POEM: Achilles’ Heel

Knocking things down is always easier than building things up, weather it’s a two-year-old or a second term of a president (if you can tell the difference). Still, even amidst wanton destruction, building things up is ever important. Being obsessed with knocking things down may be a developmental phase for two-year-olds, but it is existential weakness for any president claiming to love his fellow citizens.

Achilles’ Heel

The mob cries
He’s a fighter
His back to the win
The posed heeling
Of a nation
A tack
A tack
A tack
Sow little knowing
The biggest heel ever
Awe a bout
Accumulation
Of the means of power
Not seeing it
That
The littlest things
Madder
As shit mushrooming
In the dark
And never doubt
Stepping on it
Sooner or later
Learning to Lego™
The hard way
As easier
To knock things
Then bill them

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POEM: The Ugly American

Uugghh-ly!!!

The Ugly American

The ugly American
Has broken
Its mirror
Reflection
Of values helled
Over generations
Of good will
Like shuttering glasses
Half fool
Half empty
Making no deference
To who is questioning
The fare-est of them all
As would not trade
For anything
His precious
Agin everything
And whoever
Might take their leave
From impossible asylum
From the maniac-in-chief
Meant and de-meant id
De-institutionalized
Roving in-tents
A clown on the throne
US circus made
The Don John
Trumped
Where does won go
Talking shit
And waste deep in “fertilizer”
Lying wile taking
A stand
The bully
Pulp it
In efface of the whirled
As sneer as possible state
There is no makeup attest
Fore such epic failure
Of mythic proportions
As the Orange Narcissus
Stares into abetting pool
Of limpid infatuations
That is his
Own
Made in
The image of god
A world wear
No one loves
Donald Trump like Donald Trump
Know madder
How revolting
America becoming

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POEM: Bully Silence

When effacing the unspeakable…

Bully Silence

I was bullied
Into silence
And it was hear
That I found myself
Listing to trembling voices
And leveled
By that still, small voice
A priceless stash of courage
More than a mountain of cache
To sum it
A given
Not won ascent by my feat
But sores brought to heal
Sow fly
Beyond words

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POEM: God’s Will?

Who can say? I’ve awe ready placed my abets. Bettor too due.

God’s Will?

How due you know
It’s God’s will
Someone said
God is dead
And I read it somewhere
There is know God
Awe the same
It’s a bout
Hear say

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POEM: Razing Up the Unbelievable

Sometimes you have to dig deep to find them gems…

Razing Up the Unbelievable

Bared at the source
Of awe being
Is the treasure of awe treasures
Deeper than any earthly mantle
Gems among gems among gems
And sow on
And sow on
Beyond what counts
Even surpassing recountable
Sow grounded
Razing up the unbelievable
Unearth
As it is
In heaven

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POEM: So So Long

I suspect that if we are scared into simply protecting what we have, then we will lose much more than if we are all in fighting for everything we want. It’s awe in the risk.

So So Long

They
We’re
Caught looking
For a Faustian bargain
An easier weigh
Throne to the win
Blown away
Like sow much chaff
As ditched anon
In that age owed battle
So so long

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POEM: The Odds Rising

Be the change you want to see, oh beautiful unicorns and unifying characters.

The Odds Rising

They were wading
For others
Too due
What
Make the whirled
A bettor place
A casi no
Of felt safety
As others razed
Only taking ship in harbor
Wear the percentages play us
Prospecting on deferent grounds
Survival of the fit
As just
A posed
To a wholly different seeing
Where the odds
Are rising
How many to won
For getting
It’s awe in the risk
As kin in the game
Wear there is know law
Abut conscience
Hire
Then what
Virtue
Morality
Even just propriety
And what follows
As might be
A unicorn
Or unifying character
As shared fete
As a bode
That spot
Deep incite of us
The berth
Of awe that
Incarnated in the world

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POEM: Writing as a Righting Instrument

“Ride on”, says Top Pun,  even as hoarse.

Writing as a Righting Instrument

There are rights
There are wrongs
There is right and wrong
There are rights wronged
There are wrongs righted
Write de-ployed rightly
Is a righting instrument
Illustrated hear
Mightier than the sword
The pun
Word
Play

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POEM: Who Polices Who – Owed to Luigi Mangione

Luigi Mangione is the suspect in the killing of the CEO of UnitedHealthcare, Brian Thompson. The U.S. Justice Department is seeking the death penalty. If nothing else, America seems good at killing. Of coarse, the sensational nature of this killing is the epic discontent and rage generated by a sick care system, particularly insurance companies, that is far better at generating profits than health. Weather we like it or not, this killing has struck a chord and is giving voice to this rage. Like Martin Luther King, Jr, said, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” Chronically bad health care public policy that literally kills tens of thousands of Americans every year from preventable conditions, not surprisingly, creates unrest, not always civil. This poem is a tip of the hat to the inescapable reality that “policing” goes both ways, top to bottom and bottom to top, when illicit behavior persists. Healthy caring results in health care; sick caring results in sick care (sic). If nothing else, Americans seem well schooled in tragic side effects.

Who Polices Who – Owed to Luigi Mangione

“Killing one person is murder. Killing thousands is health care policy.” –Stalin-ish

I shot the sheriff
Who polices who
Gets health care
Who would Jesus deny
Care to
Speculate on some stock answers
Weather a tsunami of paperwork
Or targeted bullet points
Different forums of violence
As want to, three times denied
Then dying cross
In the thick of blood
It’s all relative
A kin to taxes
Where nothing is certain
Accept death
At a pointed time
Aside from corporate persons
Which know no death penalty
And really can’t serve
Time
And time again
Let alone actual people
As pleas cop

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POEM: Just Encase

On occasion, I might preface a statement with “all other things being equal,” I believe this or that. I find this is a profound limitation on any statement, since in real life all other things are never equal. This seemingly scientific speaking, trying to control for one thing and trying to make all other things equal has a distinct sterility to it. In short, it tries to declare a “context-free zone” that disregards countless connections and relationships in the ecosystem of reality. Functionally, in a discussion, the statement, “all other things being equal,” is often a call to ignore these myriad of interrelationships. Typically, if I do use such a preface, it is merely a prologue to a longer attempt to exhume such lifeless premises and reductionistic cognitions. This is awe the more true when the discussion alludes to some action to be followed in real-whirled conditions. Articulated much more briefly, this poem:

Just Encase

All other things
Being equal
I’d probably do that
Just
Let me no
Till that
Is the case
For freedom
For awe
What new can be borne
Temporary in convenience
Not for the hard headed
Standard baring

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POEM: That Huge White Wail

A poem for when grievance politics meets white supremacy.

That Huge White Wail

They glowered
That wince
They once possessed
Would never be their own
The largesse
Of a great society
Had made them
The hugesse victims e’er
That huge white wail
As mo’ be richered
Without a leg to stand on
That vintage whine of the passed
In compassed by deep seeded enmities
Wreathed by grave in just us
And offence filled whirled
Turning out
Soully to be
A huge white elephant

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POEM: Clothes Enough

Ravenous greed increasingly doesn’t even bother to put on the traditional sheep’s clothing. Of coarse, razing the notion that greed is good still needs to be pointed out heartily.

Clothes Enough

“Beware of wolves in wolves’ clothing”

They wore their lies
Like the wholly of all whollies
Conceiving as almost pregnant
With passability
As just a bout attire
Spinning like atop
Veiled by well-heeled hoods
Thinking they are using
Their noggin
As if
Ahead
When as a madder of fact
All butt proven
With caps in asses
Hanging out
As frocked
Embarrassingly out of joint
So illicit-ing US
To ignore apparel unmatched
Draped in stripes
And any fashion rhyming with orange
More than thread bear
With such border lyin’ personalities
Yet as awe most
Those who stand against
No such guise
At that dis quieting point
Wear naked truth
Is clothes enough

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POEM: Disarming Honesty

Honesty does not require brutality.

Disarming Honesty

Heed consider it
Disarming honesty
Lopping off limbs
As might right and left
As dead would
In there vary own forced
Never as well
Received
Rather in loo
The aftermath
Winsome loose sum
Frankly, hot dogging it
Every now and agin
As sin sear as can be
Even fourth Reichness
As a demonstrable hit
And down for account
Is it passable
Too heed lessness
And what might be
Just awe kinds of weighs
Entreating others

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POEM: What Makes?

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ― Howard Thurman

I see that which is truly productive as rooted in healthy being, emanating from a healthy soul — awe else is trying to cheat reality. Plus, I find that if something makes me come alive, it isn’t really work.

What Makes?

What do you do?
As little as possible
Avoiding work
Soully doing
What makes
Me alive
And thus becoming
Strangely productive

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POEM: The Joke is on US

Here is the April Fool’s Day poem for this year…

The Joke is on US

Until more notice
April Fool’s Day
Will be
X tended
In definitely
Without end
Accept
Its many means
Enriching the rich
Representing the national deficit
Serving as tribute to the ridiculously loaded
Drinking it in
Those hims of preys
And fixation on enemas
The on going
Slap stick
Will it
Peter out
Without the humor
Short-term pleasures
Or long-term benefits
As sow base
Never enough
Impugn-y crimes
A quit
Until our renouncement
On the take
A bate
The joke is on US

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POEM: Its The Economy Stooped

I wrote this poem last year and I hadn’t published it yet. For better or worse, the poem is still timely and timeless.

Its The Economy Stooped

Hey homies
Welcome to the hows
Of whining elections
Know madder how many dwellings
Falling flat
Or lodging complaints
It really might be
A bout
Proferring the will
Of the people
Estating undeniably
Inhospitable a bode
Its the economy stooped
And no other
Subjects
A porched earth policy
Weather you like it or not
There will be
Know climate change
There will be
No real talk about race in this race
Let a loan
The human race
Its
A bout just US
And tar nation
Hell
O lord
Its
The manor of things
Aver ran duh
To our buy and buy

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POEM: Little Feat

This poem was inspired by the Oval Office press conference Elon Musk dominated as co-president, with his little kids, X and Donnie Trump, fidgeting as Elon droned on. Of course, a South African immigrant in the White House seamed a worthy fit. There is untolled irony of a white billionaire naming everything “X” (including his son), when historically “X” has been used in the African diaspora for those who don’t know their family name, only a slave name given to them. Musk, the stench of wealth, played the roll of an immigrant coming for your job, delineating the end game of literally owning the libs — and all others. The only good news is that slavery has 100% employment. His diarrheal demagoguery exemplified that little payin’ for the benefit of the long runs…

Little Feat

Welkom to the white hows
We’d herd
The pitter patter of little feat
Where X marks the spot
With crayon treasure maps
The spawn of apartheid
The diversity of Afrikaners
And the repugnant musk of billion heirs
Those immigrants coming
For your job
Engendering wons
And lots of zeroes
As sum kind
Of binary code
A continuum of heir transplants
And jacked up jaw lyin’s
Making a man
More or less
As if
Sum how productive
Welkom to the porcelain throne
Built by slaves
Occupied
Buy johns of awe stripes
Miscegenating with orange and green
And US be getting
The color of shit
On the genocide
Of even the caricature
Of first nations

NOTE: Elon Musk has had gender affirming care; that is, hair transplants and jawline surgery, making him more or less a man in his binary world.

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POEM: Something Has To Give

Giving my take on give and take, taken in bye a take, take, take whirled.

Something Has To Give

Living in
A whirled
Of take, take, take
Taken in
Something has to give
As dam lessens
Open the flood gaits
Of walking the walk
Over
Coming
As zero sum game
Give or take
As I eminently
Get it
Turning out rather something
Someone
Has to give
And it might
As well
Be me

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POEMS: On the Wrings of a Dove

What is the sound of a coup of a dove? No arms flapping.

On the Wrings of a Dove

We rise
On that warming
Of clear and present
Things to come
Arising
On
Those heir currents
Of turbulent resistance
And unflappable flight
Global in nature
And awe ways a bit loco
As the whirled hurls
Flipping the bird
Wee a send
A message for awe
Look, ma!
No arms
Just
Well yearned soars
A mist
The temp-est
Uncaging those in forced
Cleaving what seams everlasting
The eternal incite
Unbroken flights for life
As soully seen
From a bird’s eye
Thrust
Up on
The breath
Of billions of living beings
Buoyed soully
On that emanating
From every for us

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POEM: Mirror Palestine

The U.S.-Israeli genocide in Gaza is a horrific failure of humanity and godliness. We must look unflinchingly at what this means for US.

Mirror Palestine

Mirror, mirror, behind a wall
Who is beautiful
One and all
Helled
Up to the world
What kind
Of world
Due we want
Made in God’s image
Lightly shining
Beyond likeness
Or broken
As children razed
More than bad luck
As bombs reign
Parently unseen
Entreating humans
To no their pain
And open hearts
As awe reflect

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