We are each responsible for maintaining our own values and norms. I find the best step to personal and social responsibility is to stop blaming others for my actions…
A Self-Maid Man?
He meticulously maid
His own behavior
A bout
What they did
Or did knot due
Voiding
Untidy emotions
And cluttered thoughts
Scrubbing intentions
From the whirled
As if
The devil maid, me, due it
Soully wanting
To hang
Out with
That room to grow
That
Whatever
Adore sign
DO NOT DISTURB
You can not kill enough people to end killing…
Kill Awe of Them
We liquidate awe
Our political assets
In an awe out tempt
To erase our fauxs
In a grays free zone
Black and white
Us or them
Never enough
Grave markers
In quest
For absolute security
In compassing awe that is vane
In the political wins
In their efface
Say bye to awe of them
Down
Too every lust won
Yet the tear
In our hearts
Lives on
Hoping against hope
That we were not just
Souled a bill of goods
Buy ad infinitum
The mete grinder
In common ground lies
I suspect that the emotional lure of beating our political enemies at their own warped games, in a raze to the bottom, is often more than enough to overwhelm whatever maturity and enlightened views helled by our respective clans. The base of politics is far too reliably about sects and violence…
Going “Hi”
“When they go low, we go high” – Michelle Obama
“Never argue with a fool, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” – Mark Twain
When they go low
We go “hi”
Hitting that bottom
And digging it
Thinking just
Buy way of
Bedrock™
Welcome to
Yabba Dabba Doo!
Mine, mine, mine
Drill, baby, drill!
Schooled in falsely equivalent slogans
Like “awe of the above”
As keep shoveling it
Out of the weigh
That common ground
As thou dust
Miss takin’
As sum kind
Of way laid
Taking won’s time
Chiseled into
Sum Sisyphean limbo
As if
Having
Discovered
A perpetual motion machine
The sweet siren song of taking
That sociopath
Swing low
Sweet cherry it
Coming for
Get carried away
Gravely digging it
Redefining what
Base meant
Back to the garden…
Vegging Out
As the whirled turns
Hour back
To the garden
Spending time
With God
Tock with me
Wok with me
Let us
Stir
Fry
These vegetables
Into something
Spicy
Delicious
Better than any edible
Unearth
Political assassination is not the right answer, or the left, on the table. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God, and awe of God’s children…
Chuck Children of God: Owed to Charlie Kirk
An other
High profiled death
What catches our tension?
What strikes homme?
Fear
Lodging tear in our heart
Anger
The number won
And numb-er too unequaled hit
Hate
Grief rapped in razors
Perhaps sum thing deferent
Even gleeful
Looking at the upside of having enemas
Any how not quiet loving it
Or the worst
In difference
Apathy
When effacing this national death watch
Seconds and ours passing
What due we in list
Weather under the bus
Underground
Or just forgotten
A mist enlight in shadow
That witch
Manifest human
Poisoning in discriminate buy raze or greed
Settling for a faction of the prize
Are we doing awe
That we klan due
Rooting fore violence
US first
Them, knot so much
And what knits US to gather
Truth bared
In common ground
We only get mirror ours
And you don’t halve to get
As if
Death visiting
Makes us equal
Falls equivalencies
Fighting inequitable whirled
Their stands above the wrest
Won lessen
Too be learned
Don’t chuck
Children of God
Soully what we kin do
I wrote this poem years ago after flying to my nephew’s wedding and the TSA unwrapped the framed wedding poem gift — an unexpected gift from them. My suitcase also contained a huge bag of my homemade 30-ingredient artisanal granola, which legitimately has enough sublime qualities to trigger dullards most anywhere…
The Tin Soldiers of The TSA
Feeling me
Threatened
The tin soldiers
Of the TSA
Rifle threw
My baggage
Only too fine
A present unopened
Only to be
Left
A bad wrap
So so right
Unlike a poem
Or triggered bye
Artisanal granola
Perhaps containing
Won too many
Ingredients sublime
Never see fore
NOTE: This poem is from my “Lost Poems” collection, old poems that I misplaced and had never published online.
Does it take a genus of humanity to knot see that the besieged, homeless, bombed, Palestinians undergoing genocide are the oppressed not the oppressors? A vain quest for absolute security is no justification for genocide. A starving child in Gaza who willingly shares the food on their plate with the child next to them exemplifies more godliness than the entire Israeli Occupation Force. The one relying on God knows when enough is enough, and knows that when enough is not enough, even exacting one’s life, God remains awe sufficient. When a child exemplifies this, adults should follow their lead…
Waist, A Way
“I’ll say to myself, ‘You have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you.'” Luke 12:18-20
“…and a little child will lead them.” Isaiah 11:6
As fat cats grow
More well too due
Razing the bar
Of waist, a way
Ours is the time
Their is a child
In Gaza
Wasting away
Who had some food on their plate
The child next did not
The child first
Shared their food
They will die together
Sharing the same breath
That is
The breath of God
In a whirled
Of bastards
Where their will be
Others
A child first
Soul intact
Agin this whirled
Repleting death
The bar is set
Lo, as awe consuming fauxs
And idol drunkenness
Make marry
What is demanded of them?
To knight they die?!
Yet nobility peers not
As sum mighty master
But as a child
A testing
To the way
The path to destruction is wide. The path to enlightenment is expansive. The won is bullied. The other is invited.
Hi Ways and Bye Weighs
They didn’t have to be
Drug there
They were well trafficked
On the highway to hell
Knot escalating
To a more unhurried
Less travelled weigh
The stairway to heaven
The state of Israel is masterful at blowing up any peace on the table. This time literally. Having bombed Hamas peace negotiators in Qatar, the world wince agin secures the genocide.
The state of Israel serves as the modern pharaoh of the middle east. The ancient Israelites, even after God led them out of slavery in Egypt, God obliged them to wander in the desert for 40 years, allowing time for the disobedient generation to pass away and a new generation, prepared to trust and follow God, to arise. Can the enduring ancient Israelites be freed of modern Zionism? And to what penance may they be obliged? This poem bemoans the loss of any sense of fair, and the steep fare that has replaced it.
Fair, Oh, Fare, O Israel
Kill the negotiations
Kill the negotiators
Abel only
To blow up
Any two peaces
However separate and unequal
No just apartheid
In the mine of Israel
Know just genocide
Their ethnicity cleansed
Of human laws
And a God unrecognized
Buy most
Arms
Strewn everywhere
In tents burning
In the arts of martyrs
Splattered on the concrete
Turning a nation
A land
Its people
Into God slaw
Embody parts of awe others
Know empty chair
No table
No knead of bread
Soully dried bones
Bared in the desert
Making you wander
To score
Slaves out of
The land of Egypt
Know longer
Fare, O Israel
Dream dreamers. Keep dreams live.
Bequeathing Dreams
I believe
Every dream
That
I’ve ever herd
I will
Keep them
Alive
Curious though
The thing is
I am
Only alive
When keeping them
Sow
I will
I have been maddened and disappointed in the race to gerrymandering fought by racing to more gerrymandering. Wile this may seem shrewd to sum, I see this tempt to make the nation “equally unfair” everywhere as a way of securing overall fairness as a desperate surrendering of the means to fairness itself. I suspect that the overall lessen that will be learned in the body politic is that raw power is everything and winning is the only thing that madders. Raw power is the means to our end. Winning a contest with no standards is mirrorly gladiatorial sociopathy. I hope that we can do better; then agin, perhaps not…
Gerrymandered Square
Race times
Party
Is posed to equal
Gerrymandered squared
Beyond courting US
Axing US
To put our heads in the clouds
And imagine the shape of democracy
“Snake on the lake”
“Goofy kicking Donald Duck”
“Earmuffs”
“Slithering salamander”
From the brayin’s of psychotics
Politicians picking their voters’
Pockets
Of partisanship
Be our guessed
Weather red and blue
We the people
Are in surreal shape
Fair is as missed
In the sky
Out of reach
Wile in the dirt
Farmerly reasonable people
Soully grow more bazaar
Full of buy US
Mythical caricatures
O sow sketchy
From the mine’s of squirts
Only too be hung
On the refrigerator
Of our body politic
Buy what unit might we measure our life…
The Time of Hour Life
“525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes – how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes – how do you measure a year in the life? How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love.” Chorus from the song, Seasons of Love, from the movie, Rent
“I find the key is to think of a day as units of time, each unit consisting of no more than thirty minutes. Full hours can be a little bit intimidating and most activities take about half an hour. Taking a bath: one unit, watching countdown: one unit, web-based research: two units, exercising: three units, having my hair carefully disheveled: four units. It’s amazing how the day fills up, and I often wonder, to be absolutely honest, if I’d ever have time for a job; how do people cram them in?” from the movie, About a Boy
“Life is brutish, but at least it is short.” – Russian saying
He had little
Fidelity to
The god of Chronos
Chopping up
Life into
Little bits
Dissecting awe the wile
Killing it
With byte-sized units
Souled as lots
Waking to alarm
In the mourning
To knew daze
Minutes and ours gone buy
And he
No’ing what time stands for
Found his life
In rich
With poetry
Immeasurable and
Timeless
As long as long
Death touches us in many ways; yet, there are ways in which death cannot touch us…
Ever Agin
Sun shining
Wile the reign pooring
A sign for awe time
Sow majestically arking
A cross the sky
So quiet telling
That which may not be herd
Looking up
As never agin misunderstood
Only too fined
But one weigh
That is light
Even as death cannot weight
Sometimes life calls for convictions…
Soul Felony Conviction
In my many years
Some wear
I over herd
Oh, he’s a professional peacemaker
A paid protester
When in truth
I am not quiet a pro
I am just
An ex-con
Awe in the Family
“I don’t think of it as working for world peace, he said. I think of it as just trying to get along in a really big strange family.” – from Unknown to Known
I was decades and decades into
My one and only
Family reunion
Billions of sisters, brothers
And others
Meeting up
Millions strong
Each and every weak
Countless birthday parties
On the our
Endless wakes
From eternal slumber
And everything in between
Awe in the family
The quote above is from the artwork of Brian Andreas, aka Kai Skye, pictured below as a colorful coat rack:
My best moments are when I am awe in…
Sacred Cowed
As sum what
Cowed by life
I axed God
Too meat me
Half weigh
In what I thought was
A perfectly reasonable bequest
And little
Did I no
As God took a weigh
My doubt
Though I was knot
Quiet
Assure
I was awe in
Patience is the mother of awe virtues, offering a yield that pays off in due time.
An Indescribable Load of Crop
He grew to learn
That awareness sucks
That dis comfort
Of this ground of mine
Being plowed
Teaching me
A patient in awe that hospital
Soully to harvest
From an indescribable load of crop
To relax
And yield
Mine, your own, busyness.
Whirled Traveler
He had long been
From the land of helpers
With a passport to everywhere unearth
Wanted or knot
Yet as the daze passed
He eventually learned
That just
Because he could
Did not mean
He had to
Be a whirled traveler
Humility asks of us to be neither too big nor too small: right sized.
Kneading to be Right Sized
He wanted
To get passed
His shortcomings
In awe humility
To be right sized
To not be too small
Kneading to be built up
Nor to be too big
Kneading to be de-puffed
Facing the dreaded
Long comings
That signal me
What too due
The notion of heaven is a tricky incentive structure…
Partial to Heaven
The final poll results were in
100%
Preferred heaven
If possible
And 100%
Did not
Want to go
Today
Breaking awe
Records
