Whatever your life is, may it be times cherished, that is, X cherished, multiplying awe that is good.
Times Cherished
Once in a wile, I talk the talk
Every sow often, I walk the walk
Not with standing
The times I cherish most
I run
Heart long into the loving
Alms of the universe
The sores of being
Brought to heal
Here is a poem about a life full of flocking phoenixes. I wrote this a while back, but it is eerily apropos, and perhaps hopeful, considering the inferno devastating Los Angeles. May mutual aid win the daze ahead.
Burned
I had
A peek experience
Of what
Behind me
Sow many undertakings
Bridges burnt
Deeds smoked
Eyes watering
Blind to what is
Ahead
The future
Is courted by my many peeps
Phoenixes
As we be flocked
Libertarianism can be self-limiting in many weighs…
Libertarian High Weighs
My way or the highway
Except the highway
We don’t do public works projects
Reality gives feedback. If we humans find ourselves stubbornly living outside natural limits, Mother Earth is obliged to complete our will.
Obliged
Mother Earth obliges
The will
Of the human race
Allowing us
To finish
First
A cross
The finish line
As I have moved into retirement, I noticed on my facebook profile that my “employment” was outmoded. So, I have created a new busyness: Mystic Ink 2.0 (to point: oh!). As a little background, in 2011, I decided to write poetry as an intentional vocation and serendipitous vacation. This emerged as an extension of my business, TopPun.com — Maximizing Prophets, which itself originated from my realization that I am the best punster for peace and justice in the English-speaking world. Sow, I have adopted a new “employer” for Top Pun: Mystic Ink 2.0 (to point: oh!). Here is a poem to launch this soul vocation:
Mystic Ink 2.0 (to point: oh!)
Who am I?
Prints
Without papers
What am I
Maid of
100% recycled electrons
Peering as sum kind
Of wholly goest
From hear to there
Wear awe
Is well
Or a fart in the win
Inspiring
Ass can be
Soully employed
Mystic ink
My mark it
Welcome to the free verse
Worth every pen he
NOTE: facebook, a posed king of the virtual world, rejected four characters in my “business” title. I would have settled for them rejecting this singular character. Quiet fitting!
One of the things that I would like to do in this new year is organize my life in such as way that I can commit civil disobedience and risk jail time while minimizing the destructive effect on other parts of my life. I plan on powering up my long term project to live in voluntary simplicity/poverty. Also, I would like to fill the role of bard on any great quests involving team civil disobedience. Here is a poem on this theme:
Courting Civil Disobedience
We stood
In that space between
Just us and justice
Wholehearted quests needing
A poet
Judges and jailers
Knot sow much
Here is a VERY short poem for the holy days. This poem is a tip of the hat to my favorite commentary on prayer from the poet and mystic, Meister Eckhart: “If there were but one prayer, ‘thanks’ would suffice.”
The Purpose of Life
Thanks allot
The best criteria that I have come across for keeping a poem is whether it improves upon silence. Here is a poem on that theme. Feel free to read it silently…
Empty Page
The messenger delivered
I am
Caught short
Buy the world
Less than won
Word
Wholly silent
More than
Speechless
Some have noted that you need to speak a different language to understand my poetry. Here is a poem on that theme:
An Other: Language
He tolled it
Like it is
With respect to my write mined
You knead to know
An other
Language
To under stand
You’re poetry
Suns and knights
God daughters
Mother tongue
Rob her’s
By the dozens
Soully too fine
No less rich
Mirrorly uddering
O pun says me
In the presents of
This
Secrets cave
As life alight
Transcending a diction
This poem goes out to all of those whose recognition of climate existential crises is met with denial and minimalizing:
Suicidal?
Why due you
Home in
On Mother Earth
And existential cry seas
Passably reckoning sow
You know weigh too much
Are you suicidal?
No
Weigh less
Then humanity
As hole
Do you no who you are? I have found that art helps me resolve this question.
Author Author
The author of authors
In formed me
Right what you no
The story of you’re life
O pen
You’re art
I have found that one of the enemies of life is being clenched. Life needs space to flow. Forcing solutions often leads to a somewhat constipated life. Of course, this may be one of the most difficult things in the whirled to grasp. A pop reference to this poem could be the 1981 hit song, Hold on Loosely, by 38 Special. “Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.”
Clenched
The more
I grasped life
The more
Life ran through my fingers
Un-be-no’in to me
God clenched his fist
And awe the more
Life
Reigned
On the just and unjust
I have found great freedom in being de-institutionalized from a “regular” job, religion, and overly organized endeavors of all sorts. I see institutionalization as a process and infrastructure that routinely trades our highest humanity for stacks of lowest common denominations. This poem goes out to each and every singular unicorn human. May you be untamed.
A Veritable Zoo
There is know herding cats
There is no herding unicorns
As a soul creature untamed
In countering chiefly
As some fateful meet
As hows broken
Like a pro
Down with trading up
A singular unicorn
For a dozen workhorses
Perhaps a thousand
Bargained as a savvy genus
Or buy and large
A mettle manager
Inc to pen putting
Weather mirrorly institutional eyes
Some concentration camp
Or Three Stooges™ pokey
Every human
Institutionalized
Is a REAL zoo
Souls borne
Free
Razed in captivity
A mythical quest
Bar none
Each moment begs our attention.
That Infinite See Waving
Here ye
Here ye
The present calls
That infinite see
Waving
Just
For you
Sounding hi and lo
As awe hail breaks loose
And life surfs
The whirled over
Anchored in gentle tidings
A cautionary poem for those who think that they can write history writ large:
Realty Pushing Back
No won
Had
Taken
Boulder action
Than Sisyphus himself
Every won
Must be
Stoned
A poem for those stuck in traffic:
Trafficking
You are stuck
In traffic
Never quiet realizing
You
Aaaaargh
Traffic
A six word poem on what poetry is:
Poetry
Words
Word
Know words
No words
I have never been a big fan of normal. “Getting back to normal” strikes me as a somewhat low bar. Every “new” normal seems eerily similar to previous uninspiring states of normal. This sense of mine is similar to the sentiment expressed in the movie, Steel Magnolias: “I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.” May we dare to live a life full of wonder, even at great cost to a “normal” life.
Normal Eyes
Just a bunch
Of regular guise
I’ing
What peers
As normal eyes
In listing
The rank
And file scores
Ires
Looking to return
To earlier daze
In a bit of a craze
That grievance of being
Owed fashion
And awe the rage
Perhaps even a furor
They were desperate
For a mythical time
At best
Not so
Sow grate
Inquest for normal
More mine than yore
A true norm ill
They looked into the sole of US
Exhibit won of sow much soiled
Run US, run US
And the alleged ascent to we’ll
Throw awe others
Under the bussed
As condemn nation tired
Full of tread
On me and you
Living under the tales of elephants for gotten
Or living in such an illusive notion
Ass stable as won could ever be
Bequeathing US
On going retro grade
Of all F’s
Efficiency is highly overrated. The abundant life is not well defined by ultra-precise engineering.
Efficient Love
An award no one yearned for:
Most efficient love
Weather child or mate
Strikingly spare
That scant do attitude
Eager for meager
Barren awe
With foreboding forbidding
Know abundance chaste
In accessible bounty
That largesse prize possible
Paid
The minimum
I have had this awareness that any direction we run, we run into the arms of God. Off course, the staggeringly long run peers quite vexing.
To Arms
I was annoyed
By an atheist
And his militancy
Of inept God herd
And God intimated
Quiet pleas
As a dove on won’s shoulder
I am
Well
Pleased
My child
No madder
Even the serpentine route
Awe leading
To arms
