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Re: Poetry Sundays


I pretend to familiarity with your vocabulary.
I pretend we are all linguistically aligned --
agreed upon signs and symbols of common tribe.
I pretend that laws of wild origin proceed.
I pretend that pretense is what I need,
tricks to treat and keep my mind a docile child.
I pretend that nobody can see, exploit my explorations
into hyperbole
rather than contend with truth of mutual alienation.
 
 
logic of rape culture
 
 
I don't know.
Would it be morally acceptable to destroy a person's mind
while they sleep, because they'll never know they had one?
Would it be morally just fine to cruelly use people's lives
while keeping their consciousness confined,
without consent or prior knowledge,
because unexplained pain won’t rise to legal proof?
Is there value placed on genuine integrity?
Must boundaries that delineate individuality,
complete with self-control,
define a zone of self to be respected?
Do we each own a right to privacy,
a promise of intimate identity integrity,
sacred space for self-discovery:
“This is mine. This is me.”
           ?
Pet, slave, property of any sponsor who lays
persuasive claim.
Law enforced as if a game of demarcation
rules. What fool would risk stability,
shame, neighbor’s hostility,
to resist? Stripped of private self-determination,
could such fools exist?
Natural rights, relationships abide outside will of man
or humanity – unsanctioned, uninsured, uncivilized.
When groups choose to ally for common utility,
what inner prize is crucial to defend?
Or is it easier to pretend? Just a random bunch
of beasts subject to accepted dictums,
that maintain benefits of self-proclaimed
reasonable men?
Feb/15/2015, 2:01 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Re: Poetry Sundays


frog prince
 
 
It's tiring being a frog Prince
awaiting my awakening kiss.
Oh fairies in your flight,
take pity on my plight,
shine a guiding light to my path of bliss.
"Enchanted majesty,
you know you command us not.
It is not our job to show the way
out of your predicament.
We are not your fair servant,
no key to opening
a doorway for your true presentiment.
"You must attract a noble pure
of heart, unschooled student
of the art of calling back authenticity,
to unlock your sorcerer’s cell,
undo your trying spell.”
Puissant kiss, hope’s bright fantasy
in which emotion sets us free,
to become as meant to be,
guileless in love forevermore.
Mar/15/2015, 4:34 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Re: Poetry Sundays


Singing to the Chorus

 
Getting warmer.
Days numbered by barbarians.
Travelers rush in to conquer.
Taken to a longer view,
tumbling through the ages ~
Sundials exchange for
binary spiders click-clock,
tabulating the enormous summary,
what has gone before.
The reality of childhood, striving creatures
pull upward from bootie straps,
scrambling for a place in the pile
near enough to top
that derision, pouring downward,
obliges them to only the fiercest of Lords.
Merry tots spend fallen pocket-change of
dollars flowing upward.
Old games reign under the big top.
Solemn children throw glass stones from circus stands,
bet on which clown will full face as disaster.
Speak in tongues of evil, o' my children.
Church Fathers swear to the blackened sky;
cold, withered Mums hope for a crust
of noblesse oblige.
Evil is the providence of Satan,
cloven-hoofed, prancing in the circle's
centerpoint, playing the pipes of Pan.
Oceans of blood boil.
Leading edges swelter, crisp into
conflagration.
In Summerland children play, frolic to
rollicking drums and reeds.
Naked under beaming Moon and starlight laughter,
merrily we act out tales well-loved by All.
Jun/21/2015, 6:34 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Re: Poetry Sundays



UnStonewalled


Morale aroused, ready to fight.
People surround me who say "I'm alright."
Side by side in the night --
what more could we aspire to?
To spend pent up desire,
touch true pride at last.
Manifest, rightly part of the cast,
out in the show.
Rotten fruit of chastised liberty
a riot to throw.
 
Unanimity parade, undeflected by danger.
Ardent take our stand.
Excited to take your hand,
to walk in the light.
We’ll not be denied, kept aside from humanity.
The worth of yearning hearts due respect, recognized.
Allies expand into high art’s nobility --
passion of grand solidarity.
Movement toward civility that gives honor to love.
Jun/28/2015, 8:23 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Re: Poetry Sundays


Amen, Libra.

Hope all's well with you,

Chris
Jun/30/2015, 10:41 am Link to this post Send Email to Christine98   Send PM to Christine98
 
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Re: Poetry Sundays


When the national project was stolen before our horrified stares
When it became our duty to kill and destroy for the convenience of profit
When humane policy became anathema, unworthy economic drag
When the will of the gambling elite gamed the rule of law to their pocket
Did you scream so loud that bitter blood poured from your lungs?
Did you set up mourning camps to gather forces,
to train grief and rage into worthy opponents against true freedom’s foes?
Did you gaze into the cold eyes of propagandists and say “No!”?
Or did you march along in the parade, assured: “First they get theirs; then we get ours.”?

social net

Yes, of course we ought be fiscally responsible.
Yet of far more import is that we be rational.
Hyperbolic apoplectic, Apocalyptic rhetoric
reduces us from politic to stagey raving maniacs.
No need for such hysteria; learn from recent history.
The flagrant ways of LBJ, Reagan and GWB
found mitigation in administrations following.
The People, energized, expand instead of wallowing.
Exciting industries take hold, real worth — not hollow gold.

The conversation we as a nation need
is not a war of virtue versus greed
or capturing the rules to win a game
or playing catch with sophistry and shame.
We need to ask and answer in sobriety
Who we best can be as a society
Jul/5/2015, 9:23 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Luminescent Choir
 
 
Singers in the fog.
Outlying voices thin, yet growing;
accruing sound, like liquid, flowing.
Emoting tales of woe, resistance.
Shouted sighs of denied existence.
Insightful chants insist persistence.
We never died. We're knitting strong.
Born into a world-wide village.
Only from ourselves to pillage.
Hear our song.
Some bright good morning of
fish and loaves, cake and wine,
capacious tribes adjoin in movement.
Shining line of peace.
Terror’s fear released.
Music, celebration in the streets.
Flower scented candles,
vigil against shame.
Blazing through miasmic mist,
Apollonian flame torches banners of
hostilities falsely triggered
in our name.
Come harmonize, aloud:
We're alive and proud
to descant, dispel dank chill.
Sing to vanquish fog.
Aug/9/2015, 2:42 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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In the Free World


I don’t listen to the colour of the bluesman’s skin.
I engage with the power of music.
I am music, not just while it’s playing.
Ordered vibrations cosset me, hold like a
heart-bound twin.
Names, sad biographies, personalities
grandiose or subdued, but delusions.
Substitute equivalent qualities sold as sums
that define identity. Told how to hear
or say. Mere chatter, in the way that ideations
whether profound or silly are spread; day by
dreaded day.
Sound from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with what keeps us
who we become
and overcome.
 

9/6/15
Sep/6/2015, 5:22 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 


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