This free poster is my marking of the death of Queen Elizabeth. This FREE POSTER: There Are QUEENS and There Are QUEENS – I Prefer The FORMER is a LGBTQ pride poster as well as an anti-monarchy poster. In case you missed it at first glance, “FORMER” also refers to my preference for former queens of the monarchical variety.
A Litany For The Birds
A first bird
In early mourning
Calls out the names
Of each creature
No longer in this realm this day
A second bird
In a coo of sorts
Sings out the names
Of each soul first born this day
And better yet, of those to be born anew
A third bird
Weaves prayers
For all that has brought us here this day
And for awe that is yet to come
Nesting all of our daze
Oft seeming out of nothing to no end
I often write poems as a form of therapy. I have often thought that I would do better to not have birds cawing and singing in the early morning. This poem turns that oft seeming useless or annoying ritual into something meaningful, even awe-inspiring. I do find great comfort in the awesome power of nature that nests life. Poems and rituals are the stuff of myth, and sometimes I have to intentionally myth the point to reconnect with awesomeness and gratitude.
Authentic Hat Whisperer
Won day
Awe of my hats
Came out of the closet
At the same time
I find myself
Walking the streets
A couple of feet taller
And I here
That small still voice
Come out, come out
Wear
Ever you are
This is a poem about authenticity. We all wear different hats at different times in different places. I suspect that wearing all of our hats at once will allow us to walk taller. Plus, the gift of being ourselves to others is an invitation for others to lean into their true selves.
Putin on the Ritz
Putin showed up
The end
At the gate of heaven
Only to discover that
God is the kindest woman
You could ever imagine
Who also turns out
To be a huge fan
Of Pussy Riot
And if rankness were allowed
Putin would be in the vicinity
Of spam
Along with
His Aryan buds exclaiming
“Some type of cracker”
From below
I wrote this poem near the start of the most recent invasion of Ukraine by the Russian oligarch-in-chief Vlad Putin. This poem is a tip of the hat to feminism and a loving God, as well as a parody of white supremacy of which the Russian Ukrainian invasion owes its salience, say, as compared to Russian war crimes in Syria, which received little attention in the West. Perhaps ironically, this poem may never have been written without hellish white supremacy, vying amongst itself for scarce attention, awe the wile declaring, “white supremacist lives matter.”
Please enjoy this FREE anti-Trump POSTER: Scientists have narrowed down the origin of the COVFEFE-19 virus to either a raccoon virus or Oompa-Loompa virus.
HAPPY April Fools Day!
What Cannot Be Forest Upon Mother Nature
As man expired
His last
Once agin
Mother Nature breathed in
A parent excrement
Concrete and steel
Leaving not
Even a scratch
In geologic time
Merely having caught a cold
Cold virus
Feverish bout
Something to sneeze about
Un-till returning
To natural appetites
Where awe is better than knew
In the tree of knowledge
With wisdom of what can and cannot be forest
Upon Mother Nature
Ultimately, this poem is a testament to the sustaining and healing power of Mother Nature. So many times I am struck by the unsustainable practices of so-called civilization. While I am not confident that humankind (unkind?) will be able to avert a monumental collapse of civilization as we know it today, I suspect that humans will survive in some form. Similarly, I strongly suspect than nature will survive. I suspect that humans are not smart enough, nor stupid enough, to end life on this planet. I suspect that humans are not strong enough, nor weak enough, to end life on this planet. While our blind greed is frighteningly persistent, this poem is one vision of Mother Nature, quite naturally, recovering from a virus and fever, and returning to health. 
Mother Nature is awesome and powerful. In this envisioned scenario, humans don’t make it, at least not in any form resembling our current civilization. In the first line of the poem, I reference the word “man” as expiring, that is, lowercase man, not humankind. I snuck this in as an opening to survive, if in fact, in the yin and yang of life, the patriarchal male force is brought into balance with the nurturing/healing female force. I don’t think that it is any accident that nature, Mother Nature, is typically viewed as female across many human cultures. If we don’t respect females, then we are doomed to an existence far short of our awesome potential, or, perhaps, simply doomed to extinction. May we as a species, one among many, find a balance befitting the awesome benevolence of Mother Nature.
Please enjoy these Mother Nature, environmental designs:
![Clean Up Your Mess, Love, Mom [Earth] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/Clean-Up-Your-Mess-Love-Mom-Earth.gif)
![Globalize THIS - ENVIRONMENTAL RESPONSIBILITY [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/Globalize-THIS-ENVIRONMENTAL-RESPONSIBILITY-earth-graphic.gif)
Neighboring Accountability
Several homes
Down
There is
A child molester
You can’t no
For sure
Buddies sow nice
Too those knew
Kids on the block
How could you
Warn up to him
Surly there are other neighbors
Axing the question
What shitty do
Especially iffing correct
The prize to be paid
From phallus testimony
And illicit probes
In the end
Assessing what is
Dear
In the light
Of what is
Dumb
Struck
Buy that veritable truth
It is awe
In the risk
And neighboring accountability
This poem is about the all-too-common tragic trauma that child sexual abuse wreaks on its victims, their families and the community. More specifically, this poem deals with the responsibility that we have toward one another, especially children as potential victims. Child molestation and sexual assault is perpetuated by silence. Perpetrators can only continue their crimes if targets or victims are silenced by threat or shame. Such silencing also depends on adults in a child’s community turning the other way when suspicions are raised. Also, a child’s community may not be supportive enough for the child to feel that they will be believed or feel safe in saying anything. This poem arose from a conversation with someone who found great difficulty in potentially wrongly accusing someone of something very serious. My perspective is that this is precisely why we need to deal decisively with any suspected child endangerment, because it is so serious. Such hesitation, which in my view quite reliably chooses doing too little, strikes me as far more dangerous than being a little too ardent in protecting children. Plus, in larger terms, perpetrators are typically also victims who end up perpetuating a cycle of abuse. Perpetrators also need a community that can hold them accountable and offer real help to them, not just enabling. May we act vigilantly to build supportive communities that are committed to protect children and provide compassionate care and healing for all victims.
Nobody Really No’s
The apple falls
The shoe drops
The plan it tracks
The gravity of such law as undisputed
You need not condone
Whatever weigh
You obey
Such gravity
Know more
Know less
Sow it is
With love
Know greater law
This poem is about love, more specifically, the law of love. Few people would dare deny the law of gravity, and gravity will have its way with us regardless of what we do or believe. This poem is a call to recognize that the law of love is no less fundamental than recognized laws of physics. The law of love is a law of metaphysics. You don’t have to respect, obey, or even know the law of love in order for the law of love to operate. And just like the law of gravity, if you do not act in accordance with the law of love, then things gets busted up and people get hurt. May we harmonize ourselves with the law of love — know greater law.
![Globalize THIS - LOVE [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/Globalize-THIS-LOVE-earth-graphic.gif)
![One Love, Many Paths [religious symbols] SPIRITUAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Religious-Spiritual/One-Love-Many-Paths-religious-symbols.gif)
The Her and Now
Her gentle generosity
Levels a see of petty lacks
Her abundant kindness
Overwhelms any insecurity
Her abiding faith
Shrinks fear two size
Her steadfast patience
Outlasts wistful worries
Her joy
Outshines any mourn
Her bounding gratitude
Is a magnet
For awe good things
Her’s is a perfect storm
Flooding my body and soul with love
Leaving no hope, nor desire, for escape
As I am
Only to be
Perpetually satisfied
With the her
And now
Since today is Valentine’s Day, please enjoy this love poem that I wrote for the love of my life. This one is for public consumption; however, most of the poetry that I write for her is for her eyes only…
Stolen Goods
In this world
Of confusion and doubt
I know one thing for sure
You are a thief
Having stolen my heart
My chest emptied
And never the less
A living pray
Bleeding hope
From the whole in my soul
That you will only
Follow the law
Of love
And forever repay me
With your consummate crime
In blessed possession
Of stolen goods
In honor of Valentine’s Day tomorrow and ode to my sweetheart of 22 years, please enjoy this love poem. May you experience much love in your life.
Dyslexic Write Wringer
In a whack and blight world
Any dyslexic can tell you
A right winger
Is a white ringer
Only as an adult did I realize that I am mildly dyslexic. I have to intentionally work every time to distinguish my right from my left, except in politics, of course. I had great difficulty learning how to read and still have some difficulty reading along while others read, since recovering from my word reversals is easier in my own head than when reading along while someone actually reads it correctly. I cannot reliably look at a phone number and walk across the room and dial it. Math, particularly algebra, was unduly difficult with numbers and terms not having the same internal context as words in a sentence, or letters in a word. Fortunately, all of this is only mildly annoying rather than significantly disabling. In fact, I see that my poetry style and sense of humor are rooted in this perpetual jumbling of words and even concepts and the training of reordering them into their original or intended meaning. Of course, along the way, I am struck with new and often funny relationships. Hopefully, I have raised this to an art form. In this case, I see my mild dyslexia as a gift, even a superpower in word play!
This poem is a signature combination of my dyslexic tendencies and my left wing, though typically right, politics. Beyond the churning alliterative construction is a scathing critique of right wing politics as inextricable linked to white supremacy. Whites in racial politics are frighteningly reliably ringers as the supremacy in white supremacy is so complete that us whites are routinely blind to this simple yet pervasive and pernicious fact.
This blindness of racism seems to be a necessity for racism to persist century after century. Of course, as a white man, I speak from experience; I had to learn this for myself, much later than I would have liked. I am now trying to unlearn my racist heritage and presumptuous privilege, and overwhelm racism by me with anti-racism by me. I have learned that white supremacy and racism is a problem that white people are responsible for and must be responsible in ending. No doubt, this is difficult: the blind leading the blind. Though I have also learned that I can learn from people of color simply by paying attention, listening, and working as an accomplice in ending racism. Most importantly, I must do this work without placing the burden on people of color to enlighten me. This is my responsibility. May I live up to it.
![African, European, Asian, Racist [small racist brain] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/African-European-Asian-Racist-small-racist-brain.gif)
![Globalize THIS - RACIAL EQUALITY [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/Globalize-THIS-RACIAL-EQUALITY-earth-graphic.gif)
That Clarity Amidst Blood
The tides of change are rising
From a tsunami of tears
The salt of the earth
Uniting with water
The solution that is life
That clarity amidst blood
And where souls hit the street
Awash with just us
And cleansing see
This poem is about protest and resistance where there is skin in the game and deep solidarity. Change, both personally and socially, often arises through pain and loss. Much pain in this world is caused by selfishness and the vanities of power, money and status. Unjust powers that be, while they may be deeply entrenched, are made vulnerable by their hypocrisy and cowardice, addicted to extracting value for themselves at undue cost to others. Oftentimes the antidote to such greed and vanity is found in community and shared struggles where the courage and resilience to endure additional costs can bring a harvest of justice and healing both personally and socially. In the crucible of change, there is a testing of won’s mettle when going that extra mile may actually be mile twenty. The authenticity generated by skin in the game, or street cred, can counterbalance great enemies to life, especially if harnessed in mass and interconnected with deep solidarity. May our tsunami of tears wash away injustice and bring healing to the land and its peoples.
![Globalize THIS - RESISTANCE [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON](https://toppun.com/Political/Globalize-THIS-RESISTANCE-earth-graphic.gif)
God’s Tell
Is it just
Another day
Like any other
Inner changeable
Who could tell?
And there I was
Mining my own busyness
When it came to pass
God winked at me
I timidly wavered back
Yet setting off
A sparkle in my eye
Leaving me feeling
A little more catchy
Few people claim to literally hearing God speak, and the title of this poem, God’s Tell, is rather an allusion to a tell in poker, where a clue is revealed regarding what another player’s hand may be and how they might play it. Of course, for many people, poker is a serious matter, especially if discerning a tell is critical to a winning edge. I juxtaposed a wink as a playful and reassuring way of God communicating God’s hand and how God might play it. The chief complaint against God may be that God doesn’t implement justice in the way or timing that won might want. Perhaps the nature of spirit is more about playfulness and reassuring communication how we are “with” one another in whatever it is that they may be experiencing. 
For me, this can be an important insight into the nature of solidarity in justice work, standing with one another, though it highlights the process rather than simply just the outcome. Balancing our focus on the journey rather than simply the destination, may very well help us get there, and certainly offers a more pleasant option in enduring the many ups and downs in justice movements. Who knows, perhaps one of the main destinations, arrival points, is simply being with those around us on the journey.
More simply, this poem can be a serendipitous moment where we feel awe and are caught off-guard in the best of ways. May such moments be catchy!
I just had an urge to make Donald Trump a dinosaur, long overdo.
Please enjoy this free poster: T-rump, BIG MOUTH, tiny hands, Breaks Shit.
When Conspiracy Makes a Perfect Call
The Democrats made me
Due it
In the end only
Tempted bribery
In awe I did
In competence
My soul motive
Buy partisan ship
A condemn nation urned
As just US done
With all the fix ins
Sow what’s the big deal
Surely you don’t want
A nation of nancies
And immigrants
[insert off color joke hear]
Whatever
Accost
With the nearly seamless conspiracy and cover-up by senate Republicans, I feel that our nation is disabled and half of the country is making fun of it. Of course, Donald Trump, this half-ass satyr of a president, is leading the way by being the satire.
Goddest of Dreams
One serendipitous night
I stumbled up
On a most glorious site
An indescribable rite
When mortals have only their dreams
She would sow free
Pluck stars from the sky
Only to sprinkle them
On waking heads
And hearts afresh
As windows to the soul
Are with sunbeams awash
As darkness never remembered
In awe that is knew
In this day present
This whimsical poem is an ode to the mystery and rejuvenating powers of sleep that prepare us for a new day.
BS Meters
Sometimes you just
No
When the shit hits the fan
Or weather the biggest ass round
Goes Pompeii
And you can’t even make out
Your exquisitely crafted bullshit meter
Turning out
To be
Essentially needle-less
Butt as they say
You don’t need a weatherman
To let you no
Which way the wind blows
In increasingly surreal times, my bullshit meter has been largely pinned out. I may need to calibrate some kind of logarithmic scale to differentiate escalating levels of flying bullshit. Of course, while exquisitely crafted and calibrated bullshit meters are nice, the old-fashioned smell test is often quite sufficient. And when that unmistakably distinctive wind blows, just say no.
Loyalty Oafs
Loyalty oafs
Would halve you
Believe
In idol vanity
Sowing their wiled oaths
AWOL keeping us a part
With litmus tests
In a whirled of acid
And base
Brands that burn
And scar us
In too submission
Not with standing
Be sides
Withal there is
An incalculably better weigh
Yes is yes
No is no
Each making us stronger
And unafraid
Of know boundaries
In a world with multiple, overlapping allegiances, loyalty can seem a highly partisan and intensely tribal battle for alleged hearts and minds. Commingle this with the purported virtue of compromise in the professed art of politics, and such “things” as values, boundaries and even ultimate concerns can easily be lost in the melee.
I am struck by the directness and simplicity of the biblical precept: “Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no. Anything more than this comes from the evil one.” (Matthew 5:37) Given the contemporary situation of senators, specifically Republic senators, and more specifically, Republican majority leader Mitch McConnell, in the swearing in as jurors in an impeachment trial where you can confess that you aren’t impartial and then take an oath that you will be impartial. The above biblical precept is part of Jesus’ sermon on the mount concerning the law of solemn pledges: “Again you have heard that it was said to those who lived long ago: Don’t make a false solemn pledge, but you should follow through on what you have pledged to the Lord. But I say to you that you must not pledge at all. You must not pledge by heaven, because it’s God’s throne. You must not pledge by the earth, because it’s God’s footstool. You must not pledge by Jerusalem, because it’s the city of the great king. And you must not pledge by your head, because you can’t turn one hair white or black. Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no. Anything more than this comes from the evil one.” (Matthew 5:33-37) Of course, farcical Christians in a farcical Christian nation are well suited by swearing on a Bible that instructs them to forgo pledges.
May our values, boundaries and ultimate concerns be evidenced by our actions.
If Only It Were Just Bazaar
He ran
The whirled
Like a carny
King Con
A sideshow gone viral
Kicked off the island
No longer in realty
Passing bills ‘n washing ton
In the house of white he
Longs for the sweetness of cotton
‘n elephant ears long fore gotten
As he deafly rallies his confederates
As hole country goes south
Today, Senate Republicans, alleged jurors, may end the impeachment trial that may not really have been a trial. Won way or the other, this will be a new precedent in the regime of this unprecedented president, Donald Trump, aka, The Don.
By the way, rex lex means the king is the law. Rex lex is the opposite of nobody is above the law, equal protection under the law, and a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. END REX LEX!
