Can we ever afford to kill one another? It certainly seems sow. Unfortunately, when an awareness arises of the steep cost of killing, it is often too late. Sadly, we may halve our life and eat it too.
Can You Ever Halve Enough?
It
Crossed their mine
They could not afford
To kill
Each other
Such a dubious won
As fate would halve it
They had
Saved
Just enough
To finally afford
Sow painfully a ware
Of it
Real lies
Too late
I am not one for titles and hierarchical living. Of coarse, labels serve some function in relating to one another. Still, I yearn for human relations where titles of status and power do not confound our basic humanity. Thus, this poem:
Re-Nouned
Guru
Master
Reverend or priest
Doctor
Professor
President and CEO
Your Honor
Whatever
In titled
Labels urned
Persons of such
Re-noun
I rather fancy
As simply friend
Or neighbor
NOTE: in the second-to-last line, you could capitalize “Friend,” referencing Quakers, also called the “Society of Friends.” I deeply respect their non-hierarchical approach to spirituality. Still, and perhaps disquieting sow, my anti-capitalist leanings win out…
I suspect each of us has encountered fakes, stiffs, who too routinely fail to treat others humanely, seemingly deadened by their own, lifeless stuff. Thus, this poem:
Calling Awe Taxidermists
He was his own
Worst faux
And stiff
Was his weigh of life
His bag
Stuffed
With the lowest common denominations
You can take it to the blank
An empty suit
Of amor
In firm hide
An executive
In the company of others
Running lapse
Round the competition
A certifiable square
His art
Beating
His humdrum
Whatever
He wood do
He couldn’t help
Lumbering
Without imagining
Un-forest
His lonely companion
A cat, a tonic
There is no quest in
What’s he, fur
And on his better daze
A mirror knock off
And mock up
Worshipping his altar ego
His hollowed charm
On the hi way to hull
And if should
Happen upon awkwardly
Feeling
Phone-y
He squeezes in
That fateful calling
To the taxidermist
Uber creepy
This poem employs the metaphor of using irresponsible and unsustainable credit that must be paid by future generations. Externalizing the true costs from the present sticker price of our way of life by ignoring environmental costs incurred by fossil fuels and resource extraction all but assures a cruel form of debt slavery upon ensuing generations. This is perhaps the truest measure of our valuing of money over people, even our own children. Will this be strike three for “family values?”
The Weigh of Our Great Grandchildren
Parently wee
Must be
Putting on
Heirs
To such taking
Credit
As much as we want
A greed
Pre-proving
Our savvy genus
Taking out
A thousand year mortgage
As sentries of death
In curred
So due
An industrial 360
That loaded spin
In a rapacious whirled
When awe it was
A drunken frat party
Fossil fool juiced
Too bind to sea
And just deserts
A dying plan it
Your money ore your life
All kidding aside
My religion is unorthodox, and those orthodox varieties of all sorts find me heretical.
Doxxed
He was doxxed
From the right
From the left
Catching hell
And heaven
From both sides
Paradoxxed
Inscrutably sow
In a dyslexic manor
E pluribus unum
Out of one, many
Soully
Too fine
In elegant solution
Living
Having bin
Un-orthodoxxed
Won dox
To rue them
Awe
This poem channels my inner 11 year old. I am happy to embrace my inner 11 year old as part of who I am.
A Perfect 11
It was an emotional age
Living in that boy hood
And now
Just
The same
Embracing
Awe that I am
Beyond my years
A perfect 11
My heart breaks, particularly when US cannot brake genocide.
Heart Confetti
My heart
Shatters
A billion peaces
Shuttered
Once helled
To gather
Now veinly hoping
Fore a body politic
And singular victory
A party to genocide
And ticker tape prayed
I am far more worried about Joe Biden’s moral feebleness than I am about any alleged physical or mental feebleness. End the genocide in Gaza!
Taking a Bite Out of War Crime
Get that man some dentures
Grandpa Joe needs some teeth
To his rumblings and ramblings
Of moderating civilian slaughters
Mass starvation
Of bringing a bout
A kinder, gentler genocide
And wile you are taking
That slow walk
To your cane due attitude
Perhaps you can share
A piece of your mind
Or even some moral fiber
Your applesauce
With the babies starving
I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head on many a daze as I observe folks chasing sparkly objects with such apparent vigor. I can’t help but peer as a fool myself, where my attention is rapt, as you can’t chase a tree — it simply stands firm and gently waves.
Chaste Tree
He knew what
He wanted
How could he
No that
Awe things that glitter
Are not goaled
That dogged attention
SQUIRREL!
Chase
Tree
Bark
Is worse
Then bite
To off then
All that jitters
Is not goad
Eternal objects
Passing subjects
STICK!
Plus, I prefer carrots, not sticks.
Here is an apocalyptic valentine, a final kiss planted.
As Humanity Reseeds
That final mourning
We greet
With a kiss
A poetic rejoinder
Transcendent graffiti
Write on the apocalypse
In a whirled that had
Drunk
The Kool-Aid®
Even at that last punch line
We smile and laugh
Not with a whimper
Or a bash
We plant ourselves
With everything
Awe
That is hours on this planet
A tree
Tree at last
Tree at last
Thank God
We are tree at last
I am a sojourner in this world — just, passing through, paying it forward. I’d rather give everything I got than sell anything. Those with heirs can sort that shit out…
Courting Pro Bait
I have no will
Of my own
Awe that I
Was given
Just passing
Through
As commander-in-chief Biden provides unconditional support indispensable to Israel’s genocidal actions in Gaza, he offers inconsequential advice, even “warnings,” to limit mass civilian killings. If stopping genocide, the worst crime known to man, is somehow a close call, then his moral cowardice reigns. Thus, this poem:
The Means
There may be daze
Trafficking in perseveration
Of multifarious means wear
Red means stop
Green means go
And yellow
Yeah
At times
Yellow
Simply means
Yellow
Doo you
Have the means
This a poem highlighting the barren view of life that rugged reasoning can impose on the awesome experience of consciousness. Life is much more than sterile propagation of the specious.
Dogged Reasoning
He wood
Knot know
Consciousness
If he
Saw it
In have
Sum magic trick
Where the john doesn’t know jack
His nerves
Firing him
From some inescapable Job
A backward god
Making life
A bitch
And then sum
This poem is about recognizing and appreciating that we rest on the shoulders of a thousand generations and that each moment can take inspiration from this long arc of our existence, powering us forward in ways worthy of our ancestors.
Heir to a Thousand Generations
Have you ever
Found yourself
Heir
To a thousand generations
Wholly inspired
Taken
In
Invisible premises
Buy some
Breathing is
As life
To others
As water is
To those who live under see
This poem is about moving forward into the future, looking up, not looking down, living holistically, not partial to tribalism.
The Weigh Forward
Awe ways ahead
Sum times behind
Never beneath
As earth is before me
I may know
What is behind me
Never the less
I cannot no
What is ahead of me
And may I have
Nothing
Too due
With that beneath me
As heavens above
May I sojourn
More than just
A part from the whole
And for all one knows
Find oneself
Way way forward
This poem addresses the Gazan’s plight of living under siege in an open air prison, under massive military assault, including widespread bombing of civilians and civilian infrastructure. This poem highlights the genocidal assault, particularly the mass starvation as a result of the siege and inability to adequately deliver what limited aid is available when operating in an active war zone. The poem employs the metaphor of Gaza being on the menu and takes to task the state of Israel on the chasm between the ambitions of a Zionist state and the ethical practice of Judaism, with references to worshipping the golden calf, an empty chair traditionally left empty for the prophet Elijah, and a scapegoat used to bear the sins of the Jewish people and sent into the wilderness. All of culminates in US being the founder of this beastly feast.
Gaza, Eat It
Gaza
On the menu
Of militaristic goaled
Israel orders
Calf
For an idol celebration
A full coarse meal
A full plate
When you include all the scapegoat
Amidst an empty chair
For sum won
Fourth right prophet
Staring in the winnow
Palestinians
With there own in tents
Witness US
Picking up the check
Soully wanting
Just deserts
With aside of genocide
Republicans continue to cling to a policy-free zone, crammed with demagoguery.
Pokey Politics
Republican politics
Is like poking you with a stick
To see what you will
Due
What we can get
A weigh with
And I can’t help
But ask
“What’s the point?”
This poem is about racism and nativism, our propensity to dehumanize the other, to write other humans off, to find room aplenty to throw under the bus or imprison in won weigh or an other.
Which Neighbor is a Keeper?
It takes
A village to raze a child
Every won for themselves
Or as a klan
Knowing the deference
Between black and white
That neighborly tribunal
Ruling
Which neighbor is a keeper
As much as we Cain
Like a serpent in the garden
Talking the talk
“Un-Abel”
To walk the walk
The deference between outliers
And out right liers
Recounting the truth
So it adds up
As much as we kin
At least relatively sow
And when it peers strange
Particularly alien
Wee
Go
The nativist imagine Abel
A narrow brethren
And stingy cistern
Sow
What
A bout
The wrest
The remains
Scrapping fore help
As goad Samaritan
As if
Mirrorly thoughts and preyers
Bring them
Too heel
Or send them
To the hinder lands
The inscrutable ruse of engagement
Oh happy day
Marred to the mob
The obscurable
A veil
Bettor to be kissed with a lie
Then hit with the truth
Rather hitting them
With a switch
On the oft odds
Help
Might be
Immanent
Right them
Off
Sow short
And so long
Their soul rec
If you need
A hand up
We will deliver you
Just arms up
And further if
Hope springs
Wade to Fall
Humanity is bombing. Let’s end the violence.
Bombing
Bombs a way
Bombs aweigh
Bombs a weigh
Bombs away
Here is a poem about our nation’s recalcitrance in welcoming immigrants and refugees. Wile we use cramped legalisms to incarcerate our hearts, many speak openly in racist and violent terms. I strongly suspect that we would do better as a nation and a world to purposively welcome immigrants and refugees, and recognize that no human being is illegal.
Seeking Haven: Deed On A Rival
I am an immigrant
From God knows where
Every language unspoken
Arriving in naiveté
And no room in
Only to be tolled
By those of unsound mine
To get my asylum seeking as
Taken aback
To wherever I came from
My advent
Only to mete
Impassable boarders
To be borne here
As if a different specious
Unlike me
Illiciting aliens
Subject too
Anal probes
Foraging
A head
For paper work
Unregarding unsubstantiated birth
Finding only tall tails
Questionable monkey’s uncles
And least of these
Hapless to see the plight
Knot willing
Too believe
In such a never never land
Of the free
Mark it
Won’s words
In sentries of precedents
Elected freely
And now defend on them
For citizenship
Feigning brave bull work
Wear hear
We warship as wee pleas
And fence liberty for huddled masses
Whose flag waving
Is uncolored properly
By the book
In accord with the clink
That might
Give hard one angles
Wings
As deed on arrival
