POEM: Arming Up, Surrendering to What?

This poem was inspired by a friend, a confirmed liberal, who is considering buying a gun to prepare for a potential civil war. This poem is a meditation on such epic choices. Gandhi viewed cowardice and fear as the real enemy. People should not hide behind nonviolence so-called. People should confront their fear of harm to self and their own. People should confront the tension between the beast in ourselves and the best in ourselves. As Gandhi said, “There is hope for a violent man to be some day non-violent, but there is none for a coward.” The common thread is courageous skin in the game. May we awe choose, courage over cowardice…

Arming Up, Surrendering to What?

“They will beat their swords into plowshares…” –Isaiah 2:4
“Or to take arms against a sea of troubles…” –from Hamlet

How might
Ponder US
Perhaps approaching
A civil war
Perhaps a poaching
What weigh
To fight
Farming humanity
Or farming out humanity
As feeleds burn
An affinity of life
An infinity of death
What is it we’ed due
In hour relationship
With someone ails
Axing won an other
Beyond belief
Canon fodder
Or plowshares fodder
To be or not to be
To kill or be killed
What is it, a boat
Buy what kin ship to sail
Regardless of the wins
Or losses
Brought a bout
By grave choices
By awe standards
With skin in the game

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I am an Antifa Marxist and Lennon-ist

I am what antifa looks like — that is, an anti-fascist that wouldn’t join any group that would have them as a member. Of course, this also makes me a Marxist, a Groucho Marxist.

For full disclosure, I am also a Lennon-ist: “Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.” and “Give peace a chance.” –John Lennon

 

 

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POEM: A Pacifist Incense Ability

“Being a pacifist between wars is as easy as being a vegetarian between meals.” –Ammon Hennacy

Being a pacifist between wars is as easy as being a vegetarian between meals.

A Pacifist Incense Ability

I am too
A pacifist
She proffered
Sow confidently
When only a madder of instance later
She uddered allowed
THIS
Parently in sensibility
“Of course, I’d kill anyone threatening my children.”
Buy definition this stranger pacifism
Up in smoke
As like
The God of awe
Not love
As the red carpet rolls out at won’s feat
I bid welcome to my sibling
In what turns out
Too be the roughest child hood
I ever metaphor
With such no how
The slimmest comfort of being
A vegetarian 23 hours a day

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POEM: The True Meaning of a Hill of Beings

Our solidarity with one another, awe others, is the measure of our being…

The True Meaning of a Hill of Beings

The high maintenance folks
Were sent back
To first class
Fore a remedial steak in reality
To yearn
What they had not
The prize of beings
And what it truly means
To be
King of the hill
Mountin’ to nothing
And good standing
Next to won another

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POEM: Hammered

Hammered

“If you only have a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.” –Abraham Maslow

They claimed to no
The fascist way to what
They want
Winning at all accosts
Won tool to rule them all
Pounding
And pounding
And pounding
US down
Hammering ahead
Weave awe
Been nailed
And awe the wile
Lowering that bar
Of steal
Pour tending
Making their claim
100% hammered
“You’re not screwed.”

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POEM: Well, Come Homme

God welcomes the pour…of spirit…

Well, Come Homme

God souled
Awe that
God possessed
To the pour of spirit
Like heir
That we breathe
Living with abandon
That dusty throne
As pawned an eternity a go
Having discovered homme-lessness
Be gets
Such mortal doings
Relegated on awe sides
Picking up on
Such wayward litter
And know vagrancy at the in
Getting beyond avail
That’s will
And sow much more than a sip
Well
Come homme

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POEM: Promissory Note

Those with much have a responsibility to those with less…

Promissory Note

America has defaulted on its promissory note — Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr

“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” –Matthew 19:24

Even
The rich man
Made note
That the whirled was broke
Happy that it was
Billed his way
He was a trader to his people
A cross
A desert
The camel’s back
Like a microscopic sea
A solitary tear
In his soul
When needled
To admit
Weave bin
Sow frayed
All that he could give
Sew what?
His soul rebuttal

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POEM: That Darn Stitch – Owed to Cautionary Tales

This poem has me, in stitches…

That Darn Stitch – Owed to Cautionary Tales

Sew
Fore sum reason
I can’t seam
To figure out
That soul thread
That knits us together
Is bettor apprehended
By cautionary tales
Be helled
Then inspiration netted
Buy what peers
As the opposite
Lessen
Soully grasping
Those rough patches
Weave awe experienced
Saved once agin
By that darn stitch

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POEM: Awe Ready Now

This a playful poem about how each of us should be appropriately comfortable and uncomfortable with our understanding of a higher power, or know God at awe…

Awe Ready Now

I awe ready
Halve
A cherished relationship
With my God
Not requiring
Your approval
As carry on
And pleas
Due knot mine
Walking the walk
And rocking the rock
That I am
Minding not
How grate thou heart
Nor however wee are helled together
A pebble in my shoo
Sow becoming a singular see’d
Re-leased
Buy a holey sole
Super naturally planting an other
Won in affront of another
Sow uncommon a tend
To sparing abundance
As only the fertile fallow
Know longer
Faded to
Sprouting off
Bound to inter fear
And once agin
Now awe ready

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POEM: Cached For Awe

Cached For Awe

Only in discriminating
Slaves of violence
Helped me find
My master peace
My life wholly taken
Buy worthless scrip
Redeemed fore such magnificent plays
Of grace
And other unmeritorious victories
Cached for awe
That won could ever want
An abundance scarcely dreamed

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POEM: Vegan?

Here is a funny poem about my aspirational veganism…

Vegan?

They asked the fated quest in
Why are you a vegan?
Well, as a recovering nutritional fascist
I try to be a hospitalitarian
Eating whatever someone offers me
Butt
The Buddhist in me calls out
Have compassion on all living beings
And yes
I literally ate a Buddhist
In a slip
In eating flesh
Not my proudest moment
And not being
Vary sentimental
A bout animals
I took a stand
A small concession
Without hotdogging
To not eat them
And now that I think of it
As a big fauna of Mother Earth
I’ve not herd
An animal say, “Eat me.”

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POEM: Nobodies Calling

We can be alone in a crowd. We can desperately want to be an “influencer.” We can get lost in the future or the passed. We can feel disconnected from a higher power. We “nobodies” should get together…

Nobodies Calling

They had
Wanted
Sow badly
To be somebody
They could knot
Here
The calling
As if
Nobodies there

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POEM: Antifa – Owed to Anti-Fascists

The Fascist-in-chief Donald Trump posted that he will designate Antifa as a “major terrorist organization,” despite the fact that Antifa is a movement, at best, simply signifying, “anti-fascism,” and lacks a distinct leader, membership list, or structure. Such farcical social media-ochre deserves Jedi-level parody…

Antifa – Owed to Anti-Fascists

There is a whirled
Called out
As antifa
In a galaxy
Fa fa fa away
The supreme leader
Bought avowal
In his awe cap
Pounding away
At his truthy post
Razing his ante
As if it were
Like anti-madder
To what matter
Weather be
Fascist or anti-fascist
What counsel might
Wee seek
Masters of the universe
Quiet pronounce
The farce is strong with this won
Assertin’ weigh of knot thinking
The threat
Anti
Fa fa fa away

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POEM: The Accost of Free Speech is Going, Up — Owed to Jimmy Kimmel

“Jimmy Kimmel Live” has been pulled off the air “indefinitely” by ABC. The offending material: Kimmel said during his opening monologue, “We hit some new lows over the weekend with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them and doing everything they can to score political points from it.”

Parently, the paternalistic FTC reckons the monologue as a big log, enormously offending material…

The Accost of Free Speech is Going, Up — Owed to Jimmy Kimmel

The shit
Has hit
The fans
The accost of free speech
Is going
Up
In the taking down
Of any parody of powers
As the political wins blow
There is allot of pissing
Into it
Open
Too say
A mouthful
As congregants and confederates
A mass
As shit flies
And urine trouble

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POEM: Don’t Yuck Another’s Yum

As we awe have different tastes…

Don’t Yuck Another’s Yum

An imminently practical
Maxim yum of life
Is don’t yuck another’s yum
As savor from bad taste
Just keep it
Too yourself
Though time, and time, and time again
My yum yum yum
Brakes free
As a yuck yuck yuck

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POEM: Nothing Stranger, Then Enemy

I find the greatest and most practical challenge, as well as spiritual practice, is to love one’s enemies. I find this challenge as the most mine stretching, art enlarging, and soul in lightning discipline that I have undertaken. In practical terms, I see this as ever expanding circles of what we consider kin and neighbor, plus courageously confronting my “in groups” to include and welcome “out groups.” The practical effect of success in this madder is to live on the fringes of many groups with generous servings of creative tension. In some, I would offer as the art of life.

Nothing Stranger, Then Enemy

He outlined to me
His fatherly hierarchy
Which he in formed his kids
My wife is first
Then mom
Then kids
Then grandkids
Then neighbors
Then strangers
And sow on
As the balance do
So I asked the quest in
To give
The benefit of won’s doubt
And given
The right situation
Would you not die for any one of them?
Well…
Halving arrived
At that deep well
He uddered
His doubt
His honest take
And I in choir
Of the lord of awe life
Does knot God
In form His kids
Too love their enemies
As there is
Nothing stranger
Then enemies
What are we posed too due
Other
Then
Taking life literally
Or making our own
Weigh
In idol speculation
And leaving us
To hour worst
In stinks
And udder ruin
Leaving Dad
As numb-er won
As mouth agape
As agog
Fearing man

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POEM: Strengthen Weakness

There is an inescapable Yin and Yang in life. Our personal strengths and weaknesses are a powerful example of this…

Strengthen Weakness

It’s awe Greek to me
That beautiful
Symmetry
My greatest strength
Is my grate-est weakness
And vice verse
As my utter weakness
Is my udder strength
Schooling me in tuition
And pain dividends
Cultivating anew perspective
Connecting me to others
Weak to weak
Awe for won
And won fore awe
Sow moving
In mysterious weighs

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POEM: Comfortable

John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, decided early in life how much he needed to live on, and for the rest of his life gave away anything more than that. I see this as one of his most practical manifestations of living the gospel, the good news — simple living and radical generosity to the downtrodden. I admire this disciplined melding of heart and mind. I yearn to live in a world awash in such practice and witness to security beyond money.  Today, in America, we call financial security “comfort” and can never seem to get enough of it…

Comfortable

Rachel Chu: So your family is, like, rich?
Nick Young: We’re comfortable.
Rachel Chu: That is exactly what a super-rich person would say.
— from Crazy Rich Asians

I just
Wannabe
Comfortable
A certain under standing
Of riches
Helled buy most
Yet never enough

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POEM: Dis Illusioned

Getting rid of our illusions seems to be one of our most vital tasks, yet I have not yet met another person who welcomes becoming disillusioned…

Dis Illusioned

I’ve only ever herd
Disillusionment as
Sum thing
To be voided
As if
We were posed
To run the other
Direction
Dis illusion
Dat illusion
Is it awe
Just the same
Is it wrong to shed
Illusions and delusions
The accost of exorcising
Or idol escapes
Regardless weather
Wee under stand
Or holy unaware
The whirled is what
It is
Beyond belief
As it
That plays
A myth
Mine and unmined
A mist
What we can know
And not no
A missed
What we tend
Or don’t tend
That plays
Between what
We can
And cannot
Due
Between the lyin’s
In the art of life
Stuck in the mettle of
In a sense
And a guilted age
A mid good and evil
Totally taken
To the would shed
Soully to ponder
I wince reckoned
That disillusionment
Was a lame thing
To be warded off
Knot embraced
As I hung
On too having
Holy lost
As God ignore ant
Yet threw out my daze
Dis covering
And uncovering
That deep dive
In too
That succor punch
For the yoke is on us
So join me
Bellow
Awe hail
Disillusion meant

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POEM: Mirror Crack in the Wall

There are tectonic forces at work. Sometimes you just, have to wait for it…

Mirror Crack in the Wall

“There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
–Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”

The whirled was frayed
That they had billed
A wall
Impenetrable
Or sow they in cyst
And wee the people
Were ghosted
We’re scarred
That we were
Too little
Too late
A mirror crack
In the wall
As udder bad luck
As we were
Just
Not enough
The soul decree
Came down from on high
Release
The crack in

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