It’s amazing how much you can learn by just paying attention. Still, the trick seems to be letting go of that which I cannot control — a mere 99.999999999% of what happens.
Not Minding
“I don’t mind what happens.” — J. Krishnamurti
Hear and their, afloat endless seize, is common place
Craven to get a head
Yet there is
An art to life
I don’t mine stuff
Happening
In the passages of time
A hidden adore
I can stand
Being prone
To mellow drama
I have a gift for systematic thinking and pattern recognition. I delight in connecting the dots between the infinitely connected aspects of the universe. Everything reminds me of everything else. I am an Olympic figure-out-erer — rank amateur status only because nobody pays me to do it. It’s been quiet a wile since I have let go of large regions of reality as beyond my pay grade. I still have directions and attitudes, large patterns discerned through my living, going into these nether regions. Awe the same, there is a generous portion of faith that I apply to what might be, a ledged abysses. This poem is a meditation on the just a position of my faith and my persistent bewilderment with the foolishness helled in such an awesome whirled.
Oh My, Myopia
Who can
Fathom the mine of God
Sow wanting
Earth and heaven as won
And only Abel too fine
A tsunami of ether ore quest ins
Wading for the drum roll pleas
Snared a mist grays and just us
Scouring the grate faiths of Man kind
As caught up
In the bottomless
The works
Hour desperately wanting
Daze craven
Taking
An eternity
Knot seeing beyond
The end
Of our knows
Calculating net prophets
Who gets
The credit
Buy faith a loan
As if
God’s accounting
Can be
Under stood
How ever may be
At best
On our knees
As gun to ahead
Soully wanting
At last
God’s will
And testament
That braking point
A riches to rags store he
Wear that still, small voice
Is beyond herd
Over shadowing ether
Oar earthly site
If God is fore me
Who can stand agin
Awe questions bound
Just a posed
In the can
God create a spectacle
Sow big
That fools can see agin
Snared in that double blind
I am intrigued by the difference between equality and equity. I believe that we ARE equal as humans and all human rights spring from this. I see equity as when human rights are manifest equally across humanity. We ARE equal. We MAY work to bring about equity. My intrigue comes in with the radical rabbit hole of behaving “as if” people are equal — which is a claimed value by many. When I was part of a gay equality congregation (before gay marriage was legalized) there was a lot of strategizing over HOW to get to the church and society to treat gays equally. Of course, the overwhelming majority of such strategizing was how to get OTHER churches and our government to treat gays equally. For example, few professional Christians, aka pastors, in the gay equality movement actually openly agreed to and performed holy unions of LGBTQ folks — of course, because existing inequities would extract a price for such values. Or, how about laying down unjust privilege by refusing to offer heterosexual marriage until LGBTQ marriage equality? I now strongly suspect that the healthier and more powerful relationship to one another comes from individuals and small bands of people boldly demonstrating precisely what they value TODAY, not in some possible future, made possible by shrewdly bargaining for human rights, human equality, in the constellation of inequities I am haunted by the question: how can I treat others equally NOW? I find human equality a dangerously transformative challenge. What if I treat strangers as family? I suspect that this is the very power of God. I fail miserably AND joyously go down that radial rabbit hole…
…or, are we all equal, and some are just, more equal than others?
Wanting Equity
What is
We ARE equal
What is knot
Is equity
What most people
Wanting
Ahead scratcher
As lean
Into
What is
The big ugly bill is on it’s way to be passed; the greatest transfer of wealth from the poor to the rich in human history. This free anti-Trump “unwanted” poster: ROBBIN’ HOOD TRUMP UNWANTED POSTER – Welcome to the Robbin’ Hood and the Sure Wood Forced by His Merry Men
Donald Trump’s rampant rapaciousness disqualifies him for anything but VICE president.
Miss Deeds Pageant
He showed up
Too judge
The miss deeds pageant
As a reel state developer
And a premier predator
Behind the seeings
His rapacious hands did most the work
His prized entrants
The sink or swimsuit competition
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A lass, there are know winners
And any won who says other wise
Guise will show up
At your affront door
To finish off
The inter view
After the kommandant-in-chief used bunker busters bombs to war on Iran and make his play for a Nobel Peace Prize (sic), The Don floats another meaningless peace proposal that is unacceptable to warmonger Bibi Netanyahu and offers no lasting end to the genocide in Gaza, unacceptable to Hamas. Wile Trump follows Bibi down this abyss, the struggle for humanity continues. Unfortunately, the short-sighted and lethal demagoguery smacks of BB for brains…
BB for Brayin’s
Can Donald Trump jerking
His arms
Dig a hole
So big that even
He can’t get out
Well
Braking out
Bunker
Busters
BB for brayin’s
A mirror game
Of fallow the leader
Bibi for brayin’s
Biggest Bomb ever
Giving piece chants
With austerity for the poor and tax cuts for the rich, there will be serf cities all a cross America — Serfin’ USA! The broligarchs will make US their beach, boys…
Serfin’ USA
Fund, fund, fund in the sun
Like a razin’
If everybody had
An ocean of corruption
Cross the USA
Everybody’d be serfin’
Like Oceani-a
Like Eurasi-a
Like Eastasi-a
Like 1984
You’d catch ’em serfin’
At Elon-ville
In Zucker-berg
On Bezos-land
Everybody’s gone
Serfin’
Yeah, everybody’s gone
Serfin’ USA
Even Canada’s gone
Serfin’ US, eh
Every green land gone
Yeah, everybody’s gone
Serfin’ USA
What Counts
I was deeply engrossed
A dozin’ dozin’ times over
Rapt up
In what counts
When near buy
A poaching me
Sum numb-er crunchers
Such shadowy figures
Their own
Singing appraise
What counts
What lords
Baron down on me
Putting up dukes
Re-citing
In autistic fashion
1,2,3
1,2,3
4,5,6
4,5,6
7,8,9
7,8,9
9!
9!
9!
Only enough for me
To lose my plays
As the greatly underappreciated theologian Elmer Fudd so eloquently stated, “I’ve gone down the wascally wabbit whole.”
Rabbit Whole
God is a rascally rabbit
And I AM
Down with that whole
Saved by a hare
Like the heir
I breathe
As sure as dust speak
The unspeakable
An early Sunday morning poem that didn’t exist an hour ago…yet has existed since the beginning of time…
Sing Sing Birds Uncaged
Sing birds
At the end of night
At the brake of daze
And drowsy dreams
A language few dare
Under stand
A hit with fans
Be wildered
With what smatter
Out and a bout
So sow early
Before worms below
And what remains
Thinking too hour selves
Better off
Then makeup
Words
In a whirled
Note ably without
Mother tongue
Calling us out
Whys that
Unearth knows
Sing sing birds
Uncaged
Poetry has been shorted.
Jeff Bezos Wedding Abet
Celebrities descend
Up on Venice
This is not a poem
Rise up! Let us meet hate with love, violence with nonviolent resistance, austerity with bold generosity, divisive demagoguery with unbroken solidarity. Let’s dig deep…
Abysmal Futures
Construction is up
In those special places
In hell
But for the time being
Wee must endure
Hell on earth
With Lilliputian fires in our hearts
As prolog
To infernal conflagrations
And just what
Humans are down for
Grifting demagogues like Donald Trump assume that they can bloviate, bluff and bully out of any situation. This is the junk food of politics…
Political Hotdogging
There is no topping
Their political hotdogging
Their soul relish
Nixin’ constitutional muster
Foreswearing catch up
To
As if it were
Base ball
Making that concession stand
Handed immodest options
Junk fooled
Parted with even bread
Time for a poem about time…
Is It A Bout Time?
Tic tock
Tic tock
Until only a tic
Or only a tock
Ticking the tic
Tocking the tock
Weather faster
Or slower
Weather minute minutes
Or magic moments
Daze long
Or ours present
For ever wandering
Is it a bout
Time
Character is destiny. Donald Trump is a bully threw and threw. He is the mission creep.
Mission Creep
From his political berth
Down with
The escalator of hate
A crooked real state barren
Suffering from a military-industrial complex
Making questionable axes
How can we knot
Ratchet up
To regime change
Kind of rich
Coming from the insurrectionest
Sort of asinine
Make America Grate A
A perpetual plan be
The mission creep
As peace through strength breaks out in the middle east, here is a poem about the seemingly inexorable escalation of war:
Hear, We Go
Strongmen every war
A ledge
Peace threw
Strength
Braking out
In the middle east
Yet another won
The necessary eval
That inescapable rout
To uncounted piece
And con tending soul loser
A check-in the male
Put in the wince column
Agin and agin
In the shit
Here we go again
I wrote this anti-war poem quite a while ago. Unfortunately, hour capacity to ignore timeless wisdom is leading US to hellish foolishness wince again…
How Ever War is Borne
No won ever
Reckons the lies
From wince
War is begat
The right only grows stronger
Those left are lined up
But that patriotic fervor
Anointing fever
Foolhardy favor
A dead savior
Through storied means
And certain ends
The other
Remains
No madder
What ever
We are culpable of
What is it, that you live? What due you live for?
I Lived To
I lived to fight another day
I lived to fight another
I lived to fight
I lived to
I lived
I
I
I
I lived
I lived to
Here is a poem for awe of you vegan peacemakers…
A Violence Sandwich
Man
Trying
Too fill
That empty whole
Of living buy
Bred alone
Slys of life
Dead meet
A taste fore flesh
Curdled mother’s milk
Of some other species
Compassed by leaves of let us
And the slimmest of maters
Eat it
And die
Trying
“The Chuck Darwin”
At some hip café
And what’s that secret sauce!
The consummate blend
Of sects and violence
May hauntingly beautiful souls possess you…
Last Words
When I
Am long gone
Long past
Whatever seeing
Is present
Eye hope
To haunt you
In the most beautiful way
Taking leave of grass
And longing of eternity
Taking whole of every now
Sow awe that is touching
In feeleds of dreams
That still hear
And now
Truths
Yet unspoken
And when you can
Know longer
Improve upon silence
Join me
In my haunts
