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Not surprisingly, if a frog falls into hot water, it will jump out. Perhaps surprisingly, if a frog is in water that is slowly heated, it will not jump out even if it is boiled. As a nation, we are in hot water. May we take a flying leap out of this damnable jacuzzi before it is too late.

Leap Frog

Wee are like frogs
Quite jumpy
In dammed hot water
As a flee for all
And still
As cold-blooded creatures
With come odious adapt ability
We can per severe
In chill conditions
As cool as can be
Employing our reptilian brains
And such webbed feat
Abiding well
As razing temp
Executing
Prefect repose
Be lated
As he scald
To that unnoticed boiling point
An incremental lack of change
Ultimately
Still
Kicking
The buck it
An unsound conundrum

I have no need to wait for tomorrow’s bloviation.

Inaugural Be Rating

A tyrant who rhymes with orange
As a bully pulp it
A caca phony
Of coinages
And doing his deed
The highest doody
In the king dumb
Bye a baptism of you’re fired
The guise we can
Ad mire
Threw the mud
A nation drug
Buy the highest oaf in the land

Some may see God as unnecessary in their search for meaning. I like my spirituality Allah mode.

Allah Mode

There is plenty
Of human kind
That lives without
God of any owed understanding
I AM
Never the less
Still
Quiet covet us
Of God desserted
That as other wise known
Allah mode

NOTE: I think that this the first poem of mine involving an Arabic/French language pun. Fortunately, these references are common enough in the English language that most readers should get it.

This poem is based on a Zen story where a conquering general sweeps through towns, and people, like a sword through water. The general eventually comes upon a soul monk practicing a meditative prayer. The general announces himself, “Do you not know that I am the warrior who will run a sword through you without blinking an eye?” The monk answers the question by announcing himself, “Do you not know that I am the monk who can be run through with a sword without blinking an eye?” In the original story, the general throws down his sword and begs the monk to take him on as his disciple. The poem has a more open ending.

General Li Wong

A warrior
Of ultimate rank
Thinking to hi heaven
Conquered village after village
Like a sword
Running through water
Life scattering
Like only blood kin due
Until won fateful our
He showed up
At the peek
Of his kingly ambition
And every corporeal aspiration
A loan temple
A soul monk
Exorcising a breath preyer
Bringing a bout
These ordained udderings
Due you no who I am?!
I am the ruler
That will
Run my sword
Through you
Like water
Without blinking an eye
To which he was presented
A stair beyond belief
That most inviting peer
I am ruled by no won
Can you know who I am
Who can have a sword
Run through him
Without blinking an I
And what can lonely be learned
By a thousand villages razed
A cryptic seeing
A dooring pupil
That in is capable
Disciple to be
Of a terminal preyer

A poem honoring the fact that Mother Earth is the source of our wealth.

Rooting for Success

You may have herd
Financial advisors claim
Diversification is the key
To long term success
If only
The planet could add
This to its bio
Biodiversification
A true growth strategy

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

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

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