POEM: Having Her Weigh With Me

The muse had her weigh with me
And it was sow right
There was nothing left
Accept light

This short poem is about the love affair between an artist and their muse.  The grace-ridden gifts from beyond our doing and understanding are transformative, provided that we not ignore their presence and look a weigh. Deep love makes it difficult to align one’s life with the conventional prescriptions of the world, with all of its handsome formulas and fine-tuned scales.  Love overturns.  And delightfully sow.  The world bids us to write that report, finish that job.  The muse, as any good lover, is accomplished at outbidding us to winnow away ours making love or simply “being” together.  May your muse faithfully rip you from the sow called productivity of this world and promote you to times and spaces where joy is your only wage.  And if, perchance, you don’t have a muse, lighten up, and like a fairy having taken flight in this sometimes abyssal world, they will land where the run away is lit up.

POEM: Plodding Vivacious Nature

While I was busy
Doing my busyness
Over taking
My competition
Nature was successively
Undertaking my previous busyness done
Supplanting my decomposing legacy
With crop worth feasting on
In treating me
As patience heel
Going
Won better
Nature calls
Barely distinguished from my sorry solicitations
Yet as summon to love
Plodding nature never climaxes
Nevertheless, it will undoubtedly come for me
In my ruin us substitute for vivaciousness

This poem was inspired by working in my backyard this Spring and being struck by how much nature marches on, particularly if you haven’t been paying that much attention to it for a while.  The bulk of nature seems painfully slow compared to the fast-paced lives of highly evolved, huffing and puffing mammals that we call humans.  Man is a part of nature, and his war against nature is inevitably a war against himself --Rachel Carson quote POLITICAL BUTTONNature has a plodding patience that meekly, yet overwhelmingly, with grate irregularity to many, surmounts our well-kept yards and fields of concrete.  There is a gentle awesomeness as nature unassumingly yields our very lives.  Though, if we are too attached to sow called civilization, nature may creep up and out like that proverbial monster painstakingly slow but steadfastly only a step behind and foreboding.  The veneer of our suppository importance is made bear as we do our busyness in the woulds of life.  As we routinely pooh-pooh nature, nature brushes aside, as over bearing, such inattentive buy products.  As nature’s patients, such hospitality and heeling is often times not welcome.  Wile we unwittingly billed our own creation, nature rejuvenates with an irrepressible vivaciousness.  Without won assent, nature secedes in making us hole.  Perhaps it’s time to buy avowal or a singular consonant, that which would be, a whole.

Feel free to browse my nature and environmental designs here:

The Environment Is Over-Raided - FUNNY POLITICAL BUTTONA Savage Is Not The One Who Lives In The Forest, But The One Who Destroys It POLITICAL BUTTONDo Not Worry About The Environment - It Will Go Away POLITICAL BUTTON

LOVE MOTHER Earth POLITICAL BUTTONEvery Day Is Earth Day - POLITICAL BUTTONMay The Forest Be With You - POLITICAL BUTTON

POEM: In A Family Weigh

The future looms
Sew large
As we seam
Sow singularly stranded
In the present
Weave heir
A parent
With know designs
Beyond
Sum won ails
And grater still
The mine wandering
Too what end
As life goes
On and on
In and out
Adding up
One’s soul contribution
The pit or pattern
Of little feat
Never apart
Of the family busyness

This poem is about solidarity and hope.  At times, each of us may feel alone, facing an uncertain future.  This poem sets such worries and fears in the context of being part of the human family, children of God.  You are not alone.  While our individual actions may seem futile, they are an undeniable thread in the fabric of the future.  Even when we feel screwed, the future is pregnant with possibilities.  Not Your Obligation to Complete Your Work But Not at Liberty to Quit--PEACE QUOTE BUTTONThe Talmud wisely states, “It is not your obligation to complete your work, but you are not at liberty to quit.”  Change is ongoing — such is the nature of life.  Works worthy of the human race (versus the rat race) cross generations — even races!   Worthy hopes and dreams often need to live on across generations; thus, our hopes and dreams must pass the test of being in a family weigh.  As native Americans might put it: the arc of our lives should be aligned with the lives seven generations from now.  The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice--Martin Luther King, Jr. BUTTONFurther, as Martin Luther King, Jr. assured us, “The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice.”  Wherever your journey takes you, may you find courage and hope in the company of others, and do your part taking care of the family busyness.

 

 

Feel free to browse courage designs here.

The Opposite of Courage In Our Society Is Not Cowardice; It Is Conformity -- Rollo May quote POLITICAL BUTTONCourage - The Other National Deficit POLITICAL BUTTONHatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated. George Bernard Shaw quote PEACE 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: A Choiring, Raw Youth

Their raw youth
Was tenderly witnessed
By age owed eyes
In awe
Their awkward glory
Surpassing polished learning
More than could ever anew

This poem is a reminder to both young and old about the raw beauty of youth, the vim and vigor, dream-filled ebullience, and grace-filled awkwardness.  This poem can be understood without additional context, though the title — A Choiring, Raw Youth — is perhaps both a clue and enigma.  This poem was inspired by a high school choir performing at the retirement community where my dad lives.  I was youthful in compare to the rest of the audience, but, I am at that age where high school kids look look younger every year — and eventually either they or I will be issued diapers!  The experience and perspective of age — age owed eyes — may be uniquely able to appreciate the stunning juxtaposition of adolescent awkwardness and untainted talent.  For me, this elicited great compassion and hope.  It is a rare day that I would trade age for youth.  Though I frequently quip that youth is wasted on the young.  Still, even this quip is a cloaked compliment at the glory of youth, in awe of its awkwardness and blooming energy.  Their performance made a home for joy.  And as they headed out into the world, I trust that their freshness will continue to make this place we call earth ever anew.  I was bettered by the presence of their performance.  May people of awe ages give way to their fresh hope and awkward glory.

POEM: Re-lying on Day-old Knews

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
The news drones on
Massaging and spinning
Disembodied heads a top
Heartless ‘n titties in dis cursive and desultry means
Temperately flailing to wake us
From our terrorific slumber
Our tired and true rejoinder
Hit the snooze
Yes! In the land of nod
Obey the well-dressed anchor
Around your neck
Nothing to see, hear!
Accept properly-placed comas
Overlooking a legion of meanings
That might
Arise from our side
Maddened more
By head lines in-grave
As face each mourn
Not up to catching forty hoodwinks
Before rolling over and playing dead
To any smooth promise posed
To have done with the etched of the earth
Penned in stone
Fashioned to suture self
With the bounty of some spell binding medium
Ripped at the seem
Quipped with stupefying farce
As the wise crack
Humanity snapping to a tension
‘n snare with each punch line
It’s how the net works
Naught
To see the catch
Re-lying on day-old knews
In abiding wore
For flagging ardor
And uniform fatigues
Am bushed
And each recurring brake of daze
Pared with a new assault
To be taken
With agreein’
Ennui start all over agin

The news as imperfected by the American media conglomerates may represent the most distant information and perspective in acquiring and harmonizing with timeless truths.  Drowning In Information But Starved For Truth [TV] POLITICAL BUTTONThis incongruence between timeliness and timelessness is a form of endemic violence perpetuated on the American public.  What bleeds leads, and awe is vanity.  Flittering from superficial story to superficial story leaves the cursory public interest unattended too.  The veil of objectivity alludes responsibility.  The conveniently hidden agenda of corporate interests routinely protects itself from authentic critique.  Useful as chain mail, amid evil sensibility is safeguarded for the lords of the manner.  Civility hijacks dissent.  Of coarse, vulgar opinion poses handily as master debating.

I find an antidote to such blindness-producing jerks, listening to Democracy Now (DemocracyNow.org) every weekday.  If you're not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed and loving the people who are doing the oppressing -- Malcolm X quote POLITICAL BUTTONThis bastion of independent media provides in-depth coverage of real issues and real people, speaking truth to power every broadcast.  Also, I relish the launching of Toledo’s own independent, noncommercial radio station, WAKT 106.1 FM, this July.  This radio station will provide locally-produced content free from commercial interests.  My public health show, Just for the Health of it, will take on corporate health interests to aid and abet local folks in powering up their own health, the health of our community, and the health of our planet.

May you find meaningful and uplifting sources of news and information, good for awe.

Check out my dozens of Fox News/Faux News parodies here.

Faux News - Unencumbered by Truth (FOX NEWS Parody) - POLITICAL BUTTON	 FAUX NEWS - Making The World Safe For Stupidity (FOX NEWS Parody) - POLITICAL BUTTONFaux News - Preferred by 5 Out of 4 Rednecks (FOX NEWS Parody) - POLITICAL BUTTON

POEM: Forging Another Plan It

Politics
Is just
Another plan it
Plutocracy
The best
Money can bye

Hey Corporations, It's 'BY The People' Not 'BUY' The People POLITICAL BUTTONThis short poem is about money in politics, the ultimate manifestation of which is plutocracy.  When money is king, you can say good buy to democracy.  Do you feel like you are living on some different planet: planet Plutocracy?  The plan it is from rich folks, the 1%.  Invest in America. Buy a Congressman! POLITICAL BUTTONYou can call it oligarchy, kleptocracy, or corporatacracy, but, in our synonym-spiced political system, money trumps people, and corporate persons trump human persons.  There is little comfort in having the best political system that money can buy.  As presidential election season rolls around, the aristocracy steamrolls what’s left of democracy in a rigged system, offering only the illusion of choice.  This bankrupt system, not surprisingly, produces a billionaire megalomaniac where authoritarianism is the default and all of our problems are somebody else’s fault, and a Wall Street abettor with imperial ambitions. 	 This is the Only Bill Unanimously Passed in Congress (100 Dollar Bill) - POLITICAL BUTTON Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, represent the surreal diversity of aristocrats.  Señor Trump will build a wall and the Mexicans will pay for it — because they love him!  Commander-in-chief Hillary Clinton will put the finishing touches on the Death Star by providing its minions and minionettes paid maternity leave and affordable debt sentences.  I’m sure the winner will be whichever cult can round up and sacrifice the most chickens running around with their heads cut off.  As for me, I’m going to vote for the candidate favored by our great, great, great, grandchildren.

POEM: Present Daze

God invented the eight hour day
But buy popular demand
Parently beyond what could ever be yearned
The ardor one tries
Only leaves won
With more or less
Wanting more our
In their daze
With each re-quest
First off with nine hours
Fallowed by ten
Bye and bye 11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
And sow on and sow on
Till 24
As sum backward count
Down with freedom
Until divine enough
As full, filled with presents

This poem is a bit of storytelling regarding hour ever-present knead for more time in our daze.  God is portrayed as a permissive parent granting immature children the never-enough request for more hours in the day.  This poem is an object lesson about “divine enough,” where both God and humans have to set boundaries and limits to move from merely an adequate quantity of time to a full, filling quality of time.  	 They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price -- Kahlil Gibran quote POLITICAL BUTTONThe freedom we seek requires adequate time but can only be “enough” when we learn to experience a sufficient quality of time.  This is the transcendent freedom emanating from mastery of experiencing the “eternal now.”  Of course, humans need a certain amount of time suitable to their nature and the tasks before them.  This poem plays with the notion that this amount of time may be somewhat arbitrary — a storytelling device to accentuate the governing importance of the quality of time — but humans were made, evolved befitting to a 24-hour day.  And of note, in our weakly existence, God instituted a Sabbath day to set apart the wrest.  Rest and re-creation are as integral to life as any work set before us.  This poem first imagines God as creating an eight hour day.  This is not arbitrary.  The eight hour day alludes to the successful workers’ movement in response to nearly unimaginably exhausting work schedules: “In 1890, when the government first tracked workers’ hours, the average workweek for full-time manufacturing employees was 100 hours and 102 hours for building tradesmen.”  Work, Buy, Consume, Die (repeat as unneeded) POLITICAL BUTTONThe eight hour movement’s slogan was “Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest and eight hours for what you will.”  This movement was deeply rooted in the hard work and sacrifice — boundary setting — necessary to respect our human nature and human rights.  The defining moment in this movement, the birth-pangs of American labor, were police killings of strikers:

“On the evening of May 4, 1886, thousands of workers gathered in Chicago’s Haymarket Square to protest against the police killing of six strikers that had taken place a day earlier. As the rally wound down, a bomb exploded among a phalanx of policemen who had moved in to disperse the crowd. In the ensuing melee, seven policemen and an unknown number of civilians died.

The ‘Haymarket riot’ triggered the first American red scare. Media reporting was one-sided and vitriolic. Even though most casualties resulted from policemen’s bullets, the event was used to condemn the labor movement and its cause. Authorities quickly moved to pin blame for the event on Chicago’s working class anarchist leaders, who were arrested, tried, and convicted in a case that made a mockery of jurisprudence.

After the trial, an international campaign was waged for reversal of the death sentences, led by literary figure William Dean Howells, a close friend of Mark Twain. Of the eight defendants, four were hung on “Black Friday,” November 11, 1887: Albert Parsons, August Spies, Adolph Fischer and George Engel.

Will Work For Worker Rights POLITICAL BUTTONHaymarket is of enormous historical significance. It was the bloody culmination of the eight-hour-day movement, which had mobilized hundreds of thousands of American workers. And it was the direct origin of May 1 as the international holiday of the working class—celebrated virtually everywhere but in the land of its inspiration, the US.”

The trinity of work, leisure and sleep may be rooted in our human nature, yet there are many who would rob us of such a birthright.  The struggle continues in our culture of busyness and work/money as the alleged determiners of our identity and worth.  May we find a more balanced way, in harmony with our nature.  And in each moment, may you “divine enough/As full, filled with presents.”

POEM: Enough Awe Ready

He saw
The future
In have
Like sum carnival game
Destined to win
As if
In sane
As blown two bits
Caught looking
Like a fun house mirror
Mirror on the wall
Axing who is the fairest
Of ummm awe
Busted by what is shard
With no won
As too haves
Make a hole
Unfull
Filled in
Presence intact
With twisted knows
And everybody stretched
Beyond recognition
Of what is awe
Ready today

This poem is an ode to my experience of life becoming increasingly surreal.  I am perpetually befuddled at how we humans can bypass the ever-present awe freely available in any God-given moment for the cheap, gaudy prizes hawked by the carnival barkers of our so-called civilization.  Money and possessions possess us.  Having trumps being.  Our fixations on imprisoning security, superficial celebrity and vain distractions, ego-catering status, and national power distort our worldviews like a fun-house mirror, a broken won at that.  Denial fuels us into believing that our common cents whirled is accurate, or perhaps inescapable, if not necessarily healthy.  Acceptance is not about pawning hope or cynically tolerating “necessary” evil; rather acceptance is simply seeing things as they are.  I strongly suspect, and hope, that my befuddlement emanates from the gap between seeing things as the really are versus the circus of awe-consuming American culture blowing through town and this flicker of human and planetary history.  May we all see things, and accept things, as they really are, making it most possible to fulfill our most deeply real dreams.

POEM: Chains of Command

A juggernaut of freedom
He proudly served
As the weakest link
In the chain of command
And above
Awe
Due no harm

This poem juxtaposes the contrasting notions of freedom achieved through tight, even militaristic, ventures versus embodying freedom through default nonviolence and decentralized decision-making.  This is a command and control model versus fostering non-hierarchical and autonomous action.  Free Range Human Being - POLITICAL BUTTONMy experience is that directly practicing freedom and modeling this for others is the best means for manifesting increasing freedom.  Most succinctly put, this is a matter of means and ends — or rather a madder of means and end for the militarist or militant fundamentalist.  Subcontracting out freedom by wholesale consenting to others’ directives strikes me as a fundamental bastardization of freedom, particularly in large militaristic bureaucracies dedicated to the end of freedom — through ever-escalating means.  This is part and parcel to anarchist practice and philosophy.   Anarchists value direct, unmediated experience as both a way to live and learn, in contrast to imputing authority (via consent, and ultimately responsibility) into impersonal human organizations or other impersonal social arrangements.  Humanity is best experienced and served through smaller-scale, personal relationships, where the creative expressions of voluntary association and the personally uplifting experiences of mutual aid flourish.  The most common way people give up power is by thinking they don't have any -- Alice Walker quote POLITICAL BUTTONThe title of this poem, “Chains of command,”  is a pun — a double meaning — directly linking the shackling of freedom to systems of command and control.  Anarchists are renown for their issues with authority.  Less well appreciated is their fundamental critique of large, impersonal ventures which are viewed as the primary threat to our individual and collective humanity.  Anarchists seek to live on what is considered a human scale, which is necessarily smaller-scale — you can only relate personally to a finite number of people — and decentralized in that your set of relationships is an organic, even alive, entity that is guided by free association and mutual aid.  While anarchists are often portrayed as dangerous (perhaps to many forms of social order) and cavalier (perhaps revealing how foreboding freedom can be), there is a certain humility built into the anarchist worldview; there is a profound lack of ambition to control others (and be controlled) through the bulk of social arrangements in modern, so-called civilization.  The hubris necessary for violence is for me the best example.  Now, the brand of anarchist practice that I would ascribe to might be referred to as green anarchism, where violence is not understood to be an integral and necessary part of being human.  So-called black anarchists might view the violence inherent in the present social order as necessitating violent responses.  My view of freedom does not consider violence as necessary to being human, though the choice to be subject to violence as opposed to inflicting it remains a difficult and necessarily challenging one.  Clearly the current world order considers violence as merely the order of the day, a necessity, outside the realm of free choice. The last lines of the poem are a tribute to a pacifist green anarchism, and the deep humility it engenders: And above/Awe/Due no harm.  Of course, this is a take on the Hippocratic Oath: Above all, do no harm.  Plus, the “Due no harm” alludes to the vision of a world where the cycles of violence are broken and there is no longer the cruel divide of victim and perpetrator.  To go full circle, we must cast off the chains of command.  May you find the freedom and courage to pay the cost of boldly adding your beautiful human life to the mix of humanity where fear and misunderstandings and inertial privilege stand in the way of our individual and collective humanity.

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