POEM: Buy Racial? Bi Gender?

This poem deals with the fiction of race and gender as distinct biological realities. Of course, as social constructs, race and gender have profound impacts on our lives together.

Buy Racial? Bi Gender?

They were neither
Black nor white
Yet
Both
Black as white
By the grays of God
Like wise
They were neither
Male nor female
Yet
Both
Male and female
As a parent
Too sum
Sew they seam

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POEM: Self-fulfilling Prophets

This poem offers two visions of self-fulfilling prophets, one self-serving and destructive and the other building a humane community together. This poem is yet another version of my meditations on “means” and “ends.”

Self-fulfilling Prophets

Their whirled view
Is punishing
Bringing a bout
Their own
End
As they would halve it
A stupe-end-us fail
As condemn nation
And life as we no it
That invitation
From the other side
A shared fete
Rising above
Any earthly site
A shared vision
All be it ardor
Not frayed
As women and mend
Boldness our guise
Tending to awe
As having but ours
Giving our all
And how might
Be attitude peer
Won way or the other
As threw the I’s of others
Answered in that mysterious
Democracy of life
Culpable of being
A beautiful seein’
Be held
As the eyes have it
In hand

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POEM: Divine Die-alogue

This poem plays with notion of God sitting next to me my whole life, and that presence involves no literal speaking. Then, upon my death God turns to me…

Divine Die-alogue

I am
Dumb to talk about it
Such profound presents
Looking forward
Never about face
Just handing threw life
In do time
After a wile
Just hitting me
No switch to be found
Fore what seamed
Like a sentry
Or sew
Awe that I could deal with
Aside by aside
To the heart of the madder
And what next
Thou art of the sadder
Going long with
Of coarse miracles
Beyond belief
Won day or the other
Having peered
Showing up
Those perfect takeoffs
And peace of the action
The whole weigh
As long as I could last
Sow sew many
Knight and daze
Until first alight
God turned
To me

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POEM: A Tao-ish Poem

I am not really a Taoist, but I am Tao-ish. This poem is for all of us whose search for freedom and justice pays close attention to the complimentary nature of reality, the yin and yang. Of course, that which is written or spoken about the Tao is not the Tao.

A Tao-ish Poem

On the write side
Of history
There are lessens
Too be learned
I deals razed
Acceding to nothing
And everything
I am sow
Over lords
Whatever
Can be rode
Is knot the eternal
Acting in ascertain weigh
Buy cycles unbroken
Yet cannot be spoke
Nor ridden
I’m mutable
And wholly
In sane
Know
Less
Tao-ist
More
Tao-ish

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POEM: Owed Habits

Weather bad habits or good habits, habits form much of our life. Choose your habits wisely.

Owed Habits

If you were wandering
What happens next
Look to that long lineup
That recurring guessed
Long a go
And mirrorly yesterday
As simply due
Weather
Good
Or bad
Governing much
Of our fate
Sow choose them
Well
Warn

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POEM: Calling Awe Siblings

Awe those who stand in awesome awe are my siblings. This poem is a call for awe of us to join together as one family.

Calling Awe Siblings

There is family
Close as kin
And stronger than blood
Knits beyond wits
And ties that blind
Perchance know children
Of your own
By loin and womb
Prosaic creation yields
To poetic creation
Awe as a parent
Giving berth to children
Of other mothers
And other fathers
Mother patience
Father courage
And grand wisdom
A lineage from time immemorial
And pulsating life
More than will
You be
My sibling
Or countless number cousin
Wear ever
Unending spring
And lovers of life
Are mates
And journeys are borne of one

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POEM: Watery Grave

This is a poem about overwhelming gratitude in a world of constant change and great loss. Gratitude is perhaps the best antidote to resentments. Still, even if one lets go of resentments, one often needs to say goodbye to whatever purpose those resentments served, in yet another change mourned.  Every moving forward requires leaving behind.

Watery Grave

I wake
Finding myself
Drowning in a tsunami
Of gratitude
I new
There would be casualties
Inevitable losses
That fateful mourn
Before me
Bared at see
Bodies of resentments
I shed a tear
At their passing
A singular tributary
To their watery grave

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POEM: Over Shadowing Evolution

This poem is an invitation to live beyond mere Darwinism, survival of the fittest, which is typically viewed as competition and inevitable violence. I vote for cooperation and beautiful ambitions far exceeding won more f-ing generation. We do not live by bred alone.

Over Shadowing Evolution

They had grown
Tired
Of wading and waiting
In the shallow end
Of the gene pool
Only to learn
That they had
Just
Been out fitting themselves
For the deep end
Where feat cannot hit bottom
Nor follow any trail left by water tread
As surly as won not living by bred alone
Nor as arrival
How ever itinerate
Over shadowing evolution

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POEM: Indecency Wee Re-side — Owed To Propriety Owner Us

This is another anti-capitalist poem, scorning profits over people, the vain whining of grievance politics, and the lethal short-sightedness of just us.

Indecency Wee Re-side — Owed To Propriety Owner Us

They miss judged
As the profits for tolled
Propriety for virtue
And our civil-ization nearly killed us all
Cleverness trumped wisdom
And our humanity
Evacuates from rectitude
As the shit hits the fan
With efficiency and effectiveness knowing no equal
They wanted
Sum thing
For all won no’s
A kin
Too kindness
Mirrorly perpetuating
In decency
The halves and the have nots
Ever made hole
Never big enough
For the slake of the ruins
Accept from the rabble rousing
Or spade calling
Souled up the river or down
In masses gathering
In some forum of deliverance
Well suited to those unsuited
Not buying the devil’s wears
As people of property
And propriety
Fore the dis possessed
Buy virtue of their own
Fateful skin in the game
An evening of the odds
Equal too
Any mourning too follow
In won sided privilege
As fare play
Only to be lie
As realty polls apart
That revealing tell
The deference
Not even
Lifting a single finger
When black
And white having
Given weigh too
Social grays
Sow demanding of coarse
A little sumpin sumpin
Having too due
As respect to breeding
Exchanging word
Ineffable
In just us
In deed as wee curtsy

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POEM: Karma Cat -28,000 Poems

This poem toys with the notion of karma and reincarnation as a vehicle for moral evolution and sum sort of cosmic justice. This poem employs as a metaphor the relationship between a karmic cat living thousands of lives encountering uncounted mice. This poem also embeds a layer of obscure numerology that connects the reference in the poem’s title of “-28,000 Poems” and the quantitative aspects contained within the poem. This is not essential to “getting” this poem; and I will outline that particular layer of the poem below.  May we evolve morally in each and every weigh where necessity is not the mother.

Karma Cat -28,000 Poems

Karma cat burned
Threw 9 lives regularly
Then agin
Sum how
Times 9,000 more
Parently equal
To ate he one thousand
In a sum what
Vicious cycle
Of ate mice
And for every won
Of earthen necessity
Eight mice played
And times hate mice
As if peering just
For fun
In that land of unnecessary
A life more than fueled
Morphing into cruel plays
And as mirror luck
Would halve it
Karma cat flailed
Two evolve
More than is
And what would be
In the wiled blue yonder
The final chaser
Billowing mice
Shrouding clear skies
Forgiven 7 times 7,000
Unforgiven too times 2,000
And, at least
28,000 poems
Missing
Lives
On
Anon

First, the optional numerology of this poem is a play between the aspects of our world that are quantitative, numerically measurable, and those aspects, the qualitative, that transcends such relatively convenient and handy measurability.  Specifically, the “-28,000 poems” refers to the “at least” 28,000 lives “missing” (one life equals at least one poem) due to karma cat’s unnecessary and cruel “playing” and killing of mice for sport throughout karma cat’s 81,000 lives (9 lives times 9,000 = 81,000). Ultimately, karma cat is forgiven 7 times 7,000 times (49,000 times — and lives) and unforgiven two times 2,000 times (4,000 times — and lives). This nominally means that for karma cat’s 81,000 lives, 49,000 mouse lives taken were counted and accounted as forgiven and 4,000 mouse lives taken were counted and accounted as unforgiven. The 53,000 mouse lives taken (49,000 + 4,000) that are accounted for leaves the remainder or offset of karma cat’s 91,000 lives lived at 28,000 lives (91,000 – 53,000 = 28,000) missing, or unaccounted for.

At first look, this refers to the missed opportunity of moral evolution in 28,000 of karma cat’s lives, making the balance, or lack thereof, in the excess of karma cat’s lives compared to accounted for lost mouse lives (assuming sum kind of equivalency). Of course, a cat kills way more than one mouse per lifetime, so the presumed “at least” 28,000 lives lost is overwhelmingly an underestimate, when considering only, or in addition, the countless mouse lives lost in total.  This is meant to represent the absurdity of attempting to quantify such losses of lives and life, and how ultimately this is uncounted and uncountable. The “one life equals one poem” is an intentional crude and absurd parity of trying to mathematically account for such losses. Also, I hope that every life has a poem written about it. I am trying to do my part in this regard. Though I must confess, doing my part often only results in short term pleasures and unseen long-term benefits.

To those familiar with my poems, not surprisingly, there are more layers built into this poem on this theme.  For instance, the “too” in “Unforgiven too times 2,000” is a pun with “two.” I choose the “too” as a counter to the notion that karma cat is forgiven way more than he is unforgiven (7 times 7,000 forgiven = 49,000 versus unforgiven 2 times 2,000 = 4,000), The “too” shifts the meaning to 2,000 times more unforgiveness than forgiveness.  This could more naturally include the uncounted mice killed in the more straightforward equation, as well as simply meaning that such cruelty is unforgivable, a loss that can never fully be redeemed. Of course, what came first, “Forgiven 7 times 7,000” is a reference to Jesus’ answer to his disciple Peter’s question, “How many times should we forgive someone who sins against us?” Jesus’ answer was “not seven times, but seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:22). This was not meant to be a literal number, but a number so large that it cannot be applied to the type of accounting that Peter was positing. This is simply another mind-blowing transcendent answer that Jesus provided his often somewhat dullard disciples. My multiplication by 1000-fold is a clumsy tip of the hat to this sublime answer, and it fits the structure of the poem.

A pop culture equivalent of the absurdity of measuring life and poetry comes from the movie, “Dead Poet’s Society,” where the English professor instructs the students to tear out of their textbooks the Pritchard scale which intends in a simple, two-dimensional way measure the value of a poem, reciting several memorable quips, including “we’re not laying pipe.” See movie clip here. Movie genius — watch it!

Enough on the “optional” numerology. This poem centers more on the unfathomable, ongoing losses of “unnecessary” cruelty. The subject of necessary and unnecessary are reflected upon in many poems of mine. I won’t belabor it more here.

Regarding karma and reincarnation I have a general skepticism about a tightly engineered justice that can be squared off in sum wholly accurate weigh — though perhaps holy accurate. Whatever weigh, I am a life-longing member of mourning anon.

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POEM: A Singular Err, Over, And Over

This short poem plays with the notion that merely existing is an awesome win, and being a grump after this singular win is a singular err.

A Singular Err, Over, And Over

In spite
Of halving one
The existence lottery
Being
A grump
Is awe too common
Never the less
There is little
The prize committee could due

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POEM: Consigned

This short poem plays with the theme of living fully in a divided world of bought and souled.

Consigned

Creation calls
To you collect
Consigning you
To oblivion
Leaving
Only one question
Do you buy it?
One life fully lived
Or upon reflection
A mirror portion
Thereof

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POEM: The Hallowed Rupture

This poem portrays an explosive end to the ravenous aggrieved politicos who fill our body politic with shit and who, in the end, cannot escape the poor or the police at their door.

The Hallowed Rupture

Aggrievious whoreds
And those lacking lackeys
Do is as due doos
Their plaintive effluence
Like some diarrhea die-orama
As sum berth right
Insatiable in security
Their gorge us fan fare
Not in any weigh enough
Flailing too
Make believe
End up
Efface down
Fearing the po and the po po
The pit
And the pendulum swings
The explosive belly of the best
Splatters
The whirled over
Ravenous
Nevermore

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POEM: Mine Your Own Busyness

Here is a poem about the sacred and profane journey toward presence of mind:

Atop a mountain of undertakings
He overlooked his guru
Desperately wanting to be
A little slower
With deaf-defying pleas
As the guru came fourth
With quiet an expression
A mist what could only be
A gentle brew haha
A beam in the I
Ripe for the taking
That grin and bare it presence
Disclothing won self
Untired spoke
“Mine your own busyness”
Loded with irony ore not
In lucid con sort
First herd in silence
Tending too
What is awe ready hear
Possessed knot buy busyness
Pre-seeded by reverence
Quiet holy bye fits and starts taken off
That quest in what weave got
Spinning wheels
As post haste
In the whirled of time
A scuttled spring
A flurry of summer
Precipitous fall
And scurrilous winner
All hail to the furor of politics
Being Job
Or other wise
Their egos, their egos, their egos
A hemmed and hawed trinity
Sorely leading to dumb founding
As knee deep in hasty putting
Wading fore the good owed daze
Chics clenched for smiles and smiles
Bustles covering but empty rumpus
Mistaken for ahead
Uprightly
Covering for so far as possible a musing
Poising as clamorous
All the wile
Being shafted
Riddled with shit that know won no’s
Accept perhaps
Guru with fertile eyes
As groan a guardin’
Able to shed tears
For awe that has been lost
The fodder of altared presence
Wear mums the word
As udder anew
A whole knew
Word

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POEM: Made Passable

1984 may be voted the most likely to be a “Groundhog Year,” repeated over and over and over. The book, 1984, by George Orwell, written in the aftermath of World War II, is a stark warning about authoritarianism that holds up today. Unfortunately, the book may more often be used as an instruction manual than a cautionary tale. This poem riffs on some of the themes presaged by 1984.

Made Passable

He came to
His demise
In a frighteningly usual weigh
In a monumental era
Where surreal is real
Common cents is dollareds
A pocketbook of civil rites
As their won and lonely creed
Out orthodoxxing their neighbors
Even odder than odd
In a red whirled
Under hows rules
There is won
Or the other
God forbid!
Engendering mirrorly too sects
Beyond queer
His soul mistake
Under standing
Conscience as herd
Totally funked
And defunct
At the same time
Made passable
Buy 1984

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POEM: Con Tending With Not Sees

While it may be musing to wonder what if there were no hypothetical questions, Nazi Germany has thrown up countless real-life scenarios to curdle your soul. The scenario referenced in this poem is taken from the movie, Nine Days, where an impossible situation involving a sadistic prison guard is posited to test the mettle of a soul. This scenario is a classic moral conundrum. Humans apparently have a powerful connection to know win scenarios. How would you respond?

Con Tending With Not Sees

He axed the question
With a ledged subtlety
Like murder-suicide
A hypothetical interrogation
What due
In that concentration camp
Your progeny caught escaping
And a sadistic guard
Poses his most broodish hang up
That chide teetering on this stool
A sentry crying out in agonizing seconds
K-K-Kick that stool
Lessed
I
S-S-S-S-mother
S-S-S-S-laughter
The lot of you
The hole camp
He cried out agin
Barely Abel
To yack knowledge
Such an inquest
Fore only feeled
The question
I sad
The ball is in
You’re court
And what ever you
Might doo
Is on you

Here is the Nine Days movies script; search for “prisoner of war” for the sadistic guard scene to read how it plays out in the movie characters’ responses.

The response in this poem recognizes that the sadistic guard has all of the power in this situation and can do whatever they want, with or without your consent. In a sense, there is no moral question at all. If there is no power to carry out one’s moral agency, then there is essentially no moral agency. The conundrum is a cruel invitation to a cruel fiction surrounded by a cruel reality, where the added cruelty directed at the tortured subject to accede to participate in the furtherance of an exceedingly cruel reality may be the hole game.  My take is that the most response-able action is to clarify this reality; that is, to put the ball back in their court. Of course, the most poignant way to do this begs a truly great launching pad for creative nonviolence. To me, the winning factor in this option is that it may be the truest form of recognizing the perpetrator’s moral responsibility, soul power, and immoral high ground. Exposing evil in its’s barest form may be the best we can due in such situations. Of course, the evil posited is pretty much off-the-scale evil from the get-go, so the wrest may just be aesthetics.  Not surprisingly, many folks will round down the perpetrator’s humanity to “insignificant,” which might reflect another level of acceding to the perpetrator’s cruel and inhumane setup. Nonetheless, again, the moral agency of the tortured is powerless to force or enact a “winning” result, so, in such situations, doing whatever allows us to best feel free may just be the best we can do, or knot due.

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POEM: Cat and Mouse Game

There are many ways to view God, or not. This poem plays with deferent weighs to see God. The title, Cat and Mouse Game, refers specifically to a very clever and brave mouse who hides in the cat’s ear to be the least likely to be discovered. Perhaps God isn’t precisely inside us or outside of us, or even quite both. Perhaps God’s veil is a clever part of a game that makes it way more interesting, perhaps safer, and/or perhaps better in some other weigh. Makes you wonder, hopefully…

Cat and Mouse Game

Have you ever herd a cool cat
Talking about a conception
Knot sow immaculate
A bout God
The aww might he
Or some inside job
Perhaps as some divine bean
Wear life courses threw everything
Yo soy Dios!
A quest in of incarnation
As we meat our maker
Or go owed school
God as some owed man
Sitting on an ivory throne
Then again
And agin
Or perhaps some forum of love
Where we just are
Deer to won another
Or just game
Cool cats ponder
Weather man or a mouse
As well as some
Cat and mouse match
Know wear too hide
What say you to that
Feline fine in the ear
Here hear
And still
God wresting quietly
In an unherd-of manor
Where we least
Expect it
Some say know way
Others say Yahweh
We all have different idles
I just say
I don’t no

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POEM: Heir Conditioning a Burning Planet

This poem is a playful romp of mixed metaphors surrounding the destruction of our planet through climate change. May Mother Earth and future generations find relief from this onslaught.

Heir Conditioning a Burning Planet

When the empire culls
You out
Upon won of its feigned diamonds
As wore is raging
Adieu declare
You can call me
General strike
Part of a teaming just us
Renouncing every capital offense
Of hour so called choosing
Waiving that proverbial good buy
Swinging fore the fence
At the Super Bowl
Wear it’s awe commercial
A hole in won
At the Indy 500
Racing in circles
Getting know wear fast
Heir conditioning a burning plan it
You are welcome
Too join the hunt
If you are game

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POEM: Like Night and Day

I am both a known provocateur, which can be a little challenging to others around me, and an insatiably curious observer and commenter on life, meaning no harm what sow ever. This poem plays with the inevitable misunderstandings that arise from such an amalgam. May we all have the mettle to bring to life both critical thinking and a playful heart, so we may be great alloys to won and awe.

Like Night and Day

I asked the young lad
From which do you dream more
Night or day?
Illiciting in him
Is that some kind
Of trick question
To make me
Cross eyed
To which I
Simply stated
Know
Tricks are for kids
Wile I’ve been known
As a serial provocateur
I am just
Prospecting for a muse
Wondering about
Looking fore
More than won answer

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POEM: Sure Fire Means and Ends

This poem is a reflection on the inextricable link between means and ends, and the devastatingly common mistake of de-linking means ands ends producing an endless array of “means” and “ends”. The short game often shorts us; though I recognize this might me a wedgie issue between us.

Sure Fire Means and Ends

If you don’t believe
In means and ends
You will
Guarantee
More means
More ends
Bequeathing
Muddled morals
In the meddle
Of won
Garbled order
After an other
Putting into commotion
The golf between
Riot and wrong
Of coarse
Extremely calculated
Buy establishment figures
Those know stranger
With brandishing
Exclusive clubs
In roll meant
Inter-generational fewed
And what remains
Without doubt
Such weighs and means
Shepherding ewe and me
Subject to that eminent fracas
For the hole population
Doggedly loosing
That won
Last gasp
Inspiring expirations
Arising out
Of now to kingdom come

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