There is typically pressure on artists to make their work more popular and marketable, rather than centering on the deepest creative expression of their art. This poem is a reflection on this for writers, poets.
Writer’s Block
They lived on
The writer’s block
Chop, chop, chop
Accompany buy prose
And the occasional poetic
Vocation at times
Fool time work
To fallow the urge
To resist
The daze latest fashion
And the ever popular
The lowest
Common denomination
I am a microcosm of a majestic universe and beyond…
Microcosmic Man
I am
Possessed
Buy that within
And awe that is without
As know stardust in these I’s
Emptying my self
As neither apart nor a hole
As now bearing imponderable wait
Lodged in that mystical seem
Of the atomic and the astronomical
As adore
Deifying every scale
As a weigh of life
A poet of udder space
An utmost mass
As the heavens move me
Sow majestically
In divine reflecting just
As I am
Micro cause ’em
Man
My journey to de-monetize my life, both willingly and unwillingly, has made me the richest man I know. Of course, I don’t get out that much…
The Pourer I Get
“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money… 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 6:24 and 19:24
In my sojourn
From have
To halve not
What have I
One
The pourer I get
My cup over
Flowing
Such timeless lessoning
In a singular our
That state-of-the-heart mastery
Of God
Or money
The depth of real eyes
That winnow of the soul
Where revolutions turn
The axis of God
An open adore to awe
Though little
Enough
To give
Disaffected fits
To those with
Treasured baggage
I write what I know. I write what I no. I write what is read by few. I write what cannot be read by many. Awe is fodder for all that I right.
Probably Write
He was going
A bout
His busyness
Glimpsing along
When the tome of my life peered
And he abruptly tolled me
Know one
Is going too
Read that!?
And after he went
What remains
Cutting to the quick per use
He is as well
Probably write
A tender read under cover
Bent on not braking
If soully opening up
Here is a manly feminist poem…
Making Camp
He had a somewhat alien urge
Man
Caved
Intuit
To go where no man had gone before
So he went
Only to find
Thousands of women
All ready had
Made camp
Of what was his make believe life
What You, Really Due
Sow many poets
As slender reeds unseen
And off unherd
Bent
On bequeathing crowds
Out of thin heir
In the red
And not read
Soully wanting
Poor over
Yet
Content
Foremost
Not a real Jōb
The answer to a question
What you
Really due
This poem offers another solution to satisfy the “Is the glass half full or half empty?” question. As a bonus, the poem incorporates another interpretation of the Zen joke: What did the Zen master say to the hotdog vendor? “Make me one with everything.”
Glass Not Have Full
The master debaters
Argue to no end
How fool is hour glass
Have
Or have not
O Lord
Take this cup away
It’s sow much bigger
Then awe you give me
Are you just
Hotdogging
Making me won
With everything
Mother Earth is calling us home. Let that call be a family reunion, not a funeral.
Back to Me
Sow little
A tension
As I feed
The globe
In circling awe
You whack me
I grow deeper roots
You withhold water
I grow deeper roots
Weed due better
Not growing in a straight line
Watch
The timeless
As the people go buy
And bark out
Their desolate order
In efface of our deeper nature
Traded for minute portions
Wile overlooking
Endless seconds
And passels of eternity
Come homme
Back to me
There is a poetry to life…
Awe That Meters
He took
The bitter
With the sweet
Given
That witch is life
Sow trying
To beat it
That conundrum
Hope
Against hope
Soully too fine
Awe that meters
The indicted war criminal Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is welcomed by Trump and both congressional Republicans and Democrats, rather than arresting him under international law. Netanyahu in Orwellian fashion nominates Trump for a Nobel Peace Prize (sic). The bromance of Trump and Netanyahu, both uber-corrupt politicians, had been further cemented with Trump’s unilateral attack on Iran with bunker buster bombs weeks ago, likely joining their fates at the hip. This poem calls out the race to pariah state status that Trump and Netanyahu seem fixated upon.
The Tell — Pariah States
As war incite
US
Israel
Now joined
At the hip
A three-legged race
Bumbling
And bomb bling
A ruin US man hood
Taking
One genocide
Over an other
Awe the wile
Humanity starved
Underfoot the American sole
And Zion-est fever dreams
The hole of peace
Speaking as won
Demagogues and demigods
As double speakeasy
Bam! Booze illed
Smashed!
A whirled at war
Citizens a cross
The plan it
Call out
A tension humanity
Wee in join
The WILL of the people
Not those who bequeath US
Those bloodsuckers and wraiths
Re-dressing hour grievances
What prey tell
Agin and agin
Can they say
And due
As wee demand
Never the less
A bout efface
Whatever
The pariah states
Know Business Like Slow Business
There’s no business like slow business
Like know busyness
I no
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
██████████████
█████████
██████████████
█████████
█████████
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
