What if a calm blue wave on the banks of any shore could cleanse your turbid thoughts, would you go there?
As you sit in solemn silence, are you F-R-Double E,
Or hog-tied to two horses like a double-detainee?
Can you laugh out loud and mean it, are you happy and carefree,
Or does the cowpoke on your back bridle your biography?
Are you kind to simple strangers like a liberal licensee,
Or a foul, obtrusive presence like an H-O-Single G?
Do you care about the truth behind each word that you decree,
Or may the papers use your likeness to showcase apathy?
Are the thoughts you think harmonious, or horribly off-key,
Is there peace inside your heart, or is there bucking-bronc debris?
Is the goodness in your power a virtual guarantee,
Or is power just your way to achieve debauchery?
Whichever horse you choose to ride, Agree or Disagree,
Saddle-up and hitch along with the F-U-Double D.
Are you a little stressed out? Swiss researcher Dietrich Von Bonin says reciting poetry can give your heart a break from stress. Using high-tech heart monitors to see inside their cardiovascular systems, Dietrich had numerous subjects wired as they walked around reciting poetry. The remarkable results reveal that heart rates dropped and the vagal tone increased. (Vagal tone is a sign of how well the heart can rest and recuperate from daily stress.) So take a deep breath and begin. .
Breathe deep and exhale to the rhythm of a poem,
And your heart will thank your head, wherever it may roam.
Now some of you might think this is all a liberal plot,
But the rest of you should know, a liberal plot it’s not.
I’ve often been praised for my strong poetic feeling,
Recite these words and know, your heart will feel the healing.
Republicans and Democrats, moderates and scholars,
If your stress should be relieved, please send me 50 dollars.
“Scam,” you scream, “It’s all a crock! You’re more and more distressing!”
As if you didn’t know by now, I like to keep you guessing.
Liberals have said to me, “I beg of you, inform us,”
My answers throw the other kind into a rage enormous.
No matter what your preference in politics, religion,
Your glory-bound-white-dove-of-peace is someone else’s pigeon.
Disagreements will occur on any touchy issue,
Abortion, war, freedoms found, or how to hang the tissue.
Don’t think of words as thieves out to rob you like a bandit,
Think of words as friends out to help you understand it.
The messengers of truth aren’t all wearing the same hat,
And any honest man would at least agree to that.
The left and right are, both, telling lies by the dozens,
Flapping wings of ignorance like governmental cousins.
Go pick a horse and ride it, and if you crash and burn,
Get back up and ride again, that’s how we’re meant to learn.
If you’re feeling completely calm and relaxed, like a peanut in a box-car, it’s OK to stop reading now.
If you’ve never ventured this far into Fudd Country before, welcome to the uncharted territories of “you never know what he’s gonna say next.”
What if heaven is all around us?
What if we already live in a perfect world and all of the imperfections we experience are really what makes it perfect?
What if a smile was a gift from God, would you smile more?
What if a hearty laugh was a sacred moment, would you laugh more?
What if one unkind word caused a chain-reaction of a thousand unkind words, would you withhold it?
What if telling lies meant that you could never trust the words of others, would you keep telling lies?
What if bodily abuses blinded your view of paradise, would you continue abusing your body?
What if climbing a mountain was like climbing the stairway to ecstasy, would you climb it?
What if a long, cool drink from a mountain stream was a paradisaical experience, would you preserve it?
What if the properly contemplated emptiness of a vast, unexplored canyon was sheer bliss, would you rush to the rim to contemplate it?
What if love was sublime, would you share it?
What if love was money and money was love, would you still be rich?
What if a hug was a rapturous exchange, would you embrace it?
What if every living life was a supernatural event, would you respect it?
What if you passed an ambrosial flower and didn’t stop to smell it, would you regret it?
What if heaven was all around us, could you see it?
Silt resident Bernie Boettcher’s column runs every other Thursday in the Post Independent. E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org.
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