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remember


Remember
when we
were refugees
martyrs in transition
becoming stranger

Summons to public consciousness
Lives matter, private pain
sadness, desperation that never
lessens though it ebb and regain
purchase
Real lives that yearn, feel need
for some promised warmth of care
of shared extremities that nurture hope
of shared deliverance, hands and minds
together woven strong.
A popular song, a moment’s reverie or
step to somber tidal drum.

Redefine home as space to sleep, keep
what we own (until stolen). Exhausted
to sleep without resource of comfort, nothing
worth waking, yet another dirty day descends.

Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow
her morning of traverse this tiny world allowed.
Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep
and shallow, ravage diseases.
Senses, purpose, subsumed to beat of breath
outside rational context.
Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where
she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled.

Repurpose our energy, efforts unraveled
fighting ourselves over uncertain destiny;
emerge to vibrancy in the creation, the industry,
to make this place our world where we all
enjoy peace.


7/16

Last edited by libramoon, Jul/19/2016, 7:01 pm
Jul/12/2016, 6:24 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
libramoon Profile
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Re: remember


nothing but places
expecting quid pro quo
wherever we have to go


Revised social norms
Home, families, streets of commerce,
perks of urbanity
cultured humanity
strong in our history
secure in our world viewed
as small daily rituals
Me within we, clear as air


We’ve known our worlds of work and love
once called normality
Forward reality has no context to those lives
Who am I (are you) without my neighborhood of
affirmation, without mundane commiserations
and routines?
Who am I turned from tribal identity to nonentity?
Just another broken body in the fray.
How I respond to each absurdity helps define
for me as I become less and more.


Milled like grain
Battered, disgraced, wasted
void of livelihood, consequence,
continuity of plan or place
Tattered skin, fragile


I believe that all the lonely people
should get together and end loneliness
in our lifetime
I believe in making Peace The issue
I believe we are all part of a plan of our
own forming
I believe people want to get along up
to the point when they want to fight and
expend pent up rage
I believe people project on our opponents what
we perceive as our horrific sins
I believe there is ultimately
nothing to win


7/17-22/16



knowing is knowing that knowledge is infinite and diverse
believing is believing that all possibilities are worth seeing
Meaning making makes meaning with bright divergent strands
Doing, doing is an outgrowth of knowing, believing, making meaning


7/14/16




Remember
when we
were refugees
martyrs in transition
becoming stranger

Summons to public consciousness
Lives matter, private pain
sadness, desperation that never
lessens though it ebb and regain
purchase
Real lives that yearn, feel need
for some promised warmth of care
of shared extremities that nurture hope
of shared deliverance, hands and minds
together woven strong.
A popular song, a moment’s reverie or
step to somber tidal drum.

Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow
her morning of traverse this tiny world allowed.
Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep
and shallow, ravage diseases.
Senses, purpose, subsumed to beat of breath
outside rational context.
Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where
she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled.

Repurpose our energy, efforts unraveled
fighting ourselves over uncertain destiny;
emerge to vibrancy in the creation, the industry,
to make this place our world where we all
enjoy peace.

7/13/16




beautiful dreaming
lavender and pixie wings descend,
whisp and bow, open that flimsy veil
of weary distraction
Here Now Ever an instant of bliss and woe
Songs of weep and wind flutter, brief embrace
and I sing, ecstatic scream, whirl of always dance
sinking, diving, for the thrill of emergence


7/11/16
Jul/22/2016, 3:50 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
libramoon Profile
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Re: remember




Remember
when we
were refugees
martyrs in transition
becoming stranger

Walking
Road hypnosis
Stepping forward
through this ever barbaric world.
Revised social norms
Home, families, streets of commerce,
perks of urbanity
cultured humanity
strong lanes of history
tightly wrapped in our world viewed
as small daily rituals
Me within we, clear as air.

How recognize an I,
broken from web of familiar
connection, purpose based on
what is now obliterated.
I walk enclosed in walkers’ formation,
consciousness optional,
entrained within we devoid of past or future,
only movement of uncertain destination.
Brief touch, short awareness of a face,
faces, eyes almost blind, bound by terror
and defeat.
Why be human, cling to burdens of the flesh,
of aspiring?
Herd cattle, we pretend they have no pain,
no mindful fear, no sense of our own
reality.
We walk because we have no landing.
Long past exhaustion, grabbing at pity of
strangers to attend our existence, to watch
over, protect, accept, that we fall on their streets
desperate for sleep.
Who are we, bleeding identity, to plead
salvation?
When we must stop, drop to the ground,
do they walk over us, or around, or humanely
offer shelter, bedding?
Choice not ours to demand.
Demand if you’ve nothing else to give voice.
How will such rudeness affect the treatment,
respect encountered?
Ever onward, diminished, with no where
to root, become.

nothing but foreign places
expecting quid pro quo
wherever we’re pressed to go

Milled like grain.
Battered, disgraced, wasted;
stripped of livelihood, consequence,
continuity of plan or escape.
Tattered skin, fragile bones.

Redefine home as space to sleep, keep
what we own (until stolen). Exhausted
without resource of comfort, nothing
worth waking, yet another dire day descends.

Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow
her morning of traverse, this tiny world allowed.
Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep
and shallow, ravage disease.
Senses, purpose, subsumed to beat of breath
outside rational context.
Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where
she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled.

We’ve known our worlds of work and love
once called normality
Forward reality has no context to those lives
Who am I (are you) without my neighborhood of
affirmation, without mundane commiserations
and routines?
Who am I turned from tribal identity to nonentity?
Just another broken body in the fray.
How I respond to each absurdity helps define
each line as I become less and more.

Summons to public consciousness
Lives matter, private pain
sadness, desperation that never
lessens though it ebb and regain
purchase
Real lives that yearn, feel need
for some promised warmth of care
of shared extremities that nurture hope
of shared deliverance, hands and minds
together woven strong.
A popular song, a moment’s reverie or
respite, to somber tidal drum.


Repurpose our energy, efforts unraveled
fighting survival over uncertain destiny;
emerge to vibrancy in the creation, the industry,
to make on Earth our world where we all
echo peace.

7/16

Last edited by libramoon, Jul/24/2016, 5:23 pm
Jul/24/2016, 3:28 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
libramoon Profile
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Reply | Quote
Re: remember



Remember
when we
were refugees,
martyrs in transition
incessantly stranger.

Walking.
Road hypnosis.
Step forward
through unhinged, barbaric world.
Civil norms in quick revision.

Home, family, streets of trade,
perks of urbanity
cultured humanity
strong lanes of history,
tightly wrapped in our world viewed
as small daily rituals.
Me within we, clear as air.

How recognize an I,
broken from web of familiar
connection. Now obliterated, markers
of place, of purpose; constrained movement
of uncertain destination.
I walk enclosed in walkers’ formation,
consciousness optional,
entrained within we devoid of sentient time.

Brief touch, short awareness of a face,
faces, eyes almost blind, shrouded by terror,
destitution.
Why be human, cling to burdens of the flesh,
of aspiring?
Herd cattle, we pretend have no pain,
no mindful fear, no sense of personal
reality.
We walk because we have no landing.
Long past exhaustion, grabbing at pity of
strangers to attend our exhibition, to watch
over, protect, accept, that we fall on their streets
desperate for sleep.
Who are we, bleeding identity, to plead
salvation?
When we must stop, drop to the ground,
do they walk over us, or around, or humanely
offer shelter, bedding?
Choice not ours to demand.
Demand if you’ve nothing else to give voice.
How will such rudeness affect the treatment,
respect encountered?
Ever onward, diminished, with no where
to root, become.

Battered, disgraced, wasted;
stripped of livelihood, consequence,
continuity of plan or regimen.
Tattered skin, fragile bones;
reviled by foreign merchants
expecting quid pro quo
wherever we’re pressed to go.

Redefine home as space to sleep, keep
what we own (until stolen).
Without resource of comfort, nothing
worth waking, yet another dire day descends.

Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow
her morning of traverse, this tiny world allowed.
Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep
and shallow, ravage disease.
Senses, thought, subsumed to beat of breath
outside rational context.
Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where
she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled.

We’ve known security of work and love
once called normality.
Forward reality denies those lives.
Who am I (are you) without my neighborhood of
affirmation, without mundane commiserations
and routines?
Turned from tribal identity to nonentity,
just another broken body in the fray.
I respond to each absurdity,
each broken line as I become less
and more.

Bonding anew, as we humans do,
each here/now imbues with further
circumstance. Eternal dance with fates
suspected and unknown. If we could
only stay unbound, masked for day’s
occasion, but behind gathering truths
as moments of clarity.
Whom are we assuming ourselves to
include?

Summons
to public ambient acclaim:
Lives matter, private pain
sad desperation that never
lessens though it ebb, sway, regain
purchase.
Real lives yearn, feel need
for some promised warmth of care.
Shared extremities that nurture hope
of shared deliverance, hands and minds
together strong.
Surge of survival over uncertain destiny,
return to industry, if we might find that energy.
Realign expectant gaze toward peace, plenty
-- planetary necessity.
Eventually to remember as poignant history,
ritual song, reverie
as respite to somber tidal drum,
when we were refugees.




7-8/16

Last edited by libramoon, Aug/7/2016, 9:40 pm
Aug/5/2016, 10:14 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
Terreson Profile
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Re: remember


You do have a largeness to you.

Tere
Aug/7/2016, 12:18 am Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
libramoon Profile
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Re: remember


Tere, old buddy, ole pal -- where ya been?
Aug/7/2016, 1:21 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Re: remember


Remember when we
 
 
Remember
when we
were refugees,
martyrs in transition.
Road hypnosis.
Steps incessantly stranger.
Walking unhinged, barbaric terrain.
 
Home, family, streets to meet and trade,
perks of urbanity
cultured humanity
strong lanes of history,
tightly wrapped common milieu
as small daily rituals.
Now obliterated, markers
of place, of purpose. Constrained movement
of uncertain destination,
I walk enclosed in walkers’ formation,
consciousness optional,
entrained within we of unsettled duration.
 
Brief touch, short awareness of a face,
faces, eyes almost blind, shrouded by terror,
destitution.
Why be human, cling to burdens of the flesh,
of aspiring?
Herd cattle, we pretend have no pain,
no mindful fear, no sense of personal
reality.
We walk because we have no landing.
Long past exhaustion, grabbing at pity of
strangers to attend our exhibition, to watch
over, protect, accept, that we fall on their streets
desperate for sleep.
Tattered skin, fragile bones;
reviled by foreign merchants
expecting quid pro quo
wherever we’re pressed to go.
Who are we, bleeding identity, to plead
salvation?
When we must stop, drop to the ground,
do they walk over us, or around, or humanely
offer shelter, bedding?
 
Redefine home as space to sleep, keep
what we own (until stolen).
Ever diminished, with no where
to root and grow,
without resource of comfort, nothing
worth waking, yet another dire day descends.
 
Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow
her morning of traverse, this tiny world allowed.
Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep
and shallow, ravage disease.
Senses, thought, subsumed to beat of breath
outside rational context.
Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where
she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled.
 
Once accustomed security of work and love
(pre-war normality).
Today’s reality denies those lives.
Turned from tribal identity to nonentity,
just another body, broken in the fray.
 
Yet over yonder years, alliances twist,
resist, recombine; we adapt, regroup.
Each here/now imbues with further
circumstance, eternal dance of fates
suspected or surprise. If we could
visualize as from above, masked for day’s
occasion, but behind gathering whole
panorama truths
as moments of clarity,
whom are we assuming our self story to
include?
 
Summons, ambient clarion
to public acclaim:
Lives matter, private pain
sad desperation that never
fully heals though it ebb, sway, regain
purchase.
Surge of defiance over uncertain destiny,
advance of industry, if we might find that energy.
Realign expectant gaze toward peace, plenty
-- planetary necessity.
Eventually to remember as poignant history,
ritual song to somber tidal drum,
when we were refugees.
 
 
 
 

Last edited by libramoon, Aug/14/2016, 4:43 pm
Aug/8/2016, 9:22 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 


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