This poem is about the insanity of sanity. This has less to do with the faults of the status quo — though they are myriad — than it does coming alive, infectiously alive, in a living world. security, in conventional wisdom, is sought through well-worn, predictable means. Such security is based on a knowledge of order present in the world. This is simply the triangulation of scientific facts, providing a coherent framework from which to navigate our lives. Yeah, go science! Well, order is knot the whole of life. Disorder is necessary for possibility, any veering from a determined course. Order as the hole of life negates freedom, creation, and certainly most of the fun. Of course, the point is not to create disorder, an abundance of that already exists, the point is to bring to life — that is, create — new order, more conducive and congruent with the higher and deeper orders present in creation. This perpetual creation and recycling is sharing in the experience of what it's like to be god, perhaps god's greatest gift. We are meant to play with creation, as god's children, not be some play set for God or other humans to manipulate to their own — and our — constipated end. Our creation is not a disorder that needs to be cured, it need only respect life by infectiously creating more life. Such disorder is not a threat to the well-ordered physical world. However, such disorder is a metaphysical dis-ease with existence being reduced and lived (sic) out in simply a mechanical weigh. In truth, such disorder is a higher order that cannot be reduced to mere mechanics, lifting up the hood and fixing it. Such disorder is the infectious need to sail life's oceans. Of course, this is vastly aided by abundant knowledge of shipbuilding, navigation, etc. Even greater though, it requires a love of discovery, a love of the feel of the ocean's wind and spray in your face, and the courage to risk the vagaries of the wild, the powerful, and the unknown. While boldly and infectiously sailing life's oceans may strike many as much less secure than, say, building ships for others, I strongly suspect that one of God's deepest desires for us is to freely be the captains of our own lives. However exquisitely we may craft tools for others, God does not desire that we simply be tools for others — that would deny God's exquisite craftsmanship. God is a crafty one, peering behind the veil of indeterminacy, which many consider a disorder itself. This thorniness behind creation results in much anguish and pain, the inescapable fareness of a free life. The thorny crown atop God's craftiness is unparalleled, except perhaps among humans, made in God's image, where an irrepressible willingness to pain the prize is billed in. May your inborn desire to create be guided by an abiding respect for life and it's infectious nature seeking know cure.
About Top Pun’s Blog
Top Pun's mission is to maximize prophets. Top Pun creates serious, funny, and seriously funny peace and justice designs which are available on your choice of products such as buttons, T-shirts, and bumper stickers. Top Pun blogs to highlight additional facets of his word artistry such as pun-filled poetry and funny political satire, free posters, as well as political actions of local and global importance -- and don't forget the noncommercial, public health radio show available online, Just for the Health of It . Top Pun's serious playfulness ever reminds us that justice is no yoke, and the pun is mightier than the sword!
My Public Health Radio Show
- POEM: On Acid
- POEM: The Hypocrites Oath
- POEM: Meaning Less Star Dust
- POEM — Bought Ensouled: Owed To Corporate Personhood
- POEM: Alarm Going Off
- POEM: Sisyphus Shrugged
- POEM: Unentitled Ekphrasis 247
- POEM: Flame In The Darkness
- POEM: Who’s Your Itch Now?
- POEM: Gratuitous Rumor
- POEM: The Lamb and The Lyin’
- POEM: Straight Manly Complaining
- POEM: Draft Registration Civil Disobedience, aka, Holy Obedience
- POEM: Occam’s Razor (as told by Gödel)
- POEM: A Cain Due Attitude
- POEM: Conversion Raiding
- POEM: Lilliputian Vampires — Ode to Bed Bugs
- POEM: Large Language Mottle — Yet An Other Ode to AI
- POEM: North Pole
- POEM: Walking the Second Thousand Miles
- THANKS for perusing Top Pun's word artistry!
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