POEM: Bombing

Posted on February 5, 2024 by Top Pun

Humanity is bombing. Let’s end the violence.

Bombing

Bombs a way
Bombs aweigh
Bombs a weigh
Bombs away

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POEM: Seeking Haven — Deed On A Rival

Posted on February 4, 2024 by Top Pun

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

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POEM: The Incalculable Weighs to Prey

Posted on February 2, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem ponders the fact that hardships and trauma can lead people away from religious and spiritual seekings as well as leading them to such seeking. I find that while darkness can be powerful, even overwhelming, light has a way of seeping in.

The Incalculable Weighs to Prey

Borne astray
He had
Learned his lessen
Right a weigh
Halving life
Since he was a boy
Razed by the church
And a mama trying
Double-crossed by fighting chance
He missed
Every opportunity
Every won
He could knot
See himself
Threw
Awe weighs
Crossing align
Weak after weak
To the end of daze
Would any won
Get his barings
Averse perhaps
Array of sunshine
Scarred out of his mine
A whirled of under standing
In spite of
Life is becoming
Ardor and ardor
And ardor still
Until it peers
Alight
Like know other
And hither two won

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POEM: Life Keeps

Posted on February 1, 2024 by Top Pun

I find comfort in the persistent reality that life keeps happening. As I keep learning to let go, I find that life flows more gently to whatever the next thing is that life offers up. I continue to be amazed that adeptly passing life on creates more life available for everyone.

Life Keeps

Life keeps
Happening
A mist
A see of death
And tragic lessens
The best of us
Cries
Why
Me
And rarer still
Why
Not me
As we meat
Our maker
Hear
I AM
That life keep
Only bye
Letting go
And passing on

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POEM: Knot The One in Red

Posted on January 31, 2024 by Top Pun

According to family lore, when I was a very young child, I gave my toys away to other children. While this may have been a good way to make friends, I suspect that it was an early sign of me preferring to play and commune with the source of all, the “toy maker.” Many decades later, allegedly an adult, I continue to see humans as much more interested in playing with their “toys” than relating to this deep source of awe. If this strikes you as a bit fabled, that’s fine; though in this case, for me, it’s not Santa or Satan.

Knot The One in Red

Legend has it
I gave my toys away
As a child
And then
As awe ways
I just
Proferred to play
Not simply with a toy
But rather
In stead
With the toy maker
And know
Knot
The one
In red

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POEM: One Standard — To Rule Them All

Posted on January 30, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem is a bout the hypocrisy of me me me, and and a perpetually truncated version of we we we, where “we” win and you lose.

One Standard: To Rule Them All

I only
Halve
Two standards
For me and mine
For you and yours
Truly won standard
We we we
In consider it them
My soul culpability
Just following
The ruse
And as it turns out
Know standard et al
Only crying
Author Author

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POEM: My Mine Racing

Posted on January 26, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem is about slowing down that racing mind and mining that quiet repose and relaxed contemplation.

My Mine Racing

Oh my
My
My mine
Raced
From that first
Slap
On the bottom
Lyin’
Welcome too
A whirled
Up side
Down
From mourn till dusk
From dusk till mourn
My only break
My heart
A tact
Still
Beating
Me
As mine
A rest
For those grasping
Paws
Fining the subconscious
Is knot what I think
As just
Quite the mine
And repose
That con template
Awe that I
Had
Urned

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POEM: The Run Down on Lifting Up

Posted on January 26, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem is a call to avoid running down those who seek to lift up. The poem has a tip of the hat to Dorothy Day and her infamous quote, “Don’t call me a saint. I don’t want to be dismissed so easily.” Perhaps ironically, she also called each of us to be a saint. She was always about accessing deep morality, and she sought to bring that all.

The Run Down on Lifting Up

There is awe weighs
Won more attest in life
How due
I deal with belittle
The peer ins
Of avatars of the good
Incite and out
Libel to pose problems
For us
And idle chasers
That morality tail wagging
The DOG
GOD
We’ve got this
Awe backwards
What we aught
caught up in capitalizing
on it
Pain that hefty flee
Fore that soul need
More all
Less on me
All ready
A page from history
Delivering us
A message in a battle
Perhaps a challenging quote
Dotting the Day
Voiding temptation
Don’t right
Me off
As a saint
The only thing
Keeping you
Humble
A worthy scape
Unlike seeing our way threw
With marginalize
Flailing to look up
When looking down
What are we
Frayed
Of loosing it
Awe

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POEM: Walking the Walk [Owed to My Friend Tarry]

Posted on January 26, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem is inspired by an elegantly simple recounting of what is a true friend, as told by my former wife — that is, when you are walking with a group of people, the one who stops and waits for you when you have to tie your shoelaces.

Walking the Walk [Owed to My Friend Tarry]

Weave got
Places to go
People to see
Things too due
Talking the talk
Walking that walk
And still
My posse
I found myself
At one’s knee
My shoe unfastened
Learning that benchmark
Of a true friend
Who cools won’s heels
And bides one’s time
Near my sole

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POEM: Underemployed

Posted on January 26, 2024 by Top Pun

If you find me loitering around my sweetheart, be mindful that I am working…

Underemployed

And you are who?
Oh, I am just
Here to kiss her
Now and again
Threw out our daze
Sow that
She knows
She is loved
Please keep your qualm
I’ve got this
The best job ever

The title, “Underemployed” is an allusion to the fact that such a  job position goes unfilled, or underworked, for so many.

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POEM: Soul Sushi

Posted on January 25, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem ponders the “water we live in” as most humans are routinely heedless of their lives deep ending on eating flesh to survive.

Soul Sushi

Once upon a time
Creatures of the see
Looking up
A barrel
In countered
A more tasteful course
A cut above the rest
Can no longer
Flesh and bone cleave
One soul poors out
Joining countless comrades
Halving
In a sense
Meating out
That slice of life
An other life lessen
A bit of rapier
A razor-sharp flank
As kill full roll
A luxurious due
Prized precisely
Being as that
More rare than rare
Raw raw shish kum buy ya
Living for a wile
In a whirl
Wrapped up in luxury
Consumed buy indulgences
Unable to sea
The consommé we live in

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POEM: Box Set

Posted on January 24, 2024 by Top Pun

This poem ponders the boxes that we put one another in, weather conservative or liberal, and how money and our own interests get in the weigh of our shared humanity. May we think outside our boxes and always put humanity first in our politics.

Box Set

Conservatives are more likely to put you in a box
Liberals have more boxes to put you in
Respecting such a subject
Either weigh
It has
Something too due with their own, welfare
Though generally re-guarded
As a fare reckoning
Just encase
It turns out
Such contents
Might be
Misfits of sum sort
Theirs awe ways the risk
Of humanity unearth
As it
Is in heaven
Weather the so sophisticated
Ore the unrefined
Both undermined by well, bread
So ponder us
What makes us
Crate
And what will it
Take
To think out
A side
The box

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POEM: Dead Precedents

Posted on January 23, 2024 by Top Pun

Can we let go of the stale, moribund notion that money will give us security and somehow not come between us and our humanity.

Dead Precedents

He could not handle change
So he only dealt with folding
Money
And that kind
Which
No one can touch

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POEM: Call Me Warren

Posted on January 22, 2024 by Top Pun

In life, I have learned that going down rabbit holes in not voidable. I have learned to welcome them as portals to new worlds. Regarding the title, for those who may be overly-citified, a warren is an area where rabbits live in burrows, or a colony of rabbits. May you boldly wander and stumble up on many wonders.

Call Me Warren

Warren possessed
A twisted mine
Of rabbit holes
Unfathomable
Inviting and daunting
Going down
And ending up
Who no’s wear
That naked truth
Timeless and timely
As bunnies never dating
Springing eternal
They just
Due it
Call me
Warren

If you want a more traditional poetic take on such matters, here is the poem, The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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POEM: From God Slips To My Years

Posted on January 21, 2024 by Top Pun

Here is yet another poem about the experience of writing poems, or transcribing them from a muse.

From God Slips To My Years

In what manor
May we discuss the whether
A poet or a stenographer
In plaque-able quest in
Without compare
Those moments that sustain me
From God slips
To my years
On lookers
On occasion see
As putting on
Lipstick on a pig
This dyslexic DOG
That
I AM
What might
We make
Of such posed poems
Parently speaking
In tongues in chic
I can only note
I witness
Each and every won
Blissfully unaware
Of how
We awe
Alliterate in hundreds of languages
Or passably just
One
That we cannot no
Long the weigh
Hope fully
Mirrorly
A diction
Of sum kind

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POEM: Taking Auction

Posted on January 20, 2024 by Top Pun

I’ve been no’in to say, “If you are going to sell your soul, make sure you get a good price.” There are people of auction. There are people of action. Be the latter, taking us to a higher place.

Taking Auction

Due I here
Just a little
Bit more
From the gentile man in the rear
And might I add
Reckon awe
That this is
A won time offering
If your going too
Get
A good prize
For your still small voice
Shout® it out
If you will
Fined your self
Pooped out of life
Going thrice
Souled
To the man in the red suit
With the eternal contract
Writ large
With know fine prints
Of darkness

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POEM: Catchy Zzzz’s

Posted on January 19, 2024 by Top Pun

I see much of life as a struggle to maintain a vigorous consciousness and cultivate a vital, life-affirming conscience. I see the powers that be as offering a vain, numbing “contentment,” free of inconvenient or uncomfortable realities. Security becomes distancing oneself from such realities. The temptation to build a heavy-doody wall and outfit fashionable blinders to such realities can induce an impressive slumber. Falling for such offerings is a pinch of incense on a profane alter, voiding true change. Stay awake, my friends!

Catchy Zzzz’s

In the wake
Of life and death
Conscience
And consciousness
At time peers
Sow tiring
And what
Due you no
Power izzz
Azzz
Power duhzzz
Vainly hoping
Too catch some
Zzzz’s

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POEM: A Mazing Grays — Owed to Racist Color Blindness

Posted on January 18, 2024 by Top Pun

During the Republican primary election, we are in the racist shit, more than usual. In Republic can due fashion, in a run away of endemic white supremacy, we hear of our civil war as only peripherally related to slavery, and color blindness as a solution in the race, at least the white race. Of coarse, it’s much worse than that. The leading person of color candidate in the Republican primary, Nikki Haley, has claimed that we have NEVER been a racist nation. This poem was triggered by candidate Ron DeSantis, whose answer to race relations is color blindness, a popular American dodge. Plus, on the other side, both President Biden and Vice President Harris have said that we are not a racist nation. I don’t know if the two of them consider the U.S. as NEVER being a racist nation. But, if we were at one time racist and not now, I am intensely curious what decade, or century, they would mark as the end of being a racist nation. Either weigh, I consider all of the leading candidates as making America grate again.

A Mazing Grays: Owed to Racist Color Blindness

It’s a grey day
In Amerikkka
A narrow palette
In a tasteless nation
No’ing history
Like the back of their hand
Its own
Forum of racism
As the world passes
Them buy
They can’t see race
The color bind
Leading the blind
As much as a republic can
String long
Knot discerning
Noose to some
As country fool
Of racists
And how big it
As old glory bleeds
Washed out grays, white, and dark
Formerly red, white, and blue
Though white just
The same
The deference between gray and grey
Halving
Never herd
Of black and white
Mirrorly human
Bazaar
In this rendition
Of confederate grays

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POEM: You Are Not a Loan

Posted on January 17, 2024 by Top Pun

A poem for those who have crushing student loan debt…

You Are Not a Loan

Do the bankers still have a crush on you
Even after having
Taken you
To school
Bank rolling
The best daze of your life
Only left
With dear John
Letters
After your name
Meaning little
With a debt sentence
Hanging
Over
Your ahead
They so illicit
As you shutter
With the expectancy
Of another missed monthly due date
Feudally hoping for closure
As your castle is rooked
For in
Chess beating
It’s the king’s game
Sure wood
Forest to pay
For they won’t except a check mate
Down
Under
Colonizing all that is penal
As no man
An aisle
Of thieves
Con signed
And in return address
Occupy that robbin’ hood
Unable to fiord
As men of means
Who cannot right
It off
In their abandon
Just
Another pawn
To hock with them all!
Conceived only in liberties
Fashioning accompany
Banned of brothers
As marry men
Outlaws and in-laws
A peer before queens
With a warrant for a rest
And broad casting
For won and awe
Wee have yearned an education
The key to mastery
Coming out of the woulds
The hole truth
And sole uniting principle
Of persons of interest:
You are not a loan

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POEM: Winning The Stockholm Sin-drome

Posted on January 16, 2024 by Top Pun

This is another in my series of poems on artificial intelligence. I suspect that the “wow factor” of some early AI uses will serve as a sucker punch for a largely bloodless beating. While I am skeptical of many AI uses on technical grounds, my major concern is that AI technology rollout will be in a largely unregulated environment primarily driven by profit, and used in no small part by bad actors. In the end, I see AI as further disconnecting humans from humans and dividing us, resulting in a net degradation of human society and humanity itself. I fear that humanity does not have the wherewithal to resist the coming tsunami of AI’s uncountable temptations to drift, or run away, from a sustainable human social fabric and sustainable planet. I can find few reasons to believe that existing inequities will be healed by AI rather than multiplied, perhaps exponentially.  This poem employs the Stockholm Syndrome as a metaphor for this process. Learning to identify with our captors may not be a boon for humanity. Though, we may survive by becoming massive tools ourselves.

Winning The Stockholm Sin-drome

Their is a bloodless competition
Its
Turing
The likes of many
The love of money
Attest too be taken
Literally
Our mortal coil
And moral recoil
A new forum of worship
The lowest common denomination
Pain in small unmarked bills
A tortuous ransom
In the chorus of things
Acquire of Lillipution repute
Poor tending death
Buy millions of bytes
Reckoning pros and cons
Wile played for a song
An X mas attune
It’s beginning
Too look allot
Like Stockholm
Everywhere it goes
And every wear
There seems to be you
Sort of like
Ikea you
Dissembled in a numb-er
Of unknown peaces
A mob hit
Or at the lease
Helled hostage
In a fateful judgement
Boom or doom
Perhaps fired
Or an icy friend
Pick aside
Ahead
Or behind
A technology explosive
Diarrhea of wons and zeroes
In the end
Off coarse
Weather wear or not
It may turn out
To be
Won of the guise
At work
You no
“Chip”
He’s “super”
0 you mean
The calculating won
1’s you get to know ’em
It all makes cents
You’d halve two be crazy
Or a dollared
Too knot accept
Him (sic)
Sum kind of quantum savior
Taken till
Big data real lies
What their is too due
Too finish
A sentience
A word winnowing
In the end
An impossible hostage situation resolved
Problems solved
Having climaxed
A final solution
Presence before us
There is no their there

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