom of revived gammerstang notions of impetuous apostasy benighted by the macroscian and macrobian spans of the captive capture of a Taylor Series of infinite expenditure assuming perpetuity that necessarily converges on organization because of conscientious reversals of entropy into ladders of betrayal against the hegemony of ******* over the synquests of hortoriginality that spurn the castigations inherited from its immodesty of permutation to fixate on global problems of intricacy ragged in salebrosity bereft of the marginal galvanization of hidden inquirendos into artifice contingent upon elapsed epiphenomena of compounded rigmarole resonant with a simplified system of hostage complicity to a least common denominator that belongs to suboptimal refrains issued by Procrustean forces against demassified parsecs of bounded limitations exceeding the volume of perceptible shadows recessive in the alleles of culture but eventually transmogrified into teetotaler totalitarian principles of grave gravities of tabanids to the aceldamas of territorial joust rather than annealed irony of the recidivism of the plucky thorns of percurrent but latent vehicles for oppression to swamp the lethargy of durative formation such that the hambourne atrocity of hambaskets of hinderbaggle grapple mostly with the adolescent excesses of milked pleonexia becoming the downfall of cagey imprisoned syntax bereft of capable constellation and thereby stranded in vagrant proclivities that net positive only in the rare grandeur of my formative axiom of the axiolative excesses of my recensed definition of transcendence. The vacant harbor of asylum of abiding auctions of flexible transistors of wealth is inherently a poolswap of attractive chocolate-box travestime of incurred wreffalaxity suborning the lewd machination of funneled flipcreeks to the commerstargall of incendiary glaciers basking in boardrooms of ataraxic placations of commiseration found in dynamos lamenting degraded embodiments of regaled regelation as seasonal flictions of submerged vanity vaporizing the wisps of whimsical bloated grievances of paltry imparlance to the defalcation of a filigree of mind only sustained by the steady churlishness of preserved relic hibernating in brocrawler pleonasm to grindole the welter of spates of vapid deceleration of successful vibrancy measured in the gamut of hues to exact a penultimate ruse before the finitude of the capstone of capers of fiat remission slick with glamborge of gallionic sciamachy prone to revelry in the cretaceous extinction of monochromatic mathematicization of gradgrind visagists toying with the treacle of blue-sky action billowed into toxic spurts of contrarian aggression of herculean appendages of hackumber providing the bronteum of recidivism to vanquish a righteous trajectory on a pause of Canada Dry conveniences sultry in daft hipsters of tilted stage grafting conclusion prior to rapport of introduced variables of poignant tethers of necessary succor for a desiccated bastion of hidden unspoken reach fizzling into trangams of obsolescence because of perennial inebriations that thwart strong character to scandalize a pinhoked vessel of conscientious objection to the radiology of centerpiece hapless forlorn arid squelches of the vibrant verdure of macrobian dumose shelter for reformatories that invent incidentally accidents otherwise precluded by the ommateum of wasted foresight guzzled on the premium of disaster for a showcase of verve going awry steamy with livid filagersion aimed with a reluctant enmity against the cagey headwinds of recalcitrance inveterate to the scruples of the otherwise unscrupulous who foist lewd licentious philandered paragons of philogeant mysticism to forefront cowcatchers that eliminate kumbaya rijuice of gridlock impressionism guarded by the sentinels of rambunctious destructive attempts to evict intellectual propriety from careens of subtlety barnstorming with polyacoustic nuances of differential gradients of vapid bastions of strident but backwards versamily froward and bountiful of Head Hunter specters rather than heaved recombinations of orthotropism wed with mangers of savory dilettantism of the lionized array of brooks branching into rivulets and the fluminous barnstorm of pelagic awareness interrupted by the finicky prevarications of piggybacked fair-weather allies who secretly fund the slander for the mainour of dirt fundamental to meteoric rises acclimated to dissipated moral vacuums of disbelief of evidentiary miracles among the jostle of scientific regency that slakes opprobrium to illiteracy while benefiting greatly from my perceived barathrum that is rather a crowning ravenous achievement of appetite above substance and distinction varied from prediction that my Titanic zalkengur spared from the unnecessary sacrilege of less accommodating curglaff to the metaphorical hypothermia of albatross in dramaturgy rather than a pause glowering with mastery against my jarred enemies preying on weakened reach due to preeminent dirges of inkburch and swallock to ravage my sanctity with a hyped stage without a starlet daydream fantasia spectacle that is calculated to upstage even in the coverthrow of intelligentsia against the plodding boweries of pestilential raving resentment absconding with elusive enmity rather than cherishing a true trident champion of the seized seas and the traindeque of emulated intellectual accordions of claptrap chockablock pedigree that outlast gallywow afflictions of rapacious venality tenacious to the detritus of constructive detriment building the ashes of effigy before I am dead and buried with the storge of perennial legacy rather than scandalous privation of the obolary tenets of desecration above reabsorption of mendicant bodges of the bodewash of freedom’s counterstrokes of maskirovka ineradicable and plenipotentiary wit deniable but legacy ineffable by degrees of exponential long-winded flambeaus of filagersion swiveling with recessive rubble in a crenellated fortress guarded with tripwire insubordination against cordslave dependencies liable to recurrent reproach rather than sustainable filigrees of electrified balkanization toxic to the aquifers of modernity streamlining Roman imperium. To this flajoust I owe eternal behest as the captaincy of time is not a perishable whangam of superstition an affront to a provident rejoinder of verifiable prestige because the curvature of time favors the ripple effect of magnetized reninjuble charms alerted to upward soaring skies of inevitable peerless dominion in the  perceived symphily of competing benevolence with a shared stake in Earthly pulchritude emanating a sworn allegiance to the best interests of philosophical enlightenment
1:43 PM MST 7/18/2020
⊙~⊙~⊙~⊙~⊙
Beneath my covers in the
dark of night,
I felt pulled tight.  
My pajamas and
underthings finding all
the wrong places.

At my time of change,
I was gifted a bed.
I felt freedom.
A space of my own, finally alone.
The eldest, released from the pack.

Revelation of delight,
naked under soft sheets.
I felt the coolness.
My skin alive, fresh from a
warm bath. Feet wrapped safe,
deep within layers.

The Dreams came then...
I felt their calling.
Whispers beckoning me
into flight,
to float above,
observe my simple beauty

Gently slipping towards the galaxy,
I felt no weight.
Nebula's Helix, Saturn and Orion,
their colors became the
pallet of My mind.

Able to soar with the eagles,
into the depths of the oceans.
The whales called for me to follow.

Walking within the beam of
light, I felt warmth.
Crystalline aquifers quenched
my thirst. Grounding  me to the
center of our Earth.

Of an age now,
that comfort has settled in,
I feel whole within.
Naked with my soul.

The sheets still cool
after a long warm bath.

⊙~⊙~⊙~⊙~⊙


Copyright © May 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Revelation of Delight
Remembering to Remember #2
Repost
Don Bouchard Sep 2016
If I may presume to summarize the concept,
"Eminent Domain,"
The Big P People own the Right of Way
And the little p people
Have temporary possession of the  opportunity
To get out of the Way,
Or to be smashed under the wheels
Of Big P Progress.

Appropriate compensation will be paid,
Of Course,
And living spaces provided
To the little p people,
While the Big P People thunder by on their new highways,
Overpasses, airports, causeways, and thoroughfares.

Reclamation will be done over the torn earth
To re-bury the unearthed little p people's dead,
To restore damaged aquifers,
To "replace" trees and grasses "just as before,"
Never mind the pipelines,
The concrete roadways,
The railroads,
And the power lines....

Eminent Domain...
Rhymes with Capitalist Gain,  
And little p people's pain....
Thinking about misuse of eminent domain....
Vaughn Fritts Apr 2016
What putrefaction oozes up from hell
To poison aquifers of decency
And common sense? The crops of
reason smell And do not nourish the constituency.
What polar vortex drops from unknown heights To freeze the congregations of the heart?
The steeples topple, enmity ignites
And malice rips tranquility apart.
The times devolve. Security and peace, Once real estate on which a home could rise,
Shrugs off its immigrants, revokes its lease
And shows indifference to human cries.
A Lucifer of arrogant display
Has come to sweep benevolence away.
This is a Shakespearean sonnet, and should be reformatted as such.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
Lago Da Preta

With water from aquifers,
deep within the rock of The Holy Cross,
where these holy waters first see the Light of Day,
is where we converge and I submerge my gold chain,

between darkness and light,
where Lago De Preta is filled,
I quench my thirst for redemption,
with hands cupped in prayer,

I carry the water from the ceramic spout,
to the waiting lips of my mouth,
I drink these holy waters,
to replenish that which the vampires have drained,

they took more than I offered them,
but I suppose so goes the burden of every saint,
we give and we give and we give,
so that hopefully through our blessings they can be saved,

and all this giving is tiring,
so I’ve come to this sanctuary of Lago Da Preta,
to drink these holy waters from this holy mountain,
to which I was gratefully and thankfully divinely led,

so hopefully I too can be saved,
by these cleansing waters,
at this circular stone aqua alter,
covered in soft green moss and prayers,

I’ve taken my shoes off,
as we all should at any temple,
I’ve confessed my sins here,
in hopes of redemption,

I give thanks for,
this moment of peace in this Garden of Pena,
at this sanctuary in this forest,
here before us is the Lago Da Preta,

I give thanks,
because moments of refuge care priceless,
in a world that’s gone mad,
I hope I can redeem us with words so I write this,

and I send these poetic letters,
from here because I don’t think I’m coming back,

I’m at,

Lago a Preta,

a place made in honor of a mysterious black saint,
created with sea shells and volcanic rock and dedicated faith,

the saint,
is mysterious because her origins are unknown,
so we can only speculate,
and I’d speculate that she was probably a saint of the Moors,

and it was probably a beautiful statue that stood here,
and it was probably destroyed by white Conquistadors,
the same mind frame vein that made Jesus white,
and made Morocco a place settled by the Moors,

the statue was likely removed,
for the same reason the Great Sphinx lost it’s nose,
for the same reason so many statues are defaced,
and it’s an atrocity but I suppose that’s just the way it goes,

because history seems to be written,
by those that do the most sinning,
and it’s tragically ironic,
that those that sin the most do the most winning,

and lately in history most of the winners have been white,

but still I pray in front of an alter erected to a black saint,
because I believe that God doesn’t see people by color,
I believe God sees people by intentions and actions,
and I am proud and excited but at this very moment I am humbled,

I am grateful,
I dip my gold chain and my mala beads in this infinite elixir,
water so ******,
it could **** those energy ******* vampires,

sometimes just restin’ is the best medicine,

sometimes it helps to just remove your shoes and pray,

sometimes it’s best to get away from all the clamor,

sometimes you can find a place of peace like I have today,

I pray,

between darkness and light,
where Lago De Preta is filled,
I quench my thirst for redemption,
with hands cupped in prayer,

and I write,

with hands still wet from holy waters,
from deep within the rock of The Holy Cross,
I write in hopes these words will be found,
so that all of humanity will cease to be hopelessly lost…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Martin Narrod Jan 2017
L'heure verte

The mountains. The heaps of their bountiful gravels, and earth, and soil, large oversized masses of half-frozen water teetering on the precipice of subzero masculine *******. Francophilic cleavage jetting out of this deserted white pastoral dressing. The inaugural bawl, wanton fixations of putting the imperialist foot on every spot of tree, each and every shrub, until the limbs' cast reaches each dimple that foliage braves, where that blue eagle of patriotism dredges its claws to form every river, rill, estuary, creek, channel, flume, littoral, and waterway where the iron-rich gullies once brimmed in the interamnian basins, rich crimsony waters riffling through fruitful and extravagant aquifers. Beyond that, where an inexplicably feral wind rips vines from their dendritic housings, where barely an eye can see, this place of exsanguination and abysmal phytocide.

At the end of this lamentable torture, only a desert of human interest remains. There is no reason to laugh, or smile, or cheer, or put a leg up, to call on a friend, or to have ice cream. There will be no more ice cream. There is only the loathsome incredulousness and avarice in the semblances and familiarity of those with whom we thought we once knew. Little can ever be known, for there is much to gain in the absence of knowledge, and even greater that can be acquired in the alms of wisdom through patient examination and thorough silence. Here on the buttes and cornices, the thwacking gavels of evil power deities throw down their lust for more and soon become adjoined to these grand discrepancies greed mistakenly loses to a lack of awareness and to self-aggrandizement.

Power is the weapon of inexperienced wielders. Passion is the immortal frequency that is worn by artisans and artists, poets and painters, it is the business of quietness to learnedly evolve to protect our tomorrows from personal needs, but to instead preserve the integral parts of society. The words of languages, artifacts, and cultures, rather than the skeletons of ****** and the deeds of possession. Each who sleeps knows their bedfellows to equally be at peace. For no wealth can exceed that of comfortable pillows, soft quilts, and sheets. We are all the same while we sleep.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2012
.
Red,
Rua, roselet,
Hair of vine and scarlet
Grapes, drown me in your drink
Of lips, of wine, ruby, flesh of passion
Fruit and horn of plenty,
Earthen rust of pebbled clay
Draw me in as the water seeping
Into ancient aquifers, laden, hidden
Under the vastness of Sahara
Sands. I am a cloud of dream
Drifting, itching, edging along your rounded
Hills. Your ******* burn as I steam,
Your ears are for nesting doves
And your eyes, the sky is waiting, warring
With ocean, for its colour,
The wandering sun is a stranger
As it falls, ending each day, faded
As the gaseous giant of faint Antares,
Eclipsed by your heavenly
Form, your Vulcan flame
Of light.
Moonbeam Dec 2016
Where the hell is humanity
All I see is insanity
Focusing on wars and vanity
Speaking up gets people mad at me
Nothing on this planet is flattering
People starving and freezing; teeth are chattering
Police taking blankets from the homeless
Even in the places where snow is
People are so violent and shameless
Is there even a way to tame this
Or do our efforts further inflame this
It's time to collectively claim this
Look at all the problems that we make
By blindly following the side we take


Politics and money are one in the same
Why must we think life is all about fame
We have so much more that we can do
Like question why the sky isn't blue
What are those lines that expand all day long  
Is questioning their safety so ******* wrong

Everything on this planet is basically toxic
And people wonder why we're all so sick
Plastic, chemicals, metals, and poisonous water
Feeding processed foods to your son and your daughter
When the aquifers are empty, what will you think
You're going to rely on toxic water and oil to drink?

I swear to God you need to look around
In the sky, at the world, and what's underground

Did you know that bees are life and so is clean food
If the elite continues to rule, we're all ******* *******
False flags, terrorism, furthering their plan
For a one world government, that rules all the land
We're already slaves, but it will get so much worse
If we continue to forget that we all come first
Nobody should get left behind or feel like they're stuck
Let's show each other love and actually give a ****

Selfishness and narcissism run rampant in our world
Walking around like we own the place, our lips slightly furled
Looking into each other's eyes but there's not much there
I see shallow complacency, that infamous fluoride stare

The world is going down, unless we turn it around
Look at Syria, Palestine, and all areas that surround
Fear, violence, and terrorism is life
No husband is safe, no child, no wife
They're eating the grass
And rotten food from the trash
Starving and freezing throughout the winter
They can't even leave their towns, they're stuck in the center
They've been targeted by rulers of this sick twisted place
The banksters are evil they don’t belong in our space  


How can they be so far removed from the rest of the planet
If anything benefits us they make sure to ban it
LSD, mushrooms, cannabis, and DMT Anything good for cancer: B17 and CBD
Essential oils are what's next on their list
I swear if they take my lavender I'll be so ******* ******


Alternative energy is more than suppressed
The need for clean energy should be more vocally addressed
But when it is, someone intervenes and hides great inventions
Laws and patents are created to stop our intentions
For a clean world and a safe place
The elite couldn't care less about the lives that they waste
They build on the dark side of the moon or possibly Mars
They're preparing themselves a new world, while they **** up ours

I only feel solace when I look into space....
Why must it be so hard to save the human race?
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2012
Red,
Rua, roselet,
Hair of vine and scarlet
Grapes, drown me in your drink
Of lips, of wine, ruby, flesh of passion
Fruit and horn of plenty,
Earthen rust of pebbled clay
Draw me in as the water seeping
Into ancient aquifers, laden, hidden
Under the vastness of Sahara
Sands. I am a cloud of dream
Drifting, itching, edging along your rounded
Hills. Your ******* burn as I steam,
Your ears are for nesting doves
And your eyes, the sky is waiting, warring
With ocean, for its colour, 
The wandering sun is a stranger
As it falls, ending each day, faded
As the gaseous giant of faint Antares,
Eclipsed by your heavenly
Form, your Vulcan flame
Of light.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
shadows shift like wax-paper
making silhouettes upon the snow
swords like words are swallowed
will we ever let it go
in silent trust i echo wisdom
deep, profound, beautiful
the space, poignant and versatile
musical, rhythmic and free
love is improvising again
making the most of where she stands
and even where she can’t
for she loves to be in over her head
which is what i still sometimes don’t get
who is in charge of your destiny
do you believe in such things
why are we made from a symphony
and where can we listen to our memories
and justice is a bargain
that we may not always expect
so give thanks for an abundance of free water
while we are still blessed
to have access to this resource
as we are the source of our own happiness
and waterfalls and aquifers
embody the cascading shower of our breath
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seher Seven Oct 2015
things are getting interesting.
the sky has elaborate paintings,
I'm back dating
and my smile feels settled.
it no longer teeters, on the fence
to appear... worried to offend
someone. a smile.

its just me.
since I can truly claim it
I can just smile.

Im happy in happenstance,
the shift of the feet, quickly aligning
to please only me.
I can smile because I see,
the beauty of the beast.
the beauty of you.
like I had sat there with you
for centuries.
like your smell was what I
knew it would be.
like hey here's me…     please
try not to categorize me.
I fall through sieves
and flow with the sea,
with the bits of We then permeate
the pools and the aquifers.
no box deep enough for her.
expansion always necessary.

now its just getting interesting.
your smell got me,
yes,
though I could forget it
easily.
not subconsciously,

there we are One.

Earthly,
here I could forget you
easily. and be free to explore
the outside of entrapment,
of attachment. just be me.
and still love you.

expansion. trust what I see.
patience. just be the real me.
less options now.
Under the umbrella of your love
A seedling sprouted
Roots were found
Aquifers were tapped
Winds were attenuated
Weather was buffered
It was all simplified
The meandering river of life made sense

Under the umbrella of your love
A little sapling stepped into his shoes
And became a man
Matt Nov 2014
Out of control growth of government and related debt spending

2. The explosion of global viral pandemics and superbugs

3. The collapse of abundant underground water aquifers

4. The collapse of a failed medic system that no one can afford

5. The chemical destruction of croplands and the coming food collapse
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2015
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
KM Ramsey May 2015
take me to the river
and let the water rush
in torrents from the
tear ducts of the source
the spring gurgling up
with a frigid message
ground water from
aquifers of secrets and the
memories that you swear to me
don't exist anymore
yet play in the crystal clear
blackness of your
eyes
when your pupils disappear
and blend into the river
of your mahogany irises.

walk me to the water
with the lead around me
and the bit of your attraction
burrowing between my teeth
as i bite down and
grind my molars to the
pollen that leaves a yellow green
sheen on the
surface of your watering hole
pull me as i fight
raging against the magnetic force
that shackles me to you
and leads me to the light
at the end of the tunnel
even though i'm lost.

you can lead a horse to water
just like you can tie me to you
sew me into the
secret place of your heart
and incorporate me into
the intricate web of your
ecosystem
fed by the endless supply of
that water which
digs its claws into the sides of my throat
and coats my stomach with
a poison
that i welcome.

you can lead a horse to water
but you can't make me drink
you can move the mountain
and dry up
snow drifts that drip and
melt into a
band of wild horses running
downhill to tread upon
my ticky-tacky heart
but if i drink then i'm surely lost
the sutures between us
cut out to reveal
the nascent pink scar
puckered at the edges
that represents our connection
how easily it can be
torn asunder
and leave me bleeding
on the banks of your shore
while you float away
one with the waves.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2015
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2016
.
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Julia Apr 2020
What did I ever do
to deserve a world where
avocados are underripe while they're overripe,
pens cede before their ink is spent,
rivers run dry, aquifers deplete?
What choice do I have
but to opt out of the technocratic misery,
overlorded by the Slither Circle,
to make my sways of the sun replete?

My country has a Military Complex
that fought wars over bananas.
My country prints Monsters on Money,
a desecrated spell to spill nature's blood
and use it in every commodity:
the ink, the encasements, the coatings,
the stains, the sealants, the wrappers,
even the food and medicine.

What did I do?
I ate. I wrote. I used.
It's not her fault, but she will always blame herself. All we can do is our best, and that's the best we can do. Much love to you all.
Katie Dec 2018
I don't want this to slip through cracks
Like water I cup in my hands
As it seeps between my palms
Until my hands are empty
And I am left unquenched

But I am afraid to bring my hands to my lips
And drink in this water
I am afraid  the well is polluted
Or that my hands are *****
With poison that will enter my bloodstream
And leave me empty

I cannot see the bottom of this well
It is too dark and too deep
To know how far the water goes
I do not know the aquifers
That give it life
I do not know
when the well will run dry
Leaving a puddle of water
Mixed with dirt and sand
Leaving me with empty hands

But I do not want this to slip through the cracks
I want to drink thoroughly and deeply
From the palms of my hands
And let the excess run down my arms
Dripping down my body
Letting the water wash away
The **** and the dirt that has been left behind
I want this water to be full of minerals
To seep into my core
And make me stronger
I do not want this well to dry
But I cannot control the water
So I will savor every drop
painting pictures in my brain
from the brushstrokes of
a ***** pen
dipped in watercolor rain
aquifers of ink
dye the reservoirs of dreams
seeping underneath the layers
of magnetic black earth
if the mind was a planet
and ideas were a shovel
digging holes
through the gravel
to find my inspiration
a secret golden treasure
buried in a rotted
wooden box
with a broken lock
Delton Peele Oct 2020
Hot pink .........swollen
No con...sole...ation prize  
Slow to focus
Eye liner max factor recall
Cherry red vermillion

Aquifers linked starting from stunning vistas
atop  glacier laden pain peaks
Over heating..... melting
Epoch jarring sounds
From the darkest deepest unreachs
CREAKING.....
fissures releasing stress
Mind tearing
HIISSSSSSSZZZZZZZZTERING
moaning
CRACKING .SCREACHING .. .WAKING THE DEAD... WAILING
THE CATHEDERALS OF WOE.
from the never regions
Echos ricocheting
Off walls outside our concieving
frequencies so low its physically sickening ...upsetting equanimity ..you actually feel and
See them as each wave rolls through ......
Reality slows to a crawl frustration turbidity everything opposing you
Nothing goes right
Slowly getting better till half the way through and its
Allright and then you rest find piece everythings more than right
Nice now i can handle this
Close youre eyes in bliss
Ahhhhhhhh quietness .
7nth day coming to a close .
Kiss happiness goodby
While you sleep chaos wrestless like a pervert creepin in you window.before you wake
Next wave sets in
Inducing a mantra  of
mountainous emotional
Upheavals. .....each one increasing ..by one  hertz.....if the damm
CCCRRRAAAKKKGUHSHHHHH
The mega ice dam fractures and the mountains erupt.
Massive utterly. ...........jaw dropping.then running
Ohhhhh. No. Whats that soouuuuCRAP I GOTTA GO TO THE
HEY OMY LANTA HEY I GOTTA GO HURRY. OK THANK YOU ....
BAAAAAAAAAAABE.   WAKE UP THE KIDS ARE MISS THE BUSS.......WAHHHHHHHH

AH WAAAAAA
Wait what ....todays a holiday .awe great. I mean yeah!!!.
I know i got the baby
Thats just great oh ggoody
Who wants pancakes..
Cassius quit pickin on Deon .
Deon HAY !!! I saw that...knock that crap off ....oh no shhhh
Here comes mom hide me!!!
Hes in the closet
.........
..thanks guys
A week in love and strife
Struggling anxiety depression
A small lesson while we try focusing on the highs
Seems like so far out of reach
From the valleys below.....
We miss all the beauty in life .
Living i a state of meritocracy
May seem mundane.  
But its where youre safety zone is.
Its not so hard to get high
And its not too too painfull fall
A little easier to stand back up.  
And an arena you can appreciate love
An love sweet love is what its all
Mingoao Ba Jan 2021
How

do you choose

between

hell and high water


when . .


hell and high water
is the same place . . ?


do we breathe today . . ?

or

hold our breath
until tomorrow . . ?


anoxia . .
              is
                  divine
                     ­       in this reality . .

climate change
                          global warming

                          carbon saturation

                          cloning

over-medicated livestock

genetically engineered foodstock


grainstock . .

              never before seen
              in nature

meat . . !
              grown in labs . .

            sliced up
            and packaged neatly
            for consumption

the prognosis . . ?

          bodies . .
          laid out
          on slabs

genetically modified . . !

        is . .

              just
              another lie

        for . .

              ya gonna die . !

                                    if ya eat this ****

blood pressure
pressures

an
ill functioning
healthcare system

into . .

                heart attacks
                strokes
                erectile dysfunction

and . .

                e v e r y t h i n g

that ain’t
functioning right

                  the control valve
                  controls nothing

for . .

the setup
is a
build up

                  born of greed
                  and corruption


scorched earth farming:

                  strip mining

mountains
that
were forever

                  cry . . !

as rivers
flow
the waste
of greed
and
indifference

                  over-harvesting
       ­           the seas

flood waters rise . .

the ground
shakes
beneath us

                the seas
                have turned
                against us

to wash away
the disease

that is

        us . .

                from
                the land

the air
poisons
in its wake

                    fossil fuel . .
                    fuels death . . !

an irreversible
circumstance

we’re creating
our own
slow burn

                    reward
                    for
        ­            contempt
                    and sacrilege

sea ice melt
permafrost gone

as . .

glaciers
            glide
                      into
        ­                    a sea
                                      somewhere

all levels rise . !

                      deforestation . .

                      vanishing wetlands

                      soil erosion

now . . . !

                      the Desert Amazon . . !

coral reefs ~

                d i e . .

aquifers
dry

                  we are the canaries
                  in the coal mine

n o  m or e . .

shall
we dance
in the snows
of
Kilimanjaro

                    unleashed . .

untold
horrors
frozen
in
time

            e o n s
                        released . .

havoc’s
          reign


one
does not ****
one’s mother . . !


a n d ~

              w h er e . .


          did all

                    the honey bees go . . ?


© mingoáo - 明 - the Writings of Mingoáo Inc. is the exclusive agent, publisher-distributor of the Writings of Mingoáo. No part of the Writings exhibited herein may be copied, transcribed, reproduced nor transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, not by carrier pigeon, pony express, smoke signal, slingshot, sled dog, not even by alien spacecraft, nor stored by any information storage and/or retrieval system, past, present or future, nor translated, without the expressed written consent of the Author and Publisher. ~ Not to be Copied, Forwarded, Distributed, Shared Nor Transferred
BigT Jul 2020
OIL
An energy hungry society
Forces us to look deeper and further than ever before
For the hydrocarbon we call oil
We **** the blood from centuries old life forms
Buried deep beneath the crust of this planet
We **** it up like soda through a straw
Re-injecting water to fill the gap and help to heal the sore.

It is not an easy task
Men and equipment transported and working
In some of the most hostile environments on the planet
Are we witnessing Natures way of protecting herself,
This world and the people on it?

Deep beneath our oceans and our seas
The treasure trove awaits
Mankind seeks it out, to ease his balance of payments
Mother Nature fights back as only she can
Winds and waves pound the intruders
Forcing them to designs beyond normal expectations.

Lives are given and lives are lost
Fortunes come and go
All based on the investment and return ratio.

Fragile desert ecosystems and precious ground water aquifers
These have only recently been taken into account
And then only superficially.
“We need to drill, we know where to strike black gold”
The local populace is told
Pristine desert sands cleansed for centuries
By the roaming desert winds
Now clogged with the thick sludge of oil
This is the price we have to pay.
The wastes are not removed
They are covered to blend with the desert feature
They are left awaiting rediscovery,
By some poor unsuspecting desert creature.

Deep swathes cut through rain forests
“Build a road 12 meters wide, so pollination is not effected” say the experts.
“Clear some more now, we need a pipeline” say the engineers.
“Forget the trees and plants” the Investors will holler.
The prospector comes and rapes a ****** land
All in the name of progress, and the mighty oil dollar.

There are advantages, of course there are
These we can readily see
Improved infrastructures, better living standards
Third world countries eager to get on par with the West
Voters investing in the motor car, choosing only the best
The circle evolves.

Oil has spawned mighty empires
Blue chip stocks, governments bought and sold
All in the name of the liquid gold
Millions of barrels, every day, throughout the world
Are pumped, refined and shipped to the consumers
Us! The people who live on this earth’s crust
There has to be a limit, a time to stop
Mother Earth needs a complete evolution to replace her loss
T
written in 1999 and still relevant today

— The End —