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Don’t be a tool.

Getting It

For every problem
There is a tool
Devil made™
His pitch
When you get
To the fork
In the road
Take it

It’s awe there, write in front of you.

Mote of Sand

“To see a world in a grain of sand” – William Blake

I seed
The hole world
In a mote of sand
In a stellar case
Of reveres engineering
Dammed well intuit
Every present cascades
For awe those pour in spirit
Insighting won’s riot mind
Every perspective just a positioned
With each and every inner relationship
Everything pain homage to everything ails
And still
Drunk on beauty
Such a lure
In is capable
As out her loveliness
That you verse
Subject to awe
That is possible
And immanent
And however mine
Full
Possessed by awe

One of my favorite sayings in response to absurd, specious logic is: “Just because you can learn something from being whacked in the face with a two-by-four doesn’t mean that you should whack someone in the face with a two-by-four.” This is often in response to the myriad of ways the world adopts punishment as a way to control people, as if this is some highly evolved living. This is particularly relevant when such punishing measures are taken with a veneer of rehabilitating or “fixing” others when wisdom gained in punishing times is typically despite the punishment, not because of it. My view is that life is punishing enough; we don’t need to add more. This poem is an ode to such punishing logic.

Whacky Wisdom

The man witnessed
Someone hit in the face
By a two-by-four
Who learned an epic lessen
Despite the lop-sided payin’
And what did the man take away
From this con sequence
And vane contusion
Some whacky wisdom
That hitting someone in the face
With a two-by-four
Such an inciteful rule
Is some kind
Of judicious notion

Our posedly “Christian” nation pays far more attention to profits than prophets.

Jesus Sends His Disregards

The hungry
The homeless
The sick
The stranger in our land
The prisoner
I met Jesus
He sends his disregards
Whatever
You have
Done with these

Some solitary people discover that being, invisible to others, can be a superpower.

The Hermit

The hermit lives
In awe kinds
Of whether
Full of grays alone
Clear to the heavens
Son of the fodder
Of vague rumors and unseemly gossip
Maps without legends
And then some
Many wonderings
Of weather living
In a backwoods shack
In a small house on the edge of town
In a grungy apartment in the city
In a cave atop a mountain
Awe the same
And yet holy deferent

Water is  life. Water typically flows freely, but when polar-ized conditions set in, water can crack even the most Sisyphean stone eventually to dust.

Walls Crack Me Up

The wall face
Gives weigh to cracks
From which water flows
The mortar of life
From which mountains return to
That vast see
From which awe
Dust arise

The dark psyche of America has risen its ugly ahead. May we awe be living in disinfecting sunshine.

The Dark Aside

Welcome to the dark aside
Shrouding starry infernos by night
And anything of substance casting
Shadow by day
And peerless timing
At high noon
Where the shadow
Is at the bottom of our soles
Its revealing feat
Weather epic or mundane
Too tend to the deference between
Cool respite or infernal shadiness
The beguiling plays of obscure figuring
Teeming with inclinations
Known by many angles
Meting the worst of awe
I’m morality
Casting aside
Awe others

Not surprisingly, if a frog falls into hot water, it will jump out. Perhaps surprisingly, if a frog is in water that is slowly heated, it will not jump out even if it is boiled. As a nation, we are in hot water. May we take a flying leap out of this damnable jacuzzi before it is too late.

Leap Frog

Wee are like frogs
Quite jumpy
In dammed hot water
As a flee for all
And still
As cold-blooded creatures
With come odious adapt ability
We can per severe
In chill conditions
As cool as can be
Employing our reptilian brains
And such webbed feat
Abiding well
As razing temp
Executing
Prefect repose
Be lated
As he scald
To that unnoticed boiling point
An incremental lack of change
Ultimately
Still
Kicking
The buck it
An unsound conundrum

I have no need to wait for tomorrow’s bloviation.

Inaugural Be Rating

A tyrant who rhymes with orange
As a bully pulp it
A caca phony
Of coinages
And doing his deed
The highest doody
In the king dumb
Bye a baptism of you’re fired
The guise we can
Ad mire
Threw the mud
A nation drug
Buy the highest oaf in the land

Some may see God as unnecessary in their search for meaning. I like my spirituality Allah mode.

Allah Mode

There is plenty
Of human kind
That lives without
God of any owed understanding
I AM
Never the less
Still
Quiet covet us
Of God desserted
That as other wise known
Allah mode

NOTE: I think that this the first poem of mine involving an Arabic/French language pun. Fortunately, these references are common enough in the English language that most readers should get it.