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Valsa George Jun 2018
After years of aimless wanderings
Leaving behind the cities of midnight revels
And the fevered journey in metro rails,
I am back at the land of my people.

Wherever I went,
Under which ever roof I slept,
I had carried my land,
As a jewel in a casket
And ensured it rested safe
Ever under my pillow

As I moved with aliens
Unable to merge with their cultural mores,
I saw my land glimmer in darkness
Like a dew drop on a moon blanched leaf

When I sweated in the blistering sands
A patch of green landscape, like an oasis
Wafted me in a cool embrace
Then dreams poured in like star light
And I wandered in the meadows of my youthful love
My heart struggling to forget old longings
And memories lashing upon me like tidal waves

Pursued by that inalienable shadow
Suddenly being born in flesh and blood
I hastened to the streets of my youth
With hopes galore and plans vivid

But alas! There is none to recognize me
Oh! I am a stranger here
An unwelcome stranger among total strangers
Now I wonder which is truly my land?
The one left behind or the one just landed in?

Oscillating between these two worlds,
My fractured identity looms large
With worms of memories wriggling in my flesh
And a myth suddenly dying in my brain
I am glad to share with my friends here that this poem- My Fractured Identity- is prescribed for the 10th Grade students-English for Junior High School- entitled Voyagers, in the country of Philippines. The exciting thing is that my poem appears among the writings of eminent men like James Joyce, Rudyard Kipling, Shelley, Virginia Woolf, Jules Verne, Jean Jacques Rousseau and the like. I feel it a great honor !!
Wen Ao Long Nov 2014
Hello snorer, I hope you didn't sleep any poorer
when I stayed up all night typing this not-poem
I meant you no harm, but I had to stay up
Because I couldn't make music out of your obnoxiously loud cacophony of windpipe crap, er "music".  Time to not-pretend to absolutely hate your snoring under the guise of being perfectly okay with it for the sake of setting the tone a bit nicer to all who must hear it, so they can BEAR to, for otherwise it would be absurd.  Not as absurd as anyone hating to have aural drills applied to all their chakras all night, but still absurd enough to get a chuckle out of me (I hope it didn't wake your fine specimen here). It was never my intent, though it was always my ethical concern (if only everyone could be as reciprocal as you and I).   Oh, my not-pretend hatred is very thinly veiled.  I wasn't totally defeated by your snore-sound armies so that I couldn't type words, but I may have lost some of my desired effect due to the sometimes wincing distraction they caused to my piece of mind at this or that time when I needed it the most (even though I was awake, which is no crime if snoring at night and keeping me that way isn't).

Well, I did ask you if you'd mind if I typed,
I did tell you that you could tell me if its quiet purr of clicks would bother your precious sleep
But I never felt a need to be concerned, because whenever I
was typing, I heard you snore, and whenever I was in the heights of
some new discovery or epiphany, your sharp sudden thunderstroke of near death
corrugated metal vibrating in the torrent of some sudden gale force gust of wind.

These were signs to me of your restful sleep.  So I simply didn't worry about your sleep.  I was certain that my electronic beeps were every now and then music to your ears, just as they were to mine.  This is because in the midst of these I heard you snore, and when you snored, I took you to be asleep.

Ah but then again, then again, these are fanciful constructions which simply say that what is wonderful for me should be just fine and dandy with you, at a bare minimum, and on those grounds of very unsymmetrical attitude about right and wrong I would have to begin my music tirade of words as well.  But I don't view justice and propriety along such selfish lines as these.

What I see is that duplicity is your thesis.  I have anecdotal accounts which are marvelous to behold first hand, but the details of the absurdities cannot be done justice in the language of men, for the intensity of such insanity can only be borne lightly by the frailest frayed ends of my sanity for having lived through your acoustically maddening inanity.

You didn't ever admit to me that my noises were not music to YOUR ears.  Indeed  you claimed never to be bothered by them because you never voiced up against them.  I suppose you might as well voice up against them in the street as well if it turns out not all of you snorers-go-a-viking types like to hear my mouse clicking away like a tapping noises on a metal plate in your skull.  Sorry if it is another non-snorer-who-must-stay-up-late-and-so-be-occupied person whose nocturnal joys were misinterpreted as direct assaults on the dignity, spirit, or just basic mental viability of your wounded snoremonster troop of anti-late-stayer-uppers, because in fact, we used to be sleep-at-night-entities like you, but that was before you showed up, thoracic marching band in tow.  Marching bands are musical also, to some people.  And for some all hours of the night are perfect for a marching band.  Who am I to tell them otherwise.  

Well let me know the next time a marching band is given special permit to come through your neighborhood at night, and I'll be glad to point out to you the first Snorer'sville, because only they should be expected, in all justice to live with the macroscopic manifestation of their personal narcissistic paradises.

Let you all go to your own place and form your own nation, and see if you can consistently demand everyone else find music in your ****** and accursed racket!  But until then I expect some of you will have to take the damage returned by the growing number of people who are very much tired of living under the horrors of your infliction upon us, your demonic and evil tyranny of mind-crushing hate that is your ****** noise.  We will do yoga and breathe, and stretch, and some light calesthenics to relax and seek some focus and composure, whenever our spirits require, and this will be unchallenged by you so long as you are asleep, and it will be unchallenged by you so long as you are awake too.  For in the latter case you are already awake (and so still are we, usually) while in the former case it is far quieter than your snoring, both in its valleys and peaks.  And moreover it has not kept you up, but in fact I have noted that you wake yourself up with your own music when it reaches a certain crescendo.  

Unless you want to say that those crescendos are some sort of involuntary complaint about MY crescendos of spirit, when I start typing about 20% faster than normal, with perfect focus and accuracy while reaching an aesthetic pleasure approaching ****** as I realize that it is almost unerringly in the midst of such an experience that I hear your crescendo resound. And since it was no more intended to be a distraction for me, then surely my music must have also gone undetected by your ears, as well as your spirit. Or is it fairer to say it was the very cause of your crescendo, or at least its inspiration?

Therefore I needn't worry that it is I that is keeping you up, even if for only brief stints at a time, especially by comparison to my all-night vigils.  Not so, but it is you who are so enraptured by my occasional laughs or giggles as I edify my weary, sleep-deprived mind on some bit of morale boosting entertainment.  With headphones on of course.  It's also courteously plugged into the computer to prevent my favorite bit of Judas Priest from hurting your ear drums, or else overstimulating your music appreciation centers, which are verily attached to your ear-drums by a nerve bundle (and what nerve you all have there).  This means I've spared you too much distraction from any already-abundant music of the spheres effect you may be savoring which might have emanated from my bumbling around in the dark (to keep the lights out of course, after all people are sleeping).

Yes but that is a minority of you perhaps, who would lie about that and in fact who ought to say that our nocturnal emissions are not what you'd call restfully mind-relaxing crickets in the dead of night with an occasional hoot in the distance...  But they are a minority, the rest of you are so definitely in good faith.

But then why do I always run into those of your tribe who have strange and unethical habits, such as destroying others' lives by ruining their one perhaps most preciously personal and inalienable need second only to air and water, and that is sleep.  It is, in terms of acute necessity, in many ways more needed than food, though in the long term food catches up.  But food catches up only because not eating food is a  lot like not getting sleep, but just a lot more intense on the body when it drops to some critical point because we know from experience it is on raw nerves that we can go for a while in search of food, but if the food can't be found (perhaps because of our lack of sleep ruining our cognition in some way), then we will not eat, nor sleep, because we'll be dead.  

But either way, we'll be dead, for lack of sleep kills, both directly and indirectly, if suffered over a short time and/or in a diluted form over a long time.  That would be poetically commensurate to the sadistic similitude of the types of snoring sounds with the types of ways to die from being deprived of sleep according to two modes (acute and chronic), over many keys of incident, accident, lost opportunity and ill-stared fate, all of which can be mapped in some way back to that auditory persecution of our very souls of which your kind are in some swelling numbers quite proud.  Just think of all the car accidents, work accidents, altercations, fits of rage, inability to concentrate well or sometimes at all, and other life-damaging conditions of the mind, and also of the body, which accrue from lack of proper and healthy sleep at night!

Good thing for most of you though, right?  Because surely our music is also sweet, and I really hope I've inspired many to face this need for equality, and be on their guard against any unjust whining or groaning from those who seem in point of fact to value their sleep just a good deal more than they value anyone else's.  Not only because they really really love to get those zzz's but because they think that in the natural order of things, before people suddenly went mad and evil, people went to bed and slept well even partly BECAUSE of this brachio-esophageal orchestral lullaby.

But we'll be on our guard against those complaints, because we know you have plotted to take to the streets against us to defend your noisiness-all-night-every-night rights.  So we'll be on guard to defend ours, TO THE LAST FIBER OF OUR BEING.

Because you insufferable ******* are cruel, and cruelty no one should abide.  No one in my world, in my society of people, will be allowed to inflict cruelty on another person, nor be callously prejudicial in their own favor when injuries do occur because of their actions merely on the grounds that the damage it causes coincides with the fulfillment of a need on their own part, even while that fulfillment is of a need which is obstructed from satisfaction in the other part, and by THAT VERY SAME REASON, so that your sleep depends on keeping others awake.  UNLESS you can somehow con or coerce them into developing some form of Stockholm Syndrome and confuse the torment you inflict upon them with a sign of your love and wonderfulness to be around.

Yes, I know you hear me typing now, through your well-behaved proxy.  I feel it. If not he per se, then in a parallel universe not too far off, there's a version of him who does.  Perhaps not the one I know now, on day one of having moved into this room, but perhaps one represented in this universe by someone who has found himself in some sort of circumstances found later on during his stay, this mixed with the fact that familiarity breeds contempt... He'll start making some righteous demands of some kind, and I might not be in a such a good mood about that due to lack of proper sleep, and this will coincide with said contumacy against my own rights (such as to breathe, type, surf the net, or do other nocturnal things other than snoring which might keep others up).

As to that last point in parentheses, snoring is an activity which you perform in conjunction with your getting sleep, and it therefore means not well for your notion of fairness to say things as they are, and simply say the truth, which is that your getting sleep deprives others of theirs, but it can be logically deduced.

It can also be logically deduced that the don't give flying **** if you don't like the fact that we don't like your ear-**** night after night, which is a good name as any, but should perhaps at times be amended to body-demolishing soul-****** of a mortally sinful nature, and with an ethical incongruity to good character of a person to maintain it, all the more to sings its praises to us and call it "good poetry".
My tirade is intended to be expressive of a sincerely felt Truth, manifested in this which is only one of many forms, where things are never neutral, but divided neatly and perfectly into either Good or evil, so that no thought, word, or deed can be trivialized as mundane, neither in its innate import nor in its exported impact for others.  This is of the essence of ethics and has many metaphysical groundings which can be rationally demonstrated, but only to rational people.
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance.
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique.
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion.
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression.
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms.
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all.
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural.
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate.
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success.
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race.
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’.
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for.
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism.
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism.
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights.
This is mandate.
The republic for which we stand.
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
The notorious they-ness in them

Indentured servant sails, serendipity servant serenades.

Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugue, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all.  Some of us are even into the various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness and all the rest of those similar states of analogous configuration and ancillary subordinateness.   Vicarious recalcitrance for all!!!  Eclectic synectics, avant-garde illuminism.
Edna Sweetlove Sep 2015
Pastor Grovell writes as follows.....

I am often asked to interpret the Ten Commandments as they seem sometimes a bit out of date and irrelevant (and hard to understand by some of the more ********
folks). So here goes with the update we use in our own godly congregation. These are my revised and corrected commandments.  The originals are in the beloved King James version but where that is unclear I quote a more modern version too to assist those of you who are more or less illiterate. In the bible, the commandments are unaccompaned by the punishments you will get if you disobey them so I have updated that too, according to STRICT biblical scholarship.

===================================================­=================

1st Commandment: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me". This seems quite unequivocal to me but of course it was written BEFORE Jesus came to save us so here is the new version:

PG's NEW NUMBER 1: WORSHIP ONLY GOD (INCLUDING JESUS WHO IS PART OF GOD ANYWAY) & DO IT FREQUENTLY OR GOD WILL CRUSH YOU!

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2nd Commandment: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.

That seems a bit wordy to me and there is a bit of overlap with Number 1! In any case, it's a bit out of date as not many people worship idols, giant earthworms or fish these days. Perhaps a modern update would include not worshipping the TV set!

PG's NEW NUMBER 2: DO NOT WORSHIP THE TV SET OR ANYTHING SIMILAR OR GOD WILL BE VERY ANNOYED INDEED AND WILL PUNISH YOU AND ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS & THEIR DESCENDANTS TOO SO WATCH OUT ALL YOU HEATHEN COUCH POTATOES!

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3rd Commandment: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain." Again a bit long-winded, and the vain bit will confuse some people.

PG's NEW NUMBER 3: DO NOT BLASPHEME OR GOD WILL CRUSH YOU IN AN INCREDIBLY PAINFUL WAY & SLOWLY AS WELL!

========================================================­============

4th Commandment: "Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work; But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it."

This is a difficult one to observe nowadays, what with Sunday opening at the shopping mall. The solution seems to be that non-Christians, Jews and Muslims can work to serve us whilst we go shopping. It shows why God created heathens and other infidels so they can sell godly people bibles, hymnals and religious artefacts on the Sabbath, even though they will probably go to Hell themselves as a result. And the bit about animals not working on Sundays seems pointless today so we'll skip that section.

PG's NEW NUMBER 4: WORK HARD FOR SIX DAYS A WEEK INCLUDING SATURDAYS AND THEN HAVE A NICE REST ON SUNDAYS BUT GET IN A LOT OF PRAYING ON SUNDAY OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED IMMENSELY BY GOD!

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5th Commandment: "Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."

Seems clear enough; particular the 2nd bit which people forget. This is particularly important as people live much longer nowadays and often old folks have to be put into a home which can be expensive, but God wants us to do it. Also, do not skimp on the private facilities - do you really want your old wizened parents to share a bathroom with other incontinents? No I don't think you do. Also, one must remember that a lot of people are ******* and don't have the vaguest idea who their father was. Often the mother has no idea either, filthy ****.

PG's NEW NUMBER 5: RESPECT YOUR PARENTS NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT COSTS OR GOD WILL SHORTEN YOUR OWN LIFE AS A PUNISHMENT & YOU WILL SUFFER A LOT! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR PARENTS ARE, YOU ARE A ******* AND WILL GO TO HELL.

========================================================­============

6th Commandment: "Thou shalt not ****." This one is a real problem for so many of us! What should we do if a mugger comes and tries to rob us? What should we do if someone threatens to **** and **** our womenfolk? What if heathens attack our nation? What about the inalienable American right to bear arms and **** unarmed protesters? What about the British right to rule over inferior races and shoot rebels? I think God was insufficiently insightful here, so my version is quite a radical improvement.

PG's NEW NUMBER 6: DO NOT **** PEOPLE UNLESS IT IS NECESSARY OR IF THEY ARE BURGLING *******!

====================================================­================


7th Commandment: "Thou shalt not commit adultery."This is OK as far as it goes but it is totally inadequate to deal with the amount of ***-SIN which is about the place in the modern world, so I have expanded this to deal with the problem. Also remember that King James was a rampant and blatant sodomite and pervert and so maybe had this one censored in his version of the GOOD BOOK to cover his own back, so to speak.

PG's NEW NUMBER 7: DO NOT COMMIT ANY ***-SINS INCLUDING UNMARRIED FORNICATION, EXCESSIVE FRENCH KISSING, HEAVY PETTING, ******* (MUTUAL AND/OR SOLITARY), ADULTERY, *******, BUGGERY, ******, HOMOSEXUAL ACTS OF ALL TYPES INCLUDING LESBIANISM OF ANY SORT, *******-READING OR THINKING FILTHY ***-THOUGHTS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OR YOU WILL BURN IN HELLFIRE FOR EVER AND EVER WITH THE MOST AWFUL AGONIES, AND ALSO MINIMIZE ALL LEGAL MARITAL *** TO OCCASIONS WHEN YOU WISH TO PROPAGATE AND KEEP IT BRIEF & IN THE DARK EVEN THEN!

========================================================­============

8th Commandment: "Thou shalt not steal." This one seems OK to me, with a bit of modernization.

PG's NEW NUMBER 8: YOU MUST NOT STEAL OR MUG OR ROB OR BURGLARIZE OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED UTTERLY & VERY EXTENSIVELY BY GOD IN ALL HIS MIGHTY POWER!

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9th Commandment: "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour." This is a bit too narrow as I think non-neighbours and maybe even foreigners should be included as well. Also there needs to be a reminder of the dreadful punishment liars and falsifiers face.

PG's NEW NUMBER 9: DO NOT ACCUSE ANYONE AT ALL FALSELY AND DON'T TELL ANY LIES EITHER OR GOD WILL PUNISH YOU REALLY APPALLINGLY & YOU WILL SHRIEK IN AGONY FOR EVER!

========================================================­============

10th Commandment: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ***, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's." This one really is totally out-of-date and inadequate. It should apply to everyone and not just neighbours. Also, how many people can afford servants or keep oxen? And the "***" bit is open to obscene ***-SIN misinterpretation and blasphemous sneering by wicked ***-SINNERS. So this needs a complete re-write to bring it into the 21st century and to guide godly people into the way of righteousness. And some of the modern translations of the Bible are even worse, e.g. "Do not desire another man's house; do not desire his wife, his slaves, his cattle, his donkeys, or anything else that he owns." How about if you wish to sell your own house and move to a nicer one - what is wrong with that? How about if you wish to sell your low-grade animals and buy better ones? What is this ******* obsession with donkeys and ***** - sheep can be equally tempting to s degenerate ******* ***-SINNER. So I go for a nice simple revision which covers most eventualities:

PG's NEW NUMBER 10: DON'T BE JEALOUS OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BETTER FORTUNE, MAYBE THEY DESERVE IT & YOU ARE INFERIOR; STICK WITH WHAT YOU HAVE NO MATTER HOW GROTTY IT IS OR GOD WILL PUNISH YOU MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE! AND KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE LIVESTOCK OR YOU WILL SUFFER APPALLINGLY IN DEEPEST HELL WITH RED HOT POKERS UP YOUR ****** FOR ETERNITY.

====================================================­================

So there you have it: Pastor Peter Grovell's recommendations for a life without sin. But remember to pray every single day to Jesus and under no circumstances confuse the wooden images of Jesus which the Catholics use with the real living invisible Jesus. If you fail to do what God wants, he will be left with no option but to condemn you to eternal Hellfire.

And a final point: God did not hand down to Moses any instructions about alcohol. Did He say, "Thou shalt not have a pint of beer!" NO! Did He say, "Thou shalt not have a bottle of wine!" NO! Did He even rule out a shot or two of gin, whisky, ***, brandy or any other alcoholic refreshments? NO He did not! He even transformed water into wine on several occasions, which shows he liked a glass or two down his local Jewish "pub". So there is no harm in drinking alcohol but only if it does not lead you to do ***-SIN, ******, ****, THEFT, BUGGERY, ***-COVETING or IDOL-WORSHIP!

Pastor Peter Grovell D.D., C.S.M.F.,
Founder, Ultra-Strict Reformed Church of Jesus.
Onoma Nov 2013
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
Brent Kincaid May 2016
Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

If you’re not white
And your state is red,
Don’t be surprised
If you end up dead.
As maybe some one
Will beat on your head
And demand to know
What goes on in your bed.

If you are any race
But Holy Caucasian
Like African or Inuit,
Mexican or Asian
That includes Islam
And all such nations
The bigots will hate
On every occasion.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

In World War Two we
Fought against fascism
And now we entertain
An unholy American schism
In which Americans plan
With gleeful fanaticism
To make every effort
To maintain totalitarianism.
For over two centuries
We have sung of equality
And the inalienable rights
Of American humanity.
We continue to fight now
But it has become a calamity
Because now we are fighting
Within each of our families.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.
Antony Glaser Jul 2018
Aliens disguised as Englishmen
proclaiming their right to be roast beef
and a Boers inalienable right to shoot at him
Mark Lecuona Jan 2015
"Justice runs down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream"

Martin Luther King, Jr.

------------------------------------------------------------­----------------------------------

Brothers and sisters
Arm in arm
In grace
With faith
And agape love
Marched towards hate
And the steel of repression

     No door to heaven is easily opened
     Sometimes the only choice is to die
     Not quickly
     But slowly and painfully

The arc of justice bends under the weight of human sacrifice

They thought
"This is it for me"
Yes this was it
But it was time
Time for the signs to come down
The signs that said
     "You here"
          "You there"
               "Not for you"
                    "Sit in the back"

Separate but equal
A lie of monstrous proportion
There is no equality
When all is not shared
There is no equality
When a night stick crushes inalienable rights
There is no equality
When a child is called a __
There is no equality
When the love of Jesus
     Is not enough for some people
When the love of Jesus
     Is not enough for some hearts
When the love of Jesus
    Is not enough for grace on earth


Let me take a moment


To cry


To feel the shame


Let us take a moment


And understand why some among us remember Selma
A memory of pride and pain
A memory of the willingness to die
For what is right
To give up their life
To give up their complaints
To give up their selfishness
To give up what we take for granted
So that they might die
For someone else
Because it was time
I wrote this a few years ago... thought I'd dust it off....
B E Cults Feb 2019
We, the invisible reasons for your problems, blind ourselves to the
dismal inevitability that we will
suffocate because you refuse to stop
the pillaging of the future for the sake of your own ******* lineage being able to further itself and potentially give you a chance to again close your mind and scream as loud as you can when confronted with your own toxicity

We, the ones who humbly take the bludgeoning from your self-proclaimed pious hand, know these chains are only on your bleeding wrists and ankles.

We, the silent and the broken, know Santa Muerta by the nicknames she had in college and all accompanying wildness she brought in her wake.
We still will stroke your hair while you
throw your tantrums and wail about what is and isn't fair on your deathbeds.

We will burn the mattress and all while cheering you on on your flight into the night sky you ignored for a lifetime.

We, the servants of streaming digits and stewards of bottled stardust, will create stories about how it wasn't your fault and how you shouldn't be hated for bringing the world crashing into the excrement of wasted potential so our children know there was a choice to be made.

We, the overly polite pariahs pry laughs and love and lust and learning from looming catastrophe like Burroughs writing Naked Lunch with a glassy eyed stare that burned holes in the veil hiding the tide of partially coagulated blood and ******* that YOUR world preached as milk and honey.

We, the proof in the moldy pudding still finding time to rot, will burn tobacco fields in your honor just to dance while getting drunk on the breaths you'll never waste.

We, the lovers of questions and haters of creeds, let tears stream in the hope that they are not considered part of our body's 75 percent while fantasizing about your ghosts seeing them and the dehydration they may be in spite of and quiet your tired old yelling and shaking of fists at the clouds when overcome by the slight sadness that whispers "its too late" lovingly into your ear.

We, the lovers, the thieves, the reviled, the *******, the witches, the junkies, the ******, the reptiles and worms under the rocks society deems unusable and misshapen, will be the ones lifting the crowns off your corpses and throwing them high as graduates do when full of a hope only ever dashed by themselves.

We, the drooling monsters you vehemently deny anything besides the cramped closets or the space between bed and floor in childhood bedrooms, will be the Valkyries to descend onto the blood-choked battlefield you set aside for your souls to suffer on and offer you respite in the form of soggy bread and wildflower honey while  ravens and jackdaws bicker over the eyes and fingers of those that once showed us how to ride a bike or drunkenly beat us beneath our favorite trees or touched us in dark rooms in ways that would chase Love away from the shadow of our hearts until we finally climbed high enough to see it all as someone screaming of war and bravery while running from the sound of steel biting steal because their protectors talked so highly of honor and duty that it seemed as if it were God and Adam touching fingertips on the arched ceilings of youth. that, then was painted on the crumbling walls of abandoned houses they would secretly indulge on the forbidden fruit soaking pages of a faded **** magazines or up skirts of blushing  girls who put on their mother's prudishness until fingers pushed past
cotton and virtue alike to the warm center they both melted in.

We, the unsung and numb, walk in spirals while the complexity you rebuked as devil-born becomes the sigils of yet-to-be kingdoms bringing about golden age after golden age in the distant mists rolling over hills and valleys of memories of moments yet to coalesce into rigid experience.

We, the eyes weeping blood atop crumbling pyramids, have seen the walls you want to build in futures dissolved in the winds blowing dust over the dream-roads we skip down and how it resembles the one you built to keep your heart from breaking from the pressing mass of what you can't file away as noise or heresy or communist propaganda;
We drew throbbing ***** and dripping ***** on all the blueprints we came across and tucked them back into the secret compartments of wardrobes and roll-tops passed down through generations.

We, the keepers of the singing stones you traded for cheap concrete, will embrace the tiny souls you neglected out of ignorance to the existential snake oil pitch you broke every tooth biting down on all because the salesman reminded you of your drunk father or mother imposing their wills like you make shadow puppets dance on peeling wallpaper in the silence that ensued after they had passed out on creaky couches reeking of Lucky Strikes and spilled ***** while the shine of the staticky T.V. set covered them like the blanket no one ever put over their slumbering forms because of those infinite lists of excuses used to skirt the skirmishes of showing any kind compassion even if they alone were sole witness to it.

We, the pieces of self the deathbed "you" sent hurtling backwards through time to shine lights on the siege seething at the gates of what you stand for, are only holding those lanterns to show you that fleeing is futile and your death is just a hallway with a door that leads to the knowledge that life is not a cell to watch time morph into tally lines scratched into cold stone as if they were epitaphs for the seconds bet and lost at the roulette table crafted from any slave ship the ocean never swallowed.

We, the flames mimicking those dancing girls you longed to have squeal under the idea of your thrusting masculinity amidst the graffiti on the bathroom stalls in seedy dive-bars or the paupers playing prince you follow giggling with hope in hand like a bouquet of baby's breath and daisies for that one day they would stop and turn and smile so handsomely that your knees would shatter against one another and wedding chapels would bend down to tie tin cans to bumpers of beat up Buicks and Oldsmobiles your fathers give dowry and the crowd could watch "just married" poorly written in shaving cream on the back window grow small until it disappeared over the horizon.

We, the dreamers, are tired of sleeping and are in need of a old tree to swing from, to bury our dreams like beloved pets under, and watch as it lets its leaves fall to the hungry earth that is more patient then anyone closed eyed and humming ancient syllables beneath crooked branches could ever be.

All the trees you climbed and kicked and fell in love under have died from too many hearts around intials being carved into them or were used to make fascist pamphlets you yourself passed out at churchs mistaking the mask with bone structure or the river for the people it swept to sea.

We are laughing;
like a loving mother at her clumsiness on display in her cackling child and not like the crowds gazing at the sideshow stage as the curtains pull back and stage lights illuminating John Merrick's flesh and the intricate dissonance it lent to minds.
Minds that afforded only sips of bliss as monotonous stints on factory floors but were preached about like they were some heaven-sent golden cobblestones laid lovingly all the way
to the beach where Heimdall will one day sound his horn, one foot feeling the grit of the edge of the world and the other washed clean for the grave we will all step in.

So, all these words, all these images, all of it is intended to be a moon so all the stagnate tide pools that have forgotten their origin and the freedom they used to give form to lesser forms they forage forgetfulness from.

We, the ones beneath you on the climb to the summit of our collective potential, beg you to think of something beside yourself when taking a ****.

It is not just ******* in the wind if there isnt wind and we are right below you and dying of thirst.

It is not an inalienable right if someone else is deprived of the same.

It is not Heaven's gate if the brilliant gild has a melting point or if it remains latched to any soul's approach.

It is not "liberal *******" or a myth if whole flocks of birds fall from the sky or schools of fish wash up on beaches while people snap photographs for their feed.

It is not "god" if love dispels it like smoke hanging in the kitchens your great grandmother sat in and told you about a witch shapeshifting into dogs without heads to scare drunks stumbling home because she was a ******* racist.

It is not just food if someone's organs fail from starvation that even the worms and flies are free from.

You wave your banners and let your war-horns echo and you wear your ignorance as armor.

We, the eaters of life and death, will chisel a name into stone and pick your bones clean if you think we should march to the sounds of drums and trumpets just because you were stupid enough to think it was anything other than your masters convincing you to whip yourselves ****** because "at least God hath been kind enough to give you a purpose" or "he works in mysterious ways".

**** that.

Look at what it has brought out of the swirling sea of " all that could be" while you write the same song about how shiny and numerous the scales of the prize are.

We are not responsible for pillaging God's bounty.

We are the bounty and our emptiness and lack of foresight are in jeweled bowls at your feet, but in your hubris you believe it to be the slaves that come to wash the dirt from between your toes.

We are Death and She is the wet-nurse that will give us intimacy to fertilize our hearts by refusing us her breast but turning our heads to your silhouettes shambling off the edge of existence far off in the distance only a decade or less could be confused for.

[AS ONE VOICE WE SING/SANG/HOWL:
Lux amor potentia restituant propositum dei in terris.]

As if it were as easy as holding the hand of a dying tyrant afraid they cannot the luminous terminus while wearing your father's face as a mask to trick radiant angels or the contortions of gods reeking of struck matches by those trembling and their swirling black hearts closed to the breeze carrying leaves celebrating their liberation and caressing a cheek they were too ashamed to kiss when opportunity was their ally.

We shouldn't hate these piles of skulls all parroting the same axioms to those who only show up to add another or leave an empty bottle turned into a candle holder, wax dripped down the neck and froze before any trace of tallow could finally unite with the dirt it longs to become one with;
icicles hanging from the eaves of abandoned asylums.

This place was supposed to be alot of things but that is what lead THEM to drown in the sound of buzzing bees, birdsong, and abundance in all directions.

I suggest we stop trying to squeeze it into a shoebox we scribbled Promised Land on and just let it be the open armed paradise it inherently is.
Let it be the heart and home as well as the hostile territory because it is only ever that and what we wont find in any Oracle's Prophecy.

I'll end my rambling with a question and it's answer.

How do you turn a police station into a hospital and a schoolhouse?

Burn it to the ******* ground.
This is me pushing sentences to the max. Sentences that just shamble on through the space they themselves create.
Monks and magick practitioners use trance states to penetrate deeper.
I stretch these sentences which stretch your conscious mind's attention span well past being interested letting my imagery embed itself somewhere you'll realize is there farther down the ro
Madeleine Toerne Mar 2015
A twig falls
into an oblivious backpack
and leaves a tic.

A package of cigarettes flies out the window of
a five-story building and smacks on the sidewalk,
like spit on some skin.

A scenario:
young, misbehaving child cools off in
a peaceful space, a bean-bag chair.
A premonition.
He’s twenty and wondering, where’s the bean bag now?

Two days of dryly coughing,
so much glowering,
he’s biking in the wrong direction.

“You’re idealistic,” he says to nobody.
He looks out the window, unsatisfied.
He eats a 3-bean salad, unsatisfied.
He adds bacon but it doesn’t matter
because I think he would rather die.
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
A Native American Code of Ethics
                                                       ­         *From Shaman Cloud & the FireBear



1.      Rise with the Sun to pray. Pray alone and pray often. The Great Creator Spirit will listen when you speak. Find the peace that comes from being alone.

2.      Be tolerant of those who are lost on their paths. Ignorance, conceit, jealousy, anger and greed stem from lost souls. Pray that they find guidance.

3.      Search for yourself by yourself. Do not allow others to make your path for you. It is your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.

4.      Always give your best to others; your company gets the best bed, blanket and food. Treat them with respect and honour.

5.      Do not take anything that is not yours. If something was not earned or given it is not yours.

6.      Respect all of the things that are placed upon this Earth. People, animals, plants and rocks are all children of the Great Creator Spirit. Honour their place in the chain of life. We are all interconnected.

7.      Honour other people’s thoughts wishes and words. Give each person your attention and allow them expression. When you give an idea away, you no longer own it. If someone uses your idea, you take no credit. If someone doesn’t use your idea you take no offense. Your ideas are no longer yours as soon as you give them away.

8.      Practice Optimism. If you put negative energy into the Universe, it will multiply and return to you. All people make mistakes. Mistakes can be forgiven. Bad thoughts cause illness of body, mind and spirit.

9.      Nature is not for us, it is part of our sacred family. Live in balance with all of nature. Tread softly on Mother Earth.

10.  Children are the seeds of our future. Plant love in their hearts and water them with wisdom and life’s lessons. When they are grown, give them space to be themselves.

11.  Be truthful at all times. Honesty is the test of one’s will within the Universe.

12.  Keep yourself balanced. Consider that your mental, physical, spiritual, emotional and volitional selves must work on harmony at all times.

13.  Make conscious decisions as to who you will be and how you will react to life. Accept the consequences of your own actions.

14.  Always respect the privacy and personal space of others. Never touch the personal property of others, especially sacred items.

15.  Be true to yourself. You can not nurture and help others until you can nurture and help yourself. Live your truth/

16.  Respect the religious beliefs of others. Never force your beliefs on anyone else.

17.  Share your good fortune with others. Tithe and participate in charity.
Always give back to others, that they too may have a good life.

18.  Always walk your thoughts before you make important decisions. Find your place of inner peace and operate from there. Walk in peace that others may do the same.

http://motherpeace.net/A%20Native%20American%20Code%20of%20Ethics%20by%20Firebear.htm

­This originally appeared in the "Inter-Tribal Times," October, 1994
http://www.nativevillage.org/Inspiration-/nativeamericancodeofethics__.htm


The Afu-Ra-Kans, (Africans),
were always happy to teach the human family that which was beneficial to all.
The following is a portion of the first constitution.
You can find the full version in aforementioned book by Scholar Chancellor Williams.


1. The right to equal protection under the law.
2. The right to a home.
3. The right to land sufficient for earning livelihood for one€™'s self and family.
4. The right to aid in time of trouble.
5. The right to petition for redress of grievances.
6. The right to criticize and condemn any acts by the authorities or proposed new laws. A. Opposition groups were recognized by law.
7. The right to reject the community'€™s final decision on any matter and the right to withdraw from the community unmolested; the right to rebellion and withdrawal.
8. The right to a fair trial. A. There must be no punishment greater than the offense or fines beyond the ability to pay. B. Fines are determined by the income status of the individual and family of that individual.
9. The right to indemnity for injuries or loss caused by others.
10. The right to family or community care in case of sickness or accidents.
11. The right to special aid from the Chief in circumstances beyond a family'€™s ability.
12. The right to a general education covering morals and good manners, family rights and responsibilities, kinship groups and social organization, neighborhoods and boundaries, farming and marketing, rapid mental calculation and family, ****, tribal and state histories.
13. The right to apprentice training for a useful vocation.
14. The right to an inheritance as defined by custom.
15. The right to develop one'€™s ability and exercise any developed skills.
16. The right to protect one€™s family and kinsmen, even by violent means if such becomes necessary and can be justified.
17. The right to protection of moral law in respect to wife and children, a right which not even the King can violate.
18. The right of a man, even a servant, to rise to occupy the highest positions in the state, if he has the requisite ability and character.
19. The right to protection and treatment as a guest in enemy territory, once one is in the gates of the enemy's village, town or city.
20. The right to an equal share in all of the benefits from common community undertakings, if one has contributed to the fullest extent of his ability, no matter who or how many were able to contribute more.

The Afu-Ra-Kan, (African),
constitution teaches the world that the human being is endowed with fundamental, inalienable,
God given rights.
Every human being is entitled to these rights.
In this original society, in Afu-Ra-Ka, (Africa), women were equally endowed with these rights.
The King could not violate the constitution and deny any human being his or her God-given rights.
The King could not violate any human being, because of the belief that every human being is the house for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator.

This is the philosophy of the Afu-Ra-Kan, (African):
Every human being, whether male or female, is the house for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator.
It is time now for the Black man and woman to become Afu-Ra-Kan, (African), again.
It is time for the Black man and woman to teach, once again, that all human beings, Black, Brown, Red, Yellow and White, have the potential to become the house for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator.

This philosophy must be taught to all people, regardless of race, class, color or creed.
It is up to the Afu-Ra-Kan, (African), to stand up for the fundamental rights of every human being, regardless of race, class, color or creed.
The prophets taught this philosophy.
Jesus taught this philosophy.

Let us all strive to be Afu-Ra-Kan, (African):
Male and female houses for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator.
*

Thank you for reading these words.*
http://www.thankaboutit.org/gpage3.html
Indeed; 'It is time now for' All Men and Women 'to become Afu-Ra-Kan, (African), again.'
"Male and female houses for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator"

The Heavenly Spirit with this Our Earthly Existence!!
UNITE WITHIN
Star Dust, R

Afu Ra Ka
Which reminds me...Sa Sa!!!
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/in-lakech-ala-kin/

Been a while sorry I am behind on reads,
overly buzzed busier reading these;
~Hearts Of All~~
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/my-needs-deep-of-all/
~Sa Sa LOVE!!!
..R~~

Visual Reinforcement;
Facebook pics here only!!

~Spirit of the Divine Creator,
Inwardly Received...~~
~Without is as Within,
Inwardly Reflected~~
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=449340938461153&set;=a.422381444490436.98406.100001557525105&type;=1&theater;

Time To Unite
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=449341261794454&set;=a.422381444490436.98406.100001557525105&type;=1&theater;

Earth Will Be Reborn
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=449341148461132&set;=a.422381444490436.98406.100001557525105&type;=1&theater
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
indentured servant sail……..serendipity servant serenades
RW Dennen Mar 2015
People of peace walk gently
People of strength never to be stilled
Abundance awaits you with courage

RW Dennen-

Came the Black voting rights march into Selma, Sunday
1965...

And being gathered in prayer before crossing, you soon felt smashing upon your body as blood seeped down your face
on a Sunday and the initial retreat too too much to remember:
About dogs and billy clubs; about fire hoses ready and that very bridge, later will carry hearts of conscience all in the great name
of the American ballot box

Today, I say hail for the slain and hurt of the historical past; I say hail to both black and white
brothers and sisters once endowed with bravery embued with inalienable rights

Hang strong my true people of the bridge
Hang strong for that greater bridge that bridges into dignity of today
Hang strong and hold dear to your hearts "The Sunday Selma legacy"
and  "The spirit of the Edmund Pettus Bridge"
In 1965 on a Sunday these brave souls of different religions and races
marched for black equal voting rights only to be met with bone crushing resistance.
Today these rights must be restored for a more perfect union
I was daydreaming about the hoverboard that was promised to me
in the sequel to Back To The Future when you big-banged my mindset
with a universe of thought that I was not ready to comprehend.
All you said was, do you think koi fish were typecast?

As if some ancient Japanese fisherman noticed that that fish in particular
was more reserved than the others. I can picture him
paddling quietly across the Caspian Sea as he notices these fish,
looks down through his own reflection and says, you seem artfully shy.

You remind me that historically and geographically speaking,
my story makes no sense. And that the fisherman would not speak English.

I remind you that at the rate we're going, we'll probably die
before we find out how this life ends.
You remind me that we're all fossils in waiting.

This was on the back porch of the house you lived at in Santa Barbara.
There was a mountain to our right and an ocean to our left.
This was in between puffs of your cigarette.

I remind you that sometimes you throw yourself out there like propellers
so I threw myself down like a launch-pad-made-for-landing-
not knowing anything about trajectory- hoping to show you
that there are some people out here who know the importance of landing whole.

You retreat to your smart phone, search Google, load a satellite image,
point to the smallest blue pixel, See that? You say.
That's Earth. Everything we will ever know happened on that dot.

I thought about Newt's completely feasible moon colony and the first moon-born human.
I thought about illegal aliens and inalienable rights.
But I didn't say anything.
We just sat there in perfect silence
like two ukuleles wanting to be acoustic guitars,
perfectly tuned, painted in moon reflection, I said, what are we doing?

And you didn't have to ask.
You knew. When I said we, I meant the species.
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.

What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA *******?
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.

Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:

The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?

Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.

Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

*******, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
*******, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.

The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?

You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:

You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.

What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?

Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?

*******, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
*******, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.

**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.

Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.

Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well ******* then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:

I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:

And so I say:
*******, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.

So,
on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
Aaron Mullin Sep 2014
I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen.

One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis.

As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away.

But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now.

Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it.

The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat.

My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task.

You can make history or you will be vilified by it.

To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn.

The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty.

Thank you
This is a slightly paraphrased speech given at the UN Climate Summit by Leonardo DiCaprio on 23 September 2014 in New York

http://www.cbc.ca/news/arts/leonardo-dicaprio-urges-un-to-solve-climate-crisis-1.2775187
Nat Lipstadt May 2023
<6:30 AM.  Sun May 28 2023>

An internal clock stirs within,
a full fledged conscious conscience rings in,
like a silent alarm at a bank being robbed.

Various devices inform, each with a
different measurement cup/stick, that I,
have slept exactly seven hours which,
pleases, as I am queried,

How do you feel?

Fully refreshed!

my choice today,
most apropos,
for now awake, I begin to:

compose myself.

In the ordinary, is the where that
I have oft found poetry,
not to mention love and other good things,
walk the house, north to south, east to west,
under weakish, not really high in the sky,
sun rays break thru the tree cover and create
a checkerboard of light and dark patches
for children to play upon, if any were/where here.

All seemingly is well.
The rabbits beneath us,
are sleeping in,
because after all,
it is Sunday.

But I digress; composition implies order, form,
even malice aforethought, so as an artist,
knowing the world is yet extant,
and I, yet am in one piece(s),
make coffee for two,
humming an old tune of similar ilk,
re tea

But every human has some master,
and mine the machine!

Want coffee? Hah!
Empty the grounds!
Not enough.
Now, Refill the Tank!
What! More?
Fill the beans!

Suffice! Relent!
I am human, you machine, and I demand coffee.

At last, the impolite machine, that knows not ‘please’ nor
‘thank you,’ nary its native ‘your welcome’ in its native Swissie Deutsche (Keine Ursache!).  All very Swiss, and businesslike,
doth relent, making a very fine cup of coffee.

I shall not trouble you with various side trips,
that though common to all humankind, but
provoke two sister thoughts in quick succession.

A modified abbreviated prayer:

Dear Lord, Yo! You have brought me to
the beginning of a new day,. Thanks a lot!

I skip over this remainder part, my excuse?

Too many words!

(“As the world is renewed fresh and clean, so I ask You to renew my heart with Your strength and purpose. Forgive me the errors of yesterday and bless me to walk closer in Your way today.”)

The other thought, a reciprocal to my gratitude.

Why in hell do our bodies age, ache, snap & crackle, Buddy?
perhaps a revision of this policy is in order, Would it upset
some vast eternal plan if my body never tolled my years
in lines of degeneration, waves of visible and invisible erosion,
or at least make coffee a magical, healing restorative elixir?


Nope.  

The usual sneering silence of just be happy you’re alive
etc., etc., etc. and etc.

Don’t think I am asking for too much. just a little tinkering…

More to write, but I chastise myself with:

Too many words!

Leave off here, though my misadventures
and adventures too, yield up inspirational
hymns galore, and batches of familiar plaints,
that is my inalienable human right to express
to nobody else, in particular,

But you.

For in so many ways, we journey together
though our paths, locales, and courses are
so vastly different, in my mind, we are together,
in the here and now, and in the forever future,
we must continue to share and share alike,
our words….
a S. I. writ
God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out,
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves for ease and rest and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me.
Break off the yoke and set me free.
Oculi Nov 2017
Get in your suit
This is your armor
Close your eyes
Fight for your life
You're not willing?
I haven't a care

I've dreamt of a world ever so beautiful
With attack ships on fire
Where beams could glitter
It was my first dream, and I feel so lost

I've run away
You have?
I mustn't fight
You mustn't?
I can't give up
You can.

It wasn't my decision, I was forced
This isn't me
This is my powerless last breath, let me dream again
First of five.
lessons of life's sanctity,
clarity of reason
and chastity
elude
the sociopath unglued;

clouded lens
filtering threads
of sense
common from extreme,
relishing shreds of conspiracies
unfounded...

tying the falling dow and twin-towers...
to  call of duty and

the man....

in the slick blue suit
with the funny last name
sticking it to us,
stripping us of our  inalienable rights,
god-given,
taking our bibles and guns away
to mombasa

spiraling memes of dysfunction
programmed to propagate fallacies
in minds unhinged

on the fringes of reality...

like paranoiacs
sipping green tea

or a.m. fanatics
fueling the frenzy

of sociopaths unglued,
licensed to spill
sacred blood
of the masses

at a crowded school
or movie theater
near you

now previewing:

~ mass homicide XII
&
~ teenage terrorist in black - the sequel


home-grown
&
fully-loaded...

~ P (Pablo)
(8/5/2013)
tread Dec 2012
the sled flattens cans on its way down the rock-face
oh, bottomless pit, how have thou forsaken the moth without the lantern!
carry me and I will carry me farther,
shoot a man and he will die for a day
teach a man to shoot and he will die for a lifetime.

Inalienable in the sense of extra-terrestrially impossible
Cold in the float-plane at 8000 feet or as high as an average cascade
'Average' being an ******* who believes himself average
**** that *******.

slumber as fast as you can to reach first place.
go, go, go!

the race has started!
William Rogers Apr 2016
As she rested in her bedroom,
she looked up,
blinded by a blank light shining down
from a spirit she never knew, but  to whom she was loyal.
The hazy evening skies and the bright sun setting under the horizon
joined to form a seasonable warmth.  
This did not seem to bother her, though,
as she sat on her cot,
a musty dilapidated mattress stained red
like the sky on a summer morning
blue like the veins that flowed through her body,
dried out and callous like her Navajo homelands.

She read Dostoyevsky with a certain ease.
Einstein wandered into her spirit
for a lesson she would never learn.

She looked up again,
saw the sun become the moon, and wondered why that was.
The moon rays and the sun beams continued to shine down on her,
as her mother glanced through the bedroom door,
telling her to stop dreaming
and finish reading her Crime and Punishment.

She looked at her mother with her pearly eyes and asked
"Mother, is my dreaming bothering you?"
Ruben Hayward Jul 2015
now is the time, she says.
    she says a lot of things, though.
it's enough, it's enough to watch walls
    crumble like chalk in the hand of a child;
  it's enough to watch sunrise without dread.
         now is the time, she says.
    I say not much, they say.
          not much like a Polaroid
   of a dead owl in your dresser drawer;
         it's not much like a flower caught in a fence.
      factual information is less than an obituary
          telling you that your wife is dead.
        my inalienable right to make pancakes
           at three AM is where I flail in moonlight
    like a strange yellow fish swimming with cane and toothache.
         but, ah, what was that she said---
        a million things all at once with no simile
             (the walls make sound, but
     my eyes are a million things said on Sundays)
          no cohesion, no considerable operations,
    no calorie is succinct, no little bubble in your mouth...
        my terrible thing weeping towards a shelf always
      with pretty words pretty eyes pretty nowheres--
           my wound grows down the trees like ivy
                my hands reach towards you, I close me eyes--
            I breathe I breathe
    smaller breathes to not disturb you.
     so soft and calm with gossamer in your eyes,
           you shift like the moon tossing
     on waves of cloud;
         what gods have I to curse
     when thou art fled?
          Little lines can't suffice,
        empty is a word not full--  
               opulence and splendor
         like my toes in the damp summer grass.
              inhale, please, and take your pulse
        out in the cold because  
     the dryer is broken,
         everything beeps at me
        and houses shiver in nightmare.
Anna Jan 2014
I'm not asking for them to care.
I'm not asking for any of you to care.
I just want them to let me decide
when and how I should die.
He looked across the boardwalk into the inalienable ocean.
Love danced upon the cresting waves.
The sound of a quantum leap stretched thousands of miles.
A piece of him was still with her.

She looked across the boardwalk with another.
Pain no longer had a home within her golden hair.
She had withstood time, it's waves began again.
His need showcased in the night sky, to her horror.

Deadly, their entanglement remains after being long forgotten.
Poison gas reaches into his head, the same gas rots her mind.
Toxic people and corrosive words melt their being.
Condemned to the hell he calls home.

Pull and push, he pushes on, she pulls away.
He continues his war march into this nethermost dwelling.
She escapes into the day, burning at its torrid sunlight.
He destroy her mind, She prolongs his pain.

In the end, they're just two toxic people in love.
Never to see each other again.
No real substance beyond the obvious. Maybe he could end it.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
You say because I am not a Christian
That means I am totally bound for Hell?
Mostly those who claim to be Christian
Behave in such a way you could never tell.

You say because I'm gay I am unnatural,
That I am surely the Devil's tool?
You're upset I am the way God made me?
The way I see it you are the fool.

You say Jews and Muslims are disgusting,
And you look to them to place all your blame.
All three religions are the followers of Abraham,
And much of what they believe is the same.

You say women are possessions like cattle
And are required to walk three steps behind.
If You agree to treat people like chattel
You can't expect others to be blind.

Almost all religions agree on one thing,
Stealing is a basic kind of sin.
But if you use your money to bribe people off
It's not a righteous life you're living in.

You say you want America back
Exactly he way it used to be
Back when women had no rights
And we based our wealth on slavery?

You say you believe all men should
Be free, with inalienable rights?
But some of them should not vote
Or even be allowed out at night?

You say you retain the right to decide
Who gets to do what and where?
Read that to me in the Constitution.
I don’t remember it being there.
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
Indentured servant sails, serendipity servant serenades.
jo spencer Sep 2013
Croydon was never the same
after 65
when it was sawn in half.
Wellesley underpass like
a strewn underbelly,
gave the Motor vehicle its commensurate order.
Whitgift middle schools playing fields uprooted south
making way for the,
Whitgift Centre, old before its time,
like Dorian Gray in reverse.
I recall Grants department store closing in 1980.
presiding over an omen, we could not afford a niche,
only for it to become an entertainment venue.
Standardization became our
inalienable right
with the soul of the centre dying
death by a thousand cuts,
not helped by the recent riots.
But Croydon will survive.
Josh Bass Apr 2015
Everybody gets to be a winner
The greatest lie they ever sold to my generation
No ****
Who likes to lose?
But the biggest lie is that handing trophies out to kids
Makes them entitled
Everyone wants to win, the right way.
Competition is in the soul...
You can't take that from me
Sorry to burst your bubble
but competition is our soul
It's our
inalienable right
Whether we get a trophy to mark our season of playing
Or for our esteem it does not make me who I am.
In fact me and my generation don't compete for ******* pieces of Tin or Plastic
For us it's a different plane
Next time please do not point at a trophy
And sum up my(our) whole existence
You already had your shot.
There is always the world that does not forgive
absolute unforgivess
The unbroken trauma in an event
Fearless
Never wavering into the assumptions of indulgence
Never paused long enough
to be understood properly
yet it drives the will to understand
The intervals between events of indulgence
in the frivolity of language
making bare the absurdities
Like fire that needs intelligent attention
to keep us warm
Neglect it and it consumes us all
This world demands a history of its own
Untainted by the acceptance or disputes of compromise
Inalienable direction
Weaving us together with unforgiving charm
kenz Sep 2014
one morning changed the lives of 280 million people

one moment ended the lives of 44

10:03 on a Tuesday morning
in the fall of an American dream
a man is doing what he knows is right
on flight 93


four righteous men gave their all
on that tragic morning
one was deemed a lesser hero because
of who he chose to love

Loved his mom and he loved his dad
loved his home and he loved his man
but on that ****** Tuesday morning
he died an American


he bled red, white and blue
he died for his country
his courage stained the grass
and yet his bravery was not as
valuable as the other three heroes
because of whom he chose to
spend his life with

Even though he could not marry
Or teach your children in our schools
Because who he wants to love
Is breaking your God's rules


40 innocent american's crashed into
pennsylvanian soil that morning
4 monsters crashed landed
straight to hell
4 men saved hundreds of lives that day
four men
not three

He stood up on a Tuesday Morning
In the terror he was brave
And he made his choice and without a doubt
A hundred lives he must have saved


he was denied marriage to
the man he loved
he was denied by your god
he was denied his rights
but he never denied his country protection

And the things you might take for granted
Your inalienable rights
Some might choose to deny him
Even though he gave his life


the land of the free and
home of the brave became
the land of silence and
home of tragedy that morning
and the dismissal of a man's valor
was a part of that tragedy

Can you live with yourself in the land of the free
And make him less of a hero than the other three
Well it might begin to change ya
In a field in Pennsylvania


bravery is the same color
on everybody's hands;
it's not black nor white;
gay nor straight;
man nor woman;
courage is in the blood of every american

Stand up America
Hear the bell now as it tolls
Wake up America
It's Tuesday Morning
Let's roll


september 11th, 2001 was a day of unimaginable cruelty

our land was desecrated and our safety was shattered and our families were broken

never forget

  
                                           *m.k.
not a poem but it's important

the italicized part is 'tuesday morning' by melissa etheridge
I was dust on the bottom of your
******* shoe
The aglets of your untied
***** mangled lace
Grinding violently on my
Unnoticed surface space,
And I just sat there clinging to
The part of you , you’d let me see
Wishing to be something.
Seems silly now that I didn’t know
If I wanted to grow up
All I had to do was
Let it the **** go,
Lay on musk moss and dirt
Forget the things I said
About being hurt and hard
Get over myself and see that  
I’m so ******* perfect
Sensational, inalienable and only
Every fool I’ve ever known wouldn’t love me.
My self included sorry.
Maybe I was made to fall apart,
Crumble to dust, spontaneously combust
Die and when  buried  
Discover the seed in the dust
Burst forth in green sprouts
In search of sun rays
After sun rays
Like new growth
After hard rain
Or flowers
Escaping sidewalks chains
Braking through like new days
I have fresh tears
Over growing pains.
Preston C Palmer Mar 2010
Marian took her heel, flushed with
the sense as dice thrown out of the
cup. She was proud to sell it to
capitalist bull snakes in their own insane
beliefs. There was a bright flash

    Day and night
    Decent and well-educated

Girls and women into existence beyond
dispute, a unique inalienable individual
but in spite of the newness of these. Marian
took her heel. Took her heel into a very deep
capacity to emerge from narcissism, to where
additional facts can be found.

The day after every recorded European
exploration, bullsnakes made nice pets.
I have no memory of writing this piece, but I will continue to take credit for writing it until someone else steps in to claim it.
Valsa George May 2016
Bitten by love bug,
My heart swells with edema
My love, like a gnawing anxiety,
Burdens me
Like a knotty noose,
Stifles me
Like a watch dog,
Follows me


Like an inalienable shadow,
Always with me!
When I turn around,
It is right behind!
It lingers in me
Like a lovely metaphor
Like the intoxicating smell  
Of  the first summer rain

In my world there are only two of us;
You and I
Where ever I go,
The world wears your face.
A face I have never seen!

      I don’t know where you are
In which alien shore you dwell

Yet I write this message,
In secret code
Pouring out my longings,
      My unuttered love,
My invisible desires,
Into this scroll of paper
In cursive, indelible ink
I seal it in a bottle
With no address on
And let it drift over the currents

It is meant for the one
Who finds it
And thinks it is for him

If you feel, it is not for you,
Please don’t throw it as garbage;
Kindly put it back,
And let my love vessel float,
Over eddies and currents
Because my soul is encased within!

Just know this much;
It is from a lovely lass!

— The End —