POEM: A Star To Be Borne — People Knot Looking Up

In dozin’s of dozin’s
They were engrossed
Fueled time and time agin
In con founding sow a ware
Their tension helled by their idol busyness
In pitches black to looming executors
As orderly
As dark
Knot knowing her
Under stand
Oh so only
A pinpoint of light
Maid awe
The brighter
Bye her dark surroundings
A soul star
Hardily seen
By fortune it few
Wile spacey masses
Worship the knows on their efface
As oblivion too her
As if
A gazillion miles away
Holy unappreciated
Yet in good accompany
Uncounted others
As bidding awe
To glisten up
And down bellow
To those untoward souls
Doody bound to knot look up
The bind leading the bind
As eyes razed
Awe through the night
Dreaming of eight hour daze
And might as well be
Taken for granite
Ahead stone
In concrete cubicles
And dead lines
In deed missing
Hi noon
Starring you in the face
As you were
Out to lunch

This poem tells a story of lives lived in such a fast and concrete way that awe is mist.  Weather the gently glistening star unseen from mansions suitable for slumber or the noonday sun unnoticed as out to lunch, people make due knot looking up.  Threw out most of human history, people looked up to the stars as entree to the eternal.  Unshrouded by big city lights, beacons of planetary possibilities bound only by imagination lucidly invite us to feast from such a contemplate.  Even in the light of day, when our own earth beckons hour attention, original peoples looked to the sun in their measure of time, as the nightly heavens did their seasoning allot.  The latest version of humanity, with each precisely distracted digital watch, now combined with a wring tone of our favorite bland, solicits us to look down time and time agin.  Fastened in a virtual reality, the only looking up we due is Googling.  Sow trying, to keep up to speed!   Who can resist such a lure?  Perhaps a generous summon from a heavenly place can raze our efface.  May the ponderings of countless stars, or a singular sun, be sufficient inspiration in life to look up without flail.

POEM: Namaste

Who dares ax
Why I am
Sow meta for
As the spear it in me
Razes up
Too meat the spirit in you

http://www.toppun.com/Religious-Spiritual/Buttons/Don-t-Have-A-Sacred-Cow-SPIRITUAL-BUTTON.htmlThis poem is an ode to my favorite version of the greeting “namaste:” may the spirit in me rise up to meet the spirit in you.  My poetic version plays with the meeting of the spiritual and physical, the spirit and the flesh.  How do the sublime and the crude coexist?  The short answer is that life is marvelously messy.  Daring to question why I am the way I am can be a precarious project.  Delving into why the great “I AM” is “I AM” can be downright dangerous.  Existence is puzzling; essence more sow.  One of my projects in life is to be in touch with my bastard nature, daring “too meat” the spirit in you.  The churning of my spirit yearns to kiss the whirled of flesh, and perhaps more.  The paradox of “Razes up” speaks to the inextricable cycles of destruction and creation, countless resurrections, risings up from the ashes like a phoenix. Re-born Again and again and again and again SPIRITUAL BUTTON This is a death-defying game: “the spear it in me.”  Still, I like to stir things up.  Things that are settled strike me as dead.  My Karma Ran Over Your Dogma. SPIRITUAL BUTTONWhere there is pretension, expect to be punctuated with vulgarity.  Where there is cynicism, expect to be flooded by my delugings of unabashed hope.  I will hurl sublime poetry over your ahead, but I won’t pick at your soars.  I will lob softballs to hit you out of park, but know one will keep score.  The hallowed and the hollowed will mete.  There are plenty of weepin’s in this life too be had.  How ever, weather I reach hi or lo, behold my arse and all.  Think good that the pun is mightier than the sored!  What ever this life is, it is the most beautiful thing I ever metaphor.  Metaphors Be With You SPIRITUAL BUTTONNamaste.

 

 

 

 

 

Please feel free to check out other spirit-filled, inspiring and life challenging designs:

A Conclusion Is The Place Where You Got Tired Of Thinking SPIRITUAL BUTTONIf you are in control, then you are going too slow. SPIRITUAL BUTTONWhy not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is? Mark Twain quote SPIRITUAL BUTTON

Not All Who Wander Are Lost SPIRITUAL BUTTONFind Your Own Way -- Buddha SPIRITUAL BUTTONThey will say you are on the wrong road, if it is your own. Antonio Porchia quote SPIRITUAL BUTTON

Don't take life so seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway. SPIRITUAL BUTTONFirst Things First But Not Necessarily in That Order SPIRITUAL BUTTONReality is for people who lack imagination. SPIRITUAL BUTTON

BORN AGAIN and Again and Again SPIRITUAL BUTTONEver Wonder? SPIRITUAL BUTTONGot Inspiration SPIRITUAL BUTTON

The Beginning is Near SPIRITUAL BUTTON

POEM: The Curator

I am
The curator
Of your infinite beauty
Privy to collections timeless
And in real time
Streaming glorious tributaries
To the art of who you are

This is a poem about the glorious privilege in close relationships of having unique access to the beauty of another, particularly a lover.  Inspired by my muse and sweetheart, such beauty is an unending — as in head over heels — source of teeming enthrallment.  Joy is Most Infallible Sign Presence of God--PEACE QUOTE BUTTONI genuflect at the mass of wondrous moments and shared memories.  Mere reminiscence of our first kiss is lost in the wake of our most recent kiss.  Every new kiss shatters the inadequacy of my imagination with the surpassing reality of beauty ever anew.  In the face of such beauty, my poetry pales.  The irresistible invitation to shut up and kiss me blissfully wins the day, holy inseparable.  Only when apart is my poetry birthed, orphaned of such beauty, hankering for those unrivaled tears of joy.

This poem, while a testament to the beauty of human love, offers a parallel connection to an even more holy love. As so aptly stated by Victor Hugo in Les Miserables: “To love another person is to see the face of God.”  To love another person is to see the face of God. Victor Hugo, Les Miserables quote SPIRITUAL BUTTONThis should surprise no one who sees God as love.  God revels in your infinite beauty, even if others may not witness it.  You are an ongoing work of art only adequately appreciated when one subject experiences another subject, not merely for what they do or look like, but who they are, both a work and source of ineffable art and artistry.

In my poems, I frequently use “I am” in a single line.  This is meant to allude to God, “I AM.”  In Exodus 3:14, Moses is instructed to tell his fellow Israelites from whom he is sent: “I AM.”  The long version, “I AM WHO I AM,” speaks to the sovereign character of God.  To the less discerning this may simply appear akin to Popeye declaring “I am what I am,” or Forrest Gump simply affirming, “Stupid is as stupid does.”  However, in the pedagogy of God, such tautologies are unhelpful.  Whatever Popeye is, is what he is.  On the face of it, what stupid is, is what stupid does.  Still, whatever I might do, or however I may appear to you, does not fully define who I am.  Your unduplicated set of personal thoughts and feelings, hopes and desires, experiences and perspectives, confound explication and formulation.  And, as for you, as for God (or vice versa).  You, as an authentic subject, are not fully experienced if only related to as a thing that looks a certain way and behaves in a certain way. The sacredness of being beloved is not the same as merely being witnessed or even appreciated for what one is or how one behaves.  The sacredness of being beloved encompasses a reverence for our ongoing artistry, the chosen project of our unreplicable life, what ever that may be.  This reflects the love a parent has for a child, regardless of what they happen to be at any given moment, or how they behave.  This reflects the love one has for their beloved, seeking their beloved’s best, even when it may be in parent conflict with what is best for them.  Similarly, God, as an authentic subject, is not fully experienced simply by examining, however closely, creation, and what the universe looks like or how it behaves.  Such data sets, however extensive, and formulations, however complete, cannot capture the living God; just as you are not defined only by how you look to others and how your behaviors are perceived.  Two subjects meeting, experiencing one another: this is the stuff of gods and goddesses, where new worlds are created.  Theologians, philosophers, and even scientists, talk about God, but this has little resemblance to experience looking God in the I.  And if this peers inaccessible, find a good lover, have a child, maybe both.  You assuredly will be surprised!

POEM: The Miraculous Doubt Her

Due
You believe
In miracles
Yes and know
Awe or nothing
Beyond your current
Imagination
And resounding may be

This poem of hope and expansive imagination is intended to both stretch and comfort your heart and mind.  There are wondrous things of which we know little.  Not knowing doesn’t have to lead to fear or anxiety.  Not knowing can spur curiosity and leave open a space of immeasurable size where hopes call home.  Only the haughty portend that there are no marvels outside the reach of human finitude.  Willingness to explore, hope, dream, and chart fabulous possibilities is the perfect complement to willfulness, a tenacious navigator of gutsy hope amidst fields of dreams.  Life can be harsh and disappointing.  Yet, inasmuch as we are the captains of our own fate, we are built for sailing, not the safe and limited usefulness of harbor.  While it may be trite that life isn’t fair, there is little doubt that life is excellent!  If your life isn’t a miracle, I strongly suspect that this isn’t the fault of God, real or unimagined.

POEM: Liberal Mined Violent

Some liberal mined violent
Call up on pacifists
To condemn a brand of violence
To wit
They object
Ultimately subjected
To accost
Without benefit analysis
Coming efface to efface
With realty
And a sorted loved wons
Unwilling to accede where others have flailed
The brand they hide
Singularly fingered
Buy pacifists
Calling a tension two
A third weigh
Of the largesse possible
An unwelcome piece
When wanting more than have
Of everything fourth with
Ironying details
Ever beyond that which is a greed
How to saddle for less
Than being cowed
And truth be tolled
The violent
As a madder of practice
Get their weigh
A tempting feudal steer
Milking it for all a veil
In udder disbelief
As much as we can
Due better
Keeping nothing bottled up
Unleashing everything even remotely herd
Know longer listening
Too the artless
Like sum stock ticker
An engine only for the vain
Abase symbol for awe to hear
As the lover of awe kinds
Relinquishes the bully pulpit
In respect to those assembling
Not dissembling

Pacifists such as myself are sometimes called upon by those who are selectively violent to roundly and reliably condemn some violence that is repugnant to their preferred modes of violence.  PACIFIST - Someone With The Nutty Idea That Killing People Is Bad PEACE BUTTONThis convenient opportunism by “liberal mined” violent can hopefully serve as an opportunity for pacifist to draw connections and expose biased interests in enterprises that vainly wish to promote some kinds of violence and condemn other forms of violence, yet miraculously divorce means and ends and somehow produce a nonviolent state.  The situation that came to mind for me in this poem harkens back to the early 1980’s as a peacemongering student at Hope College.  I was asked by a conservative political science professor to serve as an expert witness in the campus’ mock United Nations proceedings.  Specifically, he was asking me to address violence by Palestinians against Israelis.  Much to his chagrin, I spoke about violence in the Israeli occupation of Palestine proportional to the violence present, that is, overwhelmingly committed by Israel and backed by the political and financial patronage of the United States.

Probably the largest complaint that apologists for violence have against pacifists is that they are “passivists,” complicit and enabling of injustices, specifically, and perhaps presumptuously, injustices that seem only solvable through violence, or at least the right “kind” of violence.  Complicity to violence and injustice is a profoundly true charge to both pacifists and apologists for violence.  Pacifism sets the bar high and regularly fails at fully fulfilling its high calling.  Feel free to contrast this limit of idealism (and its harms?) with the cynical acceptance (realism?) that killing others is necessary for justice (usually just us). If the notion and practice of necessary evil doesn’t make your head explode, it will quite assuredly shrink your heart, particularly if aspiring to follow a God of love.  I see Gandhi’s simple taxonomy of roles in the necessarily epic struggles for justice as insightful. Gandhi spoke of nonviolent “warriors,” violent warriors, and cowards.  I'm not a pacifist. I'm not that brave. Phil Donahue quote PEACE BUTTONHe saw these ordered in terms of moral achievement; the pacifist activist, then soldiers, and lastly, cowards. Of course, poorly performing pacifists can fall into the pit of fear and cowardice, unsuccessfully bridging the gap between talking the talk and walking the walk.  Soldiers have an inherent advantage in that a significant proportion can be expected to face death in combat situations.  This engenders a palpable sense of courage for facing such situations, whether, in fact, these situations are just or not.  Willingly facing being killed or severely harmed is the definition of courage. We can learn a lot from soldiers (not the least of which is that the most vehement anti-war activists are often veterans of military combat, sometimes simply slaughter). Courage is commendable.  Having skin in the game is the necessary good.  Any pacifist worth their salt will embody courage and skin in the game.  Evil, and its even uglier companion, necessary evil, can only thrive amidst cowardice and not having skin in the game.  Without courage, cowardice will rule the day (and night).  Without skin in the game, the privileged will continue to keep their foot on the neck of the disenfranchised, usually through a complex system of subcontracting not requiring their actual foot to do the dirty work.  A cowardly, distracted and narcotized public will earn an assist in maintaining their somewhat more advantageous state in the hierarchy of privilege and disenfranchisement.

Of course, the difference between a pacifist and a soldier is not the willingness to die for a cause, but the (un)willingness to kill for a cause.  The willingness to kill is the preeminent prerequisite of a soldier.  Object of War Not to Die for Your Country But Make Other Bastard Die for His -- General George Patton ANTI-WAR QUOTE BUTTONIn regard to willingly dying and willingly killing, perhaps the infamous WWII General George Patton said it best, “The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.”  Further, in the calculus of soldiering, we must remember that in modern times (the last 100+ years), military combat has frighteningly consistently killed over ten noncombatants/civilians for every soldier killed.  By what stretch of imagination do “realists” consider this courageous and honorable?  The cowardice inherent in the proposition of necessary evil is the root of much evil in this world.  The fantasy of necessary evil is nothing short of an abnegation of responsibility, an idol worship of something other than the free will and moral agency of which we are endowed.

As a spiritual practice, I find pacifism, ruling out the killing of others, as a profoundly creative practice.  You may be surprised at the depths of creativity accessible by dispatching the human perversion called necessary evil and the barbaric practice of killing others.  Without presupposing limits on human goodness, you can unleash new experiments, pioneer new ground (sometimes observed as common ground), raise the heights to which humans may aspire, and make the world friendlier to love.  Nonviolence is Organized Love -- Joan Baez PEACE QUOTEAs Joan Baez so elegantly and succinctly said, “That’s all nonviolence is — organized love.”  Of course, my paraphrase would be: nonviolence is just, organized love…

 

POEM: Not Buying Heaven or Hell

Being not tempted
Buy heaven or hell
I yearn my keep
From the love unearth

I like epic themes, such as heaven and hell.  Nonetheless, I find the carrot of heaven or the stick of hell to be a distraction from good living on earth.  Love strikes me as what melds the good life on earth.  Love is a good in itself, reflecting the grace of our Creator.  Love is the way.  Love puts hell in the refuse category, rejecting the cynical notion that redemption is a dead end street.  Hell implies that God gives up on us, and that God’s will can only overcome us with some sort of eternal prison.  More insidiously, hell accepts that human will is somehow supreme, even trumping God.  Death itself seems a more than adequate fail-safe for limiting any human’s will! If there is a heaven, it would prove consistent with God’s pattern of surprising me with good things, taking me beyond my limited intellect, experience, or even imagination.  My conception of how God operates is much more like a parent raising a young child, or in my more mature states, like a lover wooing me into even greater ways of being.  My siblings in this big, strange human family may behave badly at times, but we are still family and need to have each others back, and at least not kill each other!  Cain murdering Abel was all the more outrageous because they were brothers.  It is no different today — we are all brothers and sisters.  We should not forget such things.  This is not simply a metaphor.  Evolutionary biology indicates that all modern humans descended from a common ancestor on the continent of Africa.  Humanity would be better served to remember our African mother and know that we are one race, the human race. Love of family is our greatest inheritance. Let this love bring us together, not tear us apart.