POEM: A Winning Politic

An underwhelming poem for the grievance powered Republican party and their convention ill politics.

A Winning Politic

Out of fresh ideas
A republic can
A convention ill belief
Democracy culled out
They didn’t want
For any more
For they had
Won
What ails madders

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POEM: Outer and Inner Space

There is beauty know wear and every wear, awe at once.

Outer and Inner Space

I am in space
Beautiful and mysterious
A timeless see
Beyond words
I hear
Only the breath of God
And in the twinkle of an I
I am born
In too a space
Of forgetting
And out of place

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POEM: Living Bye The Sword

PEACE QUOTE: No Way to Peace, Peace is the Way--PEACE SIGN BUTTON

This poem is won version of the hippie oath: There is no peace, peace is the way – A. J. Muste. Of course, as Buddha said: If you want to live, don’t follow me.” [slight paraphrase]

Living Bye The Sword

Hippies won and awe
Living bye the sword
And tie dying bye the sored

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POEM: Father Violence

In the wake of the Trump assassination tempt, a time to examine whatever flavor of violence we might, find attractive.

Father Violence

Search your heart America
I am your father
Slamming shots
Wile preying for won’s enemies
Something something is a miss
That off shoot
Of a taste of violence
In sum lust resort
Due me
A flavor
As a madder of coarse
Right off as
Accrual karma
Taken out alone
As just
Ballots flying
Led astray
That simp list solution
To a deeply rooted problem
Cheer led
As a posit of democracy
And what do we get in the end?
A mirror
Buy product
Of hour transactional nature
As creation weeps
In the presence
Of daze of destruction
Fathered by violence

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POEM: Breaking Up is Hard Too Due

The U.S.-Israeli genocide in Gaza continues. Mean wile, the Democrats are far more concerned about Biden’s debatable performance on stage. This is perhaps everything we need to know about their so-called defense of democracy, international law, and the purportedly sacrosanct “no one is above the law.”

Breaking Up is Hard Too Due

Grappling
With the ID of US
More taken
Perpetually making me
Cross
A boundary
Executing
Genocide
A good aside as anything
A power couple
A spire
To save the soul
Of America
Bastards a kin
Too ugly Americans
Whirled wide
Shit whole countries
As a buy product
Of our all-consuming democracy
Be having as our elect
Or
Chosen people
More equal than others
In our own weigh
The leasor of too evils
Swearing spring
Projecting the winter
Takes all
That November romance
Inevitably taken
A dump
On every deference
In treating
Submitted relations
As some kind
Of family
Flailing to be scene
Soully grasping
Awe that is posed
To be worth wile
And the truth is bared
As inter national law
The king’s cloak
As know one
Above the law
And mercy less
As dispensing with
The UN forgiven
Fore our divorce
From reality
Ever for getting
That due the right thing
Bringing evil to heal
A choice addiction
With won conclusion
Only ardor and ardor
The more drug out

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POEM: Birds Peering

Serenity is for the birds, and us as well. Pass it on…

Birds Peering

A bird peered
With an offering
Of divine note
A bounty of songs
One
Just for me
Ransoming my soul
Sow if you hear
A song
A rising from my heart
Feel free to share
Allot

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POEM: A Wake Sleepy Aheads

Think You Are Too Small to Have an Impact Go to Bed with a Mosquito--PEACE QUOTEThis poem goes out to all nonviolent activists, particularly those who struggle with whether they make a difference or not. This poem is also a tip of the hat to this great quote: “If you think you are too small to have an impact, go to bed with a mosquito in the room” — Anita Roddick

A Wake Sleepy Aheads

His prophet motive
Made him
A dangerous man
A colonel of truth
In God’s dis arm he
Skilled in awe
The weepin’s of life
Laughing in efface of danger
The coup of a dove
Armless
As fly
Annoys
Like a mosquito
To those trying
To sleep

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POEM: Out of Place, Out of Time

A little mysticism for the day…

Out of Place, Out of Time

He got the good
Look
At that beyond time and space
In that gape between death and life
An engrossing gawk
Trashing
Every proposition passable
What can
One udder
You can run
But you can’t save your hide
As glorious remains
Wear ever
You are
Out of place
Out of time

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POEM: B Movie

Perhaps we shouldn’t be the B movie we don’t want to see in the world?

B Movie

They were rooting
For a Hollywood ending
They were a bit
Surprised
When this really came true
Unfortunately
It was an apocalyptic horror show
A sorry reality too
B movie
Flicking reality

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POEM: Audience Participation

Saving the planet and the life that inhabits it is not a spectator sport. What is your personal action plan to help save Mother Earth and her children?

Audience Participation

Now
For our next death deifying act
Matched only buy
The fossil fuels running this show
Bought too you buy
That increasingly hot mama
The won and only
Mother Earth
Wile on fire will
Be cut to ribbons
Can she survive
On this ultimate realty tell vision

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POEM: Clerical Counter

Religion stands in, the bind of wrapping vivifying experience. The spirit is reported to be as the wind, not knowing where it comes from and to where it goes. Still, when the spirit shows up, you will be rapt.

Clerical Counter

I had
Arrived
At the bazaar
To spirit away
That ultimate order
My God serving
In good
Standing
At the clerical counter
I was met with silence
I felt a warm breeze
As passing wind
Then silence
And more
Silence
Only broke by
“For hear or to go?”
And as I returned
Silence
“Would you like that wrapped?”
That breath taking in quest
Soully won answer
I would like that
Rapt

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POEM: The Age of Know Surprise

This poem is a tribute to the kerfuffle of President and candidate Biden’s recent debate performance. If I were to pick an alter-ego other than “Top Pun,” on some days I might choose “Cassandra” the Greek mythological character fated to utter true prophecies but never to be believed. Of course, even Cassandra’s curse is limited, as no one can predict the future reliably. Still, America’s chronic collective amnesia yields innumerable tragic repetitions of history. Simply knowing a bit of history seems like staring into the sun sometimes. May we make a future steeped in the lessons and wisdom learned from our collective past, weather that future be ours or daze.

The Age of Know Surprise

Cassandra shakes
Her head no’ing
Countless ages
And fated futures
Cursed to sea
Those unfathomable tears
Of typhoons waving
Still waters running deep
And ships flagging
Due too unseen lessens
This idiomatic age
Biden its time
Sublimely approachable
As beer goggles undated
A bombshell from afar
And debatable performances to come
As know surprise
As confusion says
Mystifyingly clear
Despite the mass portending
Who could have divined such a fete
A kingly hole
The soul of a nation
Vacated
Even beyond Cassandra’s sight
What will arise from that?
Bared deep in our psyche
In tuition
And fruition

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POEM: Courting Corruption — Owed Too Presidential Immunity

This poem goes out to the sniveling sycophants known as the majority of the Supreme Court. I miss the days when The Supremes were just…a Motown sensation…

Courting Corruption — Owed Too Presidential Immunity

Shot on Fifth Avenue
Shot of bleach
Flashlight up the rear
Illicits immunity
Enacting write supremacy
Courting corruption
With party hats on
And confetti constitution
In fest
The ruse of law

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POEM: Knot Quiet Myself

I find that silence speaks volumes. My greatest thoughts are humbled in silence’s presents. Listening is the better part of communication.

Knot Quiet Myself

Lying there
I broke
The silence
The emptiness
With thoughts a loud
Notions of God
Laid out exquisitely
As some sort
Of whisperer
Only to be answered
No need to holler me out
I AM
Standing
Write hear

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POEM: A Day of Longing No More

A solstice poem…

A Day of Longing No More

The longest day of the year
And nothing too due
He was well
Grounded
Sent to his roam
Bye know won
On the level
Of ants
Who never cry “uncle”
With blades broken
Beaten by the sun
Sow green
With envy 93 million miles away
As feeled of dreams
Quiet awe around
Un-till
The king dumb
Of man
Clamoring agin
Want mow, mow, mow
Wanting soully
Ever more

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POEM: Zombie Politics

Do you ever get the sense that politics is following some inextricable, absurd, and perilous coarse? I find American politics increasingly resembling that nightmare where a slow-walking monster is chasing you and no matter how fast you run it is just behind you. Unfortunately, this seems to be the case even if you are woke. Will we be able to tell the difference between being undead and living?

Zombie Politics

The dawn of the dead
An origin story
From necking the dead
Getting ahead
With shotgun solutions
Only dead
From the neck up
Or the neck down
Only fallowed buy
Wear wolves in sheep’s clothing
Bringing on those silver bullets
And our last act
Bloodthirsty
Vampires feed
On a body politic bleeding out
As wood stake their life
Knot sow much living
As undead

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POEM: US Verses Wee

We live in a world with far too much “US versus THEM.” Partisanship and division reign chaos. Tribalism breeds violence. This poem wakes to a different dream…

US Verses Wee

Won quiet mourning
I awoke
There was no US
Every partisan notion
Them
Had melted
Into an unbroken see
There was soully WE

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POEM: Woo Who

This poem reflects a bit on my skepticism of skepticism and my deep yearning to witness and participate in the long arc of love.

Woo Who

Their is
Know subject
Greater than
You who
Suspect
Life as a Job
Only as sum
Nefarious abet
Voiding that
Which is
Elusive
Yet divine
Wholly
Up in the heir
Too much
To forebear
Doing it
In the woulds
And knot so tender weigh
Of shoulding
Still their is
An unflailing power
Enduring for good
The root of all woo
Who
Wanting more
Than lukewarm wavers
In efface of unbelieve able
Courts us beyond any owed law
That good will
Prevail
And go won better
Than every sin ick
Wandering
As if
Love is a sham
Rather than mirrorly a veil
Harboring overwhelming
Love
Which is
Awe the ardor
As run through
The grater
Then the hole
The sum of aparts
Soully made whole
When I’mpart
Withal
Who avail themselves

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POEM: A Bout Zen

This poem borrows from a Zen story where a monk is in a boat quietly meditating with their eyes closed in the middle of a faraway lake. When the monk hears a loud sound and the boat rocks, the monk opens his eyes and turns to see what is presumably another person who let their boat hit the monk’s boat. The monk sees an empty boat and realizes that the monk’s anger is inside themselves, simply provoked by a outside trigger. The notion of an empty boat triggering one’s anger instead triggered the monk’s enlightenment.

A Bout Zen

His bout
Skimmed long
In the mourning fog
Until P.O.W.!!
He spun
In anger
Than seeing
An other
Empty bout
He was a loan
With his madness
Of would that could
Only know one too blame
That tragic given
And unwilling
To take it
Fore won self

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POEM: On Sand They Billed

“Building on a foundation of sand” is an ancient cautionary metaphor that our modern, so-called civilization often seems to run over roughshod. Literally jumping from one unsustainable practice to the next unsustainable practice often seems like a fair characterization of modernity and the ultimately brutal logic of capitalism. This poem resembles the apocryphal saying that the capitalist will sell the rope for their own hanging…

On Sand They Billed

On sand
They billed
Their civilization
Only then realizing
The price of sand
So moving
Their civilization
To less substantial grounds
Sand in merchant eyes
Anchoring their future
As purveyors
Souled out

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