Politics and holy stains
< ..>
it didn’t take a war in Afghanistan to get bin Laden
nor the deaths of thousands of American military
yeah, even more than killed on 9/11
right action was all that was needed
sorry folk kin, for slipping back into
my old skin of a motto:
“politics and holy stains”
kinda figuring
only walking would re already converted
will read my blathering…
perhaps tomorrow
flowers will return.
{..}
World Laughter Day
true saints are true sinners
before they become saintly
confusing that ha ha
my own Saint John Paul
dead at a younger age than Jesus Christ
around age five was heard to say
in response to a gang of bullies
asking,
“Are you a boy or a girl?”
big little John replied,
“What does it matter?”
of course there was no offers of answers
but they heard it
yeah i think it was in the real year of 1984
a wave heard across the world
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
the art of laughter never comes easy
“keep ’em laughing they won’t fight”
messages the raven
on this the first
World’s Laugh Day
the first of May now belongs to
our World’s Comedy Saints:
Charlie Chaplin in my parents generation
Jerry Lewis in my generation
for the baby boomers generation
they will name their own
as will the year two-thousand and eleven
blessings to all the demi-saints.
{..}
every lovely flower ever bloomed
has faded/will fade away and die
every little Dick and Jane
every little Spot and Felix
every little word i write…
but tonight
it is May Day Eve
May poles are set in the garden with care
streaming colors every where
light hearted call
call of the light
it’s two thousand eleven
of course the boys may join in
every thing has a question
many questions have no answer
(or we have not found it yet)
we were the seed we were the seed
that grew the plants
that blossomed the flowers
some will be special to little children
some will make old folks swoon
young ladies will find them fine fine fine
to give flowers to young men
and i will give in to my sleep head
with the dream i once again
will find a flower to dance around
the May Pole in the morning
hoping i’ll see you there.
{..}
one could stop and smell Lily too
unlike the rose, but akin.
the blinding scream of children
“Will you harbor me?”
dead trees line up crisscross across
sandy desert floor down whiskey creek
shadows growing longer
footprints ever-which-way
little children still playing
middle teens still swaying
twenties thinking
suicide? or box themselves away?
Christina Green
Daniel rowed his boat ashore
Amy Good Man reports
still they listen still they pray
some fasting many days away
and what do you fast for brother & sister?
and do you do it in public
for self aggrandizement
or for the children
screaming?
heart on the floor will you join me
one moment
pickup whomsoever needs it?
be sure to smell Easter Lily when she comes
’round the mountain when she comes
and
should she arrive too late or never
remember the smell
breathe in breathe out…
there she is!
.
I have seen alligators,
And I have seen a water moccasin,
Floating in the canal like a long black stick,
With a sharp bend on one end.
I have seen the sun rise,
And set,
And rise again,
But it does neither of those,
The earth just turns,
And turns,
And turns.
Of myself,
I have seen little,
For the months have emptied me,
And filled me up again,
With fireflies and turtles,
Hawks and deer and otters.
I have been emptied and filled,
And I am the canal waters,
Deep and still,
Green and rippled,
Or flat calm as a mirror,
Reflecttingly,
Calmingly,
Even beseechingly.
Indian Rudy,
Teaches me without teaching,
Rich teaches me without trying,
Rob teaches me by saying nothing,
Just shakes my hand over and over,
And stares away at things I cannot see.
I am the new one,
In this old land,
Palmed and vined,
Pined and prickled,
Made strong by sand,
Made slow by basking turtles,
Made grateful by cool breezes,
On blazing hot sopping days.
Made well by constant simple fare,
Mostly vegetables and fruits,
Bread and water,
The staples of camp life,
I leave sadly in a fortnight,
Gladly knowing I will return,
Again.
.
No poemba today,
Not even a hint of poembesia,
Just a tattered flake or two,
Of poemia sifting down,
On my purloined head,
Leaves no poesia,
On my sweated brow!
When I was young,
I poemed often,
Lifted great ores of it,
In my rock bottom boat,
And laughed all waves away,
Cheered the thunder and the wind,
Threw anchors out,
And stayed lifetimes,
Swimming around the boat,
In search of sharks,
To eat my boiling mind!
When I became older,
Poeming grew like manhole covers,
Rolled South then North,
Rolled restlessly,
Clanging,
Banging,
Noisey as hell,
Bad poems all!
Now the old man rests,
Breathes poetry,
Exhales words of writ,
Finds honest labor,
In the craft,
Finds wisdom in the life,
Which yet blooms,
To teach me!
Like fireflies in bright spangles of wood,
I trace their passage,
In the darkeries of both forest and time,
And still I wonder,
Which be mine?
{..}
endless circling
ticking and tocking
it took for me to get
“usefulness”.
i only got it now
in understanding.
having children my first experience
with usefulness,
now my 4 yr. old great grand daughter says,
“How can I help the people in Japan?”
what a difference
ticking and tock making in
endless circling
getting to know you…
{..}
he came back to her in the Rockies
in the Rockies not so far away
images
many youse
many mees
many people figurin’
how they gonna get along
or not
it is not physical pain it is
sadness for what isn’t
but was
is remembering
springtime
circling ’round
one more time…
.
{..}
i say goodbye to “politics and holy stains”
from where Jalapeno Peppers began:
May 1st, 2005
“…walking wounded: it’s just another mother
bird floundering and wondering at April’s long snow
but now it is May, just a heartfelt away.”
May 3rd
“evolution is intelligent design
when the head lies to the heart
expect
a gut reaction!”
to where politics and holy stains end
here, today,
Fri day is a good day to die
dear reader, you must be
when/if here now
no, it is i who must
and you i want
to say, “hello”
and
Thank you Ken Peters for the image “holy stain”
as it was your thought for holystain.com
did but let it go – today I find
http://www.myspace.com/holy stains”
very interesting…
(most interesting because i can goggle it and get there
but i can’t hot link it (?)
7:11 a.m. time to say good bye to the old
in order to begin
something new
may haps?
and
Thank you to Michael W. Eliseuson
for allowing me to steal a few lines
from your poembeticas.
< ..>
“People everywhere just wanna be free”
stan by your berry’s folks
Porter’s gonna talk to ya,
conspiratorially,
and should ya try ta leave early
here comes a warning,
“are you sure?”
first he’ll scare with
“monetary collapse”
and
“100% income tax”
and then with
higher food, gas, energy, et al
as if
anybody would have money to buy anything
at which point he chalks in RED
“CHAOS”
first he says “money collapse started 2009”
(or the year Obama became our president)
then, as if you would forget this,
he later states it was starting in the 1980’s
when gas prices started going up
but he tells us how good US has had it
with cheap gas and names countries that pay
$5.40, $6 – $8 per gallon
oh scary! our cheep gas is coming to an end
Porter Stansberry! It is YOU who are afraid….
How much Arab suffering
went into your gas tank today?
“People everywhere just wanna be free”
When Kadaffi kills his own Libyan people
he is doing it with war weapons
made and sold to him by the US of A
and yes
Sir President Barack Obama
it will lesson America’s karma
to destroy those weapons
period and amen.
“People everywhere just wanna be free”