As America falls apart, America comes together, it’s a greed, the bully-in-chief is the most self-dealing president president ever…
Acquire Boy
He took
What
He wanted
He means
Know harm
Power is as power does
Run
Forced
Run
That game plan
If you have a preyer
Your heights measured soully buy
What you are culpable of
Awe the wile Trump-it-ing
I am just
Acquire boy
Faith Weeps and Reaps
“Faith is what, you do, not no.”
I axed God
A bout
That madder of faith
Tearing
Asunder
Life and limb
God did not say
O ye of little faith
You cannot void
Weather man sized
Or man kind sized
The ladder
To heaven’s reaches
Yet still
Amor of the kind
That is holy grounded
Going down
Awe weighs
Into life
Unearth
On earth
Where answers lie
Yet you will
Knot know
Till you
Due
May you find a well and well-ness in your life…
Digging It Deep
He was digging it
Deep
Into a life that could be
Hole-y
Soully to find a spring
A well
And a wellness
Teeming with awe
That is life
Here is a poem about both our individual and collective responsibilities to act on the climate crisis. At the nexus of personal responsibility and collective responsibility, there converges that buy product in action, inaction, and enaction…
Suicide Enaction
Personally
I am frayed
I can knot
Live sustainably
In what
Peers as suicide
I can’t help
Accept notice
Impersonally
Carve out
A nest
For me and my own
Wile every won ails
Is out of one’s tree
A strange fruit
Of collective
Suicide
This poem is for all of US who will be reaping the increasingly brutal repercussions of America’s race to forced austerity and disintegration of the common good…
Dead Beets: Owed to Austerity
“You can’t get blood from a turnip — meaning soully, just not, trying, hard enough.”
Capitalists
Are down
With whatever
Austerity gets
Blood from whatever
Turn ups
Whatever ground
Into dirt
Thou dust love
Blood and soil
Eugenics for vegetables
Of the pauper kind
Razing dead beets
That plotting fodder
Tricksters
Always able to pawn off something
Akin to blood
Fore the taking
This poem goes out in honor of awe those who are resisting and protesting Trump’s ICE terror campaign…
Mine Furor
Have you herd
The furor
Over
Immigration
And citizen protest
Re-fusing to take any ship
From the SS Trump
With their not-so-secret policing
And their not see police
As cowardly men unmasked
In their cruel arts of ICE
And blow the surface
Of such titanic flailing
Icy burgs
A cross
The horizon
Of state executions
A nation rises in its see
A mine field
Of corruption and cruelty
To get to the bottom
Of what turns out
To be soully a lame duck
With the hard wear of the state
Silenced at the bottom of the see
In a tsunami of citizenry
If humanity is to be won, humanity must be one…
The Fabric of Life
He war
The fabric of existence
Like a fox stole
Afar to clever
Fore his own
Good
Never enough
Of that chic ken fashion
At an exorbitant accost
More apart
Then a hole
In the fabric of life
I live in a sea of poetry. I wonder, if when I die, being freed of this fleshy dreamcatcher will result in my soul being holy re-nude in the source of awe being…
Brake Free
When I die
Ten thousand poems
Brake free
Coming my weigh
Infinitely light
My lust exhaling
From the dream catcher that is
My flesh and bone
Adding to the awe ready surplus
Feel free
Too take leave
As in exhaustible
Meting unfathomable
A bidding within us awe
Bettor
Then the wrest
In peace
You had me at given freely…
The Receipts on Me
Life had the receipts
On me
Given
Taken
Freely
Super naturally
Brought
Ensouled
In voice
And udder silence
Check pleas
Never fully no’ing
Life
A ledge her
Yet holy grasping
Vouch her
“Instead, God has chosen what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen what is weak in the world to shame the strong.” — 1 Corinthians 1:27
A Fool Among Fools
I am
A fool fore awe time
Beyond salivation
I in jest
What others may not quiet
See
The hardy har hardiest
That life
Has to
Offer
Journeying thousands of smiles
A mist dark plays
Soully to alight
Where know one
Ails may go
In the foolness of time
Fascism needs to be resisted anywhere and everywhere it rears its ugly head. This poem goes out to all who resist fascism in big ways and small every day…
They Did What?
[Mother and son standing beneath six townspeople hung from gallows in the public square in Nazi Germany]
Son: What did they do?
Mother: What they could.
–from movie, JoJo Rabbit
They did
What
They could
What many folks no
May not be
Enough
And still
An inscrutable first
Taking their last swing
At life and death
A breeze
Hauntingly moving
One breath
To the next
Beyond under standing
One translation of the Buddhist great truth that “life is suffering” is actually “life is work,” simply meaning that life keeps requiring effort on our part…
A Prize Worth Pain For
Awe great faiths re-choir work.
Their life kept
Culling out
Too them
Choiring sow much work
Of awe kinds
A sorted life
In their efface
Axing them
What amor kin they due
Than lonely
That taking
Care of their own
Then just
One vast nest
Of a human family
Peace made
For won and awe
A prize worth pain for
And less accostly
Than all ails that madders
A labor worthy
Of any berth
This poem is a tribute to artists of all kinds who are paid in what is often predominantly inspiration and awesomeness…
Air Apparent
Time and time agin
Nobodies watch-ing
Artists creating round the clock
As life squared
In visible beyond I’s
Air apparent to inspiration a loan
Living in obscurity
On and offed
Unherd
Unscene
At times just noticed
By some or none
Yet awe ways won
Oftentimes, less is more.
Life Eschewing
How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time – and with lots of hot sauce.
Byte buy byte
I could feel myself being
Swallowed hole
Never getting enough
I couldn’t feel
The ground beneath me
Giving way
Little by little
That is un-till
I bit off less
Then I could chew
Apportion just
My size
At thirst peering a slight of sort
Yet be for long
I apprehended
Sow soon
The unspeakable nature
Of more than a mouthful
Immanently present
Soully miraculous morsels
A mounting to the largesse of awe
Won
At a time
When effacing that which is
Bigger than life
The world is watching, dear leader. There is more than won way to be history…
Leave, Know Witnesses
Dear leader
Your feudal temp
To make your weigh
In this whirled
Is totally in bare assing
Buy your violation
Of the prime directive
Leave
Know witnesses
You can’t butcher
Them awe
For the yeast of these
Will rise up
And before you
No it
You will be history
In awe its unkindness
As onto you
MAGA should no by now that Trump is a character of lack he…
Character Trumps
Oh God
His character
Out of
Whack!
He’s a hit
Those with violent tendons see
His Achille’s
Heeling
Of the whirled
And the soul remains
Awe the mortals screwed
As vie
O late too the party
His thirst and lonely command meant
There is no God
Before him
Nothing abut
A naked king
In secure soully buy
The fog of wore
Are you war out?
A Peace of Me
I am a citizen
Of this planet
Awe too familiar
With its billion boarders
Among condemn nations
No’ing what madders
Helled sow true
A mist means
And ends
I don’t do war
Due you
Want a peace of me
An invitation
That wrests
With each won of us
Some experiences are just, for you…
That Thresh Holed
What deep can be
Passably be taken
From such awe mighty plays
As the innereds of our soul
As X-quiz-it
As squint-essential experience
As in exchangeable in countering
A cross that thresh holed
Thou shalt not pass
Coming to
Naked
Be leaving
Naked
Truths
Irrefutable
To abut one
That rascal God
Who giveth
And taketh
Creating indigent boarders
As seize perfectly fit
Left with won
Mirrorly a loan
And soully one
Choice
Pack it in
Pack it out
With nothing to show
For it
Accept
Without
A trace
That outline
Of won life
Like chalk
And concrete
Offed miss taken
As good as dead
And gone
Once again
Within
And a mist
Dis peering
Wear know one
Can quiet see
You
Profoundly subjective experiences may be subject to hard-no’s skepticism. Of coarse, mirror facts can be shit and whole some normative plays can be the shit…
Does a Bear Shit in the Woulds?
Does a bear shit
In the mettle
Of the woulds
Or owed time shoulds
He he so so wanted too no
The bear facts
Yes or know
Without undo
Do interrogation
As ahead scratcher
But but but
Rather a mist
The practically mined
Or romantically inclined
Wear ever egos
Enwound
And and and
Ether
Ore
Ware ever he doesn’t go
Dis interested
In rights and wrongeds
How ever inexplicably
The due of won
Or the do do of amor
Then one
He is
Awe over
Life
Dissecting
It
Killing it
When it comes
Two mirror facts
And posing
Complementary views
Beaten by tired owed conundrums
As what makes the deference
Tween spirit or spear it
Or pare a doxing
When sum thing soully is
And the quest in peers
As more sow
And eerie regardless
Of weather fresh or desiccated
Mirror shit
Ore immeasurably as
The shit
This poem is a follow-up or sequel to a very short poem that I wrote 13 years earlier: Everything reminds me of everything else.
See blog entry on this poem.
The follow-up adds a feel-good sense to knowing that everything is connected and experiencing everything as a whole…
Appendix to Everything
Everything re-mines me
Of everything else
And nothing ails
