Life is good. Look for it…
It’s a Wonder Full Whirled
It’s a wonder full whirled
If eye can find myself
Centered
In the I of the storm
A mist
Having a cow
Flying buy
Wondering if
Can it be
A hit
The broad side of a barn
Going bye
And my hows
Up in the err
A big too doo
Doo you no
Wee are knot
In can’s ass any more
Throne this weigh
That!
And in the end
Weather we like it or knot
Life is choice
When you get wind of it
Grounded
Or fly
Sometimes be leaving is seeing…
The Plague on Both of Your Hows Is
A. hows divided
Can ought stand
B. leave
And C.
The first quote below, I learned as the epigraph of the book, Let Them Call Me Rebel, a biography of Saul Alinsky, the great American organizer and social activist. The Lao Tzu quote following it make an interesting pairing and setup for this poem…
Holy Obedient
“Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul by swearing allegiance to one whose character is that of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish man.” ― Thomas Paine
“Highly evolved people have their own conscience as pure law” ― Lao Tzu
He was called
A rebel
It was rumored he new know law
Those surround him
Gravely in choiring
What he may no that they don’t
Knot equal to the task
That he is
Behaving won self
Holy obedient
Anytime a child starves to death it is a catastrophic moral failure of humanity. Feed Gaza. End the genocide. Free Palestine.
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
I am concerned about real obscenities afar amor than mere words…
F ‘n A
Drop an A-bomb
And you are both
The pinnacle and foundation of civilization
Drop an F-bomb
And you are a moral threat
As if
Only won
Might
Be true
Perhaps we should
Just
Drop it
All together
Now
Maiden America, In a Sense Lost
Her job was attired won
Cloaked in innocence
Vested buy lyin’s of national pride
She made sheep’s clothes
For exporting wolves
Trading worlds and souls
Wear global metes loco
As winners make losers
Having
A lock on morality
Taking care of their own
Property
In exchange
For flesh and blood
And what have you
A
Well
Paying job
With blessed insurance
Suited to a life
Fully retired
Having
Spent a life
Wading fore death
As sow many remains
From far off
Lands
Maiden America
As sew much chaff
When beings value possessions more than other beings, I call that “being possessed.”
Dis Possessed
What possessed you
Too care
For paupers
Subjected to feudal enterprises
Sow indebted to us
As Jōb creators
Soully dependent
On that invisible hand
Of the free
Mark it
As bought ensouled
And profits be dammed
As that grave property own us
Given to spawn
Wile others
Are ground
Into what thou dust
And still
Wee holed fast
Too indignant attitudes
Untoward the indigent
As naught he
Awe the wile preaching
To acquire
Personal response ability
Mirrorly something for others
Living on a song
What a fiend
We have
In Jesus
Nothing to get
Cross over
Won cant deny it
At lease three times bettor
To hang
Onto hour bounty
Peaces of silver
What ever possesses
This poem is inspired by an old joke: The courier arrives with a message for the commander. The courier says, “I have good news and bad news; which would you like first?” The commander says, “Give me the bad news first.” The courier responds, “We are surrounded by enemy forces.” Then, the commander says, “So, what’s the good news?” To which the messenger says, “We can attack on any front.” I like this joke because it acknowledges the common feelings of being under attack, which can lure us into responding as less than our best selves. Yet, the messenger presents this awe-to-common experience as an ample opportunity to choose our tack in life, hopefully better re-presenting our higher selves…
Surrounded
The courier had arrived
Having passed
Through the lines
Defining friend and faux
As it is written
It is unread
A message
Delivered
In presence outranked
Standing at a tension
Or be killed
Bye that
Which lies within
Announcing in secret
I have good news
I have bad news
Which would you like
To be first
Give me
The bad news
“We are surrounded”
As O my God
Fills the room with wonder
At what might
The good news be
Only too here
We can tack on any affront
De-spite the accost
To love won
An other
Here is another poem dedicated to Mother Earth. Love your momma!
Balance Do
If soully we could get
Enough
Of Mother Earth and fecund wealth
A rich dance
With soil and water
Flora and fauna
Trusted friends and clear skies
Then
Long the weigh
Comes sum thing
Called the economy
Of mine, mine, mine
Get it
Wile
Won might
As all that
We are culpable
Of poisoning
The spring with winners
Our sow called wellness
Re-lies on extraction
Weather oil, coal, gas, minerals, water, or lumber
Taking more
Then we can
Ever re-store
Leaving debt and destruction
Powering a spent future
Externalizing accosts
With a Cain do attitude
Never Abel
To get
Over ourselves
And what of our sacred mother
Does she halve the heart
That we might
Keep our prys
Without con sequences
Or balance do
I wrote this poem back in Trump 1.0 when awe of the confederate statues were being taken down by activists…
Donald Trump or Bust?
Their will
Come that day
When Donald Trump
And his confederates
Will be history
They wont to see
In the world
Their stony hearts enshrined
Brassy balls hung
The bust. Choice. Ever.
I have never been much of a fan of: “Nothing off the table.” This strikes me as boundary-less sociopathy. Similarly, I am not much of a fan of: “Politics is the art of compromise.” This strikes me as more often about being compromised than compromising…
Nothing Off The Table
The art of the compromised
Is taking
Nothing off
The table
Awe is negotiable
Human rights
And the whored of wrongs
Buy enlarge
Thankful
Fore daily bred
And barren fruit
Soully sorry
For any crumbs
By miss take
Floored
By the error you breathe
I’ve have always found the juxtaposition of folks without any housing with folks who have second homes, especially when those second homes are far bigger and more expensive than most people with housing. This chasm may be a particularly telling indicator of the level of collective empathy of our nation. This poem is a utopian, anti-Orwellian fantasy where “second home encampments” are raided rather than “homeless encampments.”
2084: Novel, Utopia
Up and down
Awe the shoreline
At the second home encampments
The police raided
The “More-hommes”
Those citizens who couldn’t get enough
Sucking up
Resources beyond their need
Masses of second homes
In prime locations
Was emblematic
Of such illegal encampments
Their collective licentiousness
Was matched soully
Buy their generous excuses
Of “God permits”
I am a fan of deeply existential questions. If you had to choose, would you rather be the one who threatened others, even to the point of death, into deeply degrading situations, or be the one subjected to such treatment?
Taut a Lessen
They treated me
As an other
They taught me
Won thing
My abuser
My captor
My exploiter
My oppressor
They are better than me
At violence
I choose other wise
Allot of Pacifism
“It’s supposed to be hard. If it were easy, everyone would do it.” ― Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own
“Being a pacifist between wars is as easy as being a vegetarian between meals.” –Ammon Hennacy
Pacifism is allot to ax
Feel free
To practice
As you are Abel
This poem was uninspired by what a preacher once declared to me with some resignation: “I can’t preach on that.” My first thought was: Wow, that is precisely what you should preach on.
Minimizing Prophets
The Rev’s revved
We can preach on this
We can’t preach on that
Or the sheeple in the steeple
Would be something else
Somewhere else
And we like it hear
Preaching to acquire
A friend too norm
Whether pastor present
To the unherd
Those few
Who dis possession
As a weigh of life
In consideration of prophets
To be had
To know awe
To well
That christening accost
Of riding won’s ass
Into that capital city
Where our rulers and high priests mete
A strange mission state
Meant
Soully as
Minimizing prophets
And voiding immanent danger
Every won no’s the rules
If you can’t preach
On it
That’s the spirit
Preach that
NOTE: I am very proud of my mission statement for Top Pun, “Maximizing Prophets.”
Our treasure rests in our interdependence upon one another, gifted to each other…
In Dependently Wealthy
He unearth
A truth caste aside
His treasure
Can knot be
Stored
Soully given
The amor you get
The soars of awe
True treasure
Enduring
The whiles of the whirled
That priceless turning point
Pain forward
As others grasp
Wealth un-own
Passed by
Buy most
Inter dependence
Living on
Remains
A mist
Eternal presents abiding
This poem is a meditation on spirituality as any perspective that is not nihilism or sociopathy/amorality.
Vacating Spirituality
What ultimately is
Spirituality
Abut
The science
Of subjectivity
A third eye
Witness
Certifiable
In a court of lawlessness
Subject to wrong doing and unlicentiousness
Reduced to a vile
As holy unsatisfactory
Fore such a rock bottom baseness
For those drunk on 100% proof
Sow de-fined
A whirled without
Affliction or affection
Scene as know better
Accept for awe that
No better
Or worse!
Nothing ails
Heels or re-pairs
In a ledged will
Falling for nothing
No weigh to a void
Real gated
To being stuck
In pitch
Darkness
Submitting too
No light for the wicked
In a moral suicide
Wear wee
Can due
Know better
Sometimes having my expectations burst is an awesome thing…
Beyond Teeming
God is just
Sow much more
Then I can in vision
Burst my bubble
What due I expect
When awe is
A given
I am sow
Out of my league
Perspective on light and darkness…
Shedding Light
The sun rises and sets
Shedding light
On countless situations
No no know
The spin is earth’s
Round itself
Round the sun
Awe the same
Wresting upon
The point of you
Alight in the darkness
I’ve seen enough.
Show Enough
There’s long
Been rumors
That God is dead
Perhaps a bit
Exaggerated
On the other side
Of curtains
And to get beyond
Swearing
At any and every attest
I can’t quiet say
That I have scene
The goods
Show enough
God shows up
As many times
I don’t get
What I want
Just
The same
God gives me
Something amor
Sow much better
