POEM: The Tao Vocationing

Whatever you do, do it soul fully…

The Tao Vocationing

The good sports
There worthy faux
The for most soldiering on
Steps into the mine of a posed
The biggest bustyess, man
Waits on a myriad of common goods
The udder most leader
Travails the con tours of the people
Awe of the man infest
The up rightness of under standing
Knot that
They don’t
A door fooly competing
Abut they due it, with soul
They like children playing
With grit and hominy
As the sound of the Tao
May peer corny

See Tao, 68

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POEM: The Content of Realization

This poem is fore the bred of contentment…

The Content of Realization

“Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” ― Lao Tzu

“When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.” ―Buddha

The movers and shakers
All ways want
To move things round
A Sisyphean tsk
Of that pipe lyin’
Moving water uphill
As if
Might harness gravity itself
Water you
Going
Too due
In your be longings
Ahead back
Mirrorly laughing
@The Sky

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Cockroach Democracy – Owed to India’s Youth Movement

The most lively social movement in the world now is the cockroach movement of India’s youth. They have co-opted the characterization of unemployed youth as cockroaches by the Indian regime and started their own cockroach political party and have hit the streets with searingly funny and satirical protests. Here is a commentary from Democracy Now.

Here is a poem cheering on their movement:

Cockroach Democracy – Owed to India’s Youth Movement

Sum wear ails
Then the pillars of democracy pilloried
Youth-like
Cockroaches
Serfing ancient farces
Thrive off
The glue of cardboard kingdoms
Boxing us
In
And out of the wring
Sow flyweight
Taking on super heavy waits
In a KO to OK
In bare assing the reigning chumps
Naked truth in flash mobs
More than bugging
As know kings sweating it
As cockroaches show up
At high noon

 

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POEM: The Largesse Art of Awe

Life is bigger, then awe of us…

The Largesse Art of Awe

His heart
Bigger than
His chest
Of treasures
Bigger than
The count he
Making homme
Bigger than any state
Residing within
Any dam nation
Ever sea
The hole wide whirled
Bigger then
The cosmos
Having throne
The perfect fit
The largesse art
Of awe

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POEM: The Straight of Whore Muse

War is a bust case scenario, having its weigh, pro creating flailing solutions to the vary problems bringing a bout…

The Straight of Whore Muse

He got bent
As he loved soully strait lyin’s
Neither hear nor their
A twister
In a whirled screwed
At lust, getting
Win of what
Base meant
He is going down
To the hell wore
Buy kings with nothing abut
A dress
Over his ahead
Soully no’ing
The true meaning
Of hittin’ everything
As moving

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POEM: Un-no’ing

Saying YES in an uncertain universe…

Un-no’ing

What I don’t no
Very well might
Fill up
A good portion of the universe
And just
May be
Me

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POEM: Broker

This poem is about moneychangers, the investor class, and the greed built into capitalism…

Broker

He was just
Broke
But he was bound
To more, more, more
God
The money
God, the money, God
Helled in the mettle
Placing his abet
In a split second
Wanting
That inescapable
Choice
Sum wear between
Winning and showing
Seizing the daze
Won after an other
Knot himself
In the foolness of time
Getting win of
Being broker
A stock trade
In the end
Regrettable
As hind cite
Having
Accumulated
That soul for him
A mass of junk bonds
And customarily CD
As a class of ass it

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POEM: Epstein-philes – Owed to Sex Traffic King

The infamous sex traffickers, the Tate bros from the hypermasculine manosphere, have finally been extradited from the U.S. to the UK. The Trump orbit seems to be cutting them loose from their previous mob protection scheme. Could this be a breaking point for the Epstein-philes? This poem deals with the Epstein class, or more apropos, their lack of class…

Epstein-philes – Owed to Sex Traffic King

WARNING: This poem contains images of caste rating the Epstein class

The rich and power fool
Super charge felonious sexual assault
On occasion
When it suits them
Or unsuits others
As a wrest of US
Jones for knot
Members
Of the Epstein class
Stuck in
Vice
Getting off
Awe cuz
Anonymous sects
Johns
Dough
Kneaded wickedly
As polls rising against
Can such a sickness be heeled
By six
Million docs
And with crimes XXX posed
Will the peephole de-manned
This lack of
Class taut a lessen
As caste rate
Perfectly zeroed
On any scoring system
On the offed public chants
Bettor mutilate, then never
On these and other
Naked truths
Lying silently
Not with standing
The sex traffic king
Put clothes to this
With fool transparency
Inducing any with class to look away
In dis cussed
As mirrorly just say no
To any prosecution what sow ever

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POEM: Cistern and Brethren as One

Beneath all of the inanity and cruelty of the whirled, humbly rests a well ever-refreshing, accessible to awe…

Cistern and Brethren as One

Some wear a mist
Absurdity
And lack
Of expediency
There is a re-treat
That look
Incite of themselves
That inner reign
That does knot sweat
The small stuff trickling
Won’s fancy
Just seeping
Into the deepest well
Cistern and brethren
As one self

See Tao, 67

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POEM: American AI Still Tops in Gaming Systems

The latest Chinese AI model topped all American AI, except for gaming with Claude. https://felloai.com/kimi-k3/

This poem, crafted by my human brain, lays it out:

American AI Still Tops in Gaming Systems

As knews break
For American AI broligarchs
Chinese AI exceeds
In every weigh
Except in gaming
As the Americans are tops
In gaming systems
Abut China’s number two status
In such regard
Still spinning
Aheads unscrewing
In countering the competition

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POEM: Trifecta Untaut

The Tao teaches three things: simplicity, patience, and compassion…

Trifecta Untaut

There is just
Soully won impassible
Trifecta to teach
Simplicity in deed and mine
Heeling the sores of being
Patients binding friend and faux
A cord with the weigh of things
Compassion reflecting one self
Captivating awe beings of the whirled

See Tao, 67b

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POEM: The Hole-y Body Politic

Executing folks in the streets, with giddy immunity, will backfire…

The Hole-y Body Politic

They shot
The body politic
Fool of holes
Until it was woke
In the wake of wakes
Bringing it
To life
As never had had
Be for
Taking the plays
Of vacant ghosts
With full-bodied spirit
A rousing
Fresh hardiness
The ardor it gets

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POEM: Smoking Our Enemies

In case you are wondering what our leaders are smoking — it’s not just, war crimes, state executions of murder on our streets, or murder on the high seas…

Smoking Our Enemies

U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio says the Trump administration is working to “dismantle the [International Criminal Court] brick by brick.”

Where there is smoke
There is fire
Where there is war
There are war crimes
As our war chief and chief diplomat
Anxiously a spire
To smoke our enemies
Rapped in the papers of international law
Right wingers are sky high
Crying out laud
Dude
Like
I’ll have what he is having
Brick by brick

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POEM: A Tax on Canada – Owed to Smoke ‘em If You Got ‘em

The Global-Heater-in-Chief Trump wants to put a tariff on Canada for wild fires sending smoke to ‘Murica…

A Tax on Canada – Owed to Smoke ‘em If You Got ‘em

Trump is sow wanting
A tax on Canada
As wile fires
Rage a cross
His monarchy
Of towering infernos
That is walls of irony
Reaching for the sky
Robbed of cause ‘n effect y’all
Barin’ of oil
Blubbering like a big oil white wail
Or bettor yet
A white elephant who for gets
As the wins go south
Weather he’s nothing
Too due with it
That smoke and mirror show
As nations hazed

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POEM: Multitudes of Choice

There is awe ways choice…

Multitudes of Choice

If you are con fused
A bout
Allot of shit
Going on
In the whirled
Sow sow much
That choice
Peers voidable
Should upon
Comes a cross
As revolting
God might
Want you
Too temp life itself
Multitudes of choice
Undertaking
Awe of the above

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POEM: Infrastructure Weak

Apparently, every week is infrastructure weak in the Trump regime…

Infrastructure Weak

Trump billed the whirled
In six seven daze
Depending on how you count
The final mourning of wrest
Buy God or designated hitter
Won weak at a time
In habiting the edge
Of disaster capitol is him
The shit show enough
As years goes on
Con fronting
Intractable con sequences
His fortune secure
In his owed age
Biden his time
Demented in ahead
Everyday is infrastructure weak
Soully wading for claps
Of the people’s hows
Bringing it
Awe down
For nothing
Abut main lyin’
His vainglory
A condemned nation framed

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POEM: Certifiable Sabbath

Sabbath is more than, won day…

Certifiable Sabbath

“True Sabbath is more than, enough, every seven days, every seven hours, every seven minutes, every seven seconds, and even, more sow.”

He weighed in on
That burden some quest in
Wrestling over
What forth command meant
Of the Sabbath
And that keep
It wholly
Not mirrorly that seventh daze
As God wont sow much more
The lored of what
Might
Just be
More than a seventh
Ours
Minutes
Every present
As you thirst firsts
Seconds
Just
As good

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POEM: Free, of Conspiring

Freedom exists, some wear between, inspiration and expiration…

Free, of Conspiring

Breath conspires with know one
Inspiration just
The have of it
Perspiration soully
Water you
Going to do

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POEM: Owed to Uncivil Service

This poem was inspired by the targeted firing of immigration judges who may be just, not far right enough…

Owed to Uncivil Service

The party boss
Burst onto the seam
Turning on
His ruin US fauxs
Helled as self-evident truths
Making a kiln
Long the weigh
With clay feat
Bursting
Out
You’re fired
Having left
Too others
To clean up
Whatever peace might
Holed on

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POEM: Burning Peacemakers Unflaggingly a Cross America

This poem goes out to alleged Christians, Christian nationalists, who are complicit, if not cheerleading or orchestrating, the crucifixion in a myriad of weighs of immigrants and refugees, and those others caught in the cross fire…

Burning Peacemakers Unflaggingly a Cross America

Jesus, the Prince of Peace, has tried to come back to earth several times, soully to be executed, agin, as an enemy of the state, as the world wades for better leadership.

I AM
Jesus, a brown-skinned, non-English-speaking, foreigner
In “other” words
A fourth coming terrorist
Sow trying to come agin
Twice be for
Executed by the state
Wince more
A cross the whirled
For sons and daughters of God
Assembling peace fully
And what is left
Taken by this radical rite
Accept peacemaking amor unflaggingly

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