Poetry Is Pulsing Blood

Poetry is the pulsing blood of civilization: look around you, where poetry thrives, people and culture thrives. Is there hope for peace, for justice, or for equality? Hope arrives with the poets in the streets...

Poetry is the oxygen in the air of religion: read the Song of Songs: you could throw out the entirety of the rest of the Bible, save for the Song of Songs, and you would have both the Revelation of the One and the path of Perfection of our Sacred Humanity... Read Rumi, Hafiz, Kabir, Lalla, Mirabai, St. John of the Cross, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Adrienne Rich, or Mary Oliver and you will have an entry point to the Essential Sacred... Poets are the legislators of our future...

Poetry is the muscle flexing in culture: when poetry occupies our vision, everything changes: from Standing Rock to Syria the Corporate Profit Machine seeks to continue its reckless exploitation, oppression, and violence in endless pursuit of all that makes for its domination. Poetry mocks the power of the abuser. Poetry snaps off the invading fingers through the creation of alternative lifestyles, careers, economies, politics, cultures, and religions...

When the writer Dostoevsky wrote "Beauty will save the world", he wasn't thinking ahead to Wall Street marketing campaigns, the selling of scantily clad women, or the predatory capitalism of either drug cartels or Big Oil. "Beauty will save the world" is the slogan of the rEvolutionary personalist. While the Corporate Profit Machine is intently digging a deeper and deeper hole, the rEvolutionary personalist has uncovered an ancient truth: we have all been made for each other! 

Poetry is the relaxed pursuit of the gifting of pleasure, both sexual and mystical. Our bodies have been delightedly created for orgasm just as our consciousness has been created exactly for an endless exploration into higher and higher fields of Quantum Consciousness: poetry is the stroked nerve endings that never end, and the Mystery that is always a new morning, a budding flower, a suckling child, and the endless kiss of possibility...

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