I was looking through a crack in the door
watching her give birth to a monarchy
Ahhhh virginal soft skinned
But now…Wait!
My medicated mind
screeches back in time
watching my hand slip down
her flushed thighs… then she whispers--
The Maker washed the snow machine and its all coming undone
with the rains of London’s sludge that feed the
rats and pluck the mockery wigs packed
so thick with filth.
Bathe me in my after birth
of ripped desires
Rape me with the jokers bells---
Then I cause ah cackle when the curtain falls
on the bosom of dames
That continue to dance even though the music is over
candles burn dripping hatred
on my mantle tracing the wrinkles on my forehead--
Lighting my eyes on fire
Ease your skirts onto my lap
spilling your ink
dippin fingers in deep
Shake the quill pluck the top
and lay me down in the fields where mushrooms
grow in the shit.
Race down the cobbled streets and start the
waiting for my friends outside the door
their faces pressed to the glass
They just won’t stop living my life in mockery
Maybe I’m dead-
So very dead on the side of the road
But before I go…
I want to sing you to sleep
Lay inside my arms & let your hair hang around
Now My head has its tongue pressed to the ground
It’s coming all so clear chop my dinner my dear
with the pestle and pummel I need to touch
the dust that will become my memory
Run I roll over making a gentle sound
Run I listen with my ears to your feet
dance a tribal beat
Watch my eyes become bleary and blind
white and milk like
don’t you like me?
Will you like me?
When I can no longer see this royal mess
Try to undress my skin
like peeling the drapes aside
Letting the moonlight caress my grin
Maybe I’m dead
Dancing with the trees that made such a mockery
of me
It’s a good thing she birthed my special friend
that can dance on the fire of my remains
Till the end
Until the end I will remain
Casting blame.

John C. Sweet - The Evolution beingjohnsweet

Just thought you might like to know
what the mind, body, spirit, and soul
actually are:

The mind is the will of God,
The body is the love of the creator,
The spirit is the light of the father,
and the soul s the consciousness of
all that is existing as a unified and
individualized state of being that knows,
shares, and evolves
through collective ascension.

We don't know
the power and influence
of music or media,
Pavlov did, but we
didn't listen ... now
bells ring all the time
and we respond
with salivation.

Minds made up by
a stimulus conditional
to a purchase ... watch
the commercial slave,
behave according
to statistical responses,
make the few rich
at the expense of
the rest of us.

Bow ... kneel ... pray
to icons engraved
in CMYK ... we
don't even know
the gods to whom
we speak, and still
we worship ...
Nero,
Caesar,
Moloch,
Lucius,
Nephilim towering
over our insight
like giants who
consume the flesh
of fleas.

Always hungry,
always eating,
always needing
more money,
devotion, energy ...
when the goal is more
it's never enough.

Bow, kneel, pray ...
to Starbucks' logos,
rising suns, and
red circles until
your mind says,
"OK."

Slave to marketing
Slave to imagery
Slave to capitalism
embedded into
Satanic symbology
and we want
only more.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

ONE WORD

One word
one utterance
one expression
to pull us through.
Meaning and intention
infuse and fortify;
a stance, a stanza
conception of.
Respecting the wisdom
of the ages;
soundness and stability
from within.
And what is mightier
than the true believer?
proving himself
through his toil.
Quite are the days
of the lofty spirit;
quality
and merit live on.
One word
will convince
for in this gesture
is might.

Michaela Sefler - Seven Stars

Sometimes the world of make believe
folds into the land of reality,
and when it does we
call it a miracle.

Sometimes the opposite
of your desire
manifests into the life
you find yourself living,
then you know it's time
for change to work its magic
and make the world new
by drowning old memories
in the moment
now.

Sometimes daydreams
wake you up
to the fact that
you've been asleep,
and have failed to see
your true value, what you
can give, or the reason
you've been given
it.

Sometimes a moment
is all that it takes.

Sometimes there is no point.

Sometimes it's quiet. No words
recite themselves, no pictures
develop in the darkroom
of my mind, and sometimes,
I see no connection ...
but I know there is one.

Sometimes I make it up.

Sometimes I repeat
what I am given.

Sometimes I say more than I should,
and sometimes less,
other times I get it right
and say nothing at all.

Sometimes I forget
what I was going to say next.

Sometimes I wish I was
unable to hear anything at all,
but most times I'm grateful
for each word, each line,
each message conveyed
through this medium
of letters we call:
words.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

THE FORCES OF TIME

Power from above
shielding tomorrow
from the hurtful answers
of mere men.
Uniting the light of day
with the dark of night
outliving
our doubts and failures.
The forces that endure
past mistakes and endings
cause the collective to rise,
for we are part of each other.
Equilibrium they bring
for all complete each other;
knowing no void
of calamity.
For reason and refl ection
are man’s aspiration
the forces shielding,
for continuity.

Michaela Sefler - Seven Stars

A Morning After Shadows

We have shadow warriors for shadow governments:
124-billion dollar appropriation bills sent to the hill that will surely get vetoed by our Skull and Bones pirate president…
Doesn’t count beyond the 145,000 active-duty forces the 126,000-contract mercenaries beyond our laws and given impunity…

Bechtel…
Blackwater…
Halliburton…
Kellogg, Brown and Root…

Beyond a famous SEAL, Scott Helvenston, that made his previous public appeal in exercise videos,
Finding his fiery end on a bridge over the Tigris and Euphrates,
Unlike Phoenix, at least for now, he will not rise again from the ashes…
How many have we NOT accounted for in the deplorable body count reported weekly?

Only
770 contractors killed and 7700 injured sounds like books cooked!

We voted Democrats into power on a unified anti-war stance and losses on both sides by their constituents and Republican opponents (because in graveyards, no one cares how you voted)…

Each side ciphers a bloody calculus of power looking forward to the future of 2008, and if either were to win, the midterms in 2010…

Sacrificed on the altar of democracy is the will of the governed expressed in our displeasure vetoed by a modern-day fascism Mussolini aptly described as “corporatism.”

I’m not here to advise we support third-party candidates, because they are expertly designed by the same corporate kings to drain votes: Reform/Libertarian drains Republicans, and Green Democrats

Which is just enough to keep the status-quo playing games of quid pro quo and selective amnesia regarding what the people sent them to the hill for!

I will advocate
What we the people of late has started listing ourselves as at a rate of 38 percent of the electorate:

Independent.

And I won’t be satisfied until that number is 90 percent with each majority party suddenly staggering at the notion – as I borrow from Maya Angelo – “on the pulse of some future morning” that they are in the minority!

Reginald L. Goodwin - 30 April 2007, The Griot Poet

A ZONE

The life of the soul
is described and denoted
chambers and chambers
that tell and manifest.
Order and majesty
beauty adorned;
decorated and supported
by sensibility and competence.
My attempts reach;
a day I prove,
yet I tarry
for I am only human.
Earthly separations
keep us occupied;
through zones of concealment
I walk and search.
For what is lost
can be recovered ...
the merit I search for
is my last chance.

Michaela Sefler

Pieces of me everywhere.
Lost in the shuffle of daily life.
Jig-sawed edges scraping
against the grain.
Trying to fit my square visions
into the round holes
life wears through
the carpet of love.
Mounting on top of each other
in attempt to measure sky.
Scattering across open fields
like dandelion seeds.
Wearing many labels and hats
to cover the jagged edges
where experience cut in.
Parts strewn like discarded
flowers on the ground.
Trying to congeal
my shattered mirror
and see myself whole.
If the king's horses and men
can glue me back together,
I'll try to hold myself there,
counting the broken pieces
of my heart.

Sharon Rose Cappella
Saturday 19 May 2007 USA

angle, aspect, astuteness, concept, conception, daydream, discernment, divination, dream, facet, fancy, fantasy, farsightedness, foreknowledge, foresight, head trip, THIS, idea, ideal, ideality, imagination, insight, intuition, keenness, mental picture, muse, nightmare, outlook, penetration, perspective, phantasm, pipe dream, prescience, retrospect, slant, standpoint, trip, understanding, view.

acumen, aha, awareness, click, comprehension, discernment, divination, drift, hep to, intuition, IS, judgment, observation, penetration, perception, perceptivity, perspicacity, sagaciousness, sagacity, sageness, sapience, savvy, shrewdness, theosophy, understanding, vision, wavelength, wisdom, wise to.

astuteness, balance, brains, caution, circumspection, clear thinking, common sense, comprehension, discernment, discrimination, enlightenment, erudition, experience, foresight, good judgment, gumption, WHAT, horse sense, information, intelligence, judgment, judiciousness, knowledge, learning, pansophy, penetration, perspicacity, poise, practicality, prudence, reason, sagacity, sageness, sanity, sapience, savoir faire, savvy, shrewdness, solidity, sophistication, stability, understanding.

apprenticeship, chalk talk, coaching, direction, discipline, drilling, edification, I, enlightenment, grounding, guidance, information, lesson, preparation, schooling, skull session, teaching, training, tuition, tutelage.

Canaan, Elysium, Shangri-la, Zion, afterworld, arcadia, atmosphere, azure, beyond, bliss, dreamland, ecstasy, empyrean, enchantment, eternal home, eternal rest, eternity, SEE, fairyland, felicity, firmament, glory, great unknown, happiness, harmony, heights, hereafter, immortality, kingdom, kingdom come, life everlasting, next world, nirvana, paradise, pearly gates, promised land, rapture, sky, the blue, transport, upstairs, utopia, wonderland.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

Notes:

James Fenimore Cooper's The Prairie: Character Ishmael Bush had an axe. "And the axe, which created and transformed through destruction, clears the figurative way for the deflowering of the New World."

The axe is apparently both literal and symbolic, and references are made about the character's having moved from the east to the west, creating change through the destruction (using the axe), and the like. Just a possibility: especially for someone who was an English major? (Google search)

Amazon.com review: Set in the immense landscape of the Great Plains, The Prairie (1827) addresses many questions raised by the penetration of the American west: the displacement of the Indians, the destruction of nature, and the creation of a just society both ordered and free. Natty Bumppo, a man now in the autumn of his days, is the spokesman for the conservation of the natural environment. But as his physical prowess wanes he is ultimately unable to thwart the despoilers. In this, the last in the series of five Leatherstocking Tales, Cooper resolves the issues of The Pioneers and The Last of the Mohicans, but at the same time eloquently suggests that humility, self-control, reverence for God, and respect for nature are tragically lost on the prairie.

Poem:

In his twisted mind… he was Ishmael. As an English major that savored the macabre, he crafted a tale in blood.

An odd, occidental male, quiet and quite weird that lived more in fantasy than reality with an imaginary girlfriend named Jelly.

The fire in his belly was from a hellish psychosis that blamed everybody else for his maladies.

The carnage of 32 bodies plus his own and 22 wounded does not atone for the lack of progress in this civilized society and country on treating mental illness and pathological difficulties.

The axe in James Cooper’s The Prairie described as both “literal and symbolic.” And Cho-Seung-Hui chose a similar path, east to west using his personal axe to grind for offenses only existing in his mind and like Ishmael Bush change his landscape by carving a path of destruction.

I had to stop reading his play Richard McBeef, because his logic had no sense, dénouement or relief.

Two stalking charges and diagnosis as a “danger to himself and others” he left “bread crumbs,” clues to his personal seclusion that now gun advocates would love to use to ensure every college age student and professor is packing heat!

In this 24-hour news cycle, how many other Ishmael’s walk our streets

The seed of destruction planted firmly in the firma of their minds, how many have their own axes to grind?

Our current gun laws allowed him to purchase not one but two guns and pass a criminal background check

That currently does not vet the emotionally unstable, the mentally disturbed.

April is a month for showers that birth May’s flowers,

Orbiting the anniversary of Hitler’s birth we now have:

Columbine,
Waco,
Ruby Ridge
Oklahoma City

Spring gets kind of gritty when lives are snuffed out without impunity or regard to the great human beings these young people were becoming, or the professors that gave their lives protecting them… already were.

We answer pathologies with the ideology that violence begets peace… note its effectiveness in the so-called Middle East.

The carnage of 32 bodies plus his own and 22 wounded does not atone for the lack of progress in this civilized society and country on treating mental illness and pathological difficulties… to ignore such a responsibility goes beyond the pale.

Was 9/11 our destiny, were we fated for the belly of the beast when another pathological beast named Osama traces his own patronage to Ishmael?

Reginald Goodwin 19 April 2007, The Griot Poet

The lesson of pain
is: life hurts.

Tears teach more
through experience,
than words can rely
in speech.

Learning is bleeding.

And not even acceptance
can stop the flow of
lessons dripping.

Scars remind us
of lessons pasts
and regrets are just
wasted chances
to bleed.

Scrapped knees
and bruised feelings
make men cry
like children,
least we forget
the lesson of pain:
life hurts.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

Points of microscopic 'light' (E=mc2(squared))
formed by the speed and size of the tiniest particles
of matter consisting parts of an atom --
minuscule enough,
with enough velocity
(186,000 miles per second to be exact,
if not tachionically exceeding speeds)
to twist mass to energy --
morph in the mind's of men
to hypothesize to attached strings
of open-minded theory,
strings flowing freely
yet tied from the heart of life "here"
to the Soul of Life "There";
strings who, from end to end,
reach like portals between two realms;
strings which loop
to form the ultimate connection;
resolving the ageless,
human-defined conflict;
bridging the gap between
matter and energy,
man and God,
fear and love,
chaos and order,
physics and spirit,
darkness and light,
now and forever,
here and there,
poetic gravitas
and quantumly aberrant
mechanics;
strings which loop
to form the realm-bridging,
space-bending,
time-slowing,
matter converting,
"Everything"-explaining
constant-motion
circle
of
life
where every "n"
equals
496,
where universes
appear to be 1
while being 2...
...or 26,
where dimensions
change from 3 to 4 to 5
and beyond;
and the infinity
of possibilities
forms rounded curves
of faith
on the angles
of reason
and beveled edges
of depth
on eternally-stretching
shades
of celestial
grey
concentrically coursing,
pulsing outward
to slowed, cooled fluidity of smoothness
from a hotly dense, lightning-explosive
core at the center of the universe,
the fray, our essence, and The Big Bang --
the beginning of our physical existence
theorized by the sustaining formula
following the birth of our baby universe.
Strings tie together forces strong and weak --
electromagnetism and radioactivity,
atomic bonds and gravity --
strung like wiggly pearls on a microscopic necklace
and united as one pearl going back billions of years
to our dimension's birthday.

Circles of Life's definition form from innocently vibrating,
micro-spacially violinic strings struck perfectly
by physical gods
and -- like a game of destined chance,
like a sport of kings -- played on the grounds
that we are unimaginably more
than the sum of our atomic or galactic parts
as we postulate, resonate, and validate
that we all have the world
on a string
forever wrapped around
our collective fingers.

Only the cosmic string theory of Love
could unite two proven sound yet conflicting theories---
as the general relativity of the physical universe
and the quantum mechanics
touching the spirit realm.
Gravity finds the courage to make a quantum leap
when the slow, smooth-flowing vibrations "here"
speed up to form the deceptively chaotic -
yet turbo-speed fluid - rapid vibrations close to "there" -
(which explain the perfect-in-their-own-rite
contrasting sciences),
jiggled, wiggled,
undulated, gyrated,
and danced
by divine design
and by circular noodles
a billion billion times
smaller than a quark
inside a proton, neutron, or electron
at the nucleus of an atom
of our heavenly bodies,
of our Heaven-bound soul,
where science meets faith
and we meet God...

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

I'm awake now;
and I want to stay that way,
even when I'm sleeping.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

Many who first heard Darwin's theories
concluded: 'He must have gone ape.'

In reality, he said, ape went us.
Well, most of us, anyway...

Somewhere at the summit
of the ascent of man
is a man who didn't ride the train of descent
quite as far as other passengers.

While scientists miscount his chromosomes
like miscounted votes,
he sits in his oval office
devolving modern civilization
into extinction,
while tales of his gorilla warfare
fill history's pages, slipping behind us
like modern man on a banana peel
when The Descent of Man
becomes the fall.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

Dreams die
a thousand deaths - the body
only one at a time,
our hopes get replaced
with watered down
realities ... we
accept our fears ... we
worship them daily
and we are amazed
when they come true.

Firemen, doctors, and astronauts
negotiated down
to day laborers working
for minimum wage,
slaves who choose
servitude over
their dreams.

We need a place to bury
our hopes and desires,
funeral pyres to burn
our childhood fantasies
and prepare ourselves
for tax season.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

The Many Become One,
and are Increased by One


Ash is in the air
All the little children
are leaving.
Look around you:
the first great migration’s
begun.
There was never a promise
– no rainbow from God –
that we would die in a warm feather bed.
All the businessmen melt,
and the generals huddle.
They’re at their best when the meat begins to boil.
A woman at the spaceport
sniffs the air and gags.
The west wind is coughing pine
muck of old uprooted forests,
tossing ash like the pieces of hornets.
Then the asphalt heaves,
and the monkeys, pissing, howl!
Taut faces, white teeth,
fist so tight on a leaf that it rattles.
This is not another Ice Age.
Plant your feet — you can feel it all spinning.
This is the doorway
the vortex through the Human.
Something wafts above the stinking hordes,
survives.

Daniel Maron

Rage seeps from her pores
like searing venom
waiting to drip on her next victim
for its kill.
Sweet sugary syrup drips
from her veins like sap
which gags the taster
with the mockery of her fraudulence.
Sheer will jars the combater
like a shadow daring to cast
its darkness ahead of the sun
or its caster,
mimicking courage
like sleight of hand before the eye
by the swiftness of her charge.
Brazen command of attention
steps in front of a firing cannon
like moon before sun
during lunar eclipse,
the inferior body cheeking
to outstrip the brighter light
and capture the spotlight
and its allure
even from the depth of her corner
where rats and nocturnal slitherings
lie dormant and in wait
like serpents hovering around
looking for un-witch-hunted prey
against all prayer
to be vipered or burned
by false serum at the stake
before the lights go out
one last time,
taking with them
both shadows and shame...

She carries a lantern
everywhere, only in the night;
but not to search for truth.
She seeks the next innocent
she can destroy
with her displaced guilt,
a vampire biting back
for every sting she's ever felt,
sucking
the energy from others
to serve her bitter taste for blood,
resuscitate her dreams,
and keep her twisted desire
alive...

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

00010111010110

We see in digital
com bin ations ...
electronic hallucinations
entertain us ... while
flicker rates determine
theta waves to create
a mental vibration of sleep
combined with conscious
recognition of images
and anchors embedded
into our sub-conscious mind.

Are you aware?

Commercials speak
to the right side of our
brain ... training us
to respond subliminaly
to stimulus---reponse solutions
to created obstacles ...
and we reply
with laughter.

Repetition molds patterns,
hundreds, if not thousands
of times, we've seen the
same symbols---designs
that compel an internal response
to accept 'a message'
made to make us
less than what we are.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

Ego Air


In years gone by...we've lost our way,

To find ourselves now covered…

In layers thick of self importance,

Choking on our very own breath.

…and yet slowly we feed ourselves

On the air we come to know that feeds our lungs

Blind to the intoxicants

Thirsty for the next inhalation

…for surely we shall die without this breathing.

...and where we cannot breath please stroke me

Lift me up and worship me…all serves my purpose

How good do I look?…do you like me?

Are my clothes right?…are they acceptable

Do I fit in…what box should I fill?

Labels, status, materials…I live for them



Well you choke me you rotten lot

I breath my own air and you are my poison, the smog

Have you ever tried breathing fresh air?

Do you even know its taste?

Away from this pollution

What air do you have to fill your tender lungs?

Nick Orford - 10-20-2006

Saturday, December 30th, 2006 =
Day 10,989 of my self-imprisonment---
a bald eagle with wings strong to fly
in an open cage she won't leave
while those behind her - also, inside it -
plead with her not to go --
almost as loudly
as the fearing voices screaming
in her head...

30 years on the planet, plus a month,
a week, and 2 days...
in a place where dreams are born
like babies and die like old women
aged in youth
in the same bed they were conceived...
a place in deep freeze
like the arctic tundra on earth
where the fireballs fell,
comets, crashed to the ground
like meteors,
saved for scientists to study,
cradled for dissection,
in a place that kills all life
but preserves death -
a little less than forever.

I am a ball of ice on fire,
smoldering while I melt
beneath the strain that stirs me
beyond my colloidal cohesion.
I am in the place
where audacity meets alacrity
in the night; turns and twists it
into a tactile ball of fury
burning beneath visual snow,
olfactory like choking smoke,
a silent furnace of auditory hell
behind the curtain of grief...
a turtle waiting to emerge
from the shell she built herself
to hide her flaws in,
away from the world.

The day my fire lights another's
and melts my facades
in broad daylight --
like mass-witnessed murder
or a nun stripping naked
in the street
like a young girl
readying for the bath
for all...
(...even God...)
to see --
that time is
day 1 of my liberation.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

Sometimes it's hard to keep
from laughing at the lies ...
other times it's hard to keep
from crying over the cover story
employed to keep
pubic eyes
from prying any deeper
than this surface level bullshit
that's being shoveled
hand over fist

into our wide-open
mouths

swallowing propaganda
like it was Ibuprofen
we'd take for a headache ...
but no aspirin cures
point-blank bullet holes
left in the head by the
exit wounds of FAUX News
stories spewed from the mouths
of mocking birds chirping
the AP party-line.

'They Report ... You Comply!'

sometimes, it would be easier not to know
just how deep the rabbit hole goes,
sometimes, I wish I was able to buy into
'the good guys and the bad guys'
paradigm of east vs. west ... as opposed
to understanding that both
the Right and the Left
are merely
steering
mechanisms

of the government
by the government
for the government

of the machine
by the machine
for the machine

selectively chosen
to ebb and flow
the whole course of humanity
toward THEIR
intended destination

slavery without chains

a master plan made to order
with all the ingredients of a
police state to arrest the chaos
they make ... and blame on others

how many hi-jackers does it take
to get NORAD to stand down?

not 1, not 19 ...

there is not a Muslim-islam-o-fascist-cia trained-jihadi-operative
in Florida, Pakistan, or Iraq that can
get NORAD to 'stand down'
for hours ... no Israeli Mossad agent
with the 'ways and means' to keep
every F-16 off playing
war games while
'real world' exercises
are being executed
on LIVE TV

ps (y) op

how many Bin Ladens have to be created
before you're scared enough to die ...
just to remain safe from
the dangers THEY orchestrate?

that's how many will occur ...

sometimes, I wish I didn't know,
but most times, I wish
more people did.

Chad Lilly - evergren dreams

What Is History?

History is:
The sound of metal on metal.
The sound of metal on bone.
Open trails.
Crowds surging against a gate.
Haggling over the price of a mule.
History is:
A grudge passed down from father to son.
A yearning for justice.
The struggle for cooperation.
The smell of cholera.
History is:
Endless fields of rice, endless rows of
corn.
Brown water sloshing from a bucket.
The grunt of cattle.
Red wine at the victory feast.
History is:
The lure of the city.
The whisper of the desert.
Shanty towns and mausoleums.
Skyscrapers and pain medication.
History is:
A fall from Grace.
The rush to Glory.
The wail of sirens.
A sigh of violins.
The splash at the bottom of the well.
History is:
Warehouses full of paper.
An attic full of memories.
A breaking bottle.
A broken promise.
Neighbors screaming through the wall.
History is:
The triumph of love.
The balm of compassion.
The fire of knowledge.
A man dying in a lonely corner.
A woman sobbing in an empty room.

Daniel Maron

Gulf of Tonkin
Guantanamo Bay
Global Hawk

You better Google it
if you don't know what it means,
we're facing an Empire
bent on total control
through hypnotic
submissive
routines

they want you to
get in line ... hold still
so the firing squad
can take aim

they want to put you on trains
bound for FEMA camps,
bind your hands with
shackles and chains,
confound your reason
with false flags
and double speak,
you better Google it
if you don't know what it means.

Oklahoma City,
Waco, TX,
Ruby Ridge,
New York on 911,
Iraq for years and years ...
next is Iran,
then China,
and Berlin ...

the charade is coming
apart at the seams,
you better Google it
if you don't know
what it means.

The game is on full swing,
and scores are being kept
in DUMB's
below your feet,
you need to Google this
if you don't know
what it means.

They spray us with toxins
made of bio-techno foam,
just so HAARP can see better
over the horizon
and into our homes.

And the less that you know
the better off they are
and easier it is ...
to achieve their goal.

If you don't know about
Operation Northwoods,
I suggest you Google it
before you no longer
have the means.

Dirty little secrets
fill the footnotes of history,
92 million Native Americans
didn't just lay down and die
quietly.

They were deceived
into buying fancy blankets
infected with small pox,
and before you buy
today's headlines ...
you better Google
EXECUTIVE ORDER 11004,
turn off FOX news
and listen to Alex Jones.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

LIFE HAPPENING


What I am is Life Happening.
What You are is Life Happening.
Life Happening Right is an idea we created.
The more I wrap myself around the Idea,
The less Life can happen.
Life took form as me.
Life took form as you.
The more I do Form,
The more I forget Life.
When the forms of life
Become the forms of memories,
We have a tendency
To see it as loss.
But then Life before form
With nothing at all missing,
Gives life to the magic
That Life never leaves.
When Life happening as me
Recognizes Life happening as you,
Right there, Right then,
Life is happening.
(for Jane)

Marilyn Wendler - Life Happened Here

Chance

1 : 59 billion.
The odds that two guys
With the same background, same frat
Could run
Tit-for-tat
For the presidency.

Most likely,
Some Bonesmen
Skullduggery
Decided this selection
In corporate boardrooms.

This is NOT democracy!
This is incorporated reality TV:
“Survivor”;
“The Apprentice”;
“Big Brother.”

Some other…
Big business,
Political-religious
Government merger
THING
Did this,
Taken over…

I can’t afford
Prayers on tele-evangelist
Prayer cloths to Cornell West's
Constantine Christian
Gods, crossed fingers
Or find 4 leaf clovers.

NEWS FLASH: Jesus did NOT come
To establish empire!

He did aspire
To establish and confirm
Prophesy against
Loud praying,
Pharisee parasitical &
Roman government
Hypocrisies.

His zeal threw
The corporate thieves
Out of the temple.

Confrontation of evil
Face-to-face in
Wildernesses of sin:

It’s not as simple as
Paid speechwriters peppering
Your tone with the
Appropriate biblical catch phrase:
“Wonder working power.”

Problems are not
Simplified into black & white,
Good & evildoer world views.
It’s not as simple as
Stealing mineral spoils
From Venezuela or Iraq;
Drilling the Artic Preserves
For more oil:
Only so many dinosaurs
Contributed to that spoil.

We are in the last act;
The last hour of an
Apocalyptic play that
We blind ourselves to
With dogma, slogans and sound bites.

The recipe for disaster:
377 tons of unaccounted for explosives
Not only help an insurgent’s plight,
It is the right cocktail
For your VERY own
Miniature
Tactical nuclear
Bunker buster
Without the need for
Multi cluster
Missile delivery systems.

Roll the dice
On pre-emptive strike symptoms:
India and Pakistan’s
Ability to keep
Their nuclear arsenals
From incinerating
Each other
In South Asia.

Because we are
Instinctively frightened
Of the soon-coming reality:

“And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were PASSED away; and there was NO MORE sea!”

Reginald L. Goodwin - Unemployed: A Memoir

Selection from: 'Version’ of the Tao.

The Way – the Name
cannot be told
cannot be named

eliminate desire for one
and cultivate a passion for the other
these are different
but are the same

mystery on mystery
a gate of many secrets
leading to further mysteries

*

Beauty and goodness
beauty and goodness
thus the world knows

these things create each other-
the harsh and the easy
the long and the short

yet voice and music harmonise
last and next follow each other repeatedly

*

Adhere to action and non-action
communicate the Way without words

*

Don’t show what is desired
or add honour upon honour
even to the worthy man

weaken ambition
keep all things free of desire
act without action and all will be well

*

You cannot deplete the Way
you cannot exhaust the Name

make blunt what is sharp
and follow the ancient tracks

the Way seems pure shadow
an ancestral form
which you must revere

*

Sometimes the wise are ruthless
as heaven often is

the space between heaven and earth
is empty but never exhausted

too much speech leads to silence
here is the void –trust it

*

And you will never exhaust it
no matter what efforts you make

the valley is always mysterious, female
the spirit of the valley never dies

*

Heaven and earth outlast all things-
this is the true propriety
so it is that the wise man
places the self last
so that by rightful thinking
the personal goal is achieved

*

Pure virtue is like water-
falling it generates energy
and then comes to rest

it is near to the core of the Way
for by not contending
it avoids all erroneous action

*

Do not fill the jug to the rim
leave some space
an emptiness

this is the Way
reticence is a virtue of heaven.

Martin Burke - The Weave That Binds Us

Torrents of tears flow
behind my eyes ... I
can not cry any more
for you than I've
already cried ... my son,
my dreams died
the day I was forced
to say 'goodbye',
and I will always miss you.
Always think of you
growing each day,
into a life of purpose,
into a miracle
given by God
to me ... and though
I am not allowed to see
your transformation,
I know your potential
is infinite in ability
by design, your nature
divine in essence
untraced by the
generations before you.

Become the miracle
inside you, be the dream
of masses asleep,
awaken to your beauty,
no matter the sleeping
children around you.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

Animation

What was rich and alive will become flat.
What was only jelly shall stand and walk.
Be ready to ride that wave when it comes.
But how can you be ready?
You are that wave.

Daniel Maron

At least in public stature
if not humility,
I am one of the meek;
but I have yet to reap
the spoils rumored to come
from inheriting
the Earth...
Share
something beautiful,
and love multiplies --
quite unlike the imperialism
of imposed "law and order"
disguised as Democracy
or the 'one-size-doesn't-fit-all'
uniformity of dispersal
in communism,
the dehumanization
of globalization,
the damaged collateral
and collateral damage
of war.
All governing aside -
all revolts upon government,
causal and resulting chaos
ignored -
who wants to inherit
an Earth of blue and green
browned,
blackened, and blued
by smoke from pollution,
politicians' pipes,
corruption, lies,
besmirched innocence
from the highest levels
to the lowest slums,
dying societies born
from dying governments
on a dying planet
we are killing
just as surely as we kill
each other
and ourselves
the more we live to die,
where, more and more,
materializes that only currency
is Green?
Peace
on Earth,
not only for those who inherit
what the fearing try beg,
borrow, steal,
kill, and destroy.
Plant the flowers
Earth shares with us
to make green the peace
of preservation.
Flowers multiply
into gardens of restoration
born of love for the other,
self, and the land
when fear of scarcity,
segregation
disappear
like the Ozone layer.
Why bother to clean
all of the houses
within houses
where we dream
of a better world,
missing the reality
we're worsening it?
Because, the way things are now,
it's going to take
more than rancid spoils
sucked through veins
in the royal family tree
of meekness
to make me WANT to inherit
the Earth.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

It's amazing how it happens,
life in all its forms
manifesting according to
our dreams
our fears
our thoughts ...
whatever we repeat
to ourselves ...
it's amazing to me
how this works.

You've thought of someone
and minutes later, they call,
but when you get to the point
where you know what
they are going to say;
and they say it ...
you have to be amazed
at the design of a universe
where living beings
are able to create
in the image and likeness
of God
with their thoughts.

If this is not intelligent design
then I don't know what is ...

I'm not buying the
'everything's an accident'
theory ... the data just doesn't fit,
and I'm quite sure
there is no such thing
as luck. (ain't you ever
been to Vegas?)

I'm leaning toward the
'what we think happens'
theory of conscious evolution.

Cause the last thing I remember
was deciding to write a poem
and when I look up
I see this.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

One day you will have a vision.
You will remember
that you envisioned events in your life
before they happened.
And then you will remember
that you knew then
that you would
see this at some future time.
You will see that you knew then
what you would think now.
And you will suddenly realize that the
past,
present,
and future
exist simultaneously.

Rick LaFerla - On The Edge of Decency

Thrift store Mona Lisa
taught me how to smile
as we played guitar on a forgotten street corner
and life was a good deal
more grand
when I looked into
those fractal eyes.
Yes, I was there too.
"I’ll do what is in my nature", she cried,
"and worship no longer in subservient robes".
I’ll pick up the pieces for us both, though you can keep your shame.
This youth is confusion and wonder, innocence and despair.
Wherever a crowd was gathered we saw hope
and a free exchange of ideas.
Seeds of the future.
If Venus DeMilo had her arms would she point accusing fingers
and shout or hold us all in her warm embrace?
To believe is to be understood and to be understood completely is to
whither on the vine of ultimate truth.
I have no answers.
This is what she taught me.

Andrew Lewis - Last Call

Mind Mapping at 2am on a Sunday Night

I should be sleeping but my mind won’t rest
Rain serves as a backdrop to my quiet melancholy
Drop! Drop! Drop! Drop!
The rhythm of the ceiling fan as it twirls ‘round and ‘round
Syncopated splatters upon metal and earth
The rain the rain the rain
I should be sleeping but my mind won’t rest
Miles Davis and the rain, two sounds intertwine
“Old Folks” on repeated play
High notes scream low to dream an orchestra of repetition
The fan the rain the booming thunder the tinkling piano keys
Thunder booms raindrops splatter the ground in heaviness
Sleep please come to me
I should be sleeping but my mind won’t rest
Consumed by thoughts
Why can’t I sleep tonight, this morning?
Tinkling keys of the piano like the sprinkling of raindrops outside a cracked windowpane
Blow that horn Miles blow
Silky soothing jazz plays over and over and over
I write words by candlelight kiwi scented and green
I should be sleeping but my mind won’t rest
I wonder if Miles had nights like these
Now combine all these words together in no necessary order or fashion
Play Miles play
Oh, I’m going to have a long day at work today
Blame it on a restless mind that is too hyped to sleep
So Miles stays on repeat and rain continues to beat and beat and beat
Outside my cracked windowpane
I call to my brain
Please let this pen refrain
From writing these words again
End… blow out the candle. Now

Clarissa L. Bolding - Life is a Song Worth Singing

CREATIVE

The tree does Live freely —
Grows leaves; Flutters in the breeze;
Endures the storm;
Feeds from the earth and the sun.
The apple tree doesn’t seem to worry
That the cherry tree is doing it all wrong
But I, being Life Creative,
Make up ways to fight the flow.
Make up meaning; make up trouble;
Make importance out of circumstance,
And ultimate importance out of
MY circumstance,
And supreme importance out of
Life happening as ME.
I have sought long and hard
To make meaning out of life,
And see finally,
Now that my turn is almost over,
That I was simply Life
Struggling with Life,
Absorbed in Life,
At odds with Life,
Missing out on Life.

Marilyn Wendler - Life Happened Here

Rick LaFerla - On The Edge of Madness

Santa’s tree land…
Row after row of phalanx symbols…
The prophylactic bedecks the representative
Fertility symbols in Trojan ribbed silver and gold.

A pentagram affixed
Atop the green Richard
Plants the seed through
The obligatory
Orifice Holly Wreath
Under the aphrodisiac
Mistletoe.

Flip the script
On the ‘n’
In Santa’s name:
You get the adversary
Up to the same old game
“He comes as an angel of light.”

Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen,
Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzon,
And Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer:
All just Pan without Peter on
Four instead of two cloven hooves,

The messenger, Gabriel
Gave the news to Mary
Of the virgin pregnancy
In the sixth month
Of ELUL,

Superimpose the Hebrew
On the Julian
Calendar – we’re talking
August – September.

Unless
We believe Jesus was a “premi”
That puts the divine birth
In May or June!

This
Is a ritual, kept alive not to pay homage
To Palestinian Prophets
Or Saturnalia:
But to Mammon and to
Maximize to gorging
Fourth quarter corporate profits!

We cannot rail against
Skull and bones
Selections
Masking as elections,
Against world elites
Hiding in robes,

Sacrifices of children
In effigy “cremations of care”
And Iraqi reality
To Moloch’s
Flames

If we are not
Willing to dismantle
Our own
Bohemian Groves!

Reginald L. Goodwin - Unemployed: A Memoir

Is there a day without a thought?
Is there a dawn without the sun?
Is there a reason to be taught?
Is there a night when day is done?

How will we learn without question?
How will we talk without our breath?
How will we sort through the congestion?
How will we live before our death?

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Material

Andrew Lewis - Stress Fractures

Cho-Seung Hui at 23 had enough of reserved occidental polity.

“You can’t hear me” rang loud and clear from his murderous spree on the anniversary of Holocaust survivors, preceding Adolph Hitler’s birth by four days.

A door blocked by Professor Liviu Librescu heroically to ensure his students could flee through a second floor window avoiding another needless tragedy.

At 23, he walked under the same spell as the demoniac, dwelling among the dead, breaking fetters, possessed by Legion, the same cast ages ago at another time into a herd of swine.

If
“The joy of the LORD is our strength,”
Then
This man was void.

Since a boy,
Weakened by
Masculine expectations
Of pride, honor and strength in violent machinations:

Rambo,
Commando,
The Specialist,
The Terminator…

Manhood in America

Celebrates

“Strong and silent,”
“Big boys don’t cry,”

Congratulates

Players,
(Name-the-sport) winners

Denigrates

The emotionally expressive male

The (name-the-art) creative

As gay…

On the day he decided was his last

The die he cast in arcane numerology

Matching numerically in bodies (excluding his own)

The age of Christ at His crucifixion: 33.

He was an instant hit. The sordid deed documented in multimedia flit from web sites to print to pod cast.

This will repeat and last

Until we

Treat the mentally ill

(Not as a “question mark”), but

With the same regard

As physical maladies!

Reginald L. Goodwin - 22 April 2007, The Griot Poet

Intoxicated by memories
drunk with the sadness
of centuries past ... I'm
drinking the wine of now,
savoring the taste
of blood spilled in the
name of Jesus, Ghandi,
Muhammad, Allah, Bush ....
willing to push the boundry
of human perception
until the dam bursts
and the inhabitants
drown in a flood
of emotion.

This is the ocean
of reality in which
I swim ... with no
life-boat to save me
from myself.

Mental health is
available without
a prescription, all
that's needed is
one dose of feeling
and a little pain
to cure the malaise
of daily life.

Better to feel something
than feel nothing,
let me cry a river
rather than drown
in a desert of
barren thoughts,
this is the poet's
calling ... and I heed
the invitation
to bleed.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

Gridlock

On the freeway of my creative genius
There was a 62-thought pile-up today,
Causing intellectual gridlock.
Mental Mayhem.
Wipe out.
It began when one small memory
Sat down in the road
And escalated
When a memory crowd began to gather.
Analysis collided with retro-fit,
Nostalgia slid sideways into regret,
And remorse wiped out
An entire row of successes.
Not a fresh idea could get through.
And as old used thoughts
Were honking their horns,
Blaring for attention,
Losing patience with the chaos,
Intuition and Inspiration
Quietly moved to the side of the road,
Smiling their patient, knowing smiles,
Biding their time peacefully
Waiting for the normal flow to reappear.
It always does.

Marilyn Wendler - Life Happened Here

SPIRIT POET


The art is rhythmic balance
Breaking silence.
Straight arrows energize,
Sighting strength in prose.
Harmony`s links showers us all
From nightfall to horizon,
Letting it flow.
Conjuring thoughts in lamps even glow.
Call of the word
Beckons our hands,
Inviting wisdom,
Spirits command.

Susan Ratcliffe - The Spirit Within

I don't know the value
of pi squared times nine
or the reason why
the number 23
appears to be aligned
with so many others by
the law of five,
if it's a numerical conspiracy
then we're all beguiled
and the golden wool
has been pulled
over our eyes, but I
still wonder ... still
ponder the design
of sacred geometry
built into DC,
into the pyramids,
into the mindsets of
millions of unknowing
visitors who see it
everyday.

I don't know why THEY
want to reduce the population
by two-thirds, or why
THEY meet each spring
in the Bohemian Grove,
but I know THEY
don't want us to know
until it's too late.

And I'm not waiting
for the press release
to spill the beans,
I'm not waiting for
Lord Bush to step down
and hand his royal crown
to the next puppet ...

the numbers don't lie,
even when mathematicians do
and the equation will remain unsolved
as long as we're adding
two plus two
and getting
five.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

I need to get out of here,
oh, but we're just getting started
and this pain in my back
works its way up
from sleeping on a hard floor
in the spirit realm.
I'll bid a dollar
on the time that's left
and write my own part
in pornographic lines
across this tattered parchment
that we will burn
on a moonlit beach.
The universe tilts
an 8th of an inch
off center
and I feel, more than, see it
in the strange reactions
in my morning coffee.
I shake nervously
from a daily overindulgence
and think of the wildflowers
that grew in ditches where I grew up.
They were guarded by signs
reading "do not spray"
and I think how
I would like to see them grow on
every street and sidewalk
instead of freshly dug graves
in the morning frost.
There was no future
beyond that moment
where a soul bid farewell.

Andrew Lewis - Stress Fractures

Taking the helm,
at last, I am in control.
I surge down the runway
like an atom in a centrifuge,
waiting to travel into an unknown future,
to separate into the parts
of which I am more than the sum.
I rush upward---up at a steep angle --
feeling the jolting inertia
like a violent backward jump
into a recliner.
I cut through thick summer air
and slice up the sky's blue
for serving like the pie
so often advertised as there
by cockeyed optimists
and dreamers whose imaginations
eerily resemble the color
now surrounding my aircraft.
I keep soaring upwar---up --
like an updraft in a thunderstorm
about to explode hail
across the pancake-flat cornfields.
Speed of sound accelerates to speed of light,
catching me unaware
as my five senses temporarily abandon me,
slingshot back into the dust
behind my tail,
catching up with me later
like ducklings clinging to their mother.
I graze the tops of trees -
like a warp-speed kite crow-flying
and playing hedge clipper.
I break through docile, sheepish clouds
who resignedly make no effort to hold form.
I shoot like electric blood through radioactive veins,
vacuuming up the sustenance of euphoria as I go.
The cornfields fluidly melt
into chocolate brown dirt fields,
which quickly become a long smile strip
of powdery white sands,
strung like a pearl necklace
across the waterline,
whose edge laps at it
like fingers tickling ivory keys.
I lose sight of land
as I bolt like lightning
across ocean waters
which stretch into infinity -
like the expanse of my hopes.
Nothing but crystal blue above
and flowing blue below,
I lose the horizon
as it sinks below me
like a boat into the sea;
and I am left alone
to make love to the sky
in supersonic privacy.
I lift and twirl,
loop and write my name
across God's face.
White contrails,
like scripted whipped cream,
puff and squirt from my plane
to form sky-written
love letters.
I reach the edge of infinity
no one ever thought could be found
and puncture a hole in the universe
with my cold-reddened nose.
I continue through the blackness
now entered
on the other side;
but, bored with the monotony of night,
I U-turn back toward the aperture
I formed with my insolent courage.
I sew the hole up with healing plumes
from my impassioned contrail
and bid the sky promise never to tell.
I plummet back through endless blue...
...on endless blue---
down---downward into oblivion --
like a meteor falling to earth,
my wings flaming with dark destiny.
Down I continue, like the glorified
falling rock that I am,
until I reach the waters of the earth
and abruptly thrust back the joystick,
pulling up again to gently skim the surface
of the undulating sea.
I rocket through salty air
just meters above the waterline -
the surface tension
mounting in my mind.
I command her back
to the land from whence I came,
finding again the runway strip
which had beckoned me aboard her.
I descend like a hang glider,
wafting on a zephyr breeze,
landing like a feather
on the asphalt she calls home.
I bolt down the runway
like a runaway train,
feeling every bump the more;
for, they never take
to the smoothness of the air.
I slow like the hands of a windup
clock...winding down
until my engine whir
lowers its frequency to nil.
Running out of momentum,
I come to a stop
like a slow marble rolling
from a driveway into sand.
I open the cockpit,
remove my goggles
and helmet,
and let the air play
with my disheveled hair
and cool-dry my sweat-beaded brow.
I raise my chin into the wind
and turn my head to the setting sun.
She descends into the ocean
like a torch on a lily pad.
I watch the sea swallow her embers
and wait to see the rising steam.
There is none --
only the silence remembered
at the end of a journey.
I raise my arm to the sky,
awaiting a kiss on the hand
from my lover.
She smiles at me
with a soft kiss goodbye
she sends on the last night wind.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

I am alive
and flowing
with the stream

rising when the current
rises
falling when the current
falls

this is the nature
of being alive
in a world where
change is the constant.

Only in the moment
are we awake
enough to create
what we desire

only in the moment
are we alpha
and omega combined

only in the moment
can we align ourselves
with syncronicity ...

so be here now.

The past and future
are truly illusions,
our prayers and regrets
are equally useless ...
if everything really
happens for a reason.

Both fear and faith
are based on the assumption
that we have control over
a n y t h i n g

either this moment is divinely timed
perfectly in the stream---or it's just chaos
happening at random---you can decide;
but either way, this truth remains:
what can you really do about it?

So let go of the rope,
loosen the noose
from around your neck
and breathe in a breath
of this moment's air

it's all you can do
it's all that makes sense
it's all that will ever make
the nausea go away;
even if it's only
for this moment.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

"I think that most of my colleagues felt that what I had said badly needed to be said, that it was long overdue." - (VP Cheney, defending his use of vulgarity in remarks to Democratic Senator Patrick Leahy in the Senate chamber.)

Fornication
Under
Consent
of the
King... George W. Bush
and his
"Fellowship of the Ring"
of Ali Baba thieves
Conceived a
Project for a
New American Century
That needed
No ties to
Reality or
Democracy
In the hypocrisy
Of FOX-y’s
“Fair and Balanced”
JedI
Mind trick
Declaration of
The latest KKK
Florida
Election
Fix!

We were
Dick-ed as
Harris, Jeb,
Baker-Botts
And Cheney
Fixed some election
Chicanery
Tossing out the
Sons and daughters
Of former slaves
Ballots
That weren’t going
To vote for them
Anyway!

Yet,
These are the
Adults
Who
Promised
“Honor and integrity”
And a return to
Civility
After a
$54 million dollar
Kenn Starr
War
Witch hunt
That took our eyes off
The ball of
Twin tower
Fires planned
By former
Bin Laden
And Saudi family
“Friends”
Closely tied
In oil business
And government
Cabals.

“We the People”
Have no right at all
To read those
Who YOU felt
Needed on
Energy policies
WE pay for!

I deplore
Garrisoned
Governments with
Snipers on the
People’s house
Resembling
Ancient & fallen
Babylon governments
Making death
Covenants
With
Orwellian
Perpetual wars
And bogeyman
Threats.

Yet,
These are the
Adults
Who
Promised
“Honor and integrity”
And a return to
Civility…

I have not
Found the
“F-word”
In the
66 books of
The canonized
Bible.

Yet,
You
Vet vulgarity
Without libel or
Apology,
As my brother and sister
Astrologies
Put star dreams
On hold
Fighting over
Sands of Eden
For an ancient
Resource: OIL!

Yet,
The party that
“Co-opted God”
Won’t apologize
Or recoil
From the obvious
Avoidance
Of Halliburton
Contrivance
In no-bid
Contracts.

Since
“Honor and integrity”
Are locked away
On a dark shelf:

Mr. Cheney -

Why don’t you
Make a plaster cast of
Your
Napoleonic,
Less-than-an-inch long
Insignificant
Male member,

Pull your pants
Down in your
Secret bunker
And joyfully

SCREW yourself!

Reginald L. Goodwin - Unemployed: A Memoir

More than a metaphor
I'm a score of visions
mixed with
interdimensional
meanings
the eternal enigma
explained
in drops of rain
falling on your
naked face
and I say
'hello'
in the language
of your body
clothed
in the curvature
of your soul

our fingerprints
matching

our memories
attached
like future
snapshots
you'll take
of my heart
beating
for
you

you alone
and I entwined
in your arms
your legs
your thoughts
spread before me
like an open
book I look
forward to reading
again and again.

I love you now
before I'm even
allowed to touch
your skin, before I
am able to look
into your eyes
or feel you smile
when I kiss you
in places not
physical

I love you
for the you
you've always been,
before I even
knew you

I loved you...

and if this be sin
then I am a criminal
worthy of incarceration

I'll kneel before the guillotine
and offer my head
and neck for
one
moment
with
you.

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

IT DOESN’T FIT

When I was little
I knew in my heart
I was a Jazz Saxophone.
I seemed to be surrounded
By concert violins.
I tried my hardest
To be a good concert violin
Because it seemed to be expected of me.
From my chair
In the center of the violin section
I had no clue there was a whole orchestra
Waiting for my tune to play.

Marilyn Wendler - Life Happened Here

Marla Wienandt - Touched By Spirit

Please don't look at me
that way or let your eyes
linger any longer;
they've stayed too long already
and seen too much.

Please don't touch me
with tender hands that can
bear ignorance no longer;
if they come any closer,
they'll know too much.

Please don't listen
so hard to all I tell you;
if you pay too close attention,
you'll know me too well --
ears hear too much.

Please don't give me
those naked looks that tell
too much about you;
if I read your eyes again,
they'll have said more than too much.

Please don't tell me
what your lips wait to say;
if I come too close, I'll feel the words;
and if I know just how you feel,
I will want that touch too much.

Please don't come any closer,
'cause you've already come too far;
and if you stay any longer,
I'll want you close always
'cause I already love you too much.

Please don't stay too near me --
just close enough to feel your touch.
But please don't go away;
'cause now that you've touched my world,
losing you would be too much.

Sharon Rose Cappella - Unpublished Works

What if we failed to fear
and succeeded in seeing
ourselves for what we are?

What if every
human being
actually believed
what Jesus said?

"Ye are Gods."

What if we
were programmed
from birth to understand this,
rather than to play
follow the leader
with seeing-blind people
who don't want you to know:

"Ye are Gods."

How do you control
six billion Gods?

You don't.

And that is why
'we're born in sin'
and 'not worthy'
and need to be 'saved'
from discovering

"Ye are Gods."

This is why there will
always be a sale at the mall,
where you can save
up to eighty-five percent
off the cost of
thinking about it.

"Ye are Gods."

This is why our cities never sleep
and most people fall asleep
in front of their TV.

It's the reason why sex
is force-fed into our senses,
it's the reason people
are programmed to 'go out'.

The kingdom is inside you,
and as long as you are driven
like cattle to look
a n y w h e r e and e v e r y w h e r e
else ...
you will never come to know:

"Ye are Gods."

Chad Lilly - evergreen dreams

BABY-BOOMER POLITICS NOT AS USUAL

You speak to our fears.
We fear.
But our fears are not the part of us we trust.
We’ve already seen our fears
Lead us to road rage,
And fences,
And security systems, and isolation.
We have our fears, yes,
But we long for more.
If you want to lead us, lead us to hope.
You speak to our prejudices.
We are prejudiced, we admit it.
But our prejudices
Are not the part of us of which we are proud.
We’ve already seen
Our prejudices lead us to slavery,
And populations in revolt
And we have learned something along the way.
We lean toward unity and understanding
And long for leadership that will take us there.
We are self-righteous, yes.
But lead us to brotherhood.
You speak to our patriotism, but we
Do not want patriotism that is a good bluff.
America represents for us the high ground.
Telling the world
They must come to the high ground
Or we’ll kill them
Doesn’t work.
Our buildings
And our humanness are vulnerable.

We want our integrity to be untouchable.
We know we are part of the world.
Lead us to dignity.
You speak to our faith.
But we want our faith to lead us
To a better way of living,
Not fuel our intolerance
For the ways of others.
We are a nation whose heroes are
Deepak Chopra,
And Oprah Winfrey, and Dr. Phil.
We want to be better.
Take a poll,
We will say that we want to be richer,
And we hate what the other guy is doing,
And the Good Old Days were better.
But we were THERE in the Good Old Days.
We remember when abortion was illegal,
And women were dying.
We remember air-raid drills in school,
And Kruschev promising to bury us.
We remember prejudice against females,
And Blacks, and the Handicapped, and Gays.
We remember John Kennedy’s Catholicism
Being an issue.
We remember Barry Goldwater’s Judaism
Being an issue.
We remember freedom marches,
And Martin Luther King,
And bra burnings,
And Dan White and Harvey Milk,
And we know that the changes have been good.

We reminisce about the good old days,
But we know in our hearts they weren’t.
We want our becomings to be a source of pride.
Not what we are telling the world,
But what we are showing the world.
We want to lead the world by showing the world
It can be something better too.
We want to be led to be more
Than anything we know how to be.
We want to ask ourselves every day,
“Who are we being?
Who are we becoming?”
And we want to be okay with the answer.
Hear us cry out.
We want a
Campaign for National Integrity.

Marilyn Wendler - Life Happened Here

BRILLIANT MAGIC


I summon
The wind,
As I stand
With high stature,
Adorned with
A glowing amulet
Of such sparkling
Radiance, it
Transcends fluorescent
Violet rays,
Glowing through
The sea
Level jewels,
As they descend upon
The black sand, shimmering.
My body
Stands as
A temple that repels
An overcoat of
Raining surroundings;
About furious gusts,
Translucent with foam,
High atop ridged
Cliff. Dwelling there,
Feeling, more over, the
Ancient power
Of magic.
A lightening stricken posse
Of soul bounty hunters
Sent by Satan,
To thieve the treasure
Charge venomously,
As towering, streamline
Turquoise waves
Free fall down,
On a serpent, still.

Susan Ratcliffe - The Spirit Within

black wine

delicious words drip from chocolate lips
thick and rich with a soothing flow
a steady stream of syllables and vowels unending
stretching, bending
rolling in intricate waves that wash over me
in a cleansing totality
of mind and motion
his thoughts like an ocean
I am submerged into he
wanting to swim
in his vocal sea
my ears long to taste the inside of his mind
as he pours wine
sweet and intoxicating
eyes deep and dark
contemplating
concentrating
on releasing thoughts imprisoned
delicious words drip from chocolate lips